Alfred Titheradge and The Home for Little Boys

From the British Newspaper Archive
 Morning Advertiser 22 December 1865
The result of the ballot for entry into the Home for Little Boys

An entry for the 1871 census for the Home for Little Boys in Horton Kirby reads :

“Alfred Titheridge, inmate, unmarried, age 11, scholar, “no information available” for where born.

Alfred was one of 270 inmates at The Home for Little Boys on the 1871 census. Since first finding this record I have asked the questions “What was the Home for Little Boys? and “Why was Alfred in a Home for Little Boys, 25 miles from home, when both his parents were still alive?”

What was The Home for Little Boys?

In 1863 W H Williams, Robert Culling Hanbury MP and A D Charles met and agreed to create a home for little boys. These three philanthropists wanted to create an alternative to the grim institutions that were available in Victorian London. Unlike the other institutions they planned to only take children under 10 years old, whereas the other institutions only took older boys. They wanted to provide a place for homeless and destitute boys and those that were in danger of falling into crime. The aim was to feed, educate, clothe and train the boys. The children were to be educated “in the fear of God and the knowledge of the Holy Scriptures” but the education was to be unsectarian.

The home was established in 1864, with the original premises situated at Coombes Croft House, on the Tottenham High Road. The first inmates were admitted in April 1864 and by August of that year the home had 77 boys. In less than 2 years the house was full. The committee decided more space was needed and in January 1866 the committee agreed the best land on offer for expansion was in rural Kent, near the Farningham Road Station, in Horton Kirby. They purchased the 19 acres of land for £1800. Later they expanded with the purchase of more acres. On 7 July 1866 Princess Alexandra of Denmark (wife of Edward VII) laid the foundation stone for the new buildings.

The new premises were organised on the “cottage home principal” with a little village of cottages. There was a husband and wife in charge of each house, with 30 boys living under their roof. The first five houses were staffed by a tailor, baker, gardener, farmer and drill sergeant. Other houses were added later making 10 in all and further trades were added to include printing, carpentry, boot making and laundry. Buildings included a school (which was also a chapel), workshop, stores and dwelling houses. The aim was to educate the boys and to teach them a craft and to give them an opportunity to take an apprenticeship in a trade, then send them out to the world equipped for life.

On 5 June 1867 the first four houses at Horton Kirby were complete and the boys were brought from Tottenham to Farningham Road Station. From there they marched a mile to the home, led by a drum and fife band.

The home was financed by subscriptions from benefactors. It took in boys of all ages under 10 and from all backgrounds. The boys that were admitted to the home were destitute, extremely poor and with no means to provide for themselves. Some were orphans, some were forsaken by their parents and in some  cases the parents were just unable to look after them. One of the aims of the home was to prevent the boys becoming vagrants or criminals. In the year 1862, in Victorian London, 311 boys under the age of 10 had been apprehended by the Metropolitan Police for a variety of offences. There were certainly more children needing the home than there were spaces. 

Admission was done periodically on a ballot system. Each benefactor had one or more vote depending on how much they had donated. A list of applicants was put together and the benefactors voted for who they thought were the most deserving cases. Each child was seen and approved before being added to the list. The particulars of each child were on the voting paper and subscribers were asked to vote on the merits of each case. The children with the most votes in the ballot were awarded places, the number of places depending on the number of vacancies.

For over 80 years the home flourished. However, the Children’s Act of 1948 had an adverse effect on the institution and financial difficulties followed. In 1952 it was taken over by Kent County Council and closed in 1961.

Who was Alfred Titheradge?

Alfred was the son of Edward Eatrill Titheradge. Edward’s family had left Portsmouth in search of work and a better life and had arrived in the Paddington area of London in 1836. They lived in the Moscow Road area of Bayswater. The road was just a quarter of a mile from Queen Victoria’s Royal Kensington Palace, but London brought together the richest houses with the poorest slums. While many of the roads in the area were full of large houses belonging to wealthy men, Moscow Road was an area of poverty. Perhaps not quite the utopia that the family had been hoping for when they left Hampshire.

Edward married Eliza Peters on 31 May 1852 at Paddington, St James. They too settled in Moscow Road, moving around the rented properties. In 1861 they were at 85 Moscow Road, in 1869 at 69 Moscow Road and 1871 at 75 Moscow Road. There is evidence to show that in 1869 Edward and Eliza lived with their children in a small 2 bedroomed terrace property. They shared the house with another family of four. The Titheradges occupied a parlour,  one bedroom and a basement kitchen. The front of the property was a little confectioners shop where they made a living. Eliza also took in washing to make enough money to feed the family. The conditions were overcrowded and almost certainly unsanitary and squalid. Edward initially worked as a painter but by 1861 his trade was a plumber. However, Edward suffered from poor health and by 1869 was an invalid suffering what was described as “rheumatic gout”. He was forced to give up plumbing and make his living from the confectioners shop at the front of their house, with his eldest daughter Sarah as the salesperson. 

Edward and Eliza had 8 children. These were 

• Emma Eliza Titheradge born 1852, died 1862 age 9

• Sarah Ann Titheradge born 1854 died 1910

• Henry John Titheradge born 1855 died 1915

• Annie Sophia Titheradge born 1857 died 1929

• Alfred Titheradge born 1859 died 1902

• Elizabeth Emma Titheradge born 1862 died 1869 age 7

• Emma Eliza Titheradge born 1864 died 1869 age 5

• Edward Hetrell Titheradge born 1866 died 1869 age 3

How did Alfred come to be at the Home?

In December 1865 the family consisted of 6 children Sarah 11, Henry 10, Annie 8, Alfred 6, Elizabeth 3 and Emma 1. Saturday 16 December 1865 was the day that gave Alfred the chance of a new beginning as there was a vote for places at the Home for Little Boys and Alfred’s name was on the ballot paper. We do not know what was written on the ballot paper, but whatever it was must have been very convincing that Alfred needed help. The ballot paper had 33 names and the results gave Alfred 204 votes, the second highest, and he was one of the 6 boys that was given a place at the home. We do not know why he was admitted. Had he got in trouble with the police, perhaps for stealing? Had he run away from home and was a vagrant? Or did his parents request he be taken into the home either because they couldn’t feed all their children or because they could not look after him?

We believe his admission to the home, which was then on Tottenham High Road, was on 22 December, his age just 6 years old. Nothing in known of his life in the home, although research suggests the records exist but are not accessible. Presumably he was clothed, fed and educated. While many of the boys at the home were orphans, Alfred had two parents alive; how he must have missed them and how lonely he must have felt separated from his parents and siblings. It is not clear if parental contact was encouraged but from reading the minutes of the committee meetings it appears that parents were allowed to visit the boys at Christmas but the boys were not allowed to return home. The committee did their best to provide things for the boys and committee meetings show that a space for a playground was provided, that fireworks and bonfires were organized for 5 November and Christmas presents were provided. 

Originally at the age of 11 boys had to leave the home, but after a few years this was raised to 13. Alfred celebrated his 13th birthday on 3 September 1862 and he left the home and returned to his parents in Moscow Road. The school records for St Matthews School, Paddington show he began school there on 16 September 1872. The entry showing he had come from the Home for Little Boys, the family were living at 75 Moscow Road and his father was a described as a huckster (a person who sells small items from a stall).

Life after the Home for Little Boys

Alfred returned home to very different family circumstances than he had left seven years earlier. His three youngest siblings had suffered a tragic death while he was away (a topic for another blog) and sister Sarah was married. This left brother Henry age 17 and sister Annie age 15 at home. His father’s health was deteriorating and two years after he arrived home his father died age 42. Two years later his mother remarried. By the 1881 census Alfred was married to Phoebe Perrett and working as a saddler. By 1887 he had emigrated to America, apparently without Phoebe. In Philadelphia he had 8 children with Elizabeth, but sadly all but one of the children died before they were a year old. Alfred died in Philadelphia as the result of a freak accident in 1902 age 42 (details of this can be found at this link).

A new beginning for better or worse?

The story raises many unanswered questions 

• How must a 6-year-old child feel when sent away from his parents? And how must a mother feel having to let her 6-year-old son go into a home?
• Did Alfred feel rejected and abandoned when he was sent away or was home life so awful that he felt blessed and realised it was an opportunity for a better life?
• How often, if at all, did he see his parents during the seven years in the home? 
• How did he feel when reunited in the family home after 7 years away, happy, or sad? And did he struggle to fit back into family life?
• Did this opportunity of a new start in life at the Home for Little Boys save him from becoming a criminal and ending up in prison or some other institution?

While I appreciate that this new beginning in a children’s home might have provided Alfred with a better life, I find the story very sad. The founders of the Home for Little Boys had the boys’ welfare at heart and offered orphans and destitutes a chance of a new life. In a time when there was no welfare state there can be no doubt that Alfred received food, clothes, education and training which he would not have received if he had stayed at home. However, he paid the price of being separated from the love of his parents, siblings and wider family. How awful to be removed from your family, for whatever reason, at such a tender age.

How lucky we are not to live in Victorian England and to live at a time where there is a welfare state.

John Tytheridge A Publican at The Marlborough Head In London

Ann Bennett (nee Tytheridge) sister of John Tytheridge 

I first came across John Tytheridge’s name 30 years ago when manually searching probate records. I could find nothing about John other than he was publican at The Marlborough Head public house in central London. In those days there were no Internet records and looking for John among the London Records was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

This week I decided it was time to investigate again, aided by all the online records now available. This blog recounts what I have learnt and illustrates what an amazing amount of information can be found online 

John Tytheridge’s Parents in Mitcham

John’s parents were John Tytheridge and Ann Sprules who married at Christ Church, Spitalfields on 3 November 1816. They were recorded as of this parish and a bachelor and a spinster. At the marriage John signed his name and Ann, unable to write, put her mark. 

John and Ann moved to Lower Mitcham in Surrey where John was employed as a gardener. Ann was from Mitcham, baptised in Mitcham, St Peter and St Paul on 2 July 1786, daughter of William Sprules.

In 1818 John and Ann’s son was born, he was also called John. His baptism took place in the strangely named church of “City of London Lying-In Hospital” situated in City Road, Finsbury. The baptism records for 31 May 1818 show John baptised, son of John and Ann Tytheridge of Lower Mitcham, John is shown as a gardener. The City of London Lying in Hospital was a maternity hospital for the wives of working men and it had a chapel attached to it. I do not know why John was born and baptised here 10 miles from Mitcham. In 1821 John’s sister Ann was born. She was baptised in the local parish church of Mitcham, St Peter and St Paul, on 8 April 1821. Her parent’s residence is recorded as Mitcham and John shown as a gardener. Their surname in this record is written as Tetheridge.

In these day Mitcham was a Surrey village, about nine miles from London, although now it is a suburb of London. There were many large houses in Mitcham where John could have been employed as a gardener. It is also possible he was employed in the growing of lavender, since the area around Mitcham has grown lavender since the 1500s. The famous company Potter and Moore was set up in Mitcham in 1749 to extract lavender oil.

John and Ann Tytheridge in Wavendon

Sometime before 1832 John and Ann and family had moved to the small village of Wavendon, Buckinghamshire,  where John worked as a gardener. The evidence for this comes from an apprenticeship certificate for son John. John died on 26 March 1839 in Wavendon age 61. His age given suggests he was born about 1778. The cause of death was consumption (tuberculosis). His death was registered by Sarah Chance not by his wife. He was buried in the parish church of Wavendon on 29 March 1839, records show he was “husband of Ann”. 

Ann Tytheridge in Woolley

Ann, now a widow, moved to Woolley in Yorkshire. It is unknown whether she moved to find work or to be near a relative. She died 7months after John, her age was given as 53 or 55 in two different records. She was buried on 7 October 1839 in Woolley Parish church, her residence was shown as Woolley Park. Woolley Park is now a Grade ll listed building and was home of the Wentworth family. The transcription of her burial record shows her surname as Tetheridge.

The Index to Death Duty Registers suggest both John and Ann died intestate, with Ann granted administration of John’s estate and John (the son) administration of Ann’s estate. It looks like tax was due on their estate, tax was due on any estate over £20.

John Tytheridge’s Life 

While John junior’s early life was spent in Mitcham later the family moved to Wavendon. At the age of 14 John was sent to London to be an apprentice to David Francis Powell a citizen and patternmaker of London. An indenture was signed on 17 December 1832 and the basis of the agreement was David Powell would provide food, clothes, lodging for John and teach him his craft. In return John would work for David and learn the trade. During John’s apprenticeship there was a list of things he could not do including gambling, haunting taverns and playhouses and he could not get married. This indenture was binding for 7 years. John would have finished his apprenticeship just after his mother died.

On the 1841 census 21 year old John and his 18 year old sister Ann were living together at The Minories in London, residing with James and Elizabeth Miller. John is listed as a tailor and Ann is shown as no occupation. The Minories was a street that ran north from the Tower of London. London Land Tax Records show John paying tax at The Minories, Portsoken, City of London from 1844 to 1848. In the Post Office directory of 1845, he is shown as a tailor at 139 The Minories.

On 7 May 1845 27-year-old John married Jane Short in Walthamstow, St Peter in the Forest, Essex. There were no children from the marriage. 

From 1846 to 1851 John is shown on the electoral register for Bow, living in a house on the High Street. On the 1851 census John and Jane are living at 1 High Street, Stratford le Bow. It shows John age 32 from Mitcham, a victualler living with Jane his wife age 30 from Bristol. Also living with them are two servants and a niece, Mary Ann Short. The Post Office Directories show that the pub they ran was called the Black Swan, probably situated on the corner of Bow High Street and Bow Street.  

In 1852 a newspaper advert shows the lease on The Marlborough Head, 32/33 Great Marlborough Street was for sale. John was granted a licence to run this pub in March 1893. The pub was situated in central London near Regent Street, near Liberty’s, probably at the top of Carnaby Street and opposite The London Palladium. The pub was still there in 1966 although had been rebuilt but it has now been replaced with modern buildings. 

John Tytheridge’s Death

John and Jane lived at The Marlborough Head until John’s death on 27 December 1858 age 40. He was buried at Brompton Cemetery on 31 December 1858 after a service at Westminster, St James. He was buried in Grave B71, a map of the cemetery shows plot B is just to the right of north entrance.

John's will was written in 1854 and left everything to his wife Jane. Probate records show the estate was worth under £1500, (probably around £1400).

In March 1859 Jane put the lease of the Marlborough Head pub up for sale. Jane is missing from the 1861 census but in 1871 lodging at Stanley Villas Chelsea with William Nailer and wife and describes herself as a publican. On the 1881 census Jane is living with William and Mary Titmus (her niece) and family at 5 Cavendish Villas, Richmond. Jane died on 4 July 1886 at 1 Maple Villas, Maple Road Penge, age 67. 

As John and Jane had no children the Tytheridge surname died out from this line. 

The Tytheridge Surname Lives On

Despite John having no children the Tytheridge name has been preserved to the current day by the family of John’s sister Ann who was very proud of her Tytheridge surname.

On 16 April 1841 Ann Tytheridge married William Bennett in St Catherine Creechurch, both were of full age and from Jewry Street. Ann was probably only 20 and her father is shown as John Tytheridge but it doesn’t mention he is deceased. Her brother was one of the witnesses at the wedding. 

William and Ann Bennet had 4 children born in London.
• William Bennett born 1842 died 1843
• John Edward Bennett born 1845 died 1860
• Elizabeth Bennett born 1846 died 1851
• Isabella Bennett born September 1849 died Dec 1848

On 1851 census they were living in Stepney. In October 1852 they emigrated to Australia with their only surviving son, John. They sailed on the Koh I Noor, leaving London and sailing to Port Phillip, Victoria. In Australia Ann had 5 more children

• George Bennett born 1853 died 1853
• Maria Bennett born 1854 died 1934
• Charles Henry Bennett born 1858
• Ann Bennett born 1860
-• Frederick William Bennett born 1863 died 1926

Four of the children survived, but John who had travelled with them from England died in 1860. Ann died in Yarra, Victoria on 12 October 1902, her husband William died in 1904. 

At least one of Ann’s grandchildren were given the middle name Tytheridge, Frederick William Tytheridge Bennett. This Christian name has been handed down the generations and is still in evidence today. Also, a piece in the local newspaper showed that the family house of Frederick Bennett was called “Tytheridge”.

Looking for John Tytheridge Senior

Unfortunately, despite finding out so much about the children John and Ann Tytheridge, the origin of their father John Tytheridge born around 1778 remains a mystery. He is not related to the Tytheridge family of Hampshire. But the questions remain

• Is John related to the Tytheridges in Sundridge Kent?
• Is John a Titheridge who migrated from Hampshire then misspelt his surname?
• Is John a descendant from a family in Westminster who spelt their surname Titteridge, Tutteridge and many other variations, who were present in London in the early 1700s but have no known descendants?

None of the records currently available online provide a possible John Tytheridge born in 1778, so if you have come across someone who fits the bill please get in touch and solve the mystery.

Joseph Titheridge – From Rags to Riches

Winchester Cathedral 

 “How does a poor man become a wealthy gentleman?” that is the question addressed in this blog. 

Joseph Titheridge from Winchester was shown on the censuses up to 1881 as someone who looked after horses at the Royal Hotel, Winchester. His will shows that when he died in 1891 he was a gentleman with extensive wealth. The gross value of his estate was £8795 10s 9d. Looking at websites that workout the value of this money today suggests that Joseph left equivalent to one million pounds! His life story follows and tries to answer the question “Where did Joseph’s money come from?” 

Joseph Titheridge’s Will

Joseph’s will was made on 14 January 1891, 7 days before he died and revealed the extent of his wealth, property and investments.

This is how he divided his estate.

• To Emily Bliss, niece of his wife £200
• To Royal Hants County Hospital at Winchester £100
• To the Convalescent Home in Isle of Wight in connection with the said hospital £100
• To the Winchester Dispensary £100
• To the Royal Lifeboat Institution £100

The 10 leasehold houses called Ashley Terrace and the cottage called Ashley Cottage in Winchester are to be sold and the money used to pay any expenses and legacies and the remainder to be divided into 5 equal parts

• One fifth to brother Charles Titheridge
• One fifth to brother Thomas Titheridge
• One fifth to sister Eliza Wheeler
• One fifth to sister Elizabeth Bell
• One fifth to the two children of his late brother William 

To his brother Thomas he gives his gold watch and chain

To his wife, Emily (also known as Emma), he left his plate, linen, china, glass, books, prints, pictures, wines, liquors, fuel, consumable provisions and other household effects

All freehold property is to provide rents and annual income to Emily, his wife, during her life and for as long as she remains a widow. After her death or second marriage all the property is to be sold. The money from the sale is to be divided as shown

• £1000 to niece Emily Bliss
• £200 to the children of Mrs Towne his wife’s late sister
• £200 each to Adam Blackman, George Blackman, John Blackman and Honor Knight (widow) brothers and sisters of his wife. If they die before Emily dies or remarries – their children are to take their share.

Any remaining money to be divided among his family Charles, Thomas, Elizabeth, Eliza and William’s children.

One interesting line in the will is “The share of each of my said sisters to be received and enjoyed by them as her separate estate, without the control or interference of any present or future husband.”

Joseph Titheridge in the Newspapers

What happened between 1881 and 1891 to change Joseph’s fortune is mystery. Once a servant and ostler, he becomes a gentleman with a gold watch, books, prints, pictures and property. I have searched local papers for Joseph and despite finding several articles in the newspapers about Joseph, nothing explains the source of his wealth.

His first mention in the newspapers is in 1881 when he is a witness in a trial of someone stealing money from Winchester Racecourse, at this time he is listed as an employee of The Royal Hotel. In the 1880s there are references to him buying shares or property at auctions in Winchester, but the articles don’t specify what was purchased. By 1882 he is the owner of 10 houses in Ashley Terrace, Winchester where it is reported he had to pay for drainage to be installed since there were no sewers. By 1883 he had shares in Didcot, Newbury and Southampton Railway, but research shows this company never paid any dividends. In April 1885 the Royal Hotel Tap caught on fire but by this date, although run by Joseph, he wasn’t living there. The fire was extinguished but there was extensive damage to the buildings and contents which was covered by insurance. In 1890 newspapers reported Joseph was owed money from an advanced on a mortgage of £420 on a property. From 1881 onwards he is playing bowls for Hyde Abbey Bowling team. There are two reports of him donating money, one for a prize for the Winchester Show in 1883 and in 1881 he donated two guineas to the Royal Hants County Hospital.

The Source of Money

I have considered the various options for where his money came from. He certainly couldn’t have earnt that amount of money and there is no evidence that it was obtained illegally by criminal activity. It is most unlikely that he inherited his wealth from his parents or family members since they were poor. He went to the races, so it is possible he won some money from betting and gambling. One option is that his wife inherited money and he took control of it. In these days any money made by a woman, e.g. inheritance, instantly became the property of her husband. (This inequality was only properly addressed by the 1882 Married Woman’s Property Act). Emma’s father, Charles Blackman, was a blacksmith who died in 1857. Emma’s mother, Mary Blackman (nee Woodnut), is shown on the 1861 census as a widow living on Church House Farm, Waltham Chase recorded as a “Landed Proprietor”. The 1871 census shows that Mary owned her house in Swanmore. Mary Blackman died in 1878, but there is no sign of probate being applied for and no will has been found for her or husband Charles.

It appears that whatever the source of his initial money Joseph was a shrewd businessman and invested what he had wisely. There are two reports of him buying shares at auctions, perhaps some proved good investments. We know he lent money to mortgage property, perhaps with good returns. He invested in property, perhaps bought and sold at a profit. Whatever the route to wealth he certainly accrued a lot of money.

Joseph Titheridge’s family

Joseph was the son of Joseph Titheridge and Elizabeth Simpson, who had married in Winchester St Thomas on 27 June 1820. On his marriage Joseph was shown as a post chaise driver, and later as a horse keeper or ostler. The family were not rich with Elizabeth working as a laundress to help support the family. The evidence now available shows that Joseph was born in Alresford in 1789 and was the brother of the infamous Dickey Dung Prong.  

Joseph and Elizabeth had 7 children, all born in Winchester over a 20-year period. The children were

• Charles born in 1821, died 1894
• Elizabeth born in 1824, married William Bell, died 1913
• Eliza born in 1827, married Arthur Griffin and later Edward Wheeler, died in 1906 
• Thomas born 1830, married Susan Allen, died in 1897
• Joseph born in 1834, married Emma Blackman, died in 1891
• Edward born in 1837, died in 1837
• William born in 1841, married Ellen Newman, died in 1877

They seem to be a very close family and across the censuses various siblings live together, and nieces and nephews are often living with the families too. 

Joseph Titheridge’s Life

Joseph was born in 1834 and was baptised on 4 May 1834 at Winchester St Maurice. Seven-year-old Joseph can be found in the 1841 census with his parents, brothers Thomas and William and married sister Elizabeth. The family were living at Upper Brook Street, Winchester, a road just off the High Street. On the 1851 census Joseph is still living at Upper Brook Street with his parents and brothers Thomas and William. Joseph and his brother, Thomas, are now both working as grooms.

Joseph married Emma Blackman on 21 July 1854. Emma was from Bishops Waltham and Swanmore. They had one child George who was baptised in Bishops Waltham on 6 December 1854, Joseph is described as labourer at the baptism. Sadly, George died in the same month and they had no other children.

In 1857 Joseph’s father died in the Winchester Union (poor house) age 70 and Joseph’s mother, Elizabeth, died in 1869 age 72. 

The 1861 census shows Emma and Joseph living at 23 Parchment Street, this street is off the High Street in the heart of Winchester. Living with Joseph and Emma is their niece, Emily Bliss, age 8, daughter of Emma’s widowed sister Honor. Joseph’s occupation is given as ostler. An ostler took care of people’s horses when they stopped at an inn.

On the 1871 census Emma is visiting her mother in Swanmore, while Joseph is in Winchester living in 10a Parchment Street, The Royal Hotel Tap. Also, at the same property are Eliza Griffin his sister, who is head housekeeper while Joseph is head Ostler. A Tap is a place where beer is served (and sometimes food), it is often part of a brewery. This one was attached to the Roya Hotel situated in the parallel street.

The 1881 Census shows Joseph and Emma living in 10a Parchment Street at the Royal Hotel Tap. Joseph is shown as an ostler, with inn servant written beside it. The 1889 Kelly’s directory shows Joseph Titheridge had moved to 70 Parchment Street.

Joseph died on 21 January 1891 aged 56. On the 1891 census Joseph’s widow Emma is still living at 70 Parchment Street with her sister Honor Knight and niece Emily Bliss. Emma died 3 years later on 10 February 1894.  Emma is known as “Emma” all the way up to the 1881 census and then suddenly changes her name to “Emily”. Her name appears as Emily in Joseph’s will, on the 1891 census, on the registration of her death and her will.

Joseph Titheridge's home
70 Parchment Street, photographed in 2020

If you can add anything to this story and help explain where this wealth came from please get in touch.

World War 2 – A Titheridge Family’s Grief

 

Benjamin and Eva Titheridge’s Family

On 20 January 1906 Benjamin James Titheridge married Eva Agnes Wells in Alverstoke, Hampshire. They had 8 children

Dorothy Louise Eva Titheridge born 1906
Arthur Benjamin Titheridge born 1908
George William James Titheridge born 1912
Harry Edward Jesse Titheridge born 1914
Philip Errol Titheridge born 1917
Jack Ronald Titheridge born 1920
Ethel Beatrice Titheridge born 1921
Elsie Maud Titheridge born 1922

Their family tree can be found at this link and then scroll down to tree 1F.

On the 1939 register the family lived at 5 San Diego Road in Gosport. Dorothy did not marry and died in 1972, Ethel married John Jenkins in 1940 and Elsie died in 1934 age 12. Arthur was recorded as a passenger to Australia in 1927 and nothing more is known about him until his death in Moonee Ponds, Victoria in 2002. Harry did not marry, as far as we know, and died a batchelor in 1990 in Hampshire. Philip was recorded as a crew member sailing between England and New York in 1934 and then as in the Royal Navy in 1941, but nothing more is known about him. This blog is about the two remaining sons George and Jack, both of whom lost their lives in World War 2.

Jack Ronald Titheridge

Jack was born on 9 January 1920 in Alverstoke and was just 19 when war was declared in 1939. He joined the NAAFI (Navy Army and Air Force Institute) as a Canteen Assistant. Naval canteen staff were civilians who operated the canteen counter selling goods such as cigarettes, confectionary, toiletries etc. During battle they staffed stations alongside naval personnel, primarily working in first aid or ammunition supply. In 1941 Jack was serving on the battlecruiser HMS Hood and was one of 7 civilians on the ship. In May 1941 HMS Hood was sent out with the battleship Prince of Wales and several other British ships to intercept German ships. The aim was to attack the Germans before they reached the Atlantic and attacked allied convoys of ships. On 23 May the German ships, the Bismarck and the Prince Eugen, were spotted. They were intercepted in the North Atlantic in the Denmark Strait, which is between Greenland and Iceland. At dawn on 24 May 1941 the British attacked the Nazi ships. Unfortunately, the Germans knew the attack was coming and were ready. When HMS Hood opened fire, the fire was returned hitting the Hood and causing a fire in the ammunition store. Then a shell from the Bismarck caused a devastating explosion destroying the back of the ship. The Hood sunk stern first with the bow pointing to the sky. She sank in less than 3 minutes. There were 1418 men aboard and just 3 survived. Jack was among the casualties of this, one of the most infamous naval battles of World War 2. Jack is remembered on the Portsmouth Naval Memorial (Panel 61, Column 2). The full story of HMS Hood can be found at this website. 

George William James Titheridge

George was born on 13 October 1912 in Alverstoke, Hampshire. He was 26 when World War 2 was declared and prior to joining up he was working as a concreter. George served as a sapper in The Royal Engineers 36 Fortress Company (service number 1870698). 

In 1941 The Royal Engineers 36th Fortress company were based on the Malayan Peninsular on the island on Penang. The Japanese troops began invading the Malayan peninsular and attacked Penang. In mid December the British troops were ordered to withdraw from Penang, most transferred to the Malayan Peninsular. Japanese Forces continued to invade and landed in Singapore on 7 February 1942 and the Fall of Singapore took place on 15 February.

George was among the thousands of British troops who were taken prisoner by the Japanese. The casualty list shows him as missing on 15 February 1942, the day of the Fall of Singapore. A lot of the documents just say he was held prisoner in a Malay prisoner of war camp. This was probably at Changi POW camp in Singapore, one of the most notorious camps used to imprison Malayan civilians and allied troops. The treatment there was harsh. Documents in the National Archives have a register of some 13,500 prisoners of war and internees in Singapore and these documents refer to Singapore camps number 1, 2, 3 and 4. In April 1943 George was shown as in No 3 camp which is now believed to be River Valley Camp to the west of Singapore city. Often men in this camp were originally from the Changi camp. There is also a document showing that he was in Malai 3 POW Camp.

At home the British Casualty List issued on 21st March 1942 showed George missing in Malaya on 15 February 1942. It was 11 August 1943 before his status on the British Casualty Lists changed from missing to prisoner of war. An article in the local Gosport newspaper shows that in July 1943 his parents received a postcard from George telling them that he was a prisoner of war of the Japanese and he was in good health. This was received 17 months after his capture. Sadly, by the time they received the post card, George had died, but it would be over two years before his parents were informed of his death.

From George’s Japanese POW Index Card the remarks show “overland 28/4/43”. Other documents show that George was listed as one of the Japanese “F force”. This was a group of 7000 allied Prisoners of War who, in April 1943, were transferred overland from Singapore to work on the Thailand Burma Railway, in the toughest section of the railway in the mountains between Thailand and Burma. They were taken in groups of 600 men and although initially they were taken by train some of the journey was on foot. They marched over 190 miles, marching up to 15 miles a day. The story of this horrendous, inhuman journey is told in this link by one of the survivors, it is a very distressing story. Groups left Singapore from 18 April on train 1 to 30 April on train 13. George is recorded as leaving Singapore on 23 April 1943 on Train 11.

The aim was that the men would work on the 260 mile long Thailand Burma railway, but many of the men died on route. George would have reached Sonkrai no 2 POW camp in Thailand (also written as Sonkurai) at the railway about the 23 May. Songrai was one of the worse camps, more prisoners of war died at Sonkrai than any other camp on the infamous railway. The arrivals at camp were put to work on the railway immediately, regardless of their state of health. Many were so exhausted by the journey, that they never recovered. They were forced to work long days doing hard physical labour on a meagre diet. Their story has been told in the famous film “Bridge Over the River Kwai”. The causes of the many deaths was disease, starvation, physical maltreatment and exposure in the monsoon rain.

In early June a cholera epidemic broke out in the Sonkrai camp. Cholera is an acute disease with diarrhoea, vomiting and fever. It is caused by poor sanitation and ingesting contaminated food or water. The cholera spread like wildfire throughout the camp and in a 3 week period 600 men died from cholera. George was among the victims of cholera and died on 3 June 1943, aged 30.

George was initially buried at Sonkrai, but after the war the bodies of those who died in the construction of the Thailand Burma railway were transferred into three cemeteries, two in Thailand and Thanbyuzayat in Burma (Myanmar). George is buried in Thanbyuzayat War Cemetery, grave reference B6. B. 17. There are 3,149 Commonwealth and 621 Dutch burials in this cemetery. A photograph of his grave can be found at this link  

Posthumously he was awarded the 1939 - 1945 Star, and the War Medal.

The account of the brothers Jack and George has been written after reviewing the information available online. If you can add anything or correct any errors please email titheradgegenealogy@gmail.com

100 Years Ago

 Happy New Year and here’s hoping 2021 is better than 2020.

To start the new year I thought I would review what was happening to our family members 100 years ago, in 1921. 

Birth Marriages and Deaths

1921 saw the birth of 14 family members, (2 Titheradges, 10 Titheridges, 1 Tidridge and 1 Tutheridge). There were 12 marriages during the year (4 Titheradges, 7 Titheridges and 1 Tytheridge) and there were just 4 deaths (3 Titheridges and 1 Tytheridge). 43% of the events were in Hampshire, 40% in London and 17% in other parts of the country.

Census

1921 was a census year and I had hoped that I would be able to review the census, however the government have decided that details of the 1921 census will not be released until January 2022.

British Newspapers

With no census to write about I turned to the newspapers for my inspiration. Newspapers are my favourite genealogy source and give us a fantastic information into life in the past. It is not just the big stories that spark interest but also the little bits of local news and trivia that give us an insight into the lives of our ancestors. So here is some newspaper trivia from 1921.

• Madge Titheradge, the actress, continued to be a big source of news. She had spent 1919 and 1920 in California making films and these were being shown at cinemas throughout the country. The films were Gamblers All, Her Story, David and Jonathon, Love in the Wilderness, Husband Hunter and Temporary Gentleman. She also appeared on stage in plays and in April she was cast as Desdemona in “Othello”, in September she appeared in “If” and in November in “Duburau”. In one article her views were sought on the opening theatres on Sunday, her response was that it was “iniquitous and highly improper”.

• Madge’s brother Dion Titheradge was occasionally mentioned in the newspapers too. He was mentioned for his revues and his new play “The K.C.”.

• Rigger Titheridge of HMS Alexandra won a prize in a Whist Drive organized by  the Royal Yacht Sports Club.

• In Bishops Waltham Miss Titheridge helped organize a garden party at The Thickets, with tea, folk dances and a whist drive.

• At the horticultural Show at Baltonsborough (near Glastonbury) B Titheridge won 3rd prize for the children’s wildflower collection and Kenneth Titheridge won a prize for his wildflower collection in the under 8 age group.

• In Portsmouth Christine Titheradge, a contralto, performed at a concert being run by the District Free Church Women’s Committee.

• At Shedfield there was a dedication of the monumental cross, at Fords Corner crossroads, in memory of the “42 gallant men of the village of Shedfield” who gave their lives in WW1 (among the names A G Titheridge).

• At Winchester a memorial to the fallen bell ringers was unveiled in the belfry of Winchester Cathedral. It was dedicated to the 56 members of the Diocesan Guild of Bell ringers who fell in the Great War and in whose memory two bells were added to the peel (Titheridge of Shedfield was among the names) 

• In Bishops Waltham Mrs Titheridge was elected to the committee of the Women’s Institute.

• In Shedfield, St John the Baptist, Dorothy Gladys Titheridge youngest daughter on Noah Titheridge of Acadia was married to Mr Cecil Vear. The bride wore brown velvet and had a bouquet of chrysanthemums. There were no bridesmaids and the best man was Walter Titheridge, the bride’s brother 

• In Southampton St Marks Church Mr W Tidridge was the bass soloist in a rendering of the “Messiah” and later in the year performed in Stainer’s “Crucifixion”.

Australian Newspapers

The Australian press also provided some interesting articles / trivia

• In Adelaide, South Australia Wallace Sutton Titheradge was charged with unlawfully obtaining money from a shop keeper by deception, he pleaded guilty and was sentenced to 6 months in prison.

• In Ballarat, Victoria the Real Estate company Titheradge and Growcott, situated on Main Road, held regular auctions.

• In Molong, New South Wales there were references to both J Titheridge and Len Titheridge acting as referees at football matches.

• In Marrickville, New South Wales the marriage of Noel Bennett was recorded. He was the youngest son of Mr and Mrs Bennet of “Tytheridge”, Albermarle Street, Marrickville.

• In Wellington, New South Wales there was an obituary of Mrs Phyllis Titheradge who died aged 36 years old, leaving a husband, Frederick, and 6 children.

• Mr Titheridge from Orange, New South Wales took his homing pigeons to Wellington 60 miles away for a race to Orange.

• At Cumnock ,New South Wales Mrs Lote Titheradge had the misfortune to sustain serious scalds as a result of spilling a kettle of boiling water over her leg and foot. 

• In Vaucluse, New South Wales the estate of the late George Sutton Titheradge, actor, was put up for auction, described as Lot 9 and 10 Grand View Estate.

• Mrs Herrick Knowles (daughter of George Sutton Titheradge and sister of Madge) was cast in the role of Nerissa in The Merchant of Venice.

I wonder what future generations will make of our 2021 newspapers in 100 years time?

Happy New Year to all.

Ben Springate Titheridge – WW2 Prisoner of War

Today’s blog is about Ben Springate Titheridge, who in World War 2 was taken Prisoner of War by the Japanese on Christmas Day 1941.


Ben was descended from the Titheridges of Cheriton, being the 6 times great grandson of John Titheridge and Anne Quallat. His parents were William Henry Titheridge and Annie Eliza Springate and he was one of four boys, all born in Portsmouth. The boys were 

• William Brownelle Titheridge born 1910 and died in 1967 in Gosport

• Peter Alistair Gordon Titheridge born 1914 and died 2010 in Lee on Solent

• Ben Springate Titheridge born 17 April 1920 and died 1 December 2008 in Gosport 

• Robert Springate Titheridge born 1922 and died 1963 in Portsmouth.


Ben’s father’s family tree can be found at these links Family Tree of Cheriton leading to the Family Tree of Alverstoke . Ben was just 14 when his mother, Annie, died aged 43 in 1934. Three years later his father, William, remarried to Edith Walker. William had served in the Royal Navy during WW1, more about his story can be found at this link . William retired from the Navy in 1926 aged 50. In August 1939 at the outbreak of war he was recalled to the Navy, and on the 1939 Register, taken in September 1939, he is shown Naval officer with the rank of Lieutenant Commander. On the 1939 Register Ben was at home with his father and stepmother living at Penlee, Montserrat Road, Lee-on-Solent Hampshire. He was working as an apprentice joiner.

All of William’s four sons answered the call to arms and fought in World War 2. Eldest son, William, was already serving in the Royal Air Force at the outbreak of war. Peter joined the Royal Navy and after the war served in The Royal Navy Reserve for many years, retiring with the rank of Commander. Robert served in the Royal Marines and later the Fleet Air Army as a glider pilot.


Ben joined the Army and the records show he was in the Royal Engineers, 22 Fortress Company, service number 2116437 with rank of Sapper. According to Ben’s brother he was 21 when he joined up, probably joining early in 1941. Ben was sent to Hong Kong in the latter half of 1941. According to his brother he had only been there a few weeks when on 8 December 1941 Japan declared war on the USA by attacking Pearl Harbour. Hours after the Pearl Harbour attack the Japanese attacked Hong Kong. Around 1,500 troops were killed by the Japanese in the subsequent fighting. After 18 days of fierce fighting the allied troops were overwhelmed by the large number of Japanese that had invaded this British territory. On Christmas Day 1941 the Governor of Hong Kong, Sir Mark Young, was forced to surrender to the Japanese. The Japanese continued to occupy Hong Kong throughout the war, until Japan surrendered on VJ Day (15 August 1945).


Over 6500 survivors of the conflict were taken into captivity. Those taken prisoner endured terrible suffering or death. Japanese prisoners of war were either held in Japan or in the far east countries occupied by the Japanese. The prisoners were both members of the military and civilians who had been in the far east at the outbreak of war. Conditions endured in the camps were tough with no obeyance of the Geneva Convention. Ill health was rife with the major problems being malnutrition, dysentery, malaria and cholera. The death toll from these conditions was high but other causes of death included the work the prisoners were made to do and the punishments they had to endure.


Ben Titheridge was among those taken prisoner. For those fearful sitting at home news was slow to filter back to England. It was 23 January 1942 before Ben’s name appeared on the War Office Casualty List, reported as missing on 25 December 1941 (the day of surrender). It was 18 August 1942 that his name again appeared on the War Office Casualty List, this time reporting that he was a prisoner of war. His family had suffered 8 months not knowing what had happened to him. This article appeared in the local paper.

Hampshire Telegraph 6 November 1942

Serving Family

Sapper B S Titheridge, R.E., who was missing after the capitulation of Hong Kong, has since been reported as a prisoner of war in Japanese-occupied territory. Ben Titheridge was well known locally and is the third son of a family of four, all of whom are serving – one with the RAF, one with the Royal Marines, and another in the Royal Navy. Their father, Lieut-Comdr. Titheridge, of Penlee, Montserrat Road, Lee-on-Solent, is also serving with the Royal Navy.

Ben remained a prisoner of war for over 3 years 8 months. He was liberated on 2 September 1945 from Shamshuipo Prisoner of War Camp in Hong Kong. For the family at home they still had to wait until 27 September 1945 before the War Office Casualty List reported he was alive and had been freed from the Prisoner of War Camp.


Ben returned home to Portsmouth, but was left permanently disabled from his war time experience. He never married and lived in Gosport until his death in December 2008 aged 88.


VJ Day commemorations in August this year made me aware that I knew very little about World War 2 in the far east. Since then I have been reading about the war against Japan and Japanese Prisoner of War camps. I have been deeply moved by the numerous personal accounts of survivors of these prisoners of war camps and the terrible conditions they endured.


If you are related to Ben and can add to this story please get in touch. Email: titheradgegenealogy@gmail.com

VJ Day

Today, 15 August 2020, is the 75th Anniversary of VJ Day (Victory over Japan Day.). We commemorate 75 years since Japan surrendered and the Second World War ended.

While Victory in Europe occurred on 8 May 1945 there were many armed forces personnel still fighting against the Japanese in the Far East. Fighting here lasted for another 3 months. Tens of thousands of men from Britain and the Commonwealth were involved in this fight against the Japanese. Many died in the conflict and many were held prisoner.

Today we remember all those who served in the Far East in World War 2. We remember those who sacrificed their lives and those who were involved in the fighting or held prisoner of war, many of whom suffered both physically and mentally from the conflict.

I thought it appropriate that we remember some of our family members who were in the far east at this time. It is hard to access records of the Second World War and therefore my list of those who were involved in this aspect of the war may be incomplete. Those known to be involved are ;

George William James Titheridge born 1912 and died 1943

George was a Royal Engineer who died in Sankrai Prisoner of War Camp on the Thailand - Burma Border

Ben Springate Titheridge born 1920 and died 2008

Ben was a Royal Engineer who spent nearly 4 years as a Prisoner of War in a Hong Kong POW camp.

Alan Courtney Tytheridge born 1889 died 1959

Alan was a civilian living in Japan. He was imprisoned by the Japanese in Yokohama Camp. Alan’s story of life in a Prisoner of War Camp can be read at this link.



In a future blog I will tell the story of George and Ben.

If you can add to the list or add further information about the above individuals please email me: titheragegenealog@gmail.com

Nearly 500 Years of Titheridge History

Old Records

Often when writing about the Titheridge family I mention that individuals are related to John Titheridge and Ann Quallat who married in Cheriton in 1663. You may think that these are the oldest records we have found. This is not the case, and we have identified about 35 individuals who were born before 1663. The problem is that we have no evidence to connect these individuals to John and Ann.

There are many difficulties when looking at old Parish Records. The old records are often illegible and reading them can be impossible, unless you are an expert in reading Old English. Another problem is that a lot of parishes do not have records that go back beyond the 18th century, many of the older records have not survived.

This blog lists what records we have found in Hampshire before 1665 and are therefore over 355 years old. The spelling variations of the surname are quite impressive and include Titheridge, Tytheridge, Titherygge, Tytheryge, Tetridge, Tederidge.

Basingstoke 497 years ago 

Last month we were very excited when we came across the oldest family record yet found. The record is from the reign of Henry VIII, who was on the English throne from 1509-1547. The source of this find is the Lay Subsidy Rolls of 1523 for Basingstoke, Hampshire. Basingstoke is a town 18 miles to the north east of Winchester.

Lay Subsidy was a tax that was levied by Henry Vlll, to help finance his campaigns in France. An individual was taxed on income from freehold land, the value of moveable goods, or their wages. An individual was only taxed in one of these categories and the tax was paid in the place he lived.  On 21 May 1523 parliament granted an annual subsidy for four years, to be assessed each year. For the first two years, land was assessed at 12 pence in the pound, and moveable goods at the rate of 12 pence in the pound for those who owned £20 of goods, and 6 pence in the pound for those who owned 40 shillings.-£20 of goods. Persons who were paid annual wages of more than 20 shillings. were charged 4 pence annually.

The Lay Subsidy Roll for Basingstoke shows the total amount of tax levied in Basingstoke was £65 5 shillings. Some of the richer residents were charged up to £4. Among those listed to pay the tax is James Titherygge who needed to pay 2 shillings.

Avington and Chilcomb 475 years ago 

We have found records between 1539 and 1542 relating to Ricardus Tetridge. These records are also in the reign of Henry Vlll. Ricardus died in 1542 and left a will. The will mentions his wife Marjorie, son William, an unborn child, his mother Alys and his stepbrother William Kynsmill, who is the Dean of Winchester Cathedral. We also have a record of Richardus Tytheryge marrying an Alys Hall in Winchester St Maurice on 6 June 1539. Ricardus’s will refers to land in Avington and Chilcomb, these villages are situated just to the east of Winchester. This story has been written about on the website, so please follow this linkto read more. There must be some link to the previous record in Basingstoke because Ricardus’ stepbrother William Kynsmill is known to have been born in Old Basing, a village two miles from the centre of Basingstoke.

Titheridge Families in Avington 410 years ago 

It is in the reign of James 1, in 1609, that the Titheridge name is found in the parish records for Avington, St Mary. The parish records only start in 1609 and between this date and 1686 there are gaps in the records surviving. From the records that are available we have been able to construct the following family groups.

Natham Titheridge and an unknown wife had 4 children, Emma (died 1610), Mary (born 1610), John (born 1618) and Margaret (born 1630).

Stephen Titheridge and Jane had 6 children, Elizabeth (died 1616), Alice (born 1625), William (born 1628), Jane (born1629), John (born 1631) and Constance (born 1635). Constance was probably buried on 29 Apr 1666 in Martyr Worthy, where the burial of Constance Tederidge age 29 is recorded. Stephen Tythridge was buried on 18 Jan 1641 and Jane, a widow, is buried on 10 June 1677 in Avington.

Three other Titheridges are mentioned in the parish records. Nathaniel, the parish clerk, is born 1622 and died 31 Aug 1653. The fact that he is the parish clerk suggests he was educated man and he could read and write. Also mentioned are William Titheridge buried 9 Jan 1609 and Elizabeth Titheridge, a widow, buried 27 Nov 1623.

Another reference to Avington is in Hampshire Marriage Licences which record.
“Roger Hocklie of Itchen Abbas married Frances Titheridge of Avington spinster. Father Nath T of Avington husb bond at Winchester St Thomas 9 October 1630”

With the parish records being incomplete it is impossible to tie these together in a coherent manner. One could speculate that John born in 1631 might be the John who turns up in Cheriton, but there is no supporting evidence for this suggestion.

Titheridge Family in Old Alresford 379 years ago 

In 1641, nineteen years before John and Ann’s marriage in Cheriton, another John Titheridge married Eme Garrett in Old Alresford. They had 8 children all born in Old Alresford, Nathaniel (born1644), Elizabeth (born 1646), Richard (born 1648), William (born 1650), Thomas (born 1652), Thomas (born 1653), Stephen (born 1655) and Joshua born 1660. No further records of marriages or deaths are found for any of these individuals. It is speculation that Joshua could have moved to Kingsclere / Basingstoke area to start another family group, but there is no supporting evidence for this.

Titheridge Family in Cheriton 357 years ago

It was in 1663, in the reign of Charles ll, that John Titheridge married Ann Quallat in Cheriton. This marriage produced a Cheriton family tree which is familiar to many, and which links over 1700 individuals with Titheridges remaining in Cheriton until the 20th Century.



Unfortunately, there are too many missing pieces of the jigsaw to join these records up. Any attempt to do so would be pure speculation. However, it is exciting to know that 500 years ago there is a record of the surname Titheridge with James Titherygge living in Basingstoke.

Below is a map showing the close relationship of villages of Chilcomb, Avington, Old Alresford and Cheriton mentioned above.

If you have Hampshire records before 1663 that I haven’t mentioned please email me : titheradgegenealogy@gmail.com



 

Philip Titheradge and a Case of Measles

Philip Titheradge at Prize giving at Bickley Hall School in 1937

A Dangerous Virus

This is a quote from the Public Health England website:

“This is the most infectious illness known to man and is much easier to catch than flu or Ebola. This virus is spread through the millions of tiny droplets that come out of the nose and mouth when an infected person coughs or sneezes. You can easily catch it by breathing in these droplets or touching a surface where they have settled and then placing your hands near your nose or mouth, as the virus can survive on surfaces for a few hours.” 

No, I am not talking about Corona virus, this article was written long before anyone had heard of or even imagined corona virus. The disease is measles.

Measles starts with cold like symptoms followed by a rash, other symptoms can include fever, sore eyes, aches and pains, loss of appetite and tiredness. Measles can be serious and lead to life threatening complications. Complications of measles can include diarrhoea and vomiting, fits caused by fever and infections of the middle ear, eyes, brain or airways. Worldwide more than 140,000 people died from measles in 2018, according to new estimates from the World Health Organization.

Philip Titheradge

Today’s blog is the story of how a 9-year-old boy suffered after catching measles in 1935 and the lifelong effect this had on him. Philip Anthony Lester Titheradge was born in October 1925 in the Paddington district of London. He was the elder of two sons born to William Charles Titheradge and Lilian Gertrude Hicks. He was sent to Bickley Park School, near Bromley (Kent) where he was a boarding pupil. In July 1935 he was taken ill at school with measles.

Health care in 1935

The story takes place 85 years ago in an era before a National Health Service, and an era without many of the vaccines, such as MMR, that we take for granted today. The measles vaccine was not introduced to the UK until 1968. There were also no antibiotics for treating any of the complications that might arise from measles. Although Alexander Fleming discovered the first antibiotic, penicillin, in 1928 it took over a decade before penicillin was introduced as a treatment for bacterial infections and 1945 before it was introduced on a large scale.

Letter Home

Below is a copy of the 1935 doctor’s letter that was sent home to Philip’s parents which details the progress of his case of measles and detailing the treatment he received. The doctor was Dr Alfred Talbot Rogers, M.B., B.S. London with Honours in Surgery. Dr Rogers was part of a group of doctors working in Bromley near to Philip’s public school.

Blyth Lodge,
35, London Road,
Bromley, Kent.
Ravensbourne 4084

 

Re Anthony Titheradge

 

This boy fell ill on July 21st and by July 24th the rash of measles was well out. On the 25th his left eardrum was red but painless. On the 26th (still without appreciable pain) it was bulging, and on 27th as there was no sign of subsidence of the trouble an anaesthetic was given and the drum was punctured. The ear discharged freely but in spite of this tenderness developed in the mastoid and the bone was opened and drained by Mr R J Cann on July 29th. 

Two days after the operation a pleuritic rib developed in the left axilla, and subsequently practically the whole of the left lower lobe showed signs of consolidation. During the following week inflammation and suppuration developed (again without pain) in the right middle ear, there was however no mastoid tenderness or oedema and in view of the danger of a further anaesthetic in the presence of a lobar pneumonia the ear was left to discharge by itself which it has done freely since August 12th.

He was seen by Mr Cann on August 15th. Mr Cann advises that the mastoid wound should be dressed with eusol dressing (only packed lightly into the wound) that the discharge from the right ear should be carefully frequently cleaned away and spirit drops instilled.
If this ear continues to discharge for three or four weeks in spite of this treatment the mastoid bone may need to be opened. 

The pneumonic area gradually diminished, the temperature fell by lysis and by August 15th I could no longer find any area of bronchial breathing. I was a little anxious at one time that following on what must have been a streptococcal pleurisy – an empyema might develop but fortunately he seems to have escaped this complication.

A Talbot Rogers 
MB 
17.8.1935

His daughter, Penny, sent me this additional information:
“This letter contains details of an operation for mastoiditis for Philip Titheradge, August 1935. This took place at school and the operation was on the kitchen table! Philip was almost totally deaf in his left ear from this time on (he was not quite ten when this took place) and had a deep cavity behind his left ear.”

Healthcare in 2020

Today it is unlikely Philip would have caught measles since most children are given their MMR vaccine, to protect them against Measles, Mumps and Rubella, at 1 year old and this is followed by a second dose of vaccine at 3 years old.

The mastoiditis which Philip developed is a known complication of measles. The mastoiditis is a secondary bacterial infection of the mastoid process and today would be treated with antibiotics. Most bone infections are now treated conservatively with antibiotics, opening them up often makes things worse. It should be noted how ill poor Philip was, as at one time mastoiditis was a leading cause of childhood mortality.

The pneumonia which Philip developed was probably an anaesthetic/surgical complication, as it is quite common after anaesthesia to get a build-up of fluid in the lungs, which increases the risk of infection. Today this pneumonia would also be treated with antibiotics.

As for the operation on the kitchen table at school – well, words fail me!

Hopefully reading this article makes us grateful that we live in an age of the National Health Service, vaccines and antibiotics.

Our thanks to Penny for sharing this letter with us and giving us an insight to life in the 1930s.

The image above shows Philip just a couple of years later being presented with an athletics cup. The effects of his illness and operation did not prevent him having a lifelong love of and prowess in sports in general and swimming in particular, though he was prone to ear infections.

Peter Titheradge 1910-1989

Peter Titheradge about 1965

This blog has been written by Thain Hatherly with an introduction by Ann.

Peter Dion Titheradge was a very talented man. In his early career he was a writer of songs, revues, poems and radio programs. Later he worked for the BBC and is best known as a producer of many iconic radio programs. He is most famous for his work with the iconic radio program "I'm Sorry I'll Read that Again". A previous blog has covered Peter's earlier life and works and can be read at this link .

In this article Thain tells us about his and his wife's friendship with Peter. He has also transcribed some of the Peter's letters. Much of the blog is in Peter's own words and covers the period of his life from 1963 to 1989 and life after retirement.  Those of us who are older will remember many of the famous names mentioned in this article and we will remember, with a smile, many of the Radio programs mentioned, that we listened to in our youth.

 I would like to thank Thain for all the work he has done producing this article for the blog and for being kind enough to share his memories with us. The article is wonderful, and it gives us an insight into Peter's life. Hearing Peter's story from someone who knew him adds so much and reading it in his own eloquent words is just magnificent.

Peter Dion Titheradge 18th September 1910 to 21st March 1989 

I first met Peter Titheradge through my wife Pam. She and I met in 1963 at King’s College, London University, a sprawling maze of premises next to Somerset House. We were both involved in many activities including student journalism, the drama society etc. Like all students then, we had grants to live on during term-time, but needed to find temporary jobs to tide us over in the vacations. That was very easy in those days. Pam found temporary work as a clerk-typist through an employment agency, and one of her first postings in the summer vacation of 1964 was with BBC Radio at Aeolian Hall, New Bond Street, to cover staff holidays. At that time, Peter Titheradge was Light Entertainment Organiser, and so her ultimate boss. 

At the end of Pam’s vacation stint, Peter invited her to lunch at a posh Bond Street restaurant, and asked me too. He wanted me to be a stringer in his role as a talent scout. He had recruited Humphrey Barclay and other members of the Cambridge Footlights crew who had just returned from a tour in New Zealand and went on to Broadway in September 1964 – including Tim Brooke-Taylor, Graham Chapman, John Cleese, David Hatch and Bill Oddie. All of them went on to distinguished careers in radio and television. Peter had good Oxbridge contacts, and thought I could keep my ear to the ground for comic talent across the forty-odd colleges of London University. Some hope! 

The German degree course Pam was following involved a year of study abroad, so during the 1964-1965 academic year Peter took me under his wing and set about expanding my cultural education. His hospitality and generosity knew no bounds: he took me to venues like Covent Garden which I could never afford, and to the theatre and cinema. He treated me to sumptuous meals at expensive restaurants, or at his flat in Dorset House, Gloucester Place – completely unfazed by my uncut hair and student garb of patched jeans, lurid shirts and a sort of opera cloak I had adapted from a workman’s donkey jacket. Our friendship never looked back from then. 

In summer 1965 Pam approached the BBC direct, and again in 1966, and did several spells of temping at Aeolian Hall, finally working there permanently. From late 1967, she and I lived in Hamburg, and in 1969 travelled overland to Australia. With work-stops in Perth and Sydney, we drove extensively around Australia, before embarking on a French cargo boat to return to Europe via the Panama Canal in March 1971. 

We kept in touch with Peter by letter, and back in England, we had brief contact with him while we studied for a Post-Graduate Certificate in Education in Bristol, before he retired and at last travelled to see his sister Meg and nephew Adam in Masterton, New Zealand in March 1972. The following account of his travels is edited from Peter’s letters to us, written in July 1973 while (ironically) he was also returning to England by sea through the Panama Canal… 

‘Early in 1968 I was forced by the resignation of Humphrey Barclay (who moved to London Weekend Television) to take over the production of I’m Sorry I’ll Read That Again while continuing to function as Light Entertainment Organiser or LEO (under which guise Pam first knew me!). 

‘By the end of 1968 I had begun, after initial near-panic, to enjoy being a producer (a role I had refused twenty years before and only finally accepted under protest!). But although I was given an extra secretary, and David Hatch as co-producer, I found the double task of producing and being LEO too taxing for my dwindling genius, so I was allowed to give up the latter task and become a full-time producer. They also, touchingly, extended my tenure beyond my official retirement date (18th September 1970 – my sixtieth birthday) up to 1st April 1972 – so that, forsooth, I could complete exactly a quarter of a century with the BBC which I had joined on 1st April 1947. I gladly accepted of course – although my poor sister was expecting me in NZ for Christmas 1970 and had already practically aired the sheets! 

‘From then on life was thoroughly pleasant, though at times stunningly busy (far more so than when you first knew me). I was given the most amiable programmes to produce – nothing mind-blowing or really intellectually taxing (either to me or the public) – which included a cheery panel-game called Many A Slip, a spy serial The Dark Island, set in the Outer Hebrides and sufficiently successful to beget two sequels, a transference to radio of the old TV saga Dr Finlay’s Casebook (of which I did, believe it or not, fifty-four!) and of course the ever-continuing horror of I’m Sorry which had been responsible for this new and final phase of my ‘career’. (The height of irony was attained when I reached NZ, innocently thinking I’d escaped from it all, and bingo! Proceeded to hear nearly every one of my programmes on the radio there!)… 

‘But to resume – you’re not bored, are you? – during the same period (roughly 1966 to 1972) I contrived to have three major operations and three minor ones. I think I had already acquired my gluten enteropathy (allergy to wheat flour) while we were still in touch – it dates back to 1965. But don’t be alarmed… let it suffice to say that I never felt better in my life and haven’t had so much as a head cold the whole time I’ve been away. ‘

Then at last retirement loomed. I had produced and edited all my programmes by the end of February 1972 – some of which, I may say, were still being transmitted months after I left the country, so my name was still ringing round the land – enough to make one almost believe in a life after death! 

‘Having virtually finished all work in February, I had a clear month to sweep away the accumulated silt of twenty-five years in my office, pack to go to NZ (a five-week journey by every form of transport except mule!), and say my farewells. The latter seemed to wear on for an entire week, for I was given official luncheons, official teas (Pam will remember such functions in the Aeolian canteen!), and a cocktail party in Broadcasting House, and made three speeches of enviable wit and fire – they all had to be different too, because some of the same people were present on all three occasions. 

‘The festivities (or wakes according to the way you look at it) concluded with a champagne party of my own given to 130 guests in a large conference room in The Langham on Wednesday 29th March, and literally within twelve hours of shaking the last valedictory hand I was on the Golden Arrow for Paris on the first leg of my trek to New Zealand. (April 1st, my statutory ‘last’ day, happened to fall at Easter, so they let me leave two days early!) Reason for my precipitate departure wasn’t fear of the police but simply so I shouldn’t wake up the following Monday morning and think ‘My God, I’ve nowhere to go – I’ve RETIRED!’ – subtle psychological stuff! As a result I never have felt retired.’

 Another letter, written later in July 1973 from the same ship, en route for the Azores, continued thus: ‘Having written from Panama, and done my duty by others to the extent of 75 cards, I find myself with still a week to go of this unexampled leisure. Shipboard leisure is unlike any other – so little liable to interruption – no telephone, no-one calling to read the meter, no need to pop down to the corner shop for a packet of fags. Of course there’s always the chance of a typhoon, I suppose. Still, before that happens, I might as well get you and Pam up to date with my life-story – so stifle your yawns and sit up straight. 

‘I brought you to the point, I think, where on the very morning of my retirement I departed for Paris by train, boat, and train. It was Easter weekend, and the limes and chestnuts were at their delicate best. Indeed I’ve rarely known Paris so lovely – or so crowded! I escaped for one whole afternoon to the Père Lachaise cemetery and paced about, practically the only one alive, among the illustrious dead. I was much amused by Chopin’s grave – a small obelisk with his profile in bas relief and, underneath, the simple words ‘à Fréd. Chopin’. I shall always think of him now as good old Fred! 

‘From Paris I moved on to Amsterdam for a few days – my first visit, certainly not my last. Thence (via an afternoon at The Hague and the most exquisite Vermeer in the world) to Rotterdam, there to embark on a Rhine steamer. I enjoyed a leisurely four-day cruise upstream, inert and grossly over-fed. Oddly enough, the place that stayed most vividly in mind is not Cologne, not Coblenz, but Düsseldorf, although a side-trip to Heidelberg was interesting. I disembarked at Strasbourg for a couple of nights; then by train to Munich, where I visited one of Ludwig’s castles in the Bavarian Alps, and went to the exquisite opera-house twice. I liked Munich – hadn’t expected to, considering what it spawned. 

‘Then followed the highlight of my journey – eight days in a Europabus from Munich to Teheran. I wrote an account of it for my travel agent – he very kindly made some copies – I’ll send you one when I get home. Not because it is a model of English prose – far from it, I wrote it with a set purpose, and he had never booked anyone on the Europabus before – but it’ll save me writing it all over again here! 

‘Briefly, the route lay through Austria, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, Istanbul (where we had two nights, and I fell in love with the place), and of course mainland Turkey. While at Teheran (which I hated) I flew down to Isfahan for one night. After that I took to the air for the rest of the way, touching down for a couple of days each at Delhi, Calcutta, and Bangkok. It was a sad mistake to revisit India; and I saw nothing at Bangkok except Americans. Then to Sydney for a week with friends in St Ives, during which we saw the Australian ballet (very good, I thought), and I found my grandfather’s grave. I was conceived in Sydney, so I always feel at home there! Finally, one afternoon, I flew across the Tasman to Wellington and the welcoming arms of the family. 

‘I must now pause to confess something I have not yet told anyone at home – which is that, on retirement, I had long planned to settle permanently in New Zealand. My sister had welcomed the plan, which was first formulated way back in 1965. It really did seem the obvious move – I was without ties in England, I had liked New Zealand on my first visit there in 1958-59, and Meg and Adam (my nephew – now 19) are my nearest and dearest. Economically it was practical too – my BBC pension is not large but, pooled with the family’s resources, it was adequate for a comfortable life. Such was the plan. The reason I told none of my relatives or friends at home was from a dread of farewells – forever – my intention was to announce it from NZ after a month or so there. 

‘As you will remember, I have no furniture or household effects (lost in a depository fire in 1953), so it was merely a question of having my books, pictures and papers crated, and saying that they were going into store! My clothes went into a couple of trunks and sundry suitcases. (And I told Ronnie Hill it would be too expensive for me to return to Dorset House, which God knows is the truth!) So there I was – fully uprooted – with all my worldly possessions going ahead of me by sea, except what I needed for the journey. 

‘Mind you, I talk of avoiding farewells – but I had to suffer them one-sidedly, saying “See you in a year’s time” with a gay laugh, while simultaneously genuinely believing I should never see them again. And now you will be wondering what has happened to alter all this. Let me hasten to say it has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with New Zealand (I’m no ‘moaning pom’), still less with my welcome from the family. I was lapped in every comfort, my room had been planned and equipped with the greatest care and affection, with a multitude of cupboards and bookshelves and drawers, and the sun shone unblinkingly on one of the most beautiful countries in the world despite its being winter when I got there. 

‘My first two months were very happy indeed. I hadn’t seen Meg for eleven years, so there was much to catch up on, and it was great getting to know Adam again. I seem to have been born to retirement as the sparks fly upward – new routines of life took over smoothly, the more so since they were linked with Meg, with whom I had shared the earliest routines of all, those of childhood. I like New Zealand’s uncongestedness and cleanliness and quietness – and of course its beauty. 

‘Then gradually an obscure sense of unease crept up on me – which became, more distinctly, a sense of something missing – and what was missing was of course the familiarity of England. Not Britain, I hasten to say – none of that robust sort of flim-flam – equally not the theatre, ballet, opera, etc – not even my friends. 

‘No, I can put it in no other way than by the word familiarity. New Zealand stared back at me, beautiful but uncomprehending. England took me in, absorbed me, made me a part of her. Sounds sentimental, I know, but it was pretty basic. A matter of roots, I suppose, or age – or both. 

‘Anyway, I became unhappy, seemed to be in a cleft stick – cleft, what’s more, by myself – and the day I said to myself almost with a sense of discovery “But this needn’t be a life-sentence” was the beginning of release and of my eventual resolve to return. From that moment I could regard the enterprise as a holiday and extend it indefinitely with perfect equanimity. 

‘Of course, telling Meg was hellish – at a stroke it made her own exile so extreme – but she understood as I knew she would, which in a strange sort of way didn’t make it any easier. However, human nature is nothing if not resilient, and we all soon settled down again on the new footing. We caravanned up the Tasman coast in the summer – and a glorious summer too – and bathed and fished. I was taken for an exhausting but exhilarating two-day bush trek by friends of Adam’s. 

‘I visited the South Island twice and was given a marvellous time on both occasions by Meg’s multitude of in-laws. I walked the Milford Track, a wonderful 35-mile hike through the mountains of the extreme south, taking four days in superb weather. I had a week with friends in Auckland, New Zealand’s ‘swinging’ city – when I heard Ashkenazy play Chopin (good old Fred!) at the Town Hall, went to the theatre, saw a perfect first folio of Shakespeare in the library, tasted the fleshpots. 

‘I was given plenty of evidence of how very possible it is to live a perfectly fulfilled life in New Zealand – but still I wanted to go home – so here I am on my way! Ironically enough, no-one at home need ever know any of this – so far as they’re concerned I was going to be away for a year at least and am returning after 16 months. 

‘So that’s my story. It has been in many respects a distressing way, and certainly an expensive one, of learning something more about myself. Simply that I am not the footloose guy I thought I was! I shall miss the family sorely, of course – but it is my fate, and I must accept it, to be missing something whichever side of the world I’m on. One reason I’m returning by sea is that it’s the cheapest way of bringing the bulk of my clobber back with me, though even so I’ve had to leave behind a quantity of books and papers for later transmission when I have somewhere for them to come to. Where that will be, I have no idea at present. I intend to get the smell of the place again first. I’m pretty resourceless, so it will probably end up by being a back room in Balham. As I said earlier, New Zealand was the sensible course! 

‘But my immediate intention is a Grand Tour visiting sundry strategically placed friends and relations, which will take me into the New Year. After that I have plenty of invitations to stay with various people in London like old Humphrey. During this battening period I shall of course be prospecting with regard to a future ‘home’. Till further notice, though, continue to use Dorset House as my holding address. 

‘This has been a good voyage. We left Wellington on Monday 2nd July, twenty-four hours late due to a pilots’ strike, and had to miss Tahiti in order to make up time, which was disappointing – and which meant a long fortnight between Wellington and the Panama Canal without sight of land; but I enjoyed even that, for I’m never tired of gazing at the sea and the occasional scurry of flying fish. I started this letter when we were two days out of Curaçao. It has seen me across the Atlantic, for we now have only a day to go to Ponta Delgada (in the Azores) whence it will wing its way to you. 

‘We docked at Balboa late one night, and I went into Panama City by the bus next morning and walked around for a couple of hours. I found the passage through the canal absolutely fascinating, and watched every moment of our progress from sea to sea, eschewing all meals till we emerged safely into the Caribbean – not much of a sacrifice as it was a humid hot day and I’ve eaten enough on this trip to last me till Christmas! I kept my eyes skinned for the burnt-out Indian freighter – wasn’t quite sure which way you were going when you referred me to the port side, so peered at both, but no sign – they must have removed it. 

‘Did you touch Curaçao on your way? An odd island, I thought, dominated by the Shell refinery, but Willemstad looked charming as we sailed in. I had a pleasant stroll round it – and of course a sip or two of Curaçao! Since then there has been no excitement. I read a book a day on average, go to the movies every other night, and spend the rest of the time eating, sleeping, watching porpoises – and writing to you! 

‘Writing, moreover, at far too prolix a length for your patience, I fear, but there’s been a lot of slack to pull in. However, we’re more or less up to date now, I think, so I’ll shut up and take this along to the purser’s office for mailing. It is Monday 23rd July, latitude 34N, longitude 36W, and on Friday I’ll be in Southampton; London the same night. I can scarcely believe it!’ 

By the time these letters had bounced off my mother’s address in Maidenhead and caught up with us, Pam and I were back in Perth, Western Australia! Our attempts to buy the house of our dreams in the Welsh Marches during 1971-72 were foiled by a house-price boom, so in October 1972 we returned to Perth to earn a larger deposit. We corresponded with Peter intermittently till we came back to England in February 1975, before the birth of our first child, and bought an isolated cottage in Shropshire. A letter from Peter dated 30th April 1976 was written to fill in gaps in our knowledge since he had arrived back from New Zealand and landed feet-first into a new career: 

‘Arriving back from New Zealand after an eighteen-month absence, I was so shaken by the cost of things that momentarily I feared a pauper’s grave and, although in NZ I’d fallen in love with inactivity, I was quite glad to accept the BBC’s unexpected recall to freelance production. First it was a new domestic comedy series about (ironically) retirement, called Home to Roost, starring Deryck Guyler and Molly Sugden, two lovely artists, and it was great fun to do. 

‘Then I took over an existing series of P G Wodehouse adaptations (fortunately I like Wodehouse) with Michael Hordern as Jeeves and Richard Briers as Bertie Wooster, two more lovely artists, so that was great fun to do too. Home to Roost proved a success and Radio 4 wanted a second series, but by that time (Spring 1975) the axe had fallen and it had to be produced by a staff man. 

‘The dear good faithful BBC, however, then asked me to write a report on Revue – its history, its present state, its potential for a Radio 2 nostalgia series, etc; so I plunged into research and came up with twenty closely typewritten foolscap pages, such industry! On the strength of it they further asked me to assemble, and write the narrative for, a series of eight hour-long programmes, but by then I was sick of the subject – and had also discovered I could exist quite adequately on my income – so I said no. 

‘Then came the approach from the publishers I told you of (to write a history of Aeolian Hall). I must confess I was flattered, and I allowed myself to be given an extremely expensive lunch and said I would think about it. And indeed the idea was attractive, for I loved the dear old Aeolian. But finally the thought of writing forty thousand words in six months and selecting a hundred or so illustrations – nay more, the tedium of re-living twenty-five years of my past life – filled me with such melancholy that I fiendishly put them onto Ronnie Hill instead. He accepted, but has often since, much to my wry amusement, declared how wise I was not to! 

 ‘By this time people were beginning to think me slightly unhinged – you know how strenuous the average Anglo-Saxon is, and one seems to be surrounded by average Anglo-Saxons in this country – and it was this more than anything (well, perhaps the lure of a free fare north too!) that caused me to say yes when Manchester University asked me to lecture on Radio Comedy to their Penn State course, an educational sensation from which I have just returned. 

‘Amid all the above, of course, I had to find somewhere to live. I ‘gypsied’ around for most of my first year home – dear old Humphrey put me up for ages, and I had several spells back at Dorset House (by now grown too expensive to consider as a permanency). I spent my second year in an unsatisfactory flat (share of bathroom, you know the sort of thing), but at least it was in St John’s Wood which is the part of London I understand best (because linked with childhood and youth) and so I was on the spot when this place fell vacant, where the only thing I share is the telephone. I’m really very lucky to have hit on anything in St John’s Wood within my means because it’s a hellishly expensive area – I actually saw an advert in The Times for a furnished flat only two roads away from me at £110 a week!! 

‘Well, that brings me up to date. If you ask what I do with myself, well, for a start I’ve never lived alone before and it has been a revelation how much time, energy and wit it takes to feed, launder, and house-clean one solitary being. Practicalities apart, there is always something I should be doing (at the moment it’s my income-tax return) which I seem to end up not doing in order to do something I don’t have to do (like going to see Truffaut’s Baisers Volés this afternoon at the dear old Everyman), and this continuous slight pressure on my conscience provides just the irritant the oyster needs to achieve a pearl, and I a contented life. And certainly there never seems to be any time. But I suspect time, like money, adjusts to one’s temperament. In fact I think I’ve got exactly the right temperament for retirement – bone-lazy. 

‘Mentally, that is – physically, I’m a ball of fire and bound about London like some character out of Dickens – remember how they thought nothing of walking home to Walworth after a hard day’s work? I’ve no idea where Walworth is but it sounds most frightfully remote. Yesterday for instance I wanted to find a disused church in Tufnell Park (and you can’t get remoter than that) which has just been converted to a theatre and I walked all the way there from the Marylebone Road.’ 

Following this 1976 letter, Peter stayed with us twice in Shropshire. We saw Paul Jones’ Hamlet with him at the Ludlow Festival that year, and Henry V starring Mark Wing-Davey the following year during a third stay. In 1977, we moved to a village in East Anglia, where Peter again visited in September 1978 and April 1979. He was leading a very peripatetic life, and often sent us postcards from places all over the country where he happened to be staying. 

Late in 1980, Peter must have again made a lengthy visit to his sister Meg in New Zealand, for that year he sent us a Christmas card designed, made and printed by his brother-in-law Keith; and in March 1981 we received an aerogramme from him in New Zealand, the contents of which were simply his (very typical!) poem below: 

Alert the Royal Trumpeters! 

England again may laugh. 

Forth from the deep-freeze bring the fatted calf! 

For in the latter days of March 

(Get on with that triumphal arch!) 

Will come the Voyager, the Flyer – 

Rehearse the choir! 

Summon the Yeomen of the Guard! 

The conquering hero comes, 

You’ll know it by the pricking of your thumbs. 

For as the world from winter wakes 

(Away with melancholy, Jacques – 

Prepare to sing that thing of Blake’s!) 

He leaves the far Antipodes – 

Down on your knees! 

And if the time of waiting lags, 

Put out more flags! 

Sound, sound the clarion! Let it rip! 

You shall not sound in vain. 

Set London’s gutters gushing with champagne! 

For with the coming of the Spring 

(Ring out, wild bells, God damn you, ring!) 

Behold the Revenant, the Rover, 

His journeying over! 

Our last contacts with Peter were in the mid-1980s, when he came to visit us after we had been nearly out of touch for a while. By this time we had moved to Devon, and were buried in work and parenthood, but it was always lovely to see him. He had moved back to Dorset House, but was still very busy house-sitting for friends and swanning round the most interesting parts of England. 

In September 1985, he made another trip to New Zealand before his 75th birthday, staying for six months. A postcard in late November from Lake Wanaka revealed he was ‘in the midst of a mighty safari up and down and through the South Island of NZ, here for a week in a house overlooking this very fine lake. Up the Tasman coast next week to Nelson where my nephew Adam recently bought a small picture gallery…and a picture-framing workshop in which he is – thank God! – going mad trying to cope with floods of orders. Back to the North Island in time for Christmas’. 

At the end of March 1987, we received a brief letter from Peter, written from hospital in London: ‘Do forgive my impenetrable veil of silence, but my wretched old allergy …has been giving trouble and my weight has rocketed down. So they’ve hauled me in for tests and experiments with diet. In a perverse sort of way I’m rather enjoying myself, just sinking back on my pillows and watching everyone else milling around! I don’t think I’ll be here much longer than the end of next week…’ 

I replied a couple of weeks later, and at the end of April 1987 we received a postcard from Llandaff in Cardiff: ‘Thanks so much for a bumper letter, far more than my meagre communications deserve! The doctors seem to have pulled me round. Having gone down to six stone (didn’t know you could do that and live!), I am now well above seven and rising. Convalescing with my cousins here and being spoilt  rotten! Should love to come and see you later in the year but want to be really fit again first. I’ll give you a ring when I get back to Dorset House – should be mid-May. You seem to have quite enough on your hands at the moment!’ 

That, regrettably, was our last written communication from Peter. Although Pam and I were both ridiculously busy working in Devon and bringing up two children, Peter was also busy doing what he (and Oscar Wilde) called ‘a Bunbury’ – visiting country friends and relatives or house-sitting. We spoke by phone now and then to exchange news and discuss possible dates to get together, but didn’t actually see each other. A long silence ensued. 

As usual, we sent a Christmas card to Peter in 1990, and at the year’s end we were deeply shocked to receive a card in Ronnie Hill’s wild writing, penned on Christmas Eve: ‘Your card, addressed to Peter, brought me some sadness. As you may have suspected, he died on March 21st of 1989. He got very ill that time when he went to Llandaff and had to go into hospital early the next year. I was also in another hospital at the time, having had a bad fall, and he left us on my birthday, 21st March of that year. John Loney and Humphrey Barclay arranged the setting up of a trust to encourage and develop two young writers, so we were all happy about that. I do remember meeting you, and wish you and the family very well. With good – and sad – wishes, yours very sincerely, Ronnie Hill’. 

I was very upset not to have been able to attend Peter’s funeral, and in March 1991 I sent Ronnie a birthday card to arrive on the 21st, with a note asking for details of the trust and the whereabouts of Peter’s grave. There was no reply, and I assumed that by then he might have died too. 

Peter was a modest man, and although he mentioned his theatrical ancestors, I had no idea they were so famous and highly regarded. Similarly, he used to speak lightly of having ‘written some silly little musicals before the war’, but I had no idea of their extent and popularity (no internet then!). However, I did once ask about his wartime experience, and he lent me a document he called his ‘Credo’. Written at an all-night sitting while posted to some remote location in India, it was an exploration of his philosophy of life, his values and beliefs, and an assessment of where he stood, and how and where he would like his life to proceed. As expected, it was deeply thought-out, fluently expressed and extremely moving. 

The photo shows Peter at his office desk as Light Entertainment Organiser in Aeolian Hall circa 1965, gazing pensively out of the window. The pose is typical: a Woodbine between two fingers (and probably another forgotten and smoking on the ashtray beside him), and a cigarette pack held in the left hand. As usual, he’s wearing a bow tie, with a silk handkerchief peeping from his jacket pocket. On the back of the photo he has written: ‘For Thain and Pam, with love, Peter.’ 

By Thain Hatherly, June 2020