Amazingly, Black Diamond and her crew of four made it all the way around the island on Saturday, despite horrendous conditions - 25mph winds and mountainous waves. An especially magnificent achievement for such an elderly and lightweight little boat.
They crossed the finishing line at 17.16, with a total time of 8 hours 47 minutes.
All credit to Greg, James, Tig and Hugo for a job fantastically well done.
Given the extreme wetness of the whole experience, squeezeboxes stayed firmly down below until the boat was safely back in Cowes. But then, revived by an apres-race beer or two, James and Greg let rip with a musical medley which had our neighbours in the marina dancing on their decks. Here's their final tune:
There's still time to donate to the RNLI in support of Crew Black Diamond's achievement. Just text BDBD47 £1 [or the amount of your choice] to the number 70070. You may do so anonymously if you wish. Or go to the Black Diamond JustGiving page at www.justgiving.com/blackdiamond
My Musings days are well and truly over, but since this blog still gets more hits in a day than my others receive in a month, I thought I'd post this video here - a montage of photos of Mersea which appeared on Musings from a Muddy Island in years gone by. All part of my new business venture (a sideline, not a principal source of income, don't worry!), which you can, should you wish, find out more about here.
If you enjoyed that, there are more photos from the Muddy Island on the other videos in our youtube channel .
Peter was born in Southampton on 16 February 1929 at the home of his mother’s parents. When he was a few weeks old, his father George and mother Muriel brought him back to their home in North Warnborough where they lived until moving to Odiham in 1932. The following year they moved again, to a house named ‘St Ives’, very close to the Grammar School where his father taught, and this was to be the Holmes family residence until after George’s death in 1984.
When he was 5, young Peter was asked by his parents how he liked the idea of having a brother or sister. Without hesitation, he decided he would prefer a sister, but on 2 July 1934 he was presented with a little brother, Tony. Peter marked the event by taking to his bed with measles! Luckily, Peter and Tony quickly became the best of playmates, and within a few years were constructing complicated games together with their extensive Meccano and Hornby clockwork train sets.
Two of Peter’s earliest memories reveal at what an early age two of his abiding interests were formed. When he was 4, he was desperate to be taken on a school outing with his father’s pupils to the Eastleigh Railway Works to see steam engines being made – sadly at the last minute it was discovered that very small children were not allowed. Peter howled with disappointment, crawled under the sideboard and wouldn’t come out for some time! At about the same age his favourite daily ritual was to look out on the road for the driver of the Thames Valley bus, who would pass on his motorbike en route to collecting his double-decker bus each morning. Thus, even before he went to school, Peter’s great love of railways and buses was already firmly established.
Peter started at Buryfield’s Infant School in April 1934, and soon became crayon monitor – but this early position of responsibility was terminated when he dropped a boxful of crayons down the neck of one of his small classmates. At Christmas 1935, he starred in the school pantomime as Little Jack Horner – giving him a taste for amateur dramatics which he explored further in his twenties and thirties.
When he was 7, Peter moved to the London Road Boys’ School in Odiham and at the age of 8 he started piano lessons. It was while walking to his piano teacher’s house that he first noticed a little girl, whose lesson was immediately before his, cycling past him in the opposite direction on her way home. He thought she was very pretty, and decided that the best way to express his admiration was to take a swipe at her with his music case, or alternatively, as the weeks went by, to poke sticks into her bicycle wheels to try to make her fall off. The pretty girl’s name was Valmai Deane. For Val, at least, it was most definitely NOT a case of love at first sight! Far from it! In fact, she complained bitterly to her mother about the behaviour of that dreadful boy Peter Holmes, to the point where her mother vowed to go and ‘have a word with his father’!
At the age of 10 it was time to move on to secondary school. Since his father taught at Odiham Grammar School, it was decided that Peter should go to Farnham Grammar School instead. Plans for the start of the autumn term were thrown into disarray by the outbreak of war on 3 September that year, but once the school had built an air-raid shelter, lessons resumed. School proceeded relatively smoothly through the war, with Peter and his great friend Jeffrey Bunting vying with one another to be top of the class.
Out of school, Peter’s spare time was largely devoted to his interest in trains and buses. He always remembered the day the signalman at Hook Railway Station invited him into his box and he spent a fascinating few hours watching the indicators and pulling the levers to signal trains along the main line. Many hours and scores of exercise books were taken up with compiling lists of bus and train information, all set out in Peter’s uniquely legible handwriting, and some half-century later, much of the material he accumulated was contributed to the publications of the PSV Circle and the Omnibus Society.
After gaining distinctions and credits in his School Certificate, Peter moved into the Sixth Form, became a prefect, and was told by his Headmaster one day that he was to go to Cambridge. He duly obliged by gaining good marks in Higher School Certificate in Physics, Chemistry, Applied Maths and Pure Maths, and was awarded an Exhibition to Queens’ College, Cambridge. However, there were National Service obligations to fulfil before going up to university.
Peter reported for Army duty at Winchester Station on 16 October 1947. He was issued with his uniform and equipment ready for four weeks’ primary training. In the ‘mechanical aptitude tests’ to assess his suitability for technical training, rather than the infantry, Peter completely failed in the task of assembling a switched lamp socket from its component parts – a failure he quite cheerfully admitted and put down to having grown up in a gas-lit house. He was assigned to the Royal Signals and posted to Catterick for initial training. Subsequently he trained as a radio mechanic and was then retained on the permanent staff as an instructor, which brought with it the rank of Lance-Corporal and later Corporal. In his spare time Peter became involved in the Signals Theatre, and also made many excursions into the Yorkshire Dales by bicycle and bus. It was during this time that he developed a new interest – which was to result in the publication of his book on the subject two decades later – the Stockton and Darlington Railway.
In October 1949, Peter went up to Queens' College. In his first year he read Physics, Chemistry, Mathematics and Mineralogy and was accepted to read Physics for the Part II exam. He joined the Cambridge Intercollegiate Christian Union, his College’s debating society and the University Railway Club and developed a flair for punting on the River Cam which he was delighted to show off to his wife and daughters many years later.
Peter started work in the General Physics Section at the AEI Research Laboratory at Aldermaston Court in November 1952, which was devoted to the study of semiconductors. In 1953 he accompanied his mother to Buckingham Palace to see his father receive the OBE from the new Queen.
Through his work at Aldermaston, Peter soon became the local expert on X-ray crystallography, and his research work was published in academic journals. In 1955 he enrolled as a doctorate student at Reading University, and the techniques he was involved in developing at AIE, and the subject of his PhD, formed the basis for his first published book, ‘The Electrochemistry of Semiconductors’. On two occasions his research work was chosen as part of an AEI exhibit at a Royal Society Conversazione at Burlington House in London – an annual white-tie-and-tails occasion attended by the world’s top scientists. He also presented papers at conferences at home and abroad.
During his years at Aldermaston, Peter was a founder member of the AEI choir and dramatic society. Back home in Odiham, he attended local dances and parties, and played tennis with his brother and friends. It was during this time, in the early to mid-1950s that he and Val became reacquainted. After a Christmas Eve party at the home of a mutual friend, Peter insisted on walking Val home to her parents’ house, Highfield, atop a hill just outside Odiham. Suffice to say that Peter expressed his admiration for Val in a fashion considerably more gallant and affectionate than he had done when they were children. No music cases or sticks were involved! They were married on 15th August 1958 in Odiham Church and set up home in Burghfield Common and early in 1960, Juliet was born.
In 1963, Aldermaston Court was closed down. Peter’s was offered a position with the Royal Aircraft Establishment at its outstation at Ambarrow Court, to work in a new Semiconductor Group. With Val and Juliet, he moved from Burghfield Common to St Michael’s Road in Sandhurst. Just two months later, Catherine was born – delivered at home with the family doctor, David Bryant, in attendance – and baptised a few months later at St Michael’s Church.
Following a request from Space Department, Peter started to specialise in the physical causes of failure of semiconductor components. Every transistor rejected by Space Department was sent to Peter for dissection and analysis. When the UK3 Prospero Satellite went into service, his report on transistor production defects resulted in the publication of a code of practice to be used in every subsequent satellite, which was ultimately adopted by NATO for all its suppliers (and Prospero was still working 30 years after its launch!)
In 1969 Ambarrow Court was closed and Peter’s work moved to the main site at RAE in Farnborough. His section took over the rapidly developing field of ‘thick film electronic technology’. Following his keynote address at a conference in 1971, Peter was invited to edit a book on the subject. ‘A Handbook of Thick Film Technology’ was published in 1975 and remains, in its 2nd edition, the standard reference book on the subject today.
Towards the end of his time at RAE, Peter took up an offer to give a series of lectures on semiconductors at Reading University, and his position as Visiting Lecturer continued for 19 years, until after his retirement. Around this time, one of Peter’s papers resulted in his being awarded the prestigious Heinrich Hertz Premium by the Institute of Electronic and Radio Engineers.
In 1974 Peter began the final phase of his working life at the Ministry of Defence in London as Secretary of the MOD’s Electronic Research Council – an august body set up to bring the experience of the country’s top scientists to bear on the wide range of electronic research undertaken by the ministry’s establishments and contractors. His arrival at the MOD coincided with the launch of a major review of maritime air warfare, in which he was much involved.
Despite his busy working life, he continued to research and write for pleasure, and in 1975 Peter’s book on the Stockton and Darlington Railway was published to coincide with the 150th anniversary of the line.
In 1978 Peter opted to move to a completely different area at the MOD and started at the DLRAT, based in New Oxford Street, where he headed a section dealing with defensive aids for RAF and Army aircraft. His role involved organising and chairing numerous meetings with the manufacturers of multi-million pound radar and early warning systems. During this time he travelled widely. His most lengthy trip was an extended tour of the US which included a high-level briefing in the Pentagon.
One perk of working in the MOD was the annual ballot for seats at Trooping the Colour, or its dress rehearsal. In 1982 Peter won a pair of tickets for the rehearsal and he and Val enjoyed a sunny day on the grandstand – the only thing missing was the Queen!
In his final two years at work, Peter was involved in the procurement of American equipment for Hercules and then, in accordance with Civil Service rules, he retired on the eve of his 60th birthday, but remained active in his specialist field by accepting the invitation to take on a party-time consultancy at Ferranti in Bracknell.
Unlike many upon retirement, Peter was never at a loss as to how to fill his time! Quite the reverse. His interests and community involvement burgeoned and his family and friends always marvelled at the enormous amount he packed into every single day after he stopped having to commute to London.
He and Val travelled widely during these years, both at home and abroad, making the fullest possible use of their National Trust and Royal Horticultural Membership cards to visit historic houses, gardens, flower shows and festivals, cathedrals, churches, sites of archaeological interest and, of course, the routes of disused railway lines, axed by Dr Beeching, occasions always marked by Peter with a symbolic but heartfelt ‘sniff’.
During his retirement Peter also added to his growing list of published books with volumes on the history of Robert May’s Schools at Odiham, various aspects of the Aldershot and District Bus Company, and the Nancy Bus Company as well as writing numerous articles on buses and local history for magazines and journals, including the Hampshire Magazine.
He continued his research into his and Val’s family history, too – a role which he entrusted this summer to his grand-daughter Olivia.
He was an active member of the Aldershot and District Bus Interest Group; the Sandhurst Historical Society and the Sandhurst Museum Committee; the Odiham Society; the Odiham Grammar School Old Scholars’ Association and the Old Farnhamians Association; and he was Chair of the Bracknell Forest Heritage Forum Committee. In 2009 he was presented with the Sandhurst Town Council Community Award at the annual Civic Service.
And of course, retirement gave Peter more time in which to serve the Church of St Michael and All Angels, where he was, together with Val, a regular and committed member of the congregation for 46 years. To mention ALL that he did for and in the church in Sandhurst would take too long, but at the time of his death he was Lay Vice-Chairman of the PCC; Chairman of the Social Committee; a Sidesman and co-ordinator of the sidesman rota; a Eucharistic minister; Church Historian; a lesson reader and occasional verger; he sang in the choir when extra basses were required for special services or performances; and was a former churchwarden. He organised Heritage Open Day tours of the church and churchyard; he had been involved in churchyard maintenance since the early 1970s (in fact it was Peter and Val who, when hacking away at the front hedge one day, discovered that there was actually a wall beneath, which, with much further hard work over weeks and months, they gradually revealed to its present state); he was Secretary of Pledged Giving, formerly the Stewardship Campaign, in which he played a key role since its inception in 1964. He was a man of steadfast personal faith, which was evident both in his practical action and organisation on the Church’s behalf and in the wise counsel he offered to those who sought his help, whether on an ecclesiastical, administrative or personal level.
Peter achieved so much in his long life. Yet all of it characteristically understated, achieved efficiently but without any fuss or, as he would have put it ‘making a song and dance about things’. He was quietly proud of many of his achievements, but unfailingly modest in public and never self-congratulatory, except in his choice of wife – which he regarded as his greatest triumph by a long chalk. His pride in, and devotion to, his daughters and their families, his brother and sister-in-law, his niece and nephew and their families, too, was unstinting. Family always came first with Peter.
Perhaps the words of others, on hearing the news of his passing, provide the best tributes to his unique character and to the loss we feel:
‘An inspiration and a fount of both knowledge and wisdom to all who knew him.’
‘A rock-solid pillar of the church.’
‘A true elder of the community.’
‘Meticulous and measured – a safe pair of hands.’
‘A lovely, gentle, gentleman.’
‘A remarkable man of wisdom, wit and good counsel.’
‘Kind and considerate.’
and . . .
‘A wonderful example of a life so well spent for us to try to emulate.’
Gazing at the sunset this evening, as the children and I ate our picnic supper sitting on our upturned dinghy on the beach, reminded me that Mersea's famous Packing Shed (on the left in the photo above) is currently celebrating the 20th anniversary of its restoration.
There will be a Packing Shed Open Day this coming Sunday, starting at 2pm, with motor launches leaving the hammerhead at regular intervals through the afternoon, to transport visitors to and from Packing Shed Island. Ferry tickets are £3 (adults), £1 (children), and the price includes a cream tea in the Shed, freedom to stroll around the island, with its abundant wildlife and lovely views of West Mersea, and the opportunity to learn a bit about the history of the Shed from members of the Packing Shed Trust.
At the end of the nineteenth century, Mersea's oyster industry was burgeoning. 'Mersea Natives' were transported by Thames sailing barge to Billingsgate Market in London and many thousands more were exported to the Continent. Cleaning and sorting oysters by size became an important part of the preparation process for export and sale. The first Packing Shed was built around 1890 by the Tollesbury and Mersea Native Oyster Fishing Company. Soon, more than 60 fishermen were working in and around the Shed, grading and packing their catch.
However, after a few years in operation, the original shed was completely destroyed in a storm. A replacement was built in 1897 and that Shed was used almost continuously until the late 1950s, when the industry collapsed as a result of the first post-war oyster disease. A second, smaller, shed was built in 1920 but that, too, was destroyed in gales and floods. After the 1950s, the original Shed was used occasionally for the storage of fishing gear, but was eventually abandoned and left to rot.
After the ravages of the great storm of 1987, all that remained was a bare skeleton - picturesque and beloved of artists, but liable to total collapse at any moment. It was at this point that a group of volunteers decided that the building had to be restored, once and for all, or it would disappear into the sea and be lost forever. Today, thanks to the dedication of the current Trust and other volunteers, and funded entirely by public donations, the Shed is not only an important historical landmark, but is also available for hire as a venue for parties, dinners, and even wedding receptions for the more adventurous bride and groom.
Unfortunately, the Shed now faces another threat - erosion. The island on which it sits is being gradually eaten away by the sea, so a huge amount of money has been raised to replace the original shells and sand with granite ballast. The first wave of reinforcement has proved successful but the process is going to have to be continuous if the Shed is to survive, so fund-raising remains a priority.
The Packing Shed is featured in the 'save our seaside' pages of this month's Coast magazine.
On a beautiful evening after a long day's work, we drove over to Copsey's incomparable chip shop in Heybridge, and sat on a bench overlooking Heybridge Basin to eat our superbly battered haddock and perfect chips (with mushy peas, naturally) while watching the sun go down. It was observed, simultaneously, that, had we taken time off for a few days' 'real' holiday somewhere in the UK, we'd probably just be sitting on a bench watching the sun go down over water, eating fish and chips anyway. At such moments it becomes clear that, when one lives in such a beautiful part of the world, there's often little point in bothering to go anywhere else!
We'd intended to repair briefly to the Old Ship after supper, but, following a chance encounter, ended the evening sharing a glass or two of wine aboard a beautiful 40ft yacht in the Lock , with a couple who had returned days earlier from a year's sailing trip to the Caribbean with their two young children. What an enviable adventure.
On the spur of the moment, some months ago, while investigating the price of a single return flight to Belfast for business purposes, it was realised that, at the press of a button, the younger Doyles could come along too for a quite ridiculously low cost. Despite bearing an unmistakably Hibernian surname, the younger Doyles had never visited either the Northern or the Republic portion of the Emerald Isle. So here was a great chance to take them on a surprise day-trip.
We got up early, drove to Stansted, flew into Belfast, investigated Dungannon for an hour or so, lunched splendidly in a gloomy but friendly pub, then drove west and over the border to Sligo. It was a lovely day. I took precisely three photographs. And while the whole enterprise might appear somewhat disastrous on the Carbon Footprint front, please bear in mind, before consigning me to Carbon Hell, that, with a combined age of 38 years, the younger Doyles had never flown in their lives before!
On the return flight, IM watched in wonder as the sun set slowly over layers of fluffy pink cloud, and then the first twinkly lights appeared far below. Nose pressed to window for the entire hour's journey. Magical.
The West Mersea Town Regatta has been running since 1838 and forms a wonderfully festive end to Mersea Week . This year, as always, there were sailing races in the morning for smacks, yachts, dinghies and open fishermen's boats, with up to 150 boats taking part, so it was quite a spectacle.
I didn't go out sailing that day - I had relatives arriving during the morning and the races start very early - but the TM and crew, Richard and John, put up a magnificent show in Black Diamond, winning the Fast Classics race with style. Sailing photos below are by Leafy, who was out with her camera, racing on her family's beautiful boat, Ivy Green.
Once the racing crews were ashore, it was time for the immensely popular water sports - an entertaining range of fun rowing races for all ages as well as the famous 'greasy pole' competition.
In previous years there has always been a bit of a lull immediately after the watersports, when people tend to drift off home, but this time there was a new event, 'Song & Dance' - brainchild of Regatta Commodore Chrissie Westgate - to keep the waterfront buzzing. Two and a half hours of shanty singing, ceilidh dancing and live bands, with hot and cold food and a bar.
It was all great fun, very family-friendly, and well worth all the hard work before, during and afterwards. There were real live eighteenth-century Pirates on parade and joining in the dancing, too! After the day's prizegiving ceremony, the Regatta ended in the usual way with the magnificent Grand Firework Display, which half the island (or so it seemed) turned out to enjoy.
(The images on the poster I put together to publicise the Song & Dance (below), are by island artist and doyen of the greasy-pole, Leafy Dumas, whose lovely website and blog you can find here.)