Coach Trips after World War 2 Bill Cooper July 2019
Brownings Coaches in mid 1970s (courtesy Rose Ledbury)
Generally, local coach trips were promotions by the two Box coach proprietors, Harry Miller and Brownings. Millers set out a board on their forecourt whereas Brownings had a notice in their office window, the front room of Mead Villas, the house by the entrance to the Rec. Each board said where to, how much and time of departure. The departure point was always from the same place. The context of the times needs to be remembered because few people had cars and petrol remained rationed until the early 1950s. Whilst the wartime travel restrictions had been relaxed, the psychological constraints of being too extravagant seemed to remain after the war.
I recall a particular trip about 1948 to Tintern Abbey on a Sunday. Together with Gordon Fortune and Tony Eyles, I opted out of the tour of the abbey and spent a wonderful hour crawling through the many caverns and tunnels beneath the abbey itself. The only restaurant in Tintern was closed and only a snack bar appeared to be open. The entire hungry coach-party ended up in Gloucester on the way back, looking for food on a Sunday evening, seemingly an impossible mission. In those days Gloucester was not the sort of semi-tourist centre that has evolved over the past decade, but strangely enough, it all ended up successfully and everyone was adequately fed. We found Bon Marché, no longer trading but the building still exists (part of Debenhams), and considered an art deco masterpiece. The coach party filled the entire restaurant and left well satisfied.
I recall a particular trip about 1948 to Tintern Abbey on a Sunday. Together with Gordon Fortune and Tony Eyles, I opted out of the tour of the abbey and spent a wonderful hour crawling through the many caverns and tunnels beneath the abbey itself. The only restaurant in Tintern was closed and only a snack bar appeared to be open. The entire hungry coach-party ended up in Gloucester on the way back, looking for food on a Sunday evening, seemingly an impossible mission. In those days Gloucester was not the sort of semi-tourist centre that has evolved over the past decade, but strangely enough, it all ended up successfully and everyone was adequately fed. We found Bon Marché, no longer trading but the building still exists (part of Debenhams), and considered an art deco masterpiece. The coach party filled the entire restaurant and left well satisfied.
Trip to Portsmouth, 1956
Moving on to 1956, there was a Gay Nineties Dance club trip to Portsmouth. The morning stop on route was at Stonehenge. How different from today, seemingly a pile of windswept stones, a single guide who was paid from a whip-round, no entrance fee or enclosure and the ability to walk around, touch the stones and photograph everything at will - but no public toilets. The next proper stop was in the centre of Salisbury but it was very much all closed up and showing the difference between Sunday closing then and weekend trading today.
We went on to Portsmouth where strangely enough, we stopped at the Guildhall Square, not around the Sea-Front and beach, nor where all the D-Day paraphernalia is today. Of course, the main shops were not open. What struck me then was that although some 10 years since the end of WW2 had passed, the burnt-out shell of the Guildhall still remained. Today it is splendidly restored. The homeward return stop was at Devizes which seemed quite bustling by comparison.
Everyone’s favourite outing was probably to Weymouth, which comprised an interesting route via places like Ilminster (always the morning stop), Sherborne, Templecombe and Dorchester, then a superb beach, all gently sloping and seemingly few or little waves. Then perhaps a colourful walk to see the departure of the Channel Island ferries which seemed to be departing for another world. (The mass tourist departure craze to Majorca did not really arrive until the swinging sixties).
Moving on to 1956, there was a Gay Nineties Dance club trip to Portsmouth. The morning stop on route was at Stonehenge. How different from today, seemingly a pile of windswept stones, a single guide who was paid from a whip-round, no entrance fee or enclosure and the ability to walk around, touch the stones and photograph everything at will - but no public toilets. The next proper stop was in the centre of Salisbury but it was very much all closed up and showing the difference between Sunday closing then and weekend trading today.
We went on to Portsmouth where strangely enough, we stopped at the Guildhall Square, not around the Sea-Front and beach, nor where all the D-Day paraphernalia is today. Of course, the main shops were not open. What struck me then was that although some 10 years since the end of WW2 had passed, the burnt-out shell of the Guildhall still remained. Today it is splendidly restored. The homeward return stop was at Devizes which seemed quite bustling by comparison.
Everyone’s favourite outing was probably to Weymouth, which comprised an interesting route via places like Ilminster (always the morning stop), Sherborne, Templecombe and Dorchester, then a superb beach, all gently sloping and seemingly few or little waves. Then perhaps a colourful walk to see the departure of the Channel Island ferries which seemed to be departing for another world. (The mass tourist departure craze to Majorca did not really arrive until the swinging sixties).
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My own personal excursion preference would be with the Cricket Clubs and its match at Exmouth. In those days, playing in leagues was not always considered the done thing for such a genteel sport! We had apparently arranged the fixture through the influence of one of the Rogers family from Box Hill, who had become a Senior Police Officer in the Devon Force. However, he had not forgotten his Box roots or former school-friend Bunno Sawyer, the fixture secretary). The photo shown in Ken Boulton‘s collection was taken at the half-way stop in Honiton. I can complete the names which are from left to right: Len Weeks, Brian Weeks, Brian Fuller, Tony Eyles (half hidden) and yours truly. On to Exmouth but for the cricketers, there was not much time to enjoy the seaside itself because after quick picnic lunch there was the game...a wonderful setting, many people watching and contrary to Box, a very hard wicket. Whilst looking back, it always seemed to be sunny in those days, however this Exmouth trip was very special, both for me and the club. The homeward stop would be around Frome, I think.
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Weymouth Outing (courtesy Ken Boulton)
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Miller’s Coaches Outing in 1960s with Alan Peacock, Clive Banks, Gordon Hall and Tony Ford (photograph courtesy Clive Banks). Can anyone name the others please?
When the Rovers Reserves Played at Marlborough
It was a Saturday in either 1952 or 1953 and I went with the rest of the Box Rovers Reserve team to play against Marlborough Reserves. The match was played on the Town Ground which was a bit up-market for us. Box Reserves played in the Chippenham League Division 2 whilst Marlborough, like the Rovers’ first team, was of a much higher grade. Amongst the players in our side were Bill Giles, Monty Dermott, Blewey Weeks and Ron Bull (from Colerne) We had been advised on arrival not to leave anything on the coach because we would return on a much larger coach which would be shared with the Box Women’s Institute.
I can’t remember much about the game or who won but we then proceeded in a much larger Brownings Coach to Marlborough School where the County Women’s Institute were holding a large fete in the whole frontage of Marlborough College. There were many stalls displaying handicrafts such as art seminars, photography instruction, embroidery, prize vegetables, all presented by a different Institute from around the county. There was also a choral competition in the School Hall in which I seem to remember that the Box WI performed but were unsuccessful. The very moment we arrived, I heard my name called over the tannoy (a rather modern invention in those days) to go to the event office. The reason for the summons was that my services were required to write names of the prize-winners on their certificates in graphic script. The Box chairperson (Mrs Wilkinson of Ashley House) was very aware of my abilities in this field as I often prepared posters for jumble sales, exhibitions and the like back at Box. This was because I worked in a drawing office and therefore had easy access to photo-copiers and dyeline printing – all quite rare in those days. So I was carted off to the school art room to write out in mock Roman Script, the names of the winners certificates for places like Collingbourne Ducis, Christian Malford, Bishops Cannings, Kington Langley, Heytesbury and so on, all very long names and no easy, short ones like Box, who obviously hadn’t won anything.
I remember being very impressed with the public school art room, the drawing boards and supporting facilities, not at all like the rather down-market commercial drawing office where I worked, nor the art class-room in my fairly recent war-torn state grammar school. It all signified the difference between state education and private schools like Marlborough College (all boys then) in austerity Britain. When I returned to find my friends, they had disappeared, last seen approaching the Cottage Hospital tent manned only by nurses. Question: how do you share three nurses between four fellows? Answer: you clear off and leave the other one (me) out in the cold.
Later, I felt a lot better about this. Apparently, they had left the coach intending to spend the evening with the young ladies, only to discover too late that the ladies had to be in by 10pm. And then, as all the taxis in Marlborough were engaged ferrying WI bigwigs home, my colleagues had to hitch-hike over the Beckhampton Downs to Chippenham, only to miss the last bus and train back to Box !
It was a Saturday in either 1952 or 1953 and I went with the rest of the Box Rovers Reserve team to play against Marlborough Reserves. The match was played on the Town Ground which was a bit up-market for us. Box Reserves played in the Chippenham League Division 2 whilst Marlborough, like the Rovers’ first team, was of a much higher grade. Amongst the players in our side were Bill Giles, Monty Dermott, Blewey Weeks and Ron Bull (from Colerne) We had been advised on arrival not to leave anything on the coach because we would return on a much larger coach which would be shared with the Box Women’s Institute.
I can’t remember much about the game or who won but we then proceeded in a much larger Brownings Coach to Marlborough School where the County Women’s Institute were holding a large fete in the whole frontage of Marlborough College. There were many stalls displaying handicrafts such as art seminars, photography instruction, embroidery, prize vegetables, all presented by a different Institute from around the county. There was also a choral competition in the School Hall in which I seem to remember that the Box WI performed but were unsuccessful. The very moment we arrived, I heard my name called over the tannoy (a rather modern invention in those days) to go to the event office. The reason for the summons was that my services were required to write names of the prize-winners on their certificates in graphic script. The Box chairperson (Mrs Wilkinson of Ashley House) was very aware of my abilities in this field as I often prepared posters for jumble sales, exhibitions and the like back at Box. This was because I worked in a drawing office and therefore had easy access to photo-copiers and dyeline printing – all quite rare in those days. So I was carted off to the school art room to write out in mock Roman Script, the names of the winners certificates for places like Collingbourne Ducis, Christian Malford, Bishops Cannings, Kington Langley, Heytesbury and so on, all very long names and no easy, short ones like Box, who obviously hadn’t won anything.
I remember being very impressed with the public school art room, the drawing boards and supporting facilities, not at all like the rather down-market commercial drawing office where I worked, nor the art class-room in my fairly recent war-torn state grammar school. It all signified the difference between state education and private schools like Marlborough College (all boys then) in austerity Britain. When I returned to find my friends, they had disappeared, last seen approaching the Cottage Hospital tent manned only by nurses. Question: how do you share three nurses between four fellows? Answer: you clear off and leave the other one (me) out in the cold.
Later, I felt a lot better about this. Apparently, they had left the coach intending to spend the evening with the young ladies, only to discover too late that the ladies had to be in by 10pm. And then, as all the taxis in Marlborough were engaged ferrying WI bigwigs home, my colleagues had to hitch-hike over the Beckhampton Downs to Chippenham, only to miss the last bus and train back to Box !