Lunchtime portraits from 1983 by Jim Irvine

Here's Jane Fitt (now Lambert) ...

... and  Nina Stoyan, enjoying her lunchtime sandwich.

Ode to Ullenwood

Dr Phillpotts, in his definitive history of the Below Average White Band, which I posted here, in November, makes reference to the performance of the "Ode to Ullenwood". Dr Ferris remembered John Boden's recitations, in the style of John Cooper Clarke, here.  One such recitation, after a session at the Air Balloon, took place in 1980: the accompaniment to JB consisted of Phillpotts on hosepipe, teapot, kazoo and jug, Ferris on cider jars filled with varying amounts of water to change the pitch of the notes, and Parker on Piano. I seem to remember playing the pianowires, inside the piano itself, with the assistance of some cutlery purloined from the kitchen. Hmm...

I have unearthed the original typed manuscript of the Ode to Ullenwood: it was written one evening at my parents' house in Crouch End in London by Dr Phillpotts, myself and my mother. We were, if I remember through the haze of time, assisted by liberal libations of rough cider made by Westons of Much Marcle. That was my mother's preferred drink: one of my schoolfriends once remarked that my parents's house was the only place he knew where rough cider was treated as a soft drink that you were given if you couldn't think of anything you'd rather have.  My mother had been trained, in her schooldays in the early 1930s, to write verse: she was good at rhyming and very hot on scansion. But I digress. Here then, after a doubtless welcome absence of 28 years, since its one and only public performance, is the Ode to Ullenwood, together with a commentary, not all of which survives.

Ode to Ullenwood Line

Near Ullenwood a hill was found,

A fort with ramparts bless’d:

Courtney’s woeful Leisuredrome

Was built upon its crest. 4

An archaeologist came by,

Of Mediaeval bent,

And all at once he was inspired

His passions there to vent. 8

So Dixon set his crew to dig

With catbasher and pick,

Continuing ten years and more

Since work is scarcely quick 12

The Secretary, a bearded man,

Driving Volkswagen van,

Prepared the camp at Ullenwood

For Dixon’s rabid clan. 16

The end of Greenway Lane once reached,

Is met with Lofty’s glare

But girls may find reserved for them

A leering Parry stare. 20

The dormitories are bare indeed,

But homely all the same –

Straw mattresses which Michael Dash

Flea-powder’d into fame. 24

Are cubicles anathema

And cramping to your style?

Then tents erect and there inspect

Your partner’s winsome smile. 28

Each evening one is forced to queue

To fuel the hungry gut,

With beans and sausage pie and stew

And baps, that fearsome glut. 32

The vile corpse thus satisfied

Can never be too soon

Restored by running down the lane

To reach the Air Balloon 36

At closing time, the camp regained,

The Mummers take the boards

With kettle, hose and dustbin-lid

To tame th’unlovely hordes. 40

Cacophony is shrieked aloft

To make the rafters ring:

Three drunken diggers take the stage

Endeavouring to sing. 44

The Bacchic frenzy lingers on

Till one or two a.m.

Bewildering the new recruits

O! Who the tide will stem? 48

The breakfast eggs the stomach turn,

Reduce strong men to pulp;

The sausages and beans and grease

Resist your every gulp: 52

But soft! the Sound of Lofty’s horn

Summoning all in sight,

To mount the fearsome Magyar’s coach

Worsens your morning plight: 56

The summit reached, the dumper trucks

With clangor fill the air,

And Parry’s morning curse therewith

Chills the brave and fair. 60

But Parry’s curse, put into verse

Immodest here would seem:

The poet now discreet must be

To sully not his theme. 64

Scorn not the Bard whose noble aim

In doggerel is fram’d

The broaching of the tool shed door

By such verse is not shamed. 68

The supervisors name their tools

As Philip tugs his beard

Why blench they all at Bernie’s belch

And why is Courtney feared? 72

The limestone rings to trowel and pick,

The shovels scrape and swing,

The barrows climb the spoil heap side

Their weary loads to fling. 76

Then Corky’s cry – O blessèd sound –

Tea and relief provides,

One cup for each of us, no more,

And biscuits there besides. 80

The work continues then apace,

Till sandwich time arrives

Egg and mustard – mayonnaise –

Th’industrious digger thrives. 84

Another session yet ensues

Till four o’clock – more tea,

But two more weary hours must pass

‘ere diggers can be free. 88

He who would wash must rules obey,

Prevailing in this clime:

He gets the chance on each third day

To scrape away the grime. 92

The ladies’ fate, sad to relate,

Equality foreswears:

Two days in three the showers pour

Cleansing their matted hairs. 96

Despite such strife, the digger’s life

Congenial to few

To us is best, so let the rest

Dear Ullenwood eschew. 100

Commentary and notes on " Ode to Ullenwood"

Title: the poem is addressed to Ullenwood, more specifically to the Civil Defence Centre situated there. (NGR: SO 936 174). It has been the accommodation of numerous volunteer diggers who work on the excavation of Crickley Hill, an Iron Age and Neolithic site situated a few miles from Cheltenham.

The poem consists of 25 four line stanzas and describes many features of life on the excavation and at the camp and several peculiarities thereof.

Line 1: "Ullenwood": cf. note on title.

Line 2: "A fort with ramparts bless’d": the centres of Iron Age and Neolithic occupation are surrounded by an extensive ditch and rampart defensive structure.

Line 3: "Courtney's woeful Leisuredrome" this refers to the decision of the Gloucestershire County Council in the late 1970s to deem the part of the site which belongs to them, and not the National Trust, a "Country Park". To ameliorate the facilities on top of the hill and therefore attract the general public, a public lavatory complex was built at the site. This was a cause of much chagrin to the diggers who, resenting the modernity of the lavatories and furthermore the sudden influx of tourists to distract them from their work, would have preferred to continue to use the "Elsan" chemical toilets which became such a prominent feature of the digging day, in the years from 1969 to 1979 when the toilets were built. Terry Courtney is the assistant director of the excavation, and an unidentified digger name to the lavatory block after him. Suggestions from one of the diggers, Flt Lt David Southwood, RAF, that he should bomb the Leisuredrome has been turned down because of the ensuing havoc, despite the desirability of the programme.

Line 5: “An archaeologist” : a reference to Dr P. W. Dixon, of Nottingham University, the Director of the Excavation.

Line 6: "Of Mediaeval bent": Dr Dixon's preference is for the aforementioned period.

Line 10: "catbasher": a word in vogue at Crickley meaning an entrenching tool, cf. refs to J. Parry Esq.

Line 11: "ten years and more": the excavation has been in progress since the summer of 1969.

Line 12: the site covers 9 ½ acres of which an area in the region of 4 acres has been completely excavated.

Line 13: "the secretary": R.D.A. Savage, lecturer at the Gloucestershire College of Art and Design, who is an expert on the British Iron Age Mirror series, and also upon Celtic myth. He is the secretary of the excavation, and in the evenings lectures upon these two subjects with great zest as well as on the maintenance of Ullenwood, notably the dangers of blocking the drains with foreign material.

Line 14: "Volkswagen van" Mr Savage possesses an "F" registration Volkswagen bus which has performed over 120,000 miles with a few technical hitches on some of the worst terrain in Great Britain. The van has only been known to collapse after conveying no less than 23 people from site to camp, along the old quarry road; this proved too much for the suspension but little else ever has.

Line 17: "Greenway Lane": the lane which leads from the B4070 to the Civil Defence Centre.

Line 18: "Lofty": the Hungarian caretaker of the camp who is tremendously helpful, but positively frightening if riled or if he suspects that all is not quite what it should be.

Line 20: "a leering Parry stare": you'll soon meet John whose principal occupation is coin dealing, though this is linked with colourful language, and leering at everybody. A fixture at Crickley.

Line 21: the dormitories certainly are bare but the rain is rarely known to penetrate the corrugated iron roof and the accommodation is much superior to that of most sites.

Line 23 to 24: the straw mattresses can be a trifle hard, but during his years of work on the excavation, Michael Dash of Sussex University, has by regular and extensive application of powder ensured that we can all sleep comfortably beds free from bites at the hands of any creatures that may be fool enough to attempt to inhabit the mattresses. The probability of getting respiratory problems because of the powder is, however, accordingly increased.

Line 25 to 28: It is, perhaps, worth noting that camping is available as an alternative to listening to other people snoring in the cubicles.

The rest of the commentary is lost, which is perhaps as well.

A culinary update from Tony Watts ...

Tony writes: "It's good to see that my meringue has been recorded in the annals of British archaeology - not so the sandwiches.  However I was happy to see my food referrred to as 'robust' - I think.  One year in celebration of something or other I made Rampart Cake which was very carefully detailed and bore some resemblance to the trench that had been cut through the rampart at the time.  I don't suppose anyone has a photo? I wish I had taken a picture at the time. Maybe Phil Dixon did?

The finer art of sandwich production began in Lydia's kitchen in 1969 during the Leckhampton dig. It was refined - if you can call it that - when we occupied the Ullenwood Camp in 1971. With the splendid post war kitchen facilities available were able to bang out 100's of sandwiches. I do recall one year we had a sandwich riot because we had the same fillings for 3 days in a row. I believe Terry was the ringleader but details fade with time."

Jane Dineen's lunch ...

Jane Dineen plainly wasn't being allowed to eat her lunch in peace and from the look on her face and the fellow on the left, comment may have been passed on the depth of the sandwich. This is right at the end of the 1980 season: the team was returfing the cuttings and we'd obviously got to the point where the huts were coming down as evidenced by the stack of hut walls and roofs behind her. Note the vintage dumper truck at the top on the right.

Late 20th Century encampment ...

View from the Neolithic enclosure bank towards the Iron Age Rampart with late 20th century encampment in the middle. Dated to 1988 or 1989 by careful examination of the food residues ... Did the number of huts creep up over the years? Think it might be Terry Courtney sitting in the chair to the right of the black van.

Sandwich update ...

Dr Phillpotts's note on the sandwiches: "As I recall the leftovers from the cooked breakfast could also be used for sandwich fillings at some periods. Sausage sandwiches were relatively popular; cold bacon perhaps less so. Sometimes the accounting in the sandwich manufacturing division was a little too tight, or failed to account for new arrivals, resulting in a shortage and emergency dashes back to Ullenwood for more supplies."

Dave Butler writes: "All I can remember of the lunchtime sandwiches was you could have any combination of cheese and branston pickle. Also, I seem to recall a Chinese cook one year who became a good friend and two Geordie chefs and an end of dig party that got slightly out of hand and cars were covered in eggs!! Savage got me to clean the camp and de-louse all the mattresses AGAIN! Afterwards, the pig farm smelt like roses. I believe that was the exceptional summer of '76 when we all melted."  Ah yes the sweet smell of the pig manure when spread across the fields...

Life at Ullenwood 4: the lunchtime sandwiches ...

The sandwiches for 100+ people take surprisingly little time to make if you set up a production line. One person armed with stacks of sliced brown bread, stacks of sliced white, and margarine spreads the margarine at great speed onto the bread before passing slices down the line to the 2 people on filling duty. They or a 4th person would then cut diagonally, wrap, stack and pack the sandwiches into the large plastic crates in which the bread was supplied, ready for transport up to site. The ration was two rounds plus a piece of fruit, usually oranges, apples or bananas, (presumably chosen for being self contained and easily portable fruits).

Sandwich fillings that I could initially recollect included:

Egg mayonnaise.  Cheese.  Peanut butter and marmalade.  Ham and tomato.  Cheese and tomato.  Banana.  Cheese and Branston pickle.  Ham.  Peanut butter and marmite.  Egg mayonnaise and tomato.  Ham and mustard.   Peanut butter and strawberry or raspberry jam (or jelly as our Americans called it).  Ham and cucumber.  Cheese and onion.  Egg mayonnaise and cucumber.  Strawberry or raspberry jam.  Ham and Branston pickle.  Banana and strawberry or raspberry jam. Rarer combinations included: Cheese and cucumber. Banana and peanut butter.  

I knew there were more but could not think of them and so I consulted Iain Ferris whose reply wittily read:

"Crickley Hill Man has obviously not benefitted from the increased brain and memory power brought about by the regular ingestion of Omega 3-containing oily fish, otherwise he would have remembered the sardine and chopped onion and tuna mayonnaise sandwiches." 

I'm grateful to Iain for jogging my memory: I've never been that fond of sardines or tuna in a sandwich, for some reason I can't quite recall, which may have resulted in a not-virtuous circle of self-fulfilling amnesia ...

That results in further choices: Tuna mayonnaise.  Sardine/Onion.  Tuna mayonnaise and tomato.  Sardine/Onion and cucumber. Tuna mayonnaise and cucumber. Sardine/Onion and tomato.  

So 26 combinations, at least, from 13 or so pretty basic ingredients (tuna, sardine, egg, mayonnaise, cheese, onion, tomato, peanut butter, jam, marmalade, ham, mustard and cucumber)...  

It was the Americans who asked that peanut butter and jelly and peanut butter and banana became part of the mix: this struck some of the natives as rather an odd combination which simply shows how backward and conservative we were with our sandwich fillings in Gloucestershire in the late 1970s. 

I became rather fond of the peanut butter and marmalade combination.  I did not then realise that I was being educated in a culinary tradition that was capable of producing the deep fried peanut butter & banana sandwich.   But then again Scotland, it is alleged, is the inventor of the deep fried Mars bar... here or here

P.S. I spell-checked this post before publication and am delighted to tell you that the Google Blogger dictionary queried "Branston" and suggested "Brownstone" or "Brainstorm" as possible alternatives!

Jim Irvine writes: "And both of you have forgotten my particular favourite - seldom seen though it was.  And that was the cold, leftover from breakfast bacon or sausage sandwich. Yum Yum!"

How could I have forgotten the sausages - I was very adept at splitting a sausage in two lengthways to make a sandwich!  

I've also just remembered that there was a phase where a big jar of Branston pickle was kept up on site and it acted as a serious wasp attractor: they absolutely loved it and were hard to fend off.