The Wainwright Letters
Page 2
Eric Walter Maudsley – sometimes addressed as Walt or Walter but later more usually as Eric – was born in 1910 and had worked with AW in the Treasurer’s office in Blackburn as a fellow trainee accountant. AW and Maudsley, along with two other office friends (Jim Sharples and Harry Driver) had spent the Whitsuntide holidays of 1931 in the Lake District. AW had planned the holiday meticulously, promising them that in one week they would see every lake, every mountain, every valley. AW had been over ambitious and they never covered as much as he had hoped. But they had a good time, chaps together from the office, out on the fells. In 1932, Maudsley had moved from the Blackburn office to Carlisle.
LETTER 1: TO ERIC WALTER MAUDSLEY, 1932?
The Love Nest,
Artillery St.
Blackburn.
Dear Walt,
What poignant (pron. ‘pwannant’) memories did my old familiar writing on the label bestir? None, probably. Remember that poignant moment at Watendlath when we parted company? – that poignant night at Rosthwaite when we sunk so low as to use the utensil ’neath our bed?
Annexed please find text-books as requested. I have not yet re-commenced the stud.
Well, sonny. I have been thinking a lot about the Lakes of late – Striding Edge, that view of Gable from Kirk Fell, the solitude of Burnmoor Farm, Dale Head, Ill Bell, and a host of other memories give me little rest, and I shall shortly be in the throes of another Gigantic Walking Tour Programme for Whitsun, 1932, but my companion this time will be the wife. Poignant memories!
Let me know sometime how you are getting along.
Alf
AW never did go on that trip to the Lakes with his wife Ruth – in fact there is no record of him ever going on any sort of walk with her. Just over a year later, something clearly was beginning to go wrong with the marriage – judging by his next letter, paragraph numbered 5 and headed Married Life – which he left totally blank.
The other news in this March 1933 letter (having been prompted to write it by Bob Alker, another office colleague) included the birth of AW’s son, Peter, and the fact that, along with others in his office, he had failed the latest part of his exams.
The letter contains the latest news and gossip from the Blackburn office. Paragraph 9, ‘re Cut Shop’, could possibly refer to Betty Ditchfield, assistant secretary to the Borough Treasurer, after whom AW, along with most of the other young men in the office, lusted, but without any success or even encouragement.
AW and Ruth and their baby Peter moved into a two-bedroom semi-detached house at 90 Shadsworth Road, Blackburn, in 1934, a more desirable residence, befitting a newly qualified municipal accountant. During the next six years, he went off on lots of walks – locally with groups from the office, to Yorkshire, the Pennines, Scotland and the Lakes.
In 1939, along with some of his office friends, he founded the Blackburn Rovers Supporters’ Club. Ruth took no part in the club, nor in the walks, and it could be that one of the attractions of these two activities was getting out of the house, escaping from Ruth and whatever was going wrong in their marriage. Maudsley meanwhile had moved in 1939 from Carlisle to a post in Hertford, where he stayed until 1942 when he was called up for the army and sent to Burma. AW had not been called up. His job was looked upon as vital to the war effort and his call up papers had for the moment been deferred. In late 1940, or perhaps early 1941, for the letter is not dated, he wrote to Maudsley in Hertford, describing a trip to the Lakes he had done with his son Peter, now aged eight. The reference to ‘Methods of Blocking the Female Form’ might possibly be about some nude magazine he had sent Maudsley – or just some joke. The letter is on Blackburn Rovers Supporters’ Club headed notepaper – showing that AW was Treasurer and Acting Secretary. Perhaps a bit of boasting, showing Maudsley the good times he and the rest of the chaps were still having in Blackburn.
LETTER 2: TO ERIC WALTER MAUDSLEY, 19 MARCH 1933
Blackburn
19th March 1933
Dear Walt
Mr Acker told me that you have told him that you would like to hear from me, so I have pleasure in submitting the following information which may be of interest.
1 re Students Society
I have been appointed convener for this area, and am pleased to note your appointment to your local committee
2 re Rev Townson, of Great Harwood
He’s left
3 re I.M.T.A. Exams, Jan 1933
RESULTS
COMPTON
INTER.
FAILED
PANTER
PART 1.
FAILED
WAINWRIGHT
”
FAILED
ALKER
PART 2.
FAILED
SELLERS
”
FAILED
WOLSTENCROFT
”
FAILED
What’s the B.C.A. motto?
4 re Film Service
Now a highly efficient machine. Files remain in the hands of Mr Haworth, who has now less time for municipal accountancy. Mr Sye now rings ‘too long’ before he decides which pictures to visit. If you have visited the Karlisle Kinemas recently, I should be pleased to have reports on what you have seen (on the screen, not the back row).
5 re Married Life
6 re Parenthood
On the 15th Feb 1933, at Parkside Maternity Home, Queens Road, to Mr & Mrs. A Wainwright (nee Ruth Holden) a son – vide ‘Northern Daily Telegraph’
7 re Furthergate Branch, Yorkshire Penny Bank
Little activity. Present pen-nib has been in use over 3 years.
8 Furthergate Church
Now an exceedingly prominent member. Pleased to hear of your call to office in the service.
9 re Cut Shop
Frequent visits continue to be made by the top desk junior. Demands for ‘new thrills’ are made daily, but are seldom satisfied.
10 re Lake District
Spent a glorious week in June last. Sharples is now preparing plans for a ‘sleeping bag’ holiday, ie. Taking sleeping bag (weight 1 lb) and blanket and sleeping out. Entertainment? Please let me have details of any excursions you may have made.
11 re Ault Lang Syne
You are forgotten at Blackburn, just as I told you. You are never mentioned – nobody cares a hang what is happening to you. Remember our talks on this subject?
12 re Making Water
Do you recall that night in bed at Rosthwaite when you wanted to use the po chamber, but modestly forbade? And your immortal words: ‘Well I might as well – it’s what it’s there for’ ha, ha!
AW
LETTER 3: TO ERIC WALTER MAUDSLEY: 1940?
BLACKBURN ROVERS SUPPORTERS’ CLUB
Chairman: F.P. HASLAM, Esq.
President: W.H. DUCKWORTH, Esq.
Hon Secretary: J.L. CROOK, Esq. (With H.M. Forces)
Vice Chairman: N. McLEOD, Esq.
Hon. Treasurer & Acting Secretary: A. Wainwright, Esq.,
90 Shadsworth Road,
Blackburn
Wednesday night.
Dear Walter,
I have just received your urgent letter of the 11th.
Your briefly-mentioned plans for your holiday fill me with envy. I am just back from a week at Keswick, where I have been fulfilling the pleasant and long-awaited task of introducing my infant son to the Loveliness of Lakeland. Keswick is crowded at present with a well-to-do set who have made it their home for the duration (how your Socialistic soul will writhe at the sight of them!) and there are a great many London evacuees. The food problem is rather acute, and we had to manage as best we could with bed and breakfast, which is all that most places will provide. But around Keswick there are the same hills, the everlasting hills, always changing and yet never-changing. On these hills you will meet just a few happy youths and maidens. The ridges we tramped in days of yore are still there as wild and lonely as ever, and you will find that their appeal is as insistent as ever before. So I envy you, for
I fear I shall not be in their company again this year.
Your time is almost too short to expect a reply from Wasdale before the 21st, and I think that at this time of the year, with the school holidays finished, you could almost risk going over to Wasdale on the chance of getting accommodation. However, the address of the Place Perfect is Mrs M.E. Ullock, Wasdale Head Hall, Gosforth, Cumberland. The Hall, now a farm, is on the shore of the lake, just below the Burnmoor track (where we once flogged weary feet on a day notable for W.E.M.’s reticence to pee in a pot), two miles from the inn. Failing this, there is Mrs Wilson at Burnthwaite Farm, which is not quite the place it was, a cottage at Row Head, by the inn, and of course the inn itself. As a last resort, you could spend a night in the church. I should be very interested to know how you fare.
As a foretaste of things to come I enclose a card I bought in Keswick, intending to send it to you, but due to the constant attentions of my offspring it so happened that I had no time for card – and letter – writing.
I presume you received the weighty tome on Methods of Blocking the Female Form; again I intended to follow this with a letter, but didn’t. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, and alas, I am well on my way there. Damn those snails: I can’t forget them. I shall be very pleased to see you on your way to the Lakes; if you are staying overnight in Blackburn, or for a day or two, we might be able to have an hour or two together, or maybe half a day.
We are winning the war.
Yours sincerely
AW
Again he writes on the Supporters’ Club notepaper a very cheerful letter, about all the new people he is meeting. Once the war began, lots of men in the office did go off, and their places were often taken by women – younger, rather attractive single women, which was a moral booster for those left behind, doing vital work.
‘Pennine Campaign’ was an illustrated journal he had written during and after his two-week solo walk across the Pennines two years previously in 1938 – his first attempt at a walking book. He even produced a pretend report of it, as if written by a publisher’s reader, and a booklet announcing its publication. It is not known if he sent it to any real publishers, but it was a serious attempt at a book and he let many of his friends read it, wanting their opinion and suggestions about getting it published. But now the war was on, with paper and other restrictions, there was even less chance of any publisher taking it.
LETTER 4: TO MAUDSLEY, 2 FEBRUARY 1941
BLACKBURN ROVERS SUPPORTERS’ CLUB
Chairman: F.P. HASLAM, Esq.
President: W.H. DUCKWORTH, Esq.
Hon Secretary: J.L. CROOK, Esq. (With H.M. Forces)
Vice Chairman: N. McLEOD, Esq.
Hon. Treasurer & Acting Secretary: A. Wainwright, Esq.,
90 Shadsworth Road,
Blackburn
Feb. 2nd 1941
Dear Walt,
It is the Sabbath day. This morning I climbed the hill to Belthorn to worship in the little chapel there, and returned feeling well rewarded: the trudge through the snow was really invigorating, the service was good, but best of all were the magnificent views from the top of the hill. The panorama ranged from Darwen Moors to Pendle, and there was a glimpse of snowclad hills far beyond in the north. High in the blue sky glinted a silvery cluster of barrage balloons over Clayton – a recent innovation this. It was a brilliant morning, and for the first time this year there was warmth in the sun.
I thought of holidays. I thought of winding tracks midst purple heather, of streams tumbling down the mountain-side, of the wind high up on the ridge, of the summit cairn. I thought of beer and strange beds. Son, I fretted for the hills.
I feel that my days of solitary wandering are drawing to a close. I find myself in demand by others who would fain share the blissful secrets I have found in lonely places, and, frankly, I feel the prospect of tutoring them quite pleasing to contemplate. I shall never lose the urge to be off on my lonesome, but there is much to be said, too, for good company.
So I have been making half-promises these past few weeks. I have requests for walking-tours from my son, from a man of 36 and from a boy of 16, whilst a new addition to our staff, a blonde of 27, is making the most alarming hints. The man of 36 will have to wait for another year, and the blonde of 27 will have to wait for ever. She has, however, a passionate regard the Lake District akin to my own, and, although she has been with us only a fortnight, we get along extremely well. Her home is called ‘Blencathra’; she is married, not happily I suspect. As for the boy of 16, he is the son of a woman with whom I am at present on most intimate terms, and the happiest and jolliest lad I’ve ever come across. He’d enjoy himself immensely, and so would I, and I certainly intend to arrange a week with him during the summer. He’ll have the time of his life.
At present I seem to have more friends than I’ve ever had. Until a couple of years ago, I had none. I used to call Lawrence Wolst and Jim Sharples my friends, and still do, of course, but I never sought their company after office hours. I knew nothing of the pleasures of entertaining companions. That’s all changed now. The most profitable evening I ever spent was the night when the Supporters’ Club was formed. I was elected to office, and put my whole heart into making it a success. I’ve been rewarded a thousand times. The committee meetings became a joy to my starved soul: there I found bright talk and laughter and beer, and it suited. I made friends, easy-going friends but the best in the world. Better still, with their help I rid myself of an accursed complex: it became easier to meet other people, and to be friendly with them, too. I have become a favourite with the ladies! And I like them a lot. Nowadays I never need to spend a night moping and sighing: the trouble is to resist all the invitations I get for a night out.
Which all fits in with one of your pet theories, doesn’t it? How are all your romances faring? You’re growing to be an old buggar now, you know; it’s high time you were making a move. Don’t be too careful in your choice; whoever you select, you’ll be disappointed, but safe, at least, from the succession of disappointments that have marked your erratic career so far.
I am looking forward to meeting you at the Green Man, Ashbourne, at Easter. I don’t know yet what holidays will be granted, but assume we shall have a decent weekend. I have arranged to travel south with Irene Wyatt, en route to visit her solider husband, and to pick her up on the return journey.
Please let me have ‘Pennine Campaign’ at an early date. Every day the afore-mentioned blonde comes round to my desk and pushes her soft breasts into me and whispers ‘Have you got it back yet?’. I am anxious that she should have it, even though that may mean that she will no longer push her soft breasts into me, which same operation, by the way, I could endure until Judgment Day.
With best wishes.
AlfW
Not content with the Supporters’ Club, AW then helped to begin the Pendle Club – named after Pendle Hill, a local beauty spot near Blackburn. Many of his office friends joined in, along with their wives, but there is no sign of Ruth in all this jollity.
Over the next six months, he continues to have good times with his clubs. He makes several Lakeland visits, spends time walking with Maudsley in Derbyshire and gets a pay rise at work.
LETTER 5: TO ERIC WALTER MAUDSLEY, 21 FEBRUARY 1941
BLACKBURN ROVERS SUPPORTERS’ CLUB
Chairman: F.P. HASLAM, Esq.
President: W.H. DUCKWORTH, Esq.
Hon Secretary: J.L. CROOK, Esq. (With H.M. Forces)
Vice Chairman: N. McLEOD, Esq.
Hon. Treasurer & Acting Secretary: A. Wainwright, Esq.,
90 Shadsworth Road,
Blackburn
21st February 1941
Dear Walt,
Forgive my neglect to reply promptly to your welcome letter, but this has been my first evening at home for some time. Not that I’ve been particularly busy at work, no it isn’t that; it’s this blessed circle of friends I mentioned before who seem to have set their hearts on establishing me as a s
ocial lion, and whose blandishments and entreaties I find hard to refuse, the one unfortunate aspect being that I come crawling home in the small hours, somewhat shamefacedly and in no condition to perform my normal functions as a husband and sadly conscious that I am an erring father.
Tonight I have an opportunity to reflect, for the first time in weeks, on the progress I have made in certain spheres, and my meditations are certainly sobering. I am spending pounds as easily as I used to spend shillings; I am carrying on affairs with half-a-dozen women, all of whom are ready to lie down with me when I give the word; I am consorting with fellows whose incomes run into thousands; I am shifting shandies at an alarming rate, and even whisky has passed my lips of late. What am I to do? I cannot withdraw from these new commitments, I am being carried along willy-nilly, with no hope of escape: I am heading for ruination. I recite to myself at frequent intervals ‘C’est la guerre’ and this soothes my conscience a little.
I am being persistently urged by the girls in the office to form a rambling club, and this appeals to me hugely, for it is an idea I have secretly nursed in my skinny bosom for many years only to postpone it after a review of the meager female company available.
But now things are different: the office is crammed with plump juicy specimens who are itching for excitement. So I am contemplating forming THE PENDLE CLUB, an association for cultured young men and women interested in walking. The blonde I told you about is as keen as mustard. Perhaps you better send me that Manual of Sexual Methods; I’d like to read it, in case the Pendle Club has a wet day, and I fancy the blonde would take to Method 34 like a duck to water. Send it, will you, please?