Granger 36
- This article is a Biography
- Chapter 36 - The curtains open. We take the stage.
The reader who has struggled through Part 1 and emerged unscathed from Part 2, will by now be quite convinced that both Ethel and I were crazy; myself for having such weird outrageous ideas and Ethel, even more so, because she allowed herself to be the subject of my experiments and actually liked most of them. And by the time you get well into Part 3, you will be convinced that your verdict was perfectly sound, and that we were as crazy as March hares. I therefore open Part 3 with what would appear to be utter lunacy, yet which actually led us late into many pastures new and wide, many delightful experiences and wonderful adventures in the years to come.
I will take the events as they came, but first of all I must step back a little, once more until we come to the date when the curtain opens and all the barriers go crashing down, one by one, in 1957. Because before that, we had been preparing the stage in a small way. Some of it began when we purchased those two 32cc Berini cyclemotors and Ethel became wholly motorised.
This type of machine was not difficult to ride but she had to put on L plates fore and aft, with a test to follow in three months. She started to ride it quite well in July 1953 and to give her some experience I decided a fairly long trip might be advantageous. To this end we set off one day, after lunch, to Cambridge, a 38 mile run. We both knew the way as had push biked it during the war time. The trip was uneventful, except she nearly got nipped in Huntingdon by a road hog. However we got there all right and stopped the night, to come back the next day. Buzzing along effortlessly, about 15 or 16 M.P.H, was quite a thrill to her at least, and we could visit our friends and relations there, as well as visiting the colleges.
Having spread our wings so far, we got more venturesome. Why not a trip to my brother in Nottingham, a 60 mile trip, stop the night and return the next day? It is a very hilly ride by Oakham and Melton Mowbray. On several hills we had to give the small engines a little pedal assistance, but we did them all. Coming back the gradients were more severe with inclines at 1 in 9 and 1 in 10. Twice we had to push up the last bit to the top but we made it all the way, which shows how tough Ethel really was. She had passed her test by the end of' the year at the second attempt, and was now qualified to drive a full sized motor cycle or a three wheel car. In 1954 as she was fully qualified, we made up our minds that, we would use them to take us on a summer holiday down to Bournemouth, stop there for a week and return the same way, a journey of 180 miles each way, but as we thought this was a long way for a day, we arranged to spend the night half way, each journey in Oxford, about 90 miles each day therefore.
We sent a parcel of our luggage in advance, by post, but we were loaded on our carriers with cameras, tools, with spare clothes, coats and routes, while our baskets carried a ½ gallon tin of petroil mixture, while Ethel had her handbag her fuzzy hat tied on top. I had joined the A.A. so we had our badges, which surprised the many patrols we passed.
"You must be crazy to think of going on those old irons. You will never make it. To expect 32ccs to drag your 18 stones all that way is impossible." These were just some of the remarks from friends and neighbours, when we divulged to them that we intended to travel down to Bournemouth and back on our motor assisted cycles. I don't think we would be crazy enough to try it on 50 year old bicycles.
OUR TOUR BEGINS
As I have already written the tours in detail, in my book, "From Small Acorns", I will only give any relevant details here, and a brief description of where we went and what befell us, just so that the reader win appreciate how tough Ethel really was, and what she was able to endure, laced in to 14 inches or less. Also to illustrate our spirit of adventure that took us there. It was a terrible summer in 1954, and we had to hold up for a day, and even started off in a drizzle, but we were lucky, for the sun came out and we had the only fine 10 days of the year for the rest of the holiday. We had a bit of trouble with the engines, but nothing we could not cure.
We left by the A1, nowhere then dual carriage way, to Bedford, where we stopped for lunch. Then off through Stoney Stratford to Buckingham, by this time pretty saddle sore. I stopped at a cafe for tea. No Ethel. I went back to find her crying up against a wall with cramp in both legs, but after tea she felt better, and we buzzed along the long straight road in Oxford, very sore and weary, nearly ready to cry off. We found our B&B in Aldates, but even sleep was denied us, for we had the boom of Big Tom, just opposite, every quarter hour, and we ached all over.
But next day off we went, with plenty of bills to Newbury and Winchester, where the 1 in 8 ascent of White Shute Hill beat us to walking the last bit. We stopped for a late lunch at the Stanmore Hotel on the A 31 (now A 3030). Every hotel we went into they all goggled at Ethel's ears and waist. We had taken off our coats when the sun came out and Ethel was just wearing a blouse and skirt, with a white leather belt to show off her waist. Another hill beat us before Romsey, but we stopped in Lyndhurst for tea, weary but feeling better than we did the day before, although we had plenty of sore spots. Through the New Forest into Bournemouth, to our hotel, in time for a late meal. We had made it. Determination had won out.
It was a nice hotel, both the proprietor and his wife were interested in Ethel, for this was the time when waspie belts were the vogue, and showed off her figure perfectly. Her exceptional waist attracted stares and goggling eyes everywhere we went along the front and the shops. It was not unusual to find a number of people turning round to look at her from the rear, even follow in her wake to see if she might break in half.
Follow borders at the hotel complimented her on her tiny waist Ethel was walking down the passage ahead of me, soon after we arrived. Two new guests were walking behind her and, spotting her wasp waist, I heard one of them turn to the other and remark, "Just look at that remarkable waist. She must be nearly cut in two. I wonder what size she is? She must be French or something. I only wish I could get a waist like it." When they discovered I was just behind and must have heard them, they looked a little foolish so they spoke to me saying, "I hope you did not mind, but we have never seen a waist so small." We had several chats about it later. Down on the beach a lady came up to compliment her on that remarkably tiny waist line and how she attained it. I had just completed the ring of piercings all round and the large studs through the centre of her ears. Several times when we were looking in shops we noticed people deliberately walking round to see how they were fixed in, and I heard one say after careful inspection, "You know, I believe they are all pierced through. I wish I were as brave as that." Her nostrils were fitted with pink perspex studs, and we had worn diamond studs therein, of an evening in London, and we did it here first in the cinema. Then greatly daring, she put one in, as we sat on a seat, one morning, on the front and later, as she lay on the beach. This was the first time she had done it in daylight, but it gave us a kick to be so unconventional.
Loaded up, we set off back home, into Salisbury, where turning left from the A 345 by a pretty reed to the west of the Avon, we paused opposite the ruins of Old Sarum where greatly daring, I fitted her nostril stud, and we rode with it so until we took the A 303 to Stonehenge, where we struck an army convoy, and had to follow behind a truck load of soldiers who made wolf whistles at her, perhaps because of the unusual ornament. After lunch in Amesbury, by Pewsey, Burbage to Hungerford, where we had tea, then down to Wantage and so into Oxford, to our B&B, where our landlady was surprised to see us looking so fit and well. She had noticed Ethel's figure last time and said nothing, but now she said she had to remark about it and bow much she admired it, and how ­ever did she do it? From that she said how keen she was on earrings and how unusual Ethel's were they fixed? I am sure she noticed the pink stud and would have liked to say something about them too, but didn't dare. Then when walking in the city that night she wore her nose stud again. This was noticed by one lady who called her escort's attention to it, and they followed us for some time. Next day she put it in again before Braskley and kept it there until we had our lunch at the Saracen's Head at Towcester. We were getting used to wearing it now. From Northampton we made our way home by 7 pm, brown, hungry and fit. The old irons had made it, on 5 gallons of petrol between us. A spirit of adventure had been born in us.
FROM CYCLOMOTORS TO MOPEDS 1955
A desire for something more powerful, to travel further caused our next step up the ladder. I invested in a 48cc O.H.V. Britax Ducati with three gears, a 1½ gallon tank which I fitted with two red leather panniers which I made to suspend over the carrier. It was capable of over 40 M.P.H. and nearly 200 M.P.Gal. I fitted it with a mirror, a route holder, a 1arger sprocket on the back wheel to drop the gear for my weight and PIF 4 was ready. Then came the selection of something for Ethel. With short legs, this was not easy. But we finally settled on an N.S.U. Quickly, which had just come on the market. It was a two stroke, 49cc engine, with two gears, a ┬╛ gallon tank and carrier. I made two leather panniers for it, and a handlebar mirror. It would do 40 M.P.H. and nearly 200 M.P.Gal. I cut about 1½ inches off the seat pillar to get the seat lower, and DFL705 was ready. Her gears were on the handle grip and the throttle on the other side, while I had my gear lever at the side of the tank. Both were easily controlled with good brakes.
The machines were ready, but it was not so easy to get Ethel to ride it, for on her first attempt she threw in the clutch too quickly and it precipitated her into the road. She said, "I won't ride it. I cant manage it. She was afraid of it and it kept her awake at night thinking about it. She had not been hurt, only in her pride, as I discovered. So I got her to practice starting off in the garden. Then we went down on to the old aerodrome, to practice, until she had command of it. Then I set her off going round the block of houses while I followed on mine. Then I left her to it, and every 10 minutes she would flash by, the worried look gradually disappearing from her face as she gained mastery of the machine. A trip to Cambridge the next day completed her education, and we were ready for our summer trip. She said she liked it now and was ready, providing I did not take her up any steep hills, but I guessed that when she did come face to face then she would come out on top all right.
With case packed, and coats strapped on the carriers, panniers filled with cameras, tools, films and leggings, we set off by Oundle, Wellingborough to Northampton to the A43 to stop for lunch at the Saracen's Head again. Ethel was wearing a neat diamond stud in her nostril, which was seen right away by the cooking staff. Lunch was not ready so we sat down. Ethel's waist and ornament created quite a stir, and it was funny to see how many waiters made an excuse to come over to the table to see for themselves, walking all round to assure themselves it was not an optical illusion. Americans at the next table made some excuse to get into conversation to my impish delight. When I pointed out that the clock was running backwards, the waiter said, "It's not the only thing here that goes backwards." It was a good meal; when the waiters noticed her waist, they gave her very large helpings just to see if she could eat with that figure. I'll bet they had an argument where it went that day, for our ride had given her an appetite so she cleared everything before her. Across country to Banbury, then to Stratford, being ┬¡ the direct way to Edge Hill, 1 in 5½, she faced it confidently, although it was her first ride up hill going to Stratfords,he took off her coat to show off her waist with its tightly laced white leather belt over her skirt. People goggled and followed her around again. Through Chipping Campden, down Fish Hill, to Evesham, for the Malverns, but we took a wrong turn, and as it was late, we fixed up in the Star Hotel, Upton on Severn, where again she caused quite a stir.
Next day she took the Church Hill Malvern, 1 in 6 safely, up the Wyche and down to Ross, for lunch at the Paddocks Hotel, Symonds Yat. Everywhere we went people admired our tiny machines, for they were unusual at that time.
Through Monmouth and down the way to Chepstow, from where we caught the last boat to Pilning, which soon brought us into Bristol, where we booked in at the Vincent Rocks Hotel. There had been an amusing incident when we had tea in a small tea shop. Ethel caused a sensation, and one elderly waitress, remembering small waisted fashions, could not take her eyes off it, and an she came round the table, pretended to stumble and her hands went deliberately round Ethel's waist. I felt she would have liked to say some thing if she dared. In the hotel, the receptionist gave an audible gasp as she caught sight of Ethel's figure, while her earrings and diamond stud were ignored, but I could see she was dying to say something if she dared.
Next day by Chippenham for lunch then to see the Avebury Stone circle and soon we were in front of the Hele Stone at Stonehenge, where I photographed our machines and her, which picture appeared in the March Issue of London Life 1956. Soon we were back in our old hotel in Bournemouth, where they remembered us. This time there was a falling off in the food. Everyone was grumbling at the waiter, who agreed with us, but he was fed up about it. Nobody body did anything, except grumble. But Ethel was made of sterner stuff, and went straight to the proprietor, and he sacked thearmy cook, so the food was o.k. from then on. Which shows how Ethel will cut through to matter within right away. At the Blue Pool we met some of the people who were so much interested in he rfigure. They would not believe that she had a daughter of 24. One day we went into a shop where they had a fine assortment of earrings, and the lady in charge went into ecstasies about her figure and earrings, wanting to know if they were all pierced in place.
From Bournemouth after a few days, we left through the Now Forest by Romsey into Winchester for lunch, then along the Hog's Back by Farnham, where we dropped down to see the Devil's Punchbowl, near Milford, then up again to Guildford, with its cobbled main street into the Angel Hotel, where I found I had a split petrol tank so I missed the usual arguments in the dining hall and lounge. Next day, we moved on to the Woodlands Guest House, till my tank was done. Next day as we walked about, we watched people following us around to get a good view of her waist, and the ladies in the Guest House came out to remark about her wonderful figure before we left by Abinger Hammer, Dorking to Westerham for lunch, then by Ightham to Gravesend, where we took the ferry to Tilbury by Billericay to Chelmsford, where we called on some old friends we had not seen for 10 years, where we stopped the night. They were vastly interested in Ethel's superb figure. Their daughter wanted to know if she could get one like it. Then she spotted her earrings and wanted to know how they were fixed, and if the piercing was painful and who had done them for her. When I told her she said, "I wish you had brought the tool with you, for I have been longing to have mine pierced so I could wear some like my friends. Now I have seen yours I would like mine done all round too." Then she spotted the pink plastic studs, and said, "What is that in your nose? I believe you have had that done too" So we showed her how they fitted in and she liked them. From Colchester to Marks Key, where we turned off to Wakes Colne, through a small ford to turn into Halstead. This was old ground with me for this is where Mary had lived. We made a stop for lunch in Haverhill, then calling on our relations in Cambridge, we left for home by Fenstanton, then by the A1 home, having covered over 600 miles on 6½ gallons between us. It gave us the urge to see more.
So with two days at Whitsun we set out by Oundle and Corby into Market Harborough, where we wanted to visit the corset museum, but it was not open. From there into Rugby for lunch. By the Lawford Road into Kenilworth, where people looked at Ethel's figure and waist more than the ruins. By Leamington and Warwick for tea at Wellingbourne Hastings then down and up a steep hill to see the Whispering Knights and Rollright Stones near Long Compton. Then through Morton on the Marsh to the top of Fish Hill, where we turned off to climb the beacon tower. By back lanes we came into Stow, mostly dark by then to enjoy a good meal and comfortable beds. The hotel keeper's wife chatted to us about our machines, then had to compliment my wife about her wonderful figure and earrings, which her son had spotted the might before. She said that she had never seen a waist so small nor anything like her ears, and were they all pierced in, also she liked her nostrils, were they pierced in too. Ethel said they were all pierced and her waist was the world's smallest. She said, "You were brave to have all those piercings done. I was an awful coward when I came to have my one piercing done and I can well believe what you say about your waist. How you can ride a motor cycle is beyond me."
From Stow we dropped down to Burford and so into Faringdon, where we saw a glimpse of the Uffington White Horse. In Ashford we asked the way to the Waylands Smithy, and turned left from the 1 in 5 hill to find it at the top. Down again, then on to Wantage, passing below the White Horse. After lunch we set out to Oxford, where it was raining a deluge, but Ethel battled through it to stop for a hot meal in Buckingham and hot drinks in Bedford, before coming home, having done 300 miles for 3 gallons of petrol between us.
Our next trip took us to Derbyshire, by Rockingham Corby to Market Harborough , for we had an appointment at the Corset Factory Museum. The man in charge had a shock when he saw Ethel, and although he showed us some old models, back to Victorian types, there was nothing as small as she was. This had all come about after a B.B.C. broadcast, when they had visited Symington's Corset Museum to see corsets with small Victorian waists. It was alleged that one at the models used for the show had fainted while laced to 13 inches. I had doubted whether any, other than Ethel could even attempt to wear such a size. I was surprised to find that they had no 13 inch corsets. The model did not faint when being laced into such a size, for they had none. In fact, it turned out that the original model had had some teeth out that morning and when being laced into 18 inch corsets had felt indisposed and her job had been taken over by another model. So much for truth and the B.B.C.
The B 6047 carried us through to Loughborough, where we satisfied her unquenchable thirst for tea. Then through Derby to Brailsford, where we had tea. After that through Ashbourne into Burton to draw up at the Eagle Hotel. The manager, when he saw our machines said. "You must be flogging that poor little thing to make it bring you here. It is cruelty to mo -peds." Ethel created quite a sensation when we bed walked round Market Harborough and I found people following her around, then walking all round to assure themselves they were not deceived. That was a nothing to what happened in the Eagle, for when she dressed for dinner the next evening she put on a new black leather belt I had made to buckle round her tiny waist and another smaller one to put round her throat. There was not much difference in the diameter and the manager remarked on her wonderful figure. When we were in Leek the next day a lady came up to remark on it. While up there we get stuck in Dovedale, and had to climb out up the side over to the highest point to get out. Now say corsets make women helpless. We came home via Bakewell, Via Gellia, Dale Abbey Long Eaton to Kegworth, across country to Nether Broughton Hill, Oakham, Sataford home. Another good tour done.
Our next trip was delayed for 2 days as Ethel scratched her eyeball on some wire, which messed up our timetable. It was the coldest and wettest summer on record 1956. We left to Uppingham and down to Market Harborough for a hot drink, then to Rugby for lunch, then to Warwick and Stratford, to Alcester for tea. We stayed in the Braemar Hotel Malvern for the night. Next day we called on some friends in the area for lunch. If we had started on time we would have stopped with them for longer. Then off on a hilly road to Bremyard and tenbury, with a short visit to Ludlow Castle. We then took the road by Stokesbury Castle into Chirbury, where we asked for Mitchell's fold Circle. They told us go to Priestweston and ask. It was by the Miner's Arms and up the bank, a gradient of 1 in 39 which beat us near the top. Down to Chirbury again, Montgomery &and Abermule, where we put up at Delferwyn Hall, for two nights owing to the rain, but enjoyed every minute. From there to Newtown, Llanidoss, Llangurig, down the Wye Valley to Rhayader, where we turned down to the Elan Valley until it rained. Then back to Rhayader to New Bridge on Wye for lunch. Next came Builth Wells and Llansantffraed, Bwlch its wonderful view, to Crickhowel for tea, a visit to Raglan Castle and up to Trelleck, where we had booked, but due to the delay they had relet our rooms and so we finished up at the Hermitage, Whitelye, but tooling cold and wretched.
Next day we came down to Monmouth to book in at the Greyfriars Guest House for 3 nights, using this as a centre from which to explore further. Our first trip took us up Berry Hill where I had to go up to see the Buckstone, a good rough climb, but Ethel would not try it. On to St Briavels and down into Chepstow for tea. To came back by St Arvans, Tintern, Llandoge to Monmouth Guest House. The next day I took my machine up to the top of Fymin Hill at full blast in bottom gear, with Ethel on my tail, but when I got there, she was not in sight. It had been a rough narrow road steep enough to need pedal assistance. Then I heard the familiar grind of her machine coming up the last bit. She said, "I nearly finished up in the ditch at the first hairpin as it caught me unaware but I got on again and made it all right. Tough she was, by now, as you can gather from where we had been. Down to Staunton to Symonds Yat, down the 1 in 3 to Goodrich, Ye hostelrie for a good lunch, Wilton Bridge, Skenfrith, where we got caught in the rain on our way home, as I had left my leggings behind. Our way home now by Ross, Ledbury to Malvern, Tewkesbury and Cheltenham, tea on the top of Clove Hill down to Winchcombe Stanway to Stow, where they remembered us from last time. Our last lap took us through Chipping Norton to Banbury for tea, across country by Cannons Ashby to Northampton where we stopped for a while under the Upton Mill signpost. Tea at Thrapston concluded our long trip of 600 miles, on 6 gallons of petrol. We had seen a lot of beautiful country and ended that year. My father was now bedridden and Ethel was his nurse.
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