A Grand Tour!

When I was seven, my grandparents took a long and fascinating tour around Europe, taking in numerous countries in the style of great artists and poets before them (only, instead of those romantic horse-drawn days, Grandma and Grandad went on a Wallace Arnold coach!)  As part of the great family history project, I've been busy collected some of the photos of this Grand Tour, and what a wonderful snapshot in time they are.  So why not come on a journey with me, back to 1992, to an age before digital cameras, when tours and holidays were booked face-to-face with the travel agent, and when a trip around Europe meant several different currencies in your pocket.

Somewhere on the English Channel, Mr. and Mrs. Major are heading to The Netherlands, to Zoetermeer near Amsterdam, to view the Floriade, a once-every-ten-years flower show (ask Grandma about it today, and she'll still tell you how colourful it was!)  From there, they will visit Amsterdam, before taking a trip down the Rhine, and eventually make it to the Bavarian town of Oberammergau, famous for its passion play and woodcarvings.  After this, it's a short hop to the Austrian city of Innsbruck, then on to Salzburg and Vienna, where Grandad will insist they go in search of the Beautiful Blue Danube.  They find it, too!

The Floriade

Oberammergau

Grandad at the River Salzach in Salzburg

The Beautiful Blue Danube at Vienna

After a whistle-stop tour of Austria, it's on to the magical city of Venice.  Grandma recalls how she never thought she'd get to see the city, but having seen pictures and paintings for nearly 70 years, she finally makes it.  Grandad, meanwhile, enjoys the architecture of the Doge's Palace, as seen in a previous blog post!  Rested and rejuvenated by Venice's soporific air, the tour moves on again to bustly, dusty Rome, where Grandma drops her camera, resulting in a unique holiday snap of some roadworks.  After Rome, it's the cultural hotspots of Florence and Pisa, before the stylish French riviera lures the tour group, to Monaco and Nice.

Venice, looking toward to San Giorgio Maggiore

Unusual holiday snaps in Rome

Michelangelo's David, in Florence

Monte Carlo

By now, the Swiss Alps are calling our globe trekkers, the lakeside towns of Thun, Interlaken (it's got a bit of a reputation in our family as a place to be!) and Lucerne nestled into prestine mountainous landscape, and a firm favourite with Grandma and Grandad.  Finally, in one final city stop before returning home, the workhorse of a coach trundles all the way up the backbone of France, stopping for a little exploration in Paris, a fantastic way to end the trip of a lifetime!

View between Interlaken and Lucerne

Wooden bridge, Lucerne

Up in the Alps

What an amazing journey, seeing some of the very best that Europe has to offer, and a wonderful photographic record to live in the family forever.  And not to forget the family, they even brought us presents - I eventually grew too big for my Florence baseball cap, but I can still picture it today, absolutely covered in little pictures of the city's iconic towers and cathedral.  It really is surprising how interesting other people's holiday snaps can be, so if this has piqued your interest, why not take a look at the rest of the collection?

The Entertainer

By my reckoning, it has been about 17 years since the fall board last came down upon the keys, and those punchy, upbeat little piano numbers stopped wafting through the hallway and into the kitchen, lounge, and down the street.  In their place came increases in homework, then exams, then coursework, then more exams, then dissertations, and then exams, then work.  Never had the care-free days of childhood seemed so far away when, for what seemed like hours, one would sit upright on the stall and bash out those most popular and well-known of tunes - The Phantom of the Opera, In The Hall of the Mountain King (that's the Alton Towers music to us), not to mention my personal favourite, The Entertainer, roundly criticised by some in the family for being too loud, perhaps not played with enough finesse, but still pretty good for an 11-year-old, and one that, at one time, I could probably have played blindfolded.

How unkind have the years been that this is no longer the case, but one thing I have retained is an enthusiasm for the piano, and an unwritten covenant with myself that, some day, I would return to this most beautiful of instruments.  Quite fortunate, then, that Lizzie's parents are moving house, for in amongst the inevitable clear out has come Lizzie's old, but incredibly good quality, keyboard.  Featuring over 50 different instrument personas, more backing beats than you can shake a stick at, and a hundred pre-loaded tunes to make it look like you've mastered playing perfection, it's an electronic masterpiece that just has to be explored!  No, it doesn't match the romance or beauty of a grand piano, but it's certainly more functional for our second-floor flat.

And so, here we are, mid-January 2014, the dawn of a new era, Nich Turner scrabbling around the music scores of a "basics to expert" piano book, furrowing his brow in an attempt to reacquaint himself with the positions of notes, crotchets, semibreves, minims, quavers, bars, treble clefs, bass clefs, flats, sharps, and naturals.  It's difficult, frustrating, and oh-so confusing, but I'm absolutely loving being back at the keys after so many years, and this time, there's no homework to get in the way.  So watch out world, I'm tickling the ivories once again; and look out Mum - the Entertainer has returned!

Family War Heroes - John Frank Turner (G/20296)

It is Spring 1918.  The Western Front has been largely quiet for months, a stalemate between the British and German trenches that seems destined never to be broken.  Down inside the British trench, Sergeant John Frank Turner, of the 8th Battalion, Royal Sussex Regiment, sits on an rotten ammunition box.  Maybe he is eating a slice of stale bread.  Maybe he's cleaning his muddy boots.  Maybe he's writing a letter to his parents John and Eliza.  Maybe he's just thinking.  Maybe he wants to go home.  He is part of a battalion that has, since 1916, witnessed horrendous action, including the Battle of the Somme and the Third Battle of Ypres (Passchendaele).  Now it is 1918, and the 8th Sussex Regiment is on the Somme front once again.

A platoon of the 8th Royal Sussex Regiment, Belgium, 1917.  John Frank Turner would have fought with these men on the Western Front, and may even be in this photograph. (source: greatwarphotos.com)

It is Spring 1918, and gunfire can be heard across No Man's Land.  Whistles become louder, artillery fire, the shouts - they might be British, or is it the Boche that John Frank can hear as he picks up his rifle, hands shaking as he receives the bellowed orders of his captain.  "Take aim, fire... they're coming at you now, closer with every second.  Hold your position, don't run, don't be scared, there's no time for fear, it's for God, for right, and for King George after all."

It is Spring 1918, and just hours into the German Spring Offensive that began on 21 March, and would last for four months, John Frank Turner is lying dead in the French mud.  He is a mere statistic in the book of war - just one of over 995,000 British servicemen killed between 1914 and 1918, one of over 16 million who died on all sides during the "War to End All Wars."  

A German tank in Roye, 21 March, 1918 (source: Wikipedia).

The church bells ring.  Those who have survived go home.  Every person in the country - probably every person across the continent - knows somebody who has died.  In every city, town and village, memorials are raised.  In little villages, they recall the names of a handful who gave their lives, whilst in the larger cities, thousands are listed.  In Woking, Surrey, they do the same, and remember over 500 of their sons, including the grocer, John Frank Turner, who lived with his parents on Butts Road, near the railway station.  John never came home, but if he had, he would not only have been able to wear the Victory Medal and British War Medal, but also the Military Medal, awarded to him for acts of gallantry and devotion to duty under fire or individual or associated acts of bravery which were insufficient to merit the Distinguished Conduct Medal.  Conferment of the medal would have given John Frank the right to add the letters M.M. after his name.

Woking war memorial (Source: Window on Woking)

The Military Medal (Source: Wikipedia)

John Frank Turner's body was never recovered.  Like thousands of others, he was left in the mud, returned to the earth upon which, that sad summer, a host of poppies would iconically flourish.  In addition to the Woking War Memorial, he is remembered on the Pozieres Memorial, which stands in the Pozieres war cemetery between Amiens and Cambrai, France.  John Frank's connection to me is through his younger brother Reginald Turner, who was my great-grandfather.

John Frank Turner's Forces Record

First Name:  John Frank
Initials: J F
Surname: Turner
DOB: Circa 1892
Age: 26
Resided Town: Kingston-On-Thames, Surrey
Nationality: British
Date of Death: 21/03/1918
Fate: Killed in Action
Information: ELDEST SON OF MR, AND MRS. J. TURNER OF 6 BUTTS RD., WOKING, SURREY
Rank: Serjeant
Service Number: G/20296
Gallantry Awards: Military Medal
Duty Location: France and Flanders
Campaign Medals: Victory Medal, British War Medal

The merry-go-round of management

Oh dear, it's that time of the football season again!  The festive fixtures are complete, the Christmas points have been tallied, there are winners (see Arsenal), and there are definite losers (cite Torquay United).  Now, Arsene Wenger might be off to enjoy a little January cheer before his big North London derby, but spare a thought for poor old Alan Knill, who's dismissal from Plainmoor yesterday leaves him queuing up to ride the merry-go-round of management once again.  Football's a strange business, and football management is the ultimate performance-related job description.  It's all about results and, if they don't come frequently enough, this invariably means the end of the road.

The merry-go-round of management

Now, I've been following the Gulls for a good many years now, and we've seen our fair share of managers come and go.  In fact, I can count twelve since I started regularly watching the team as a 14-year-old lad.  Between them, they share two promotions, two relegations, five play-off campaigns, three visits to Wembley Stadium, one trip to Old Trafford, an FA Trophy final, and cup matches against the likes of Queens Park Rangers, Birmingham City and Tottenham Hotspur.  Talk about drama, it's never a dull moment at Plainmoor - in fact, in 16 seasons of support, the club has either been fighting for promotion, or battling against relegation, in eleven of them.  Unfortunately, this season we are engulfed in another titanic struggle to save our League status, so preciously won back on a glorious afternoon at Wembley five years' ago.  Off the back of a miserable first half of the campaign, gaffer Alan Knill paid with his job, and we now all have our eyes glued to the merry-go-round to see who's next to take the reins.  Whoever it is, they'll have a fight on their hands.

Torquay's new manager

So, who are all the people that have been in charge at the club since I started following?  Well there was Kevin Hodges (1996-98, dropped us like a stone when Plymouth Argyle came knocking on his door), Wes Saunders (1998-2001), Colin Lee (originally brought in to advise Saunders, then took over as caretaker in 2001 but rejected the job full time), Roy McFarland (2001-2002, who left after he was told there was no money to employ his assistant), Leroy Rosenior (2002-2006, and then again in 2007, but lasted less than a day, because a consortium bought the club hours after his appointment and relieved him of his duties), John Cornforth (2006), Ian Atkins (2006), Lubos Kubik (2006-2007, who we had never heard of and who turned out to be particularly hopeless), Keith Curle (2007), Paul Buckle (2007-2011, took over following Rosenior's stunted second spell), Martin Ling (2011-2013) and Alan Knill (2013-2014).  What a repertoire!  

Managers, managers, managers

Incidentally, in all the time of chopping-and-changing at our beleaguered little club, Arsenal have had only one manager, suggesting that perhaps, after all, a little stability is the key to success in the footballing world.  So Arsene, if you're reading this and fancy a fresh challenge, there's a club on the bay that might just have your name on it... 

Well, I think this smile says it all.

Does he fancy the challenge?