Obituaries 1998
Lois Wainwright
The entry in my diary for June 24th 1954 reads, "cycled over to Miss Wainwright's - fetched the cow in for milking - strawberries and cream for tea." So I have known Lois, or Aunt as she chose to be known in those days, since the Summer of 1954 when, as a 'new boy' at Clayesmore School we met on matters ornithological. She mentioned on that occasion some concern over the angle at which her garage was leaning and that tea at Lines was on offer to any boys who could help her prop it back up near the vertical. I took her up on her offer, with reinforcements, and we never looked back. We eventually built another garage lean-to on the side of it to house my dream-car - a 1925 Bullnose Morris, which Aunt insisted should come to Lines rather than be eight miles away at Charlton Marshall. I hope she knows that I had an invigorating twenty-mile run in that same Morris Cowley two weekends ago.Life at Lines was fascinating. Here was a lady who was such fun, so interesting and knowledgeable, appreciative of everything around her and whose hospitality was something else. We were still in the days of paraffin lamps, candles and that marvellous gadget, a methylated spirit egg-boiler known as Bunter, a term of endearment I must add for the then headmaster of Clayesmore, Peter Burke, whose head had a certain ovoid characteristic.
It was always my task to fire up Bunter, boiled egg and toast being the second course of high tea - first course was cereals with a huge selection as Lois was ever coming up with a new brand. The round table was inevitably crammed - we would leave her with piles of dishes in our dash back to school, and often mud all over the carpet but none of that mattered - she had her priorities. The Jersey cow, 'Clover', had to be brought in for milking, the dogs had to be walked, bantams fed, plants watered and Blackwoods Magazine read - that 'washing up' could wait and sometimes it waited and grew over a week but, the silver cutlery shone, the keys on the piano maintained their whiteness, and there was always an arrangement of wild flowers in the window.
We boys were not always good news. Her forgiveness was tested. One Saturday she returned from Blandford in her ubiquitous blue Ford van thrilled to bits with a new product, which was going to transform the bathroom 'Fablon - "you just have to cut it out and it sticks itself". I was put in charge of the manufacture of brown paper templates to fit around the bath and we managed to get it all off the one roll. The pieces fitted a treat but only upside down. Roars of laughter from Lois and an assurance that another roll would be obtained by our next visit.
Then there was the big tidy-up in the garden; years ahead of Titchmarsh on Tele' - we would transform the appearance whilst Lois was out, no doubt over at Hanford. In those days there was some point in opening the front gate, but plants grew so well for her, things were always getting overgrown. Most of the cuttings and seeds which she smuggled back from abroad seemed to take. However, we were not to know that the blackberry that scratched our legs everytime we walked up the back drive was a nurtured Himalayan Giant - giant yes.
Well do I remember "What have you done to my priceless Himalayan?" It rings in my ears and was the only occasion I can recall in 44 years when she was really cross. It lasted all of ten minutes. Life had to be joyful, and her great joy was in nature's beauty and all that surrounded her. As a teenager, I could see that she did not need the embellishment of material things; a camera, and later, a television, for rugby, were 'musts', and there was her great hope that she would have a win on ERNIE and manage another trip to Salzburg and later on to Russia. One stroke of luck she had back in the sixties was an advert which caught her eye in 'The Lady', if I recall correctly. A Mrs.Campbell in Menton needed a gardener-companion at her villa during the summer months - please apply: all expenses paid. Lois got the job - "Mitch - it's too good to be true" she cried, "my travel's all paid too".
They got on superbly, became great friends, and Lois went out for at least two summers. Mrs.Campbell was an enthusiastic gardener, and she appreciated music, which again meant so much. Lois was often to be seen, and heard singing, at Clayesmore concerts and, in return, there were those who would have a little pressure put upon them to come and boost the choir in this, her church.
Church, Shroton, and the W.I. and Hanford mattered a lot and that really meant people. If they upset her they were beasts, wretches or blighters but were invariably given a second chance. If they were "not quite like other people" or on hard times, she cared, and, if they shared similar interests it would be "come in - come in - do sit down. You must be needing a cup of tea". A little while later "We must go for a walk, and I'll show you where the badgers are (don't tell a soul), and if we've got time, there are bee orchids up on Hambledon." "What about going to Portland Bill tomorrow to see if we can find puffins?" Never a dull moment.
People mattered but so did animals. They needed just as much caring as humans, and I suspect she loved them every bit as much, sometimes even more. History relates that her downfall as assistant matron at Clayesmore was because some 'wretched' boy's parents complained about an abandoned, recently-born fawn being put in the airing cupboard at the sanatorium. This may not have been the only animal patient; ferrets were also rumoured to have been admitted. An ill wind, however, because Hanford School heard of the dismissal of this wonderful lady who cared so much for animals and snapped her up.
Some of you may recall that the Times some years ago published a good schools guide in which Hanford was rated the happiest girls boarding school, stressing the emphasis on animals and pupils' pets. No wonder Lois was so happy there.
There was an occasion when she felt animals were unwelcome; I distinctly remember her complaining that she had shared a Russian domestic flight with some chickens. On that flight her foremost concern was not for those chickens. In those days I consider she was pretty brave to be on such a plane, fowls or no, but then she was brave. She drove an ambulance around Hackney during the War. She lived at Lines on her own, sometimes with no tenants,at an age when probably none of us would consider it.
A delightful story of her bravado was relayed to me by Daphne, her niece, who was with her at the time, but not quite all the time. It was their first trip to Russia which was her great love in about 1979, and they were cruising up the Volga. They went exploring, getting deeper and deeper into a very wooded island at a pre-glasnost time when they were not allowed anywhere on their own. Lois suddenly spotted white herons and took off. Daphne got back to the boat within the half hour allotted; two hours later she was getting frantic - dinner came and went and still no Lois. Eventually a very ramshackle boat with four gypsy-like fisherman appeared from a creek, and as they neared Lois was visible and shrieking "Quick, quick Daph - Vodka." Daphne rushed to the bar, grabbed what she could find, it to a man on the landing stage; he handed Lois over and bolted, for fear of being in trouble with the authorities. A near one!
In 1993 they sailed again on the Volga; this time Lois was 86 and in a wheelchair. The sailors did all the pushing; they loved her. One night Daphne recalls a frightful racket coming from the bar around midnight, but she thought at least Lois would not be disturbed by it; she would have her hearing aid out. How wrong she was; next morning at breakfast she learned it was Lois who caused it, entertaining all the passengers.
We could obviously write a book about Lois, Aunt, Wainy, however we knew her, but she should have written the Diaries of a Dorsetshire Lady, and we all know it would have been a best seller. We must rejoice in her life. We can never forget such a lovely person.
The address given by Richard Mitchell (1954-58) In Shroton Church at the memorial service on Friday October 30th 1998