Summer Sports Scene 1967

Summer Sports Scene
Jersey Topic, 1967

A couple of sleek rubber wet suits for diving or ski-ing. His is black with yellow stripes, £12, and hers is a White Stag suit straight from the United States. 

Their bright, coloured range is being sold in the Channel Islands for the first time this summer. The one in the picture is red with black spots, form-fitting with short sleeves. 

The harpoon gun is £8 5s., the underwater knife £3, the Italian mask, 35s. and the snorkel 8s. 

All from Fletcher‘s Watersports, First Tower, Jersey and St. Peter Port, Guernsey.

Across the Bar: The Great Union Inn

Across the Bar: Allie Machon At The Great Union Hotel
Jersey Topic, 1967

“Mind your own business," she said. Hardly the most encouraging way to start an interview i thought. And just to get the message through she said it again.

Then laughing, she added: “No, you don‘t understand. I'm not being rude or anything. But it‘s a form of greeting we have been using here for years.“

“Oh, that's different." I said and we settled down to business:

“There‘s not much to tell really. I just moved in here with the furniture and been here ever since," said the twinkling-eyed manageress of the Great Union Hotel, Mrs. Allie Machon.

It was 46 years ago when Allie left St. Paul‘s Girls‘ School to join her mother and uncle behind the bar at one of Jersey's few remaining free houses.

All this was very new to Allie and her mother, but uncle was experienced and full of ideas. His best came a few years later when his old friend Dick Turpin and the Chipmuckers - the dominoes team - decided to form the ‘Mind Your Own Business' Club.

The success of MYOB was even greater than their expectations and they never ceased to be amazed by the number of people who rushed to the Great Union just to be given a rude answer. But they all loved it and stayed.

Which is just what the club wanted. Funds grew and children were taken on several outings to picnics, pantomimes and sporting events every year. And in the evening their regulars would be taken on a grand pub tour.

“Oh, you’ve never seen anything like it,” says Allie, “And the initiation ceremony into MYOB was hilarious. Everyone would form a crocodile with the new member leading it. The room would be cleared and everyone would troop round singing, ‘I like to walk behind a man who smokes a big cigar.’ Nobody knew why we chanted this, it was just good fun."

"Perhaps a lot of people. especially outsiders, thought it was all very silly. But the work MYOB did for everyone was marvellous. And it’s very sad that interest in the club has now nearly all gone.

“But you can’t expect these things to last for ever." she said glancing at the rows of cups, trophies and shields that fill the public bar. “All these cups were part of the club once. We didn't play other pubs for them but kept them between ourselves.”

“We played darts, dominoes and cards against each other, and if you won a championship your name would be engraved on one of the trophies.”

When her uncle died she and her mother found themselves faced with the task of running the pub: “Mother stood no nonsense from the word go. She ran the place with an iron hand but soft heart and we had no trouble at all.”

“If there was even the slightest hint of trouble, she would open the door and say just one word -'out' - and they went.” Allie finally took over running the hotel by herself three years ago when her mother retired: “It was the obvious step and I don’t think I could have taken it if it meant just working on the bar. But luckily this is an hotel as well and I’ve really enjoyed myself looking after the visitors. But if I had my life to live all over again, I wouldn’t take on this work—you see I‘ve had no home life at all.”

Homes of the Channel Islands: St John's Manor, 1967 Article

HOMES OF THE CHANNEL ISLANDS
St. John's Manor, Jersey
By Penny Hart
Jersey Topic, 1967

Remote, secluded, St. John's Manor stands aloof from the seasonal scrimmage on Jersey's roads. Masked by acres of woodland, its surroundings are timeless, quiet. The only interruptions are the occasional cackles from a group of Canadian geese which spills across the lawn.

Until recently few people - even Islanders - knew what the place actually looked like. For years there was not even a name on the gateway.

Then the present owner, Mr. Noble Lowndes, threw the grounds open to the public in aid of Mental Health Week. And more than 1,000 curious sightseers seized their opportunity to see what lay at the end of the long, tree-lined drive. They weren't disappointed. Jersey Topic went alone to see.

Le Manoir de St. Jean la Hougue Bate, startlingly white in the sunshine, stands serenely in the midst of its 10-acre grounds. The elegant Georgian façade facing a vast, sweeping lawn edged with palm trees and tall white statues. The whole effect is somehow un-English—almost colonial.

Maybe this was the quality which first attracted Mr. Lowndes (there is no Fief of St. John so he can't lay claim to the title "seigneur"). He's a New Zealander whose grandfather was a naval settler in the North Island. He came over to live in Britain in 1933 and built up a world-wide insurance company based in London. Recently he found he was running the danger of being "surtaxed out of existence" so he quit his Surrey home and came to live in Jersey. In the same month he retired from business at the age of 70.

It took five aeroplane loads to bring the furniture over and when he walked into the Manor at the end of last summer everything was ready in its place. Little has been moved since then. For Mr. Lowndes' main interest is in the grounds. Thirty gardeners are working there full time—roughly three men to an acre. And apart from the surrounding woodlands there are 40 acres of farmland belonging to the Manor.

So far this year they've opened up a road to St. Lawrence which has not been used for 60 years. They've uncovered a Japanese garden. They've built a log cabin (the wood had to be sent to Guernsey for cutting because the logs were so large) and a tennis court. Still to come are the stables, the heated swimming pool and the woodland barbecue.

 

"We've had so much to do," says Mr. Lowndes, dressed in pin-stripes and smoking a fat cigar, "that I've only been into St. Helier four or five times since I've been here. I hardly know my way round the Island yet."

He explained that the house originates in the 14th Century. But there have been so many alterations over the years that little remains of the ancient building. At one time there were wings on either side, but these were pulled down by a former owner, Mr. Alexander Raworth, because the walls were crumbling.

An artist and sculptor, Mr. Raworth bought the fief in 1910 and probably had the strongest influence on the shape of the present Manor.

 

He knocked down, he rebuilt, and everywhere there are pieces of his work. Possibly the most impressive - certainly the most original - is the ornate Edwardian moulded plaster ceiling in the banqueting hall. It has an extraordinary stalactite motif stamped with the Raworth crest.

When he died in 1950 his widow built a stone memorial chapel in the grounds and his coffin lies in a sealed vault below. The oaken pews were made from wood pulled from the banqueting hall when the new floor was laid.

The banqueting hall, in fact, is the most interesting room in the house. It is 55 feet long with a doorway onto the drive and a modern granite fireplace at one end. Antique furniture and silver lines the oak panelled walls and the centrepiece is a heavy, oak refectory table.

 

On a slightly higher level and through an archway is the dining room. This is probably the oldest part of the house - witness a huge granite fireplace running the length of one wall. It was the original kitchen hearth and at the back of it is an oven with the Carteret arms on the door.

That is the ground floor. Then the inside stairway or the double flight of steps from the drive leads to the entrance hall and the main floor of the house. On one side is the drawing room with grey silk panels on the walls. The most striking pieces of furniture here are two hand-painted wooden cabinets with a matching painted grand piano. On the opposite side of the hall is Mr. Lowndes' bedroom.

Further back and past an ornately curved and carved grandfather clock are two more bedrooms—a guest room and one for his 12-year-old daughter Sarah.

Upstairs to the top floor are more bedrooms, including a suite for Charles Lowndes, 16, who is at Canford School, near Wimborne.

Down the back steps and past an elegant stone well (Mr. Raworth again) is a small triangular building—purpose unknown but probably built before 1600. Leading from it is a high stone wall and a gateway into a large, sunny walled garden, believed to be about 1825.

The outbuildings are extensive, but the most picturesque in a fairy tale kind of way is the modernised dower house with its leaded windows and big Tudor chimneys.

With the past nine months intensive work, the Manor is already taking on the stamp of its new owner. But whereas Mr. Raworth's name is inextricably linked with improvements to the house, Mr. Lowndes will undoubtedly be remembered for the transformation of the grounds into one of the most beautiful and secluded parks in Jersey.

Corrine Le Marquand at The Windmill

A Topical Look Across the Bar
Corrine Le Marquand at The Windmill

(Jersey Topic 1967)

"ME? I like playing hell!". A blunt answer from the equally blunt owner of Jersey's 500¬year-old Windmill Inn, red-haired, mini-skirted Mrs. Corrine Le Marquand: "And a game of roulette when I get the chance," she added.

Gambling is a form of relaxation for her, she went all the way to Tangier to play her last game: "That was a holiday, but it made me realise the potential of opening a casino here."

And if the Bailiff was to give his kind per-mission, she would be just as successful at gambling as she is in catering for the thirsts of 1,000 tourists every day.

But the story of Corrine Le Marquand's success began indirectly 500 years ago, in 1472. This was the year some long-forgotten miller became a capitalist, and built a windmill that even the brave Don Quixote would hesitate in tackling.

Towering 75 feet in the air, and with foundations five foot six inches thick, the mill was built entirely of genuine Jersey granite. Inside, the original woodwork and beams can still be seen, although the first wheel was replaced 200 years ago.

Later, this massive wheel was to be dismantled, sawn in half and converted into two bars.

However, for years before this, the windmill had stood silent and empty. Then the Nazis arrived. They found a new use for the mill, as a watchtower—and then left in rather a hurry.

The mill had fallen into disuse again. In despair the owner was about to put an advert in The Times, when he had an offer. An unnamed price was agreed, and a piece of Jersey history changed hands.

A transformation then took place. All three storeys were converted into bars; the cellar bar; wheel bar, and blue bar. A car-park and beer garden were added; floodlighting installed, and a playroom added for children.

Profits climbed higher and higher: "I never talk about money," she says, "I just like making it. It's my favourite occupation."

Flippant but firm, she has earned the respect and friendship of tourists and locals alike. Her only regret is that her husband is not alive to share her success. He died in 1961. A tragedy that would have seen a lesser woman shirk her responsibilities, and sell the Windmill Inn.

But she didn't. She was determined to make a go of it, and working a 15-hour-day, seven days a week, she more than succeeded.

Now, with Huck and Slush, a Norwegian Elk-Hound and Finnish Spitz respectively, she is beginning to relax: "I enjoy a spot of decorating even if I am lousy at it. I also paint, but I'm no Van Gogh. I also like gardening, but my hands were designed for pulling pints and not weeds."

Lt.-Col. Philip Le Gallais

Lt.-Col. Philip Le Gallais

A Topical series, by Andrew Gilliam, of the distinguished military men and women of the Channel Islands

(Jersey Topic 1967)

IT WAS A WARM DAY in St. Helier on July 19, 1871. A young boy stared at a group of brilliantly dressed officers and men of the Island Militia and in his mind were sown seeds of ambitious military ambitions.

Years pass. The sun slowly sets over the South African town of Pretoria. British troops are dusty and tired but elated. The year is 1900. The men, under the command of Lord Roberts, had taken the undefended town and this had given them a much needed taste of victory and a sense of satisfaction.

In the administrative buildings General Lord Roberts sits at a long table reading reports. He knows that the struggle is far from over. The Boers are the masters of commando warfare and they rarely risk fight¬ing a formal battle. They used their knowledge of the terrain to maintain a supremacy which is causing anxiety and embarrassment not only to Lord Roberts but also to the whole British nation. But the idea of British troops adopting tactics to suit the terrain is still foreign to the High Command.

Some miles from Pretoria a lone figure on horseback, wearing bush clothing and high riding boots, is observing the distant camp fires. Suddenly he hears a crackling amongst the trees some distance behind him. His hands move swiftly to his rifle. After a minute or two he recognises the silhouette of a known messenger. The man advances and salutes. The whispered message is in Afrik-aans .... papers pass between them. The horseman now knows that a force, under the British Commander, Ian Hamilton, is coming to Pretoria.

Lord Roberts was also studying a report which gave him this news. He recognises one name, the name of a man whose sole purpose would be to seek out one Boer general.

The general—the horseman who had earlier been spying on the camp—was Christian de Wet, and his appointed hunter was the Jerseyman, Lieutenant-Colonel Philip Le Gallais.

The wheels of fate had been set in motion and the two men were now set on an inevit-able and fatal course of collision.

De Wet had been harassed for several months by various groups under the command of General Lord Mathueu. But, in the hun¬dreds of square miles of undulating veld, de Wet had managed not only to avoid capture but also to maintain liason with the various groups under his command, and with the ever-moving Boer leaders. He hounded the British over a vast area: an unexpected swoop on a body of Imperial Yeomanry at Lindley, inflicting heavy casualties, cutting lines of communication, destroying railway lines and even ambushing and forcing the surrender of a militia battalion of Derbyshires near the Rhenoster.

Days pass, and soon various detachments of British troops are on their way out into the veld to begin the search for de Wet. Lieutenant-Colonel Le Gallais has decided to search the Valsch River area as intelligence reports have indicated that de Wet might be approaching the area with a view to raids into the Cape Colony area.

With great care, avoiding obvious trails and tracks, Le Gallais heads towards the Valsch River. At night they pass by small camps of Boers and make detours to avoid skirmishes. There are no other British troops in the area, and for once, the element of surprise is with the British. Le Gallais wishes to use this powerful weapon in a most devastating way—if only he can find de Wet.

Next day General de Wet and a detachment of commandos head off toward the Cape Colony. November 5, 1900. The sun has set and de Wet is giving orders for the setting-up of camp not far from Bothaville and within sight of the Valsch river.

There has been a slight skirmish with some British troops earlier in the day. De Wet was sure that they were merely a scouting party

he had had negative reports from his scouts as to the possibility of a large British detach¬ment in the area:The scouting party were seven miles to his rear and in the morning his troops were to split up.

But Le Gallais had patiently waited all day with his unit on hiding, across the river in front of de Wet.

All day the Jerseyman had thought on the situation. To confront de Wet in open battle would be futile as de Wet would merely fan out his troops. The terrain did not even lend itself to an ambush that would work. De Wet's superior weapons and fresh horses gave him too many advantages. Le Gallais could not risk sending a messenger around to the scouting party which did not know of his presence. Capture of the messenger would remove any element of surprise.

So he decided on an early morning attack with his men in fixed positions on either side of the valley. He planned to take enough men across the river and station them on either side of de Wet's camp and to leave a front line of troops in his present position. He hoped to give the impression that the encamp-ment was surrounded and force de Wet to surrender. Le Gallais also hoped that the scouting party at the rear of the enemy would quickly appreciate the situation once the firing broke out and would advance.

Throughout the night the Jerseyman moved his men slowly down the slope, across the river, and up to the positions he had chosen. A hot sticky night with the threat of a storm in the air. With extreme delicacy Le Gallais' men moved amid the constant noise of bush animals and insects. Sweat pours down and soaks the men's tunics .... even the river is lukewarm and unrefreshing. Soon all is ready, Le Gallais is within sight of his finest hour.

There is a deadly hush over the valley. It is a few moments before sunrise and a slight steamy mist rises from the river. And then ... shots ring out. Bullets pour into the Boer camp from 300 paces.

Immediately the Boers are awake and seek-ing shelter as best they can. De Wet has hurriedly dressed and is out trying to organise his men. He fears the worst. He feels caught in a situation in which he himself has caught others. There is chaos everywhere .... men seeking shelter from the deadly rain, others trying to mount horses or trying to reach the heavy Krupp guns. Men fall about him. Bullets tearthrough the undergrowth, ricochet off tree trunks and hit his men with terrifying rapidity.

For five hours the battle rages .... the Boers fighting for their very survival and receiving no quarter from the attacking force. The three-quarter encirclement is slowly closing in on the Boers. Le Gallais is there slowly bringing de Wet closer to capture or a fighting death.

The air is full of smoke and dust, shouts and cries. Then, General de Wet gets a message. There are no British at his rear. There are no troops waiting to advance in on him. The way is clear for retreat. But word spreads fast and within minutes Boers are leaping onto horses and there develops even greater chaos. De Wet tries desperately and unsuccessfully to halt his fleeing men.

Le Gallais, seeing the enemy pulling back, instantly realises that his bluff has been called. The scouting party had long since withdrawn. His horses are across the valley. He now sees that de Wet is slipping away and he must make one last desperate attempt. He advances down the short slope and, in their hundreds, his men follow.

  

De Wet sees this and he himself retreats at a gallop. Le Gallais' men are unable to follow and, in that final charge the Jerseyman is fatally wounded.

Of Lieutenant-Colonel Philip Le Gallais Christian de Wet was later to write "Without doubt one of the bravest English officers I ever met."

And they Live in Jersey (1966) - George Behrend, M.A. (Oxon), F.R.G.S.. Assoc. Inst. T.

From 1966 Jersey Topic, a fascinating piece by Pat Hall. 

 

And they Live in Jersey
By Pat Hall

George Behrend, M.A. (Oxon), F.R.G.S.. Assoc. Inst. T.

About a year ago I read “Gone with Regret”, a story of the Great Western Railway. Not because I was a train enthusiast, but because this was the railway which always took me on summer holidays to Devon or Cornwall and I was curious to know what train spotters were always a-spotting.

This very topical book is written with such humour and observation that I am sure it will stimulate the memory of anyone who has set out on a journey from “pompous Paddington” or ever travelled by G.W.R. Why was the luncheon fish invariably turbot?

The author, Mr. George Behrend, who is also a member of the Guild of Travel Writers, and his wife Joan live at Fliquet and since living in Jersey, Mr. Behrend has spent much of his time writing about trains and sleeping cars; a lifelong interest which developed from a boyhood passion,

When he went to Marlborough his preference for buses and trains to cricket and rugger gained him a measure of ‘avant-garde one-upmanship.’ He had written to Leylands for illustrated catalogues of their engines and in reply, an enterprising salesman from Bristol turned up in a fire engine to see him—a 13 year-old schoolboy!

His study of regional geography while reading for his degree at Oxford, explains why one feels that his books are condensed from an inexhaustible mind of knowledge. After obtaining his degree he remained on as a tutor before joining the Army. He served in Egypt in a cavalry regiment with the 2nd Armoured Brigade under, the then, Brigadier Erskine.

His family have always been associated with the Arts and artists, His parents, who now live in the island, were patrons of Stanley Spencer and it was they who financed the building of the Memorial Chapel at Burghclere for Spencer to decorate. The book, “Stanley Spencer at Burghclere" by George Behrend is the only complete collection of the Memorial Chapel paintings, and the story, told by one who knew the artist so well, gives the reader greater understanding of the work.

Benjamin Britten asked George Behrend to work with him when he started the English Opera Group and in the early days of the Aldeburgh Festival, During this period he spent much time travelling in Holland and Switzerland, not by railway, but at the wheel of Benjamin Britten’s 1929 Rolls Royce.

How enthusiastic was his wife about railways? Mrs. Behrend, who has the happiest temperament, endeavoured to look martyred when she said she hated train travel and when they motored on holiday she was always stuck in a goods yard while her husband went off to inspect the engine sheds. But then she had an early training: their honey-moon was spent in an hotel in the middle of Irun railway station where the French trains passed the platform at the rear of the hotel and the Spanish trains passed in front!

The Bells were ringing

Some weddings from 1966:

And they live in Jersey (1966) - Brigadier Sir Francis Fetherston-Godley, O.B.E, D.L.

 

From 1966 Jersey Topic, a fascinating piece by Pat Hall. 

And they Live in Jersey
By Pat Hall

Brigadier Sir Francis Fetherston-Godley, O.B.E, D.L.

Although of Irish descent, Bridadier Sir Francis Fetherston-Godley has family history closely associated with Jersey, so this article is doubly topical. His great, great grand-father who commanded the 83rd Regiment in Jersey, married the daughter of the Rev. Rickard, Rector of St. Peters. (Her one-time home, Le Colombier, St. Lawrence, though now much renovated, still stands and is mentioned by Joan Stevens in her book ‘Old Jersey Houses').

Sir Francis spent much of his childhood here when his father was Assistant Adjutant-General to the Governor, and he went to Victoria College before going on to Cheltenham and Sandhurst.

After serving in the First World War in France and later in India he left the Army in 1926, but his association with the Service continued.

The organisation of the Territorial Army in Gloucester—a county of which he is Deputy Lieutenant—took up much of his time. Even more absorbing was his work with the British Legion of which he became National Chairman in 1934. In this capacity he lead delegations of Ex-servicemen to Europe with the idealistic hope that an international reunion of men who had fought opposite each other might lead to a means of averting war.

He had many conferences with European Heads of State including four meetings with Hitler and about as many with Mussolini, each of whom presented him with their signed photographs. The mission, as we all know, failed and in 1939 he was back in France in uniform.

He is a Commander of the Légion d‘Honneur, was mentioned in despatches in both wars, was awarded the OBE in the First War, and among his numerous medals which include the Croix de Guerre, Belgian and Yugoslavian decorations he possesses the Queen‘s Colonial Police medal. This, he explained, he had been awarded for service in the Kenya Police Reserve.

While living in Kenya in 1947, he was asked to assist in forming an armed force to help keep the peace. He was Commandant of this Police Reserve for the Southern Province of Kenya from 1950 to 1954, and during the period of Mau-mau terrorism served under the late Sir George Erkine (previous Lieut. Governor in Jersey). He is President of the Old Contemptibles Association in Jersey.

The Brigadier is also a very keen yachtsman and in his time has owned six very beautiful yachts. The latest of these, the 21 ton m.y. “Corita”, built on the lines of a Norwegian whaler, is now lying in St. Helier Yacht Harbour.

I recalled some of the sound common sense shown in his letters to the Press and asked if he had ever considered taking part in local politics. He told me he had no wish to interfere with island affairs, but as he could not stand inefficiency he had, on occasions voiced his opinions in the Press.

When I asked this eminent soldier whether he considered himself a Jerseyman or an Englishman, he replied, in his voice which is surprisingly quiet for one with such a commanding manner, “I am Irish.”

Le Moulin de Lecq: Jersey Topic Feature 1966

Le Moulin de Lecq: Jersey Topic Feature 1966

[Note - if a copy appears on Jerripedia, it was my transcription stolen from here without credit]

Le Moulin de Lecq was one of the many ancient water mills of the Island. It retains the topical name it bore over 600 years ago.

It was a working Flour Mill as late as 1929, commandeered by the Germans during the Occupation of Jersey, and used to generate power for their searchlight batteries in this part of the Island throughout the war years until the Liberation.

In April 1955 the ‘Mill’ was granted a licence, and it was decided to convert it into an ‘Inn’, restoring the original Outside Water Wheel, which weighs 18 tons and has a diameter of 21 feet and works entirely by the weight of water as it did hundreds of years ago.

  

Around the inside working Mill machinery a most delightful ‘Mill Room Cocktail Bar and Lounge’ has been designed. The 'Granary Cocktail Bar’ upstairs, where all the grinding took place, has an atmosphere of its own and contains many of the instruments of the old mill, with its parafin lamps and corn sack style cushions.

The ‘Inn' has become one of the show places of Jersey with its very attractive young ladies dressed in Breton costume to serve you. Standing in several acres of its own meadow and woodland, at night it presents a wonderful picture as it is beautifully floodlit.

The Inn is open all day during the season, from 11 am. To 11 p.m., except Sundays 12.00 to 1 p.m., and 3.30 pm. to 10 pm.

A very delightful and warm welcome always awaits you at Le Moulin de Lecq.

Beautiful Homes of Jersey: Loge du Tisserand (1966)

Beautiful Homes of Jersey: Loge du Tisserand.
From Jersey Topic, 1966

[Note - if a copy appears on Jerripedia, it was my transcription stolen from here without credit]

In ancient bygone days Jersey must have been a wonderful place in which to live if you happened to be rich. The social whirl in and around manor houses must have been quite something. And not only were the manors splendid homes but entertaining was carried out on a large scale. Today the manor houses are still magnificent residences and still remain very much as they were, However their immediate surroundings have altered and many of the servants cottages and farmworkers houses have disappeared.

One or two farmworkers cottages of that era still remain and have been converted for topical modern living by their owners. Two such cottages go to make the home of Mr. and Mrs. P. Scragg of Loge du Tisserand, Trinity. The name means “house of the weaver" but it has no historic interest other than the fact that the man who did the first conversion of the two properties in 1957 was a Mr. Weaver.

Mr. and Mrs. Scragg bought the property last year. It suited them ideally. Mr. Scragg is a designer of textile machinery and was technical director of the whole of the Ernest Scragg and Son organisation. His type of creative work requires peace and quiet. “As I became more and more an inventor I wondered why I bothered about living in Britain" he said. “I reasoned that I could just as well be designing and living in nice surroundings with a decent climate” he said.

As you enter the hall of the house you are struck by the immediate feeling that you are in a home. Everything about it is warm and friendly, from the carpets to the. granite staircase with wrought iron railwork. There is in the hall a magnificent oak and mahogany Welsh dresser which is steeped in the history of Sutton Hall, a baronial house of the Macclesfield area. On the wall of the hall is a superb piece of craftsmanship—a printing block with which the Macclesfield mill workers used to hand-print silk. “I went into a factory one day and saw them piling these blocks up to burn them because they had no use for them. They are really quite wonderful pieces of craftsmanship and to see this no longer made me feel very sad” said Mr. Scragg-

The outstanding room in the whole house is undoubtedly the lounge. This is 45 feet long and was originally the two main rooms of the cottage.

The Scraggs knocked down the dividing wall to give the room a pleasing but dramatic proportion and a section of a granite wall acts as a room divider. At the east end of the room is an original fireplace which dates back to the 1700’s and some of the original cross-beams have been tastefully refurbished. In this room you feel Mrs. Scraggs love of soft colours—lovely tones of green match with autumnal golds and browns and the whole effect is that of a charming cottage but on a grander scale.

At the west end of the room is another fireplace and a bar area with a television as part of the diversion. “We were genuinely a little worried at first by the sheer size of the room but as each area has a function we find we are less aware of the size than we first thought we might be” said Mrs. Scragg. French antique furniture and Regency-style chairs complete the general feeling of well-being which the room generates.

The kitchen is a dream. It has been designed so that everything is close at hand and there is no need for a wasted movement.

One end of the kitchen is wood panelled and makes an ideal eating area for the family. Typical of the planning that has gone into the kitchen is the ironing board. This folds away inside of a draw. When Mrs. Scragg has to iron she opens the drawer, the ironing board drops out and a leg goes into place . . . presto and ready for ironing!

A split-level cooker makes for ease of operation and everything else is built around this to be in the best position.

“I enjoy working in my kitchen" said Mrs. Scragg. “I buzz about and only get cross when I find that I haven’t put something back in its right position.”

Next to the lounge and just off from the kitchen is a small but charming dining room. This is furnished with pieces of furniture which the Scraggs have taken over 10 years to collect. There is a Sheraton sideboard from an old house in Cheshire. “We had to bring this to Jersey upside down because the legs were so weak. It is over 200 years old and has certainly seen some history. I think this will have been its last journey.“

The dining room table is of a later period and the Chippendale-style chairs complete the style which is again cottagy but full of flair.

Next to the dining room and still on the same level is the master bedroom. Here yellow and gold are the predominant colours in this bedroom with its Louis XVth-style furniture and the effect is one of a spring morning. Attached to this bedroom is a study and a bathroom en suite. “We decided to put a study there because Mr. Scragg is an inventor and You know what inventors are. In the middle of the night he will suddenly get up, stricken with an idea that he must put to paper.”

The Scraggs have two children, a boy aged 10 and a girl, aged 11. They each have their own bedroom upstairs, with lovely views over farmyards, fields and countryside. Each bedroom has its own bathroom. Both bedrooms are simply furnished but alive with summer colours, given extra charm by the large dormer windows.

Outside of the house as you enter the drive through a large archway is an outhouse. This has been converted by the Scraggs into two bedrooms, a bathroom and living room, either for staff or for visitors. There is also a swimming pool at the rear of the house.

Loge du Tisserand is a fine example of the conversion of old property into well-planned living accommodation in keeping with the 1960’s. The Scraggs have made it a comfortable and leisurely home as opposed to a show place and this comes through very forcibly when you go around the house. As Mrs. Scragg put it: “A house is meant to be lived in not looked at.”