Over a number of telephone conversations, it became clear that there were
now very few residents left that had any memories of Robert and Emily but
significantly, one of Robert’s beneficiaries viz, Dr. Raymond Sims—a former
Trustee of Penn Mead and a neighbour of Robert—still lived on Penn Road.
A few more telephone calls and together we were able to arrange a meeting for
the 13 February 2012.
The morning broke bright and clear with a deep blue cloudless winter’s
sky. Crisp snow lay on much of the frozen ground the whole of the journey to
the M4 junction at Slough. Leaving the motorway, the road took me through
the town towards Beaconsfield, past a multitude of car sales rooms, burger
bars, pubs, offices, storage depots, garages, bruised buildings, busy roads and
befuddling forests of advertising hoardings, traffic lights and road signs.
Ploughing through the weekend’s drift of ‘take-away tumbleweed’, one
recalled Betjeman’s lines from his poem Slough,
3 and even after all this time,
one could still see his point. Driving further north the environment became
more suburban; newsagents, hairdressing salons, grocers, mini-markets and
‘tidy’ gardens replaced the hard and raw industry of Slough, then suddenly,
still on the A355 to Beaconsfield, I passed through the trees and green fields
into Bucks proper. Busy little Beaconsfield passed in a blink and soon I was
on the ‘home run’ along the still leafy and affluent Penn Road to what was
once Robert and Emily’s St. Helier.
But 67 Penn Road had changed … it had become a building site. I had
been pre-warned about the re-development, begun only a few weeks before I
arrived, but the extent to which it had already proceeded was disappointing.
The old house that Robert and Emily would have recognised was gone, razed
to the ground, and on its footprint a spectacular suburban behemoth was
rising, retailing at £3.25 m with six bedrooms, seven shower/bathrooms, a
drawing room, sitting room/library, dining room, study, family room,
kitchen/breakfast room, utility, gym, cinema, garage and gardens of ½ acre.
Its modernity and opulence stood in stark contrast to what I knew must have
previously been here, testament to the enduring desirability of the area and—
of course—to ‘progress’ (Plate 19.1).
Stopping briefly in the gateway of no 67 to gaze around and to take in
what the Le Rossignols must have known for 25 yrs or so, I moved a mile
along the road to Penn village, arriving late morning and parking up opposite
Holy Trinity where the old Almshouses once stood. Here I met with
Christopher—long time local resident and my host for the day—together
with Miles, ‘on duty’ that morning in the old school buildings which had
survived the original Casson plan.
502
D. Sheppard
now very few residents left that had any memories of Robert and Emily but
significantly, one of Robert’s beneficiaries viz, Dr. Raymond Sims—a former
Trustee of Penn Mead and a neighbour of Robert—still lived on Penn Road.
A few more telephone calls and together we were able to arrange a meeting for
the 13 February 2012.
The morning broke bright and clear with a deep blue cloudless winter’s
sky. Crisp snow lay on much of the frozen ground the whole of the journey to
the M4 junction at Slough. Leaving the motorway, the road took me through
the town towards Beaconsfield, past a multitude of car sales rooms, burger
bars, pubs, offices, storage depots, garages, bruised buildings, busy roads and
befuddling forests of advertising hoardings, traffic lights and road signs.
Ploughing through the weekend’s drift of ‘take-away tumbleweed’, one
recalled Betjeman’s lines from his poem Slough,
3 and even after all this time,
one could still see his point. Driving further north the environment became
more suburban; newsagents, hairdressing salons, grocers, mini-markets and
‘tidy’ gardens replaced the hard and raw industry of Slough, then suddenly,
still on the A355 to Beaconsfield, I passed through the trees and green fields
into Bucks proper. Busy little Beaconsfield passed in a blink and soon I was
on the ‘home run’ along the still leafy and affluent Penn Road to what was
once Robert and Emily’s St. Helier.
But 67 Penn Road had changed … it had become a building site. I had
been pre-warned about the re-development, begun only a few weeks before I
arrived, but the extent to which it had already proceeded was disappointing.
The old house that Robert and Emily would have recognised was gone, razed
to the ground, and on its footprint a spectacular suburban behemoth was
rising, retailing at £3.25 m with six bedrooms, seven shower/bathrooms, a
drawing room, sitting room/library, dining room, study, family room,
kitchen/breakfast room, utility, gym, cinema, garage and gardens of ½ acre.
Its modernity and opulence stood in stark contrast to what I knew must have
previously been here, testament to the enduring desirability of the area and—
of course—to ‘progress’ (Plate 19.1).
Stopping briefly in the gateway of no 67 to gaze around and to take in
what the Le Rossignols must have known for 25 yrs or so, I moved a mile
along the road to Penn village, arriving late morning and parking up opposite
Holy Trinity where the old Almshouses once stood. Here I met with
Christopher—long time local resident and my host for the day—together
with Miles, ‘on duty’ that morning in the old school buildings which had
survived the original Casson plan.
502
D. Sheppard