Category: Kristine Hughes

DO YOU KNOW ABOUT – THE SHIPPING FORECAST?

The BBC’s Shipping Forecast has been broadcasting coastal weather conditions to its listeners for over 150 years and its loyal following extends far beyond mariners. Fans of the television show As Time Goes By will be aware that Mrs. Bale, the Hardcastle’s housekeeper at their country home, stops everything in order to listen the Shipping Forecast. In Keeping Up Appearances, Hyacinth Bucket consults the Shipping Forecast before she and Richard go boating – even though their sail will only follow the inland Thames. In addition, the Shipping Forecast has inspired music, literature and art. Heck, my online friend and fellow blogger Scott Lyman even named his blog The Shipping Forecast.

So . . . . just what is the Shipping Forecast?

From Wikipedia:

The Shipping Forecast is a BBC Radio broadcast of weather reports and forecasts for the seas around the coasts of the British Isles. It is produced by the Met Office and broadcast by BBC Radio 4 on behalf of the Maritime and Coastguard Agency. The forecasts sent over the Navtex system use a similar format and the same sea areas. The waters around the British Isles are divided into 31 sea areas, also known as weather areas (see map below)[1] There are four broadcasts per day at the following (UK local) times:
  • 0048 – transmitted on FM and LW. Includes weather reports from an extended list of coastal stations at 0052 and an inshore waters forecast at 0055 and concludes with a brief UK weather outlook for the coming day. The broadcast finishes at approximately 0058.
  • 0520 – transmitted on FM and LW. Includes weather reports from coastal stations at 0525, and an inshore waters forecast at 0527.
  • 1201 – normally transmitted on LW only.
  • 1754 – transmitted only on LW on weekdays, as an opt-out from the PM programme, but at weekends transmitted on both FM and LW.
The unique and distinctive sound of these broadcasts has led to their attracting an audience much wider than that directly interested in maritime weather conditions. Many listeners find the repetition of the names of the sea areas almost hypnotic, particularly during the night-time broadcast at 0048 UK time.
In October 1859, the steam clipper Royal Charter wrecked in a strong storm off Anglesey; 450 people lost their lives. Due to this loss, Vice-Admiral Robert FitzRoy introduced a warning service for shipping in February 1861, using telegraph communications. This remained the United Kingdom’s Met Office primary responsibility for some time afterwards. In 1911, the Met Office had begun issuing marine weather forecasts which included gale and storm warnings via radio transmission for areas around Great Britain. This service was discontinued during and following World War I, between 1914 and June 1921, and again during World War II between 1939 and 1945.[2]
Today, although most ships have onboard technology to provide the Forecast’s information, they still use it to check their data.
The last broadcast of the Shipping Forecast at 0048 each day is traditionally preceded by the playing of “Sailing By“, a light orchestral piece by Ronald Binge. This is only very rarely omitted, generally when the schedule is running late. Though occasionally played in full, it is common for only a section of the piece to be broadcast; that section being the length required to fill the gap between the previous programme’s ending and the start of the forecast at precisely 0048.[8] More importantly, Sailing By serves as a vital identification tool – it is distinctive and as such assists anyone attempting to tune in. The forecast is then followed by the National anthem and the closedown of the station for the day, with the BBC World Service taking over the frequencies after the pips of the Greenwich Time Signal at 0100.

You can listen to a broadcast of the Shipping Forecast here.

Alternately, here’s Stephen Fry’s cheeky take on the shipping forecast.

THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE AUCTION

This March, Sotheby’s, London, will be auctioning items belonging to

2 March | London 



Born into English society as the youngest of the Mitford Sisters, Deborah, Duchess of Devonshire was unfailingly elegant yet down-to-earth. This March, Sotheby’s will offer more than 450 objects from her personal collection, including jewellery, works by artist friends like Lucian Freud, family photos and charming hen-related objects. 

I admit here that I have always had a special affinity for this Duchess, as for her predecessor, Georgiana. 


Both women lead spectacular lives, albeit for different reasons, but each was a star in her own right. I believe that their connections to Chatsworth House adds to my affections, as Chatsworth remains my personal favourite Stately Home. 




Still, you have to admire Deborah Mitford, who grew up in a stellar family and who married a minor member of the aristocracy, who ascended to the dukedom when his elder brother was killed in WWII. Through it all, the Duchess remained Debo to all – her down to earth, get it done mindset allowed her and the Duke to pull Chatsworth from the brink of bankruptcy and turn it into the most successful of British estates and a model for other members of the peerage who afterwards opened their own homes to the public. Through it all, the Duchess remained true to herself and to her love of country pursuits, including her involvemet in championing many breeds of British livestock, including her beloved hens, which can still be seen at Chatsworth. The Duchess was also an ardent fan of Elvis Presley. 

Deborah would never have become Duchess had the Duke’s elder brother, William Cavendish, Marquess of Hartington, who was married to Kathleen “Kick” Kennedy, sister to the President, not died before him. You can read more about that chapter of Chatsworth history here.

For more background on Deborah, Duchess of Devonshire and the auction, you will find the article from the Daily Mail here.

And you will find a slideshow of limited items from the Sotheby’s sale on their website here.

THE WELLINGTON CONNECTION: CHILDREN


The Thorburn painting of The Duke surrounded by his grand-children in the library at Stratfield Saye. The boy in blue became the 4th Duke.



I believe that one of the reasons the Duke of Wellington remains eternally fascinating is because he was quite a complex human being who, like each of us, had many sides. One of the most endearing of these was his love of children, which is puzzling considering the stilted and often painful relationship he had with his own two sons. Wellington enjoyed the company of children from the time he was a young adult, playing with the Duke of Richmond’s children in Ireland and racing the Duke through the park whilst each of them rode a child piggyback. There are many other instances of the Duke’s playful side, including the following: 

The Life of Wellington by Sir Herbert Maxwell

14th June, 1815.
“The Duke of Wellington seems to unite those two extremes of character which Shakespeare gives to Henry V.—the hero and the trifler. You may conceive him at one moment commanding the allied armies in Spain or presiding at the conference at Vienna, and at another time sprawling on his back or on all fours upon the carpet playing with the children.

A Sketch of the Life of Georgiana, Lady de Ros  By Blanche Arthur Georgina Swinton


The Duke’s kindness to children is well-known; when he invited his friends to visit him, their children were always included; and on one occasion, passing through the room where some of his juvenile guests were at tea (I rather think the present Premier was one!), he was very angry at finding they had no jam, and instantly gave orders it was never to be omitted! When my little girl of five years old—his god-daughter—worked him a pincushion, he apologised for his delay in writing to thank her! When we assembled for dinner, we usually found the Duke, who had dressed early, engaged in a regular game of romps with the children, who came down on purpose for what they called the Battle of Waterloo, which commenced by one of them throwing a cushion at the newspaper the Duke was reading.

Wellington the Beau by Patrick Delaforce

Of Mary, the second Lady Salisbury. Not only were her first three children named after the Duke – Sackville Arthur born in 1848, Mary Arthur in 1850 and Arthur born in 1851; but she convalesced after each confinement at Walmer Castle. Every summer she and her offspring spent happy weeks there and the old Duke regarded them as his own grandchildren. . . . . He designed medals for them made up of shillings and ribbons, and allowed `Your Babes’ to romp where they wished. He devised a baby jumper machine for them to be suspended safely from the ceiling. The conqueror of Europe was such a genial lover of very small children. 

Notes of Conversations with the Duke of Wellington, 1831-1851  by Earl Philip Henry Stanhope Stanhope

The Duke has now staying with him (at Walmer Castle) two little children of Lord and Lady Robert Grosvenor, who are gone abroad, and his conduct to these chicks displays a kindheartedness and warmth of feeling such as their own parents could not surpass, but such as the Duke displays to all. Lady Mahon was told by Lady Mary Grimston who was staying in the house, that the children having expressed their desire to receive letters by the post, the Duke every morning writes a little letter to each of them, containing good advice for the day, which is regularly delivered to them when the post comes in.

While he had a playful side, Wellington also had a sense of responsibility where the welfare of children was concerned. He and the Duchess of Wellington took in and cared for the children of family and friends whenever the need arose, including the two sons of his brother, Henry, who was unprepared to care for them when his wife left him for the Marquess of Angelsey. At Walmer, Wellington took it upon himself to visit the children of his neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, whilst that lady was away. The two mites suffered a bout of measles and Wellington sent his own doctor to see them every day and every day wrote to Mrs. Jenkins to keep her up to date on their recovery. Below you will find further examples of Wellington’s quiet benevolence, although I’m certain there are many more that will never come to light. 

Wellingtoniana: Anecdotes, Maxims, and Characteristics, of the Duke of Wellington, Volume 4  edited by John Timb


During the late war in the Punjab, Captain Field, of her Majesty’s 9th regiment of foot, was killed in action at Ferozepore. His widow sailed down the Ganges with her three children (two daughters and a son) for Caleutta, on her way to England. The daughters both died of cholera at Caleutta. Mrs. Field, with her only remaining child, then embarked for her native country; but she herself died on the passage, and was committed to the deep off St. Helena, consigning her orphan son to his grandfather, Captain Farrant, whose death occurred before the ship’s arrival. Captain Farrant’s widow (stepmother to Mrs. Field) took charge of the poor child; and her sister, Miss White, addressed the Duke of Wellington, as Commander-in-Chief, in the little orphan’s behalf. The following was the highly characteristic reply of the illustrious Duke :—

“London, Jume 23, 1846.
“F. M. the Duke of Wellington, presents his compliments to Miss White. He has received her note. The Duke, in his capacity of Commander-in-Chief of the army, has not the power or authority to order or authorise the expenditure of one shilling of public money on any account or upon any service whatever. The Secretary at War is the officer entrusted exclusively with the administrations of the laws and regulations for the grant ofpensions to the widows and allowances to the orphans of the officers of the army. The Commanderin-Chief has no control over that officer or his duties, and it is inconsistent with his duty to interfere in them. Miss White or Mrs. Farrant must apply to the Secretary at War.”
But though a high sense of duty prevented him from interfering, as Commander-in-Chief, in the child’s behalf, the touching tale failed not to move his benevolent sympathies: for, after considering how best he could befriend the case, he directed a communication to be made officially through Lord Fitzroy Somerset, that his Grace ‘had procured for him a presentation to Christ’s Hospital. The little fellow, W. Field, is now there, in No. 7, enjoying the judicious exercise of his illustrious patron’s benevolence; and, the boy’s bent being for the army, it is hoped that a commission may hereafter be obtained for him on leaving that excellent institution.

The Life of Wellington by Sir Herbert Maxwell

The following anecdote, told by Stocqueler, is well authenticated, and illustrates at once the Duke’s great love of children, and his thoughtfulness for their welfare. The son of Kendall, the Duke’s valet, was at school near Strathfieldsaye, and was spending a day with his father at Apsley House. The Duke’s bell rang; Kendall, answering it, was followed by the lad into the study.
“Whose boy is that?” asked the Duke quickly.
“Mine, your Grace,” replied Kendall, “and I humbly ask your Grace’s pardon for his coming into the room, not knowing your Grace was here.”
“Oh! that is nothing,” quoth the Duke; “but I didn’t know you had a son, Kendall. Send him in and leave him with me.”
So the boy—greatly trembling—was sent in to the Duke, who asked him if he knew to whom he was speaking. “Yes, sir—your Grace, I mean.”
“Oh, my little fellow,” answered the Duke, “it will be easier for you to call me ‘sir.’ You call your schoolmaster ‘sir,’ don’t ye? Call me ‘sir’ too, if you choose. Now I wonder if you can play draughts.” “Yes, sir.”
“Come on then; we’ll have a game, and I’ll give you two men.”
Down they sat; the boy said afterwards that he really thought he was going to win the second game, but his doughty antagonist laid a trap for him, and chuckled mightily when he fell into
it.
The games over, the Duke asked the boy a lot of questions in geography, and then said—
“Well, you shall dine with me to-day; but I shall not dine yet: would you like to see my pictures?” and he trotted him round the great gallery. Then the Duke took him among the statues—” important fellows ” he said they were—but the boy said he preferred the pictures.
“I thought so,” observed the Duke; “but tell me—which of these is most like your schoolmaster?”
Young Kendall picked out a bust without moustaches, which happened to be a likeness of the Duke himself.
“Oh! well,” laughed the Duke, “that is a very good man of his sort. Come now, we’ll go to dinner. I have ordered it early, as I suppose you dine early at school.”
“At one o’clock, sir,” said the lad.
“A very good hour,” said the Duke. “I used to dine at one when I was at school.”
They sat down tete-a-tete, the anxious father being told that the bell would ring when he was required. Having said grace, the Duke told the boy that he would give him a little of every dish, as he knew boys liked to taste all they saw. Dinner over, the lad was dismissed with the injunction—
“Be a good boy; do your duty; now you may go to your father.”
About four years later the Duke was detained on the South Eastern railway for two hours, when travelling to attend a meeting of the Privy Council. He was exceedingly indignant, and communicated his complaint to Mr. Macgregor, chairman of the company. Nothing more is known of the incident, except this, that immediately afterwards young Kendall was appointed to a clerkship in Mr. Macgregor’s bank at Liverpool, after which he was transferred to the Ordnance Department in Ireland. The presumption is fair that the Duke supplemented his income during the early years of his clerkship, which is always insisted upon in a bank, and which must have been far beyond the means of his father to do.