Re: Where exactly was Green Hedges?
Posted: 24 Jun 2008, 14:32
Oh, great! - another rich geographical thread leading all the way back to Enid.
Thanks to redlionweb for providing the maps - priceless info. Thanks to Eljay for providing the recent photo. But, as redlionweb suggests, it is number 10 Blyton Close that just about lines up with where Green Hedges used to stand, not number 1. Yes? I come to that conclusion from a scrutiny of maps 2 and 3, in particular by lining up the houses on the other side of Penn Road with the house in question, 42 Penn Road.
What would really add to this is if someone local (redlionweb your stately pub must be very nearly on these maps ) could go to Bekenscot model village and take photographs of the scale model of Green Hedges that is in there, set in its grounds, so that readers of this thread can get an even fuller picture of the once-glorious, now flattened former home of Enid Blyton.
Here are a few points that come to mind:
In the 1949 collection called A Story-Party at Green Hedges, the title page of the book and the page preceding it include a wonderful coloured (orange-grey-brown-black) drawing of the west facade of Green Hedges. That is, the sweeping path coming up from the south along which the children - who have been invited to a party at Green Hedges - are walking. One of the 14 children is called Anita, as it happens
Grace Lodge must have visited Green Hedges to make the sketch, unless she was provided with a photograph. I say that because Imogen's book A Childhood at Green Hedges provides a small photo of the west of the house, including the front door, on page 14. Not a very good photo, but clear enough to work out that Grace Lodge has drawn the west front of Green Hedges meticulously.
In the colored sketch, Enid can be seen greeting the children arriving for the party. The exact same front door and flanking windows can be seen on page 4 of Enid's The Story of My Life. What a warm smile of welcome on the author's face. "Come in, children. Each and every one of you is welcome to Green Hedges," she seems to be saying, in both books.
Perhaps the most special part of the house was the south side. That's where Enid's study was. And just outside that was the big verandah, containing the swing seat, on which she used to write on dry days from the beginning of April to the middle of October. In chapter 8 of The Story of My Life she tells her readers that while she is writing, she likes to look up into her garden from time to time and in particular at the little round pool she had made for herself.
Enid had two ponds in her garden, a more formal, oblong one in the big, more formal stretch of garden to the east of the house (Bekenscot photo, please!). And it looks from Eljay's satellite photo that there are two swimming pools in the vicinity now... But back to the round pond and what Enid writes about it in chapter 8 of her autobiography. I'm going to transcribe quite a long quote here, partly because The Story of My Life is getting to be quite an expensive book these days, £49 being the lowest price for it on abebooks when I last looked.
***********************
'There is a little lawn there [to the south of the house], surrounded by a pergola of rambler-roses, and backed by a great high bank of rhododendron, which is a grand sight in May and June. I thought I would have my pond in the middle of that lawn.
'It was soon made - you can see it in this book. It is deep enough for two plants of water-lilies, one yellow and one deep-pink. There is plenty of other water-weed there too. I planted it myself by getting sprays of water-weed, tying a stone to the end of each and dropping the stone into the water. Its weight pulled the weed to the bottom where it soon rooted and grew.
'I put a bathing stone there, and I hoped the birds would soon find it. They did, of course, and each summer now I sit on my big swing-seat, watching the big glossy blackbirds bathe, and freckled thrushes. I see the starlings come down in a "murmuration" as their flock is called, and splash busily and hurriedly. Then they all fly back to the nearest tree and if I walk under it I am splashed with thousands of silvery drops as the starlings shake themselves dry!
'The chaffinches come down and the green-finches. The beautiful goldfinches come, little fairy birds, as charming as their name. Last summer they brought their family with them - three pretty little youngsters. How we held our breath when they all dipped their beaks into our pond and drank! We felt very honoured.
'Two hawfinches come, rarer birds, with enormous beaks, heavy and clumsy-looking. We are always pleased to see them, because they are so shy and easily scared that we feel it is a great compliment to have them. Two bullfinches come to the pond to drink, too, magnificent in their black and red. We see the pair together all the year round, shy and very handsome. Wagtails come; robins, of course, sparrows by the dozen, a neat little hedge-sparrow or two, and sometimes two beautiful ring-doves.
'Some bathe. All of them drink, dipping in their beaks and lifting up their heads to let water run down their throats. The robin always sings a note or two of thanks, in a rich, creamy little voice. Sometimes the fly-catchers come, and then we watch in delight. Tits of all kinds arrive - the great tit "ringing his bell", so loud is his voice. We always know when he is about!
'But I didn't make my pond only for the birds. It was for goldfish too. I started off with two. they are big ones, one very big. They liked the pond very much. They examined everything in it. When the hot summer sun blazed down on the pond, the water became very warm. I dipped a thermometer into it. "It's over 62 degrees!" I said. "It's warm enough for them to breed. They will lay eggs and we shall have baby goldfish."
'One of the goldfish is a real character. He doesn't like the birds to come and drink or bathe. I suppose he regards the pond as his. Anyway, as soon as a bird stands on the bathing-stone, he swims up to it and butts his head against the bird's legs, trying to scare it away! And if he sees a row of little sparrows drinking, he swims over to them and knocks their beaks. He really is a lively and amusing little fellow.
'I always wanted a pond of my own. It's nice to long for a thing and make up your mind to get it and work for it. It brings you such great pleasure when at last you have got it and enjoy it. I don't think I have ever enjoyed anything quite so much as my pond.'
***********************
So when Eric Rogers sold Green Hedges to developers after Enid's death, he wasn't just demolishing the house - the study where she wrote her books in winter, the verandah where she wrote her books in summer - he was getting rid of the thing that she enjoyed above all else, her little pond.
I'm pretty sure how I feel about this. What do others feel?
Duncan (maybe less confusing than my forum name in this context)
Thanks to redlionweb for providing the maps - priceless info. Thanks to Eljay for providing the recent photo. But, as redlionweb suggests, it is number 10 Blyton Close that just about lines up with where Green Hedges used to stand, not number 1. Yes? I come to that conclusion from a scrutiny of maps 2 and 3, in particular by lining up the houses on the other side of Penn Road with the house in question, 42 Penn Road.
What would really add to this is if someone local (redlionweb your stately pub must be very nearly on these maps ) could go to Bekenscot model village and take photographs of the scale model of Green Hedges that is in there, set in its grounds, so that readers of this thread can get an even fuller picture of the once-glorious, now flattened former home of Enid Blyton.
Here are a few points that come to mind:
In the 1949 collection called A Story-Party at Green Hedges, the title page of the book and the page preceding it include a wonderful coloured (orange-grey-brown-black) drawing of the west facade of Green Hedges. That is, the sweeping path coming up from the south along which the children - who have been invited to a party at Green Hedges - are walking. One of the 14 children is called Anita, as it happens
Grace Lodge must have visited Green Hedges to make the sketch, unless she was provided with a photograph. I say that because Imogen's book A Childhood at Green Hedges provides a small photo of the west of the house, including the front door, on page 14. Not a very good photo, but clear enough to work out that Grace Lodge has drawn the west front of Green Hedges meticulously.
In the colored sketch, Enid can be seen greeting the children arriving for the party. The exact same front door and flanking windows can be seen on page 4 of Enid's The Story of My Life. What a warm smile of welcome on the author's face. "Come in, children. Each and every one of you is welcome to Green Hedges," she seems to be saying, in both books.
Perhaps the most special part of the house was the south side. That's where Enid's study was. And just outside that was the big verandah, containing the swing seat, on which she used to write on dry days from the beginning of April to the middle of October. In chapter 8 of The Story of My Life she tells her readers that while she is writing, she likes to look up into her garden from time to time and in particular at the little round pool she had made for herself.
Enid had two ponds in her garden, a more formal, oblong one in the big, more formal stretch of garden to the east of the house (Bekenscot photo, please!). And it looks from Eljay's satellite photo that there are two swimming pools in the vicinity now... But back to the round pond and what Enid writes about it in chapter 8 of her autobiography. I'm going to transcribe quite a long quote here, partly because The Story of My Life is getting to be quite an expensive book these days, £49 being the lowest price for it on abebooks when I last looked.
***********************
'There is a little lawn there [to the south of the house], surrounded by a pergola of rambler-roses, and backed by a great high bank of rhododendron, which is a grand sight in May and June. I thought I would have my pond in the middle of that lawn.
'It was soon made - you can see it in this book. It is deep enough for two plants of water-lilies, one yellow and one deep-pink. There is plenty of other water-weed there too. I planted it myself by getting sprays of water-weed, tying a stone to the end of each and dropping the stone into the water. Its weight pulled the weed to the bottom where it soon rooted and grew.
'I put a bathing stone there, and I hoped the birds would soon find it. They did, of course, and each summer now I sit on my big swing-seat, watching the big glossy blackbirds bathe, and freckled thrushes. I see the starlings come down in a "murmuration" as their flock is called, and splash busily and hurriedly. Then they all fly back to the nearest tree and if I walk under it I am splashed with thousands of silvery drops as the starlings shake themselves dry!
'The chaffinches come down and the green-finches. The beautiful goldfinches come, little fairy birds, as charming as their name. Last summer they brought their family with them - three pretty little youngsters. How we held our breath when they all dipped their beaks into our pond and drank! We felt very honoured.
'Two hawfinches come, rarer birds, with enormous beaks, heavy and clumsy-looking. We are always pleased to see them, because they are so shy and easily scared that we feel it is a great compliment to have them. Two bullfinches come to the pond to drink, too, magnificent in their black and red. We see the pair together all the year round, shy and very handsome. Wagtails come; robins, of course, sparrows by the dozen, a neat little hedge-sparrow or two, and sometimes two beautiful ring-doves.
'Some bathe. All of them drink, dipping in their beaks and lifting up their heads to let water run down their throats. The robin always sings a note or two of thanks, in a rich, creamy little voice. Sometimes the fly-catchers come, and then we watch in delight. Tits of all kinds arrive - the great tit "ringing his bell", so loud is his voice. We always know when he is about!
'But I didn't make my pond only for the birds. It was for goldfish too. I started off with two. they are big ones, one very big. They liked the pond very much. They examined everything in it. When the hot summer sun blazed down on the pond, the water became very warm. I dipped a thermometer into it. "It's over 62 degrees!" I said. "It's warm enough for them to breed. They will lay eggs and we shall have baby goldfish."
'One of the goldfish is a real character. He doesn't like the birds to come and drink or bathe. I suppose he regards the pond as his. Anyway, as soon as a bird stands on the bathing-stone, he swims up to it and butts his head against the bird's legs, trying to scare it away! And if he sees a row of little sparrows drinking, he swims over to them and knocks their beaks. He really is a lively and amusing little fellow.
'I always wanted a pond of my own. It's nice to long for a thing and make up your mind to get it and work for it. It brings you such great pleasure when at last you have got it and enjoy it. I don't think I have ever enjoyed anything quite so much as my pond.'
***********************
So when Eric Rogers sold Green Hedges to developers after Enid's death, he wasn't just demolishing the house - the study where she wrote her books in winter, the verandah where she wrote her books in summer - he was getting rid of the thing that she enjoyed above all else, her little pond.
I'm pretty sure how I feel about this. What do others feel?
Duncan (maybe less confusing than my forum name in this context)