Snapshot: My policeman father helps a Dutch princess
The policeman is my father, Reg Oakes, escorting the two-year-old Princess Beatrix across a London road, clutching her doll. Princess Beatrix later became Queen of the Netherlands and in 2013 abdicated in favour of her son, Willem-Alexander.
Reg had joined the Metropolitan police in 1939 and on 10 May 1940, when the Germans invaded the Netherlands, the Dutch royal family fled to England. A month later, they went to Canada until the end of the war.
In 1941, Reg was commended for gallant conduct. A Home Office letter states: “PC Oakes rescued four persons trapped in an upper room of the Alexandra hotel, Knightsbridge by crossing a plank with which you had bridged a chasm made by the bomb, an operation involving great risk, owing to the dangerous condition of the building.”
Reg was awarded the George medal and duly attended Buckingham Palace on 24 February 1942 for the investiture by King George VI. He was also sent a cheque for £10 by Arthur Davies as thanks for rescuing him, his wife and two daughters from the hotel. I only have a copy of his medal; the original was stolen.
That same year, Reg joined the Royal Navy as a petty officer mechanic, later becoming an instructor. In May 1943, there was a sea fight in the English Channel, off Dunkirk, between British coastal forces and armed enemy trawlers. Reg, then aged 24, was a strong swimmer and when his boat was set on fire and sank, he swam to the nearest boat, which turned out to be German. He was captured and became a prisoner of war until it was over. Reg arrived home on D-day in 1945. I was four years old and a little afraid of this large, loud stranger. I did not endear myself by saying: “You can go back to Germany after your tea.”
My father returned to the Met and had a long career in the special branch; after retiring at 50, he trained as a chiropractor. In September 1972, he collapsed and died while out on an early morning run. He was only 54.
Maureen Farish
Playlist: The soundtrack to our father and family
Short People by the King’s Singers
“Short people got no reason / Short people got no reason / Short people got no reason / To live”
My parents owned a number of the King’s Singers albums and these became the soundtrack for many blissful family holidays, late-night card games and long, otherwise tiresome, car journeys.
In particular, Short People, written by Randy Newman, became a much-loved family anthem, as my father in particular was somewhat vertically challenged! We would laugh so hard at lyrics comically mocking physical characteristics and then claiming, “Short people got no reason to live!” and “Short people got nobody to love!”
Well, while he may indeed have been short, my daddy, Richard Pater, was an amazing man, who had every reason to live and who loved, and was loved deeply by, his family and friends.
When he died a couple of years ago, aged 68, following a courageous battle with malignant melanoma, we used this song as the music for a slideshow that tried to encapsulate his incredible zest and passion for life, his maverick ways and his love, care and compassion.
This song now evokes many heart-wrenching emotions: loss, longing and loneliness. However, it also brings a sense of joy, nostalgia, hope, pride and love. It will always remain part of our memories and us.
Beth Ewing
We love to eat: Our economical chunky pottage
Ingredients (serves five)
Minced beef – about 200g
A little oil
2 onions, chopped
Five or so potatoes
Beef stock cubes or 1 tbsp Marmite
Large tin of baked beans
Start by browning the minced beef in a small amount of oil. Once it has browned, stir in a couple of chopped onions and cook gently until soft, while you cut washed, but not peeled, potatoes (a largeish one per person) into smallish cubes. Stir the potato into the browned meat and add a litre of boiling water, with a couple of beef stock cubes or a tablespoon of Marmite. Simmer until the potatoes are soft, then stir in a large tin of baked beans and serve really hot.
We have been eating chunky pottage since my children were small and I was feeding a family of five on a primary school teacher’s salary. It was partly inspired by my Lancashire mother-in-law’s “Lobby” – a name derived from lobscouse, I suppose, which was a wet stew of meat and potatoes.
Chunky pottage uses a small amount of minced beef, eked out by potatoes, which we got from our allotment, with onions, baked beans and stock.
The name comes from Posy Simmonds’s wonderful book True Love, in which the roguish Stanhope Wright is involved in making an advertisement for tinned soup. His company, Beazeley and Buffin Advertising, choose the name, because it’s “made from big hearty meaty chunx, in a rich gravy environment – just like a soup arter taste”. We have called this dish chunky pottage ever since.
Pam Stanier
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