Biking Birder I - 2010 January 7th Still in Snowy Hemel Hempstead

 7^th January                                                                      South Side of the Sky                                               Yes

               I know what I will do. I will pack, go to Asda and then set off. So were my hopes when I awoke early, two hours before my B & B breakfast was due. Then I looked out of the window. Even more snow had fallen overnight and the bike out the back was covered in it. It was time to reassess my plans.

The 2010 itinerary needed to be changed, thought out carefully to alleviate the problems caused by the extreme weather. This would involve postponing the visit to the Essex RSPB reserve, Wallasea Island, until December when I would be close to the area whilst visiting Old Hall Marshes and the Stour Estuary RSPB reserves. That would give me an extra five days now to get through this harsh period of weather. I wrote down a list of all of the problems, away from the immediate weather ones. The bike was in desperate need of repairs, especially the gear changing lever. My clothes, especially a large yellow coat which was supposed able to let out moisture and prevent the same getting in; breathable, whatever that means, it said on the label, were causing problems through the build-up of sweat. Despite the weather I was sweating profusely when cycling. This made me feel very thirsty most of the time so down on the list of necessities went fruit juice and honey. Shame I forgot to buy the honey later on. Crows were cawing outside the window as I wrote. Birds! I had almost forgotten about them. 

At breakfast, taken as usual at a round table in the living room, the TV still switched onto a German channel, Mrs Peters started to talk of her life during World War II. Before the war, her father had been a well-known ballroom dancer. She, with her sister and abusive stepmother lived near the Polish-German border. After the war she came to live over here to work as a house housekeeper seven days a week. She told of how shocked she was with the animosity the girls she met displayed towards her.

Back in 1945, when the Russians arrived in her village, the soldiers were given leave to do whatever they wanted for two days; loot, kill. All the men in the village over the age of forty-five were taken away, transported to Siberia the rumour went, more likely shot. Anything of value, bicycles, radios and even sewing machines, were taken. A 6.00 p.m. curfew was put into place and all the food that the Russians could find was taken. Hidden away the family had a few potatoes, carrots and beetroot and a bottle of cod liver oil.

Soon rationing was started; two pounds of bread and five pounds of potatoes for the family for a week. If anyone complained, they were shot. A couple of old horses were shot and made into rissoles, tough but sweet meat. The family were made to live in the cellar with no heating despite the Polish winter cold. The rationing queues would take anything up to three hours to get a loaf of bread.

After three months of this, the Russians moved out to be replaced by Polish soldiers. Things did not improve for the family and villagers. There was still no food so the family sold their Dad’s ballroom dancing suit on the Black Market, which paid for a little butter and some potatoes. She then spoke of being forcibly removed from her village in cattle trucks. She spoke of Polish retribution yet admitted that there were atrocities committed by all sides. There was torrential rain when the transports came for them. They were searched by the Polish soldiers and anything of value was stolen. They even took her comb, her most precious thing. On the Russian border, near Breslau, they were all sprayed with DDT powder and given a little maize and a small piece of bread.

She told of being moved to the American sector where the American soldiers mistreated her and others. At this Mrs Peters broke down in tears in front of me. Moved yet again, her family came to be in the British sector and it was here that they were finally treated kindly and with some dignity.

Eleven O’clock in the morning and no chance of moving on as the snow was still thick on the ground and the roads were still very slushy with only car tracks to show where the roads actually were. I went shopping, riveting read this bit is it not? Then I took the bike to a local cycle shop to get repairs, Leisure Wheels of Hemel Hempstead. Now I will admit I had a wonderful time there for as they, Dave and Dan, worked on my bike, I was allowed to ‘watch’ the live text of the last day of the England versus South Africa cricket test match on the BBC website. The tension from the match was tremendous. Would England get the draw? In the last three overs I could not stand waiting for the statistics to come up on the screen so I phoned my Dad for him to give a running commentary from the TV. Even Dave and Dan heard my shouts as the last balls were bowled and we survived to get the deserved draw. The headline in the paper the next day read, ‘Onions reduces South Africa to tears.’ Chris Onions, the English fast bowler, had batted through the day.

On the way back to my digs, I enjoyed yet another snowball fight with a group of children on the way back to the B & B and gave the victorious kids a variety of RSPB stickers and badges. Do not worry health and safety fans, the snow was fluffy light.

On the news that evening was the fact that the temperature had been minus eighteen Celsius in Benson, Oxfordshire the night before. The rest of the news had articles about Sri Lankan executions, ASBO thugs smashing someone’s car, attacking the family and throwing a brick through their lounge window and the general chaos that the winter was causing. I felt tearful. What with Mrs Peter’s stories and the news, as well as being stuck in Hemel Hempstead, it was all a bit much. Twenty-two people dead because of the atrocious weather in the UK. Were we ever colder on that day!