Sheliagh Shannon

I was at Stokegrove. About a dozen of us had the cabin in the gatehouse, attached to the stables. I think we regarded ourselves as privileged. We rarely went up to the main house, except to eat. (Memory tells me that the supper was always spam fritters, but surely that can’t be so!) 
Working watches there was always someone asleep in the cabin, so our free time was spent in the boiler-room adjoining. This was a cosy, cheery spot. I can still visualise it- draining boards round the edge (ideal for sitting on), a couple of sinks and a bath-tub in the middle. Some would be hair-washing, some writing letters, others just chatting and joking.
The only exception to our off-duty time spent in the gatehouse boiler-room was the occasional film night in the fo’c’c’le up at the main house. A volunteer Wren would have attended a short projectionist’s course and difficulties with the elderly Bell &Howell were inevitable. Film broke, reels were transposed and sound was often distorted.
If we can still giggle, sixty-five years later, at the thought of Madeleine Carroll in a deep bass voice, saying to Ronald Coleman “I love you, Rupert of Hentzau” (Prisoner of Zenda) I think that shows our enjoyment was greatly enhanced by the projectionist’s difficulties.
In my medallion application I did suggest that our free time amusement would be regarded by Generation X & Y as very boring, but when old friends reminisce about these innocent pastimes, we remember them with fond laughter.
When we were transferred to the Out-Station at Eastcote and were quartered in London, entertainment was far more available, but nothing could quite beat the camaraderie at the Stockgrove boiler-room.