Memories of the day royalty came back to Lynmouth
Watching The Crown on Netflix delivers some exceptional entertainment, but recollections of personal experiences are very different. Martin Hesp looks back at the day he reported on a special visit to a Devon town by the Duke of Edinburgh
JUST about everyone I know has become addicted to The Crown, on Netflix, and I can report that the Hesp household has watched – and enjoyed – every episode that’s been made so far. But seeing things on a screen is very, very different from experiencing them in real life – which is a statement that actually could go down as the clarion call of the year 2020. Anyone who has attended a Christmas ‘party’ on Zoom will know it to be a fact.
So I’ve been recalling my own occasional brushes with The Crown – by which I mean the numerous times I’ve attended royal visits to the Westcountry region to write descriptive pieces for this newspaper.
For the most part, these were all highly official, which means journalists like me have to apply for places on what is called the Royal Rota. But every now and again a royal personage would come our way with very little in the way of pomp or ceremony. And that is exactly what happened in November, 2002, when the WMN editor phoned late at night asking if I could repair to the remote North Devon community of Lynmouth for a royal visit early the next day.
Some readers will remember that August, 2002, marked the 50th anniversary of the Lynmouth Flood Disaster. The WMN had really gone to town covering the August events surrounding the half-century, but one of the big disappointments was that the Duke of Edinburgh had been billed to make a return visit 50 years after he first went to survey the devastating scenes deep in the valley where the twin rivers East and West Lyn had sent a tidal wave down through the communities to the sea, killing 34 people.
His Royal Highness had, for some reason, not been able to attend the August commemorations, but he had promised to visit – and he kept to his word. Suddenly, and with very little warning, during a very wet and cold November, he was to embark upon a brief walk around the seaside village – and I had to be there to record the occasion.
Here’s what I wrote in my WMN column a week later…
“Following the Duke of Edinburgh about Lynmouth last Friday was a jolly experience, despite the rain. Prince Philip seemed to be in a good humour – at least, if the many smiles he caused were anything to go by. Moreover, he was forever ducking in and out of shops unannounced – and it was fun to see the gobsmacked expressions on the faces of shopkeepers, locals and tourists alike.
HRH was stalking about the seaside village fulfilling a promise he’d made 50 years before – i.e. to honour the poor souls who’d been lost in the Lynmouth Flood Disaster – but you wouldn’t have known it to watch him in action. He seemed more interested in one shopkeeper’s pasties as he dived into her savoury smelling emporium, than in any formal act of remembrance.
He marched into the place without a by-your-leave, turned to the only member of the Press present (me) – which is a thing no Royal personage would normally do – and asked if I’d ever seen a pasty being made. When I replied in the negative, he demanded to see the said savouries being created and we marched on through to a small kitchen at the rear where two women were, not surprisingly, rendered speechless with shock.
It’s not often the pasty makers of Devon get to see a leading Royal in their midst – even for a few seconds.
Prince Philip made some sort of noise of appreciation before turning upon his heels and marching back out into the pouring rain.”
I wonder, to this day, if those two women recall their brief flirtation with Royalty? I do, and, if I’m honest, can’t help but feel a warmth for the strange but interesting old chap who is married to our Queen.
Here is the actual WMN news piece I wrote from Lynmouth that day in 2002…
An old man stands on a bridge in the rain waiting for someone he hasn’t seen for half a century. In 1952, the man for whom 87-year-old Tom Richards waits, made a solemn promise that one day he’d return. Now, at last, the pledge is about to be fulfilled.
The rain falls on old Tom and on the Union Jack that is draped over a plaque. The plaque commemorates what the rain can do when there’s too much of it. Beyond a large wooden cross hangs above the river. And the river is rising. Slowly this time, without threat, it rises as the rain lashes at Exmoor and the runlets and rivers do their best to flush the water from the hills.
The man who hasn’t been to town for 50 years duly arrives, clinching an umbrella. He is escorted by a smart fellow in dress uniform, half a dozen policemen, a bodyguard, a press attache, two film crews, half-dozen press reporters and a posse of photographers. Tom is not in the least surprised. This was how the stranger arrived 50 years ago.
It’s not every day a royal personage visits the remote community of Lynmouth. Indeed, it’s not every century. But yesterday His Royal Highness The Duke of Edinburgh made his second visit in 50 years to fulfil the promise he made first time round.
In October 1952, just two months after the Lynmouth Flood Disaster, Prince Philip came to the seaside village to witness the devastation for himself. He walked the ruined streets on that occasion – he had no choice. But this time around he eschews the official limousine and decides to walk again, regardless of Exmoor’s autumnal rain.
He is glad to see Tom and shakes him by the hand before unveiling the plaque that commemorates the victims of the Lynmouth Flood Disaster. The two talk of the tragedy and later Tom remembers how the Duke met and spoke with his father all those years ago.
“And he told me I looked very good for my age,” said Tom. A kind remark from the Duke, who is not so very much younger himself at the age of 81. Indeed, many of the people lining Lynmouth’s streets were saying things like: “Doesn’t Prince Philip look young for his age.”
The tall, fit-looking Duke walked about at a great pace once the funicular railway had brought him down from the mist-obscured heights of Lynton. This is how he’d travelled to and from the seaside village on his first visit – the only royal at that time to have ridden upon the Westcountry’s most vertiginous railway line.
Having descended the 862 foot incline, the Prince made his way from the seafront around to the Memorial Hall, where he spoke to men of the local Coastguard Auxiliary before climbing the steps to see the flood disaster display inside.
“I told him I was a farmer and he asked me if becoming a coastguard
‘He must have been frightened to see the state of the place. It was like a bomb site’ ROY PUGSLEY
was a way of diversifying,” laughed Nigel Binding, who farms beef and sheep at Yenworthy.
“He just said ‘well done’ to me,” said Robert Pile, another farmer who volunteers for the auxiliaries.
The Duke also met members of the Memorial Hall committee. One of them, retired builder Roy Pugsley, told me: “Yep – I was here when he came before. What do I remember of his visit back then? The caps. There were hundreds of men working here clearing the wreckage, and as Prince Philip walked by they all stopped working and took off their caps.”
“Did you doff yours?”
“No, I was young and I didn’t wear a cap.” Roy continued: “I think he must have been frightened to see the state of the place. It was like a bomb site. That’s the only way you can describe it. A bomb site.”
Memorial Hall vice-chairman John Reed, who also met the Duke yesterday, concurred with Mr Pugsley’s description: “It was terrible. I was here with the Army after the disaster – bringing in supplies and things. It’s remarkable how the village has come through it.”
As we spoke, His Royal Highness descended the hall steps and stalked off at great speed across the footbridge to Manor Grounds. A man standing by a wall saluted and a number of visitors ushered their half-term holidaying kids forward to get a better look.
The Duke halted at a point just opposite the wooden cross that has been pinioned above the river since the 50th anniversary of the flood disaster in August, and then it was on – around the corner – to meet Tom Richards and unveil the plaque.
That more-or-less concluded the Prince’s official tour of Lynmouth (apart from luncheon with a number of special guests and local dignitaries) but the Duke, embarrassed perhaps by the fact that it had taken him half a century to return, seemed determined to give the place a thorough once-over. This included entering half the shops in town.
“I was absolutely amazed. Flabbergasted,” gasped Suzanne MacDonald of Fudgies. Which was hardly surprising, seeing that the Prince not only walked into her fudge and pasty shop unannounced, but carried on past the counter and into the kitchen.
“No, I was not expecting him. I knew he was visiting but I didn’t dream he’d come into the shop,” said Suzanne, who still seemed to be in a
mild state of shock. “He walked right into the kitchen where I was just preparing to make some pasties. He said they smelt good but, no, he didn’t taste anything.”
Previous to his impromptu kitchen tour, the Prince had stopped to speak with holidaymaker Ian Phelps. “Surprised? You can say that all right. I still can’t believe it. We knew something was going on – with all the bollards and police – but we didn’t know it was a royal visit. He asked if I came from here and when I said ‘no’ he told me he hoped I’d enjoy my visit.”
The Prince was certainly enjoying his visit to the seaside village. It was out of one shop straight into another.
“He made straight for the offlicence,” laughed Lynmouth’s postmaster, Linda Talbot. “No, he didn’t buy anything, but he stopped by the postcards and looked at one that shows a salmon. ‘You don’t get any salmon around here, do you?’ he asked. And he seemed surprised when I told him we get some of the finest in the country.”
In the Post Office doorway, the Duke stopped to study a photograph taken shortly after the flood. “That’s me,” said John Pedder, whose father had been post-master in 1952. He pointed to a small figure standing in the wreckage and the Prince seemed duly impressed.
At Hardings leather shop, the Duke stopped to ask about the family-run firm and was delighted to hear that Dave Harding and his fiancée Heidi Fargher are soon to be married after a ten-year engagement. “He looked at the shop and said that obviously we could afford to tie the knot now,” said Dave. “Seemed like a nice chap.”
And so the Duke eventually shook off his umbrella and entered the Bath Hotel for lunch, leaving a slightly awed and surprised Lynmouth behind him. The Royal visitor had promised to return when the community managed to haul itself back on to its feet – it did that a long time ago, but somehow yesterday it became official as the Royal pledge was fulfilled.
‘He walked right into the kitchen where I was just preparing to make some pasties’ SUZANNE MACDONALD