From the scent of a rose first propagated in 1930 in Blackheath,South London,then transplanted to the clay village of St Dennis,Cornwall,my memory drop is expounded.It came to me on Sunday last during a period of total inactivity but with the wi Dow’s opened and the breeze transporting a scent from my next door neighbours.Wether the scent had existed before,I know not,I only know of this occasion,and it cradled me ,took me up into itself and transported me back to the telling of this story.
It could well be a true story,the recounting of which was told to me by Marjorie Alcock,then a retired school teacher living in St Austell,but the headmistress If St Dennis Primary school during the post war period .As I said,I have no reason to doubt her word as to the authenticity of the story,the details being clearly expressed and ,although tragic in nature,also contain romance and loyalty that would enhance the character of many a beau today.
At the time,Marjorie was a young women,fresh from university,eager to shape and mood the young minds in her charge.She hadn’t ever fully intended to move from her childhood home of Blackheath,but it seemed that this opening might provide her with the exposure she craved and she took the plunge and made the gigantic move at that time of over 300 miles to Cornwall .
Her worldly possessions were few and far between at that times,but the rose cutting ,freshly harvested from her mums garden at Blackheath was guarded by armoire along with her suitcase as she boarded the train at Paddington.Although the cutting,dimunitive and rather puny didn’t appear to be able to survive such a journey,Marjorie had absolute confidence in it.So much so,that she held it all the way down to Cornwall.Wether it was foolhardy,or just youthful exuberance,Marjorie believed the cutting,its lustre,colour and scent would bring her good luck throughout her life.
Well,dear reader,as the oasis drop develops,we might assume that the small rose cutting might have quite a large role to play in the u folding of our story,and this will become apparent as my Oasis memory fully bloomed on Sunday last with what I recalled becoming a story within a story that I gladly share in the pages of my blog posts.
Thank you for your patience as I recollect the details of these events.