SING

Flaxley Abbey has a long and illustrious history, it was originally built to house a Cistercian order by Roger, Earl of Hereford in the middle of the 12th century. The Abbey stands upon the spot where Roger's father, Miles of Gloucester was murdered after a day out hunting. The land on which the Abbey stands was in the gift of Henry II, who granted it in 1158. Later, more land was granted by Henry III in 1227, this included forested woodland.

Until the Dissolution the Abbey flourished under the favour of the Crown. After Henry VIII's Dissolution both the Abbey and its lands were granted to Sir William Kingston, who as Constable of the Tower of London, supervised the execution of Ann Boleyn. Today, Flaxley Abbey survives as a private home, it can be found close to the Forest of Dean, in the parish of Blaisdon, Gloucestershire.

Sir Launcelot Crawley-Boevey, the owner of Flaxley Abbey at the time, (1950s) was known as "The Monkey" by the boys due to his striking simian features. Indeed, if Sir. L. had been in the film "The Planet of the Apes" he would not have needed much extra make-up to play any of the parts. He was not a Roman Catholic: after all his ancestors got the place on the Dissolution of the Monasteries, but his wife - much younger than him - was. An almost daily communicant, she fascinated the boys, not least by her charm and beauty, but for the fox-fur complete with eyes, ears, teeth, and claws, not forgetting its brush, that she often had draped around her neck in chapel. She also wore pearls and elegant fur coats. I sometimes knelt in front of her, not in homage, mark you, as I faced the altar, and when she stirred, I swear I could hear her jewels rattle. Or, possibly the fox claw's click: despite seeming to twitch as Lady C-B moved, it was well and truly dead.

In the Book of Blaisdon Recollections there is a reference on page 55 concerning the Sale of Stud Farm. It mentions 183 acres as up For Sale. The remaining seventy acres would have been the woodland/forest areas surrounding the Hall, which were sold with the Hall to the present owner. These woods, mainly broad leaf and pine trees, were managed by Stud Farm and George Austen, so I, along with fellow workers, did much coppicing, felling and logging - in season - along with our normal farm work. Built near the Back Drive, there was a very efficient sawmill with a small triangle feet crane and steel cable for slinging heavy logs onto a trundle set on tracks: it ran the logs to the band-saw which cut crossways and horizontally. There was also a large seasoning shed. This meant that nearly all the wood used in the carpentry workshops was produced and finished on site. Logs were set for burning in the Hall's great fire-places, sold and delivered to local households. The sawdust was used in the engineer's work shop - oil spillages - and for chicken's rummaging and pig's bedding.

Another benefit of the woods was that it was like a "jungle" to the boys where Tarzan fantasies could be played out and cross-country sorties and "forest" walks would take them past the lake and onward to the boy-high ferns that covered Nottswood Hill. To say nothing of the wild-life: foxes, badgers, squirrels and even the odd roe-deer that had escaped from distant stately homes. The woods had their "ghostly" appeal too as, safe and warm in the Jacobean-style Hall, the boys could look out in darkening evenings or misty mornings, through stained glass windows into the verdant density and let their imaginations run riot. The bell ringing at set times atop the castellated great tower added atmosphere.

One Autumn Tuesday, sometime in the 1950's, Brother Alan Garman mustered a group of non-army cadets - they were normally detailed other duties - such as weeding pathways, marking football pitches with sawdust - while the Cadet Force paraded and played war games in the woods under the direction of Brother Charles O'Donnell. He was an ex-Normandy beaches Second World War veteran - Royal Engineers. Four of us: Donald Bibi, John Loftus, Peter Noone and me were soon in the blue flat-bed lorry destined "to do some useful work" according to Bro. Alan. Journey's end was two miles away at Flaxley Abbey.

Out of the dense rhododendrons the figure of Sir Launcelot Crawley- Boevey immerged. It is tempting to describe him as "swinging through the trees" but that would be rude as well as untrue. He led us into an open space, pointed to a large shed with dust obscured windows, murmured some instructions and left. Our task was to catch its inmates and give the place a thorough clean-out. We caught the squawking couple 'o dozen White Suffolk hens and put them in sacks which Brother Alan carted off to a place of safety. When he returned he led a busy hour or so of wheel-barrowing away the deep accumulated litter, culminating with a haul of buried eggs, and a final exciting kill of numerous rats burrowing frantically ahead of us.

While Bro. Alan went to retrieve the hens and we rested, Lady Crawley-Boevey arrived bearing a large tray of sandwiches and cakes: she sent Loftus and me up to the house kitchen to fetch a large urn of tea she had already made. After shedding our overalls and washing from a nearby hose-pipe, we tucked in. Lady C-B was very pleased with our work, gave us each a two-shilling piece and thanked everyone for coming. With all the hens re-installed we went for a tour of the ruined Abbey (1148-1154) led by our temporary employer. Being a Blaisdon chorister, I remember particularly learning from that visit what the intention and purpose was of a Chantry. A reigning monarch: King John, or Henry 111, endowed a place where Cistercian monks perpetually sang The Mass and Holy Office in expiation for the past and continuing sinning of their royal benefactor. A sure soul-salvation guarantee - in its time.

Tony Brady - March 2009