Noblesse Européenne - European Nobility » Antony Powys-Lybbe (1909-2004)

Persönliche Daten Antony Powys-Lybbe 

• Er wurde geboren am 29. Juni 1909 in Rectory Farm, Streatley, Berks.
• Er wurde getauft am 14. August 1909.
• Beruf: 1st s. Piano tuner. Motor racing driver. Lt Col in R Signals in WW2..
• Er ist verstorben am 10. Mai 2004 in Raynor's, Hyde Heath, Bucks, er war 94 Jahre alt.
• Er wurde beerdigt am 14. Mai 2004.
• Ein Kind von Reginald Cecil Lybbe Powys-Lybbe und Lilian Frances Gillett Trotter

Familie von Antony Powys-Lybbe

Er ist verheiratet mit Rosemary Priscilla Ferrand.

NOTE: From a certified Copy of the marriage Entry:Registered No: 17 of the book for the district of Wokingham (for1937)Date: 27th Nov 1937Husband: Antony Powys-Lybbe, aged 28, Bachelor, Gentleman ofMead House, BradfieldWife: Rosemary Priscilla Ferrand, aged 25, Spinster, of The OldHouse, BradfieldFather of Groom: Reginald Cecil Lybbe Powys-Lybbe (deceased),GentlemanFather of Bride: Guy Ferrand Ferrand, GentlemanMarriage place: The Roman Catholic Church, St Mary's WoolhamptonCelebrant: W A Bloor, SBWitnesses: Lilian Powys-Lybbe, Muriel FerrandRegistrar: N A Champ

Sie haben geheiratet am 27. November 1937 in St Mary's, Woolhampton, Berks, er war 28 Jahre alt.

Kind(er):

1. (Nicht öffentlich)
2. (Nicht öffentlich)

Notizen bei Antony Powys-Lybbe

NOTE: And Musician.Birth Certificate copy:Registered in: the sub-district of Bucklebury in the Counties ofBerks and OxonRegistration No: 177 in Birth register Book No 27 for districtof BuckleburyDoB: 29th June 1909Place of birth: Thurle Grange, Streatley, BerksName: AntonyFather: Reginald Cecil Lybbe Powys-Lybbe, of independent meansof Thurle Grange, StreatleyMother: Lilian Frances Gillett Powys-Lybbe, formerly TrotterDate of Registration: 15th Sept 1909Registrar: ??? H. Gogarty ??? (He also made the copy in 1911)Date of Copy: 19th Jan 1911Received into the Church at the Church of Our Lady & St John,Goring in Thames, Oxon on 2 Nov 1914.__________________________________________________________TFPL, March 2003: I have seen his entry in the record books ofthe College of Arms.__________________________________________________________TFPL, May 2004: He was the first in my line of ancestors to beborn with the surname of Powys-Lybbe. Though his father'ssister and younger brothers had been born with this surname inthe 1880s._________________________________________________________TFPL, Oct 2004: Now that he is alas no more, it is perhaps timeto sketch out a biography (it felt a bit of an impertinece to doso previously).1909: Born at Streatley, Berks.1913 on: He remembered going in a dog-cart with a governessregularly to Wallingford and Pangbourne alternately to visithaberdashery shops.1915 or so: He remembered going to some school in Wallingford.He was chauffered there by Miles the mechanic and chauffeur andwho allowed him to sit in the front and take an interest in thedials and controls, fostering an inclination that lased much ofhis life.Perhaps 1917: He started at Ladycross prep school, run by "old"Roper and probably still then in Bournemouth, later moving thewhole school to Seaford, Sussex. He remembered one or twoteachers, particularly Mr Herbert (whom I also remember, thoughin his retirement). He also remembered one trip from Seaford toDownside, Somerset with the cricket team in some charabanc toplay against Downside's prep school (then at Downside, later atWorth, Sussex and even later then refounded at Downside). At anearly age he could obviously sing well as he remembered beingprincipal girl (or boy?) in many school performances, which heeven continued at Downside until his voice broke late, perhapsat fifteen.!922: He went to Downside. This caused some consternationbetween his parents who by then were well at arms length. Hismother wished him to go to Eton but his father insisted on agood Catholic education at Downside, which as Martin relates, hehad endowed with some land. At Downside he proceeded to passall expected exams, doing rather well in his first year in thesixth form. But in his last year he said he spent most of thetime organising some musical troupe and did little better in hisexams than in the previous year.1927 Joind the Army. In some acrimonious correspendence betweenhis parents around 1922 his mother thought he would have a goodnaval career and even reported that he agreed with her. Hisfather, who had been working with various charities in London atthat time, suggested that the Civil Service would be ideal. Sothe Army was chosen, but I know not by whom. He told two thingsof the interview for this. First he had been advised byTrafford, the then headmaster, to wear a suit supplied bySkinners the school tailor; instead he wore a suit his motherhad obtained from him at a local Berkshire tailor; he was thendelighted to see at the interview that all the officers werewearing clothes very similar to his and quite unlike Skinner'soffering. Second he particularly remembered being told by aninterviewer that he came from a "very old family"; he gave methe impression that he thought the army must have conductedinvestigations of some arcane sort; but it is much more likelythat Trafford had written this in his reference to the army. Hesaid he chose to go into the Signals because of his competenceat Morse code and probably also because of his facility withsciences and practical subjects; but in this I am surprised thathe did not anticipate some appreciation of an officer's role inorganising and leading his unit.Anyhow to Woolwich he went, the Shop (for Workshop) as it wascalled, where the Royal Engineers and the new Corps of Signalhad their officers trained. I think this was a two year coursewith a lot of science and some military theory. I have hisnotebooks of those two years, beautifully entered up, shouldanyone wish to study them...He was certainly motorised during that time, possibly a littleMorris 8 which he was certainly driving later. I have no ideahow seriously he took his course, but he claimed not to be thatenthusiastic though in the passing out list was definitely inthe upper half. He had vaguely hoped that the army would sendhim to university, Cambridge was not uncommon, but he said hedid not pass out well enough for that (there is a contradictionhere in that when he retired a couple of years later he couldeasily have sent himself to Cambridge; perhaps he had not workedthat out when he complained of the injustice in later life).He made a few lifetime, or at least for their lifetime, friendsat Woolwich, Basil Pinsent and Hugh Winterbourne at least,Charles Barker was forgotten but found again some forty yearslater, much to both of their pleasures.1929 or so: Commissioned as 2nd Lietenant and sent to Catterickfor proper Signals training. Here he met up with James Haighwho really was to have been his greatest lifelong friend. Jameshad been to Cambridge and joined the army after that and wassoon posted to serious scientific matters, almost certainly todo with radar. In addition he spent much time with a localmotor-cycle club which he attended in the Morris 8 - no-oneseemed to care about that, though.1930. During some part of his army training his father died. Hewas not there, He was allowed a short exeat for the funeral buthad to leave early and missed the burial.1931 or so: Posted to the Signals depot at Bulford, Wilts, a fewmiles to the north of Salisbury. He made only two comments onthis, first that he was particularly astonished at the abilityof one captain to do absolutely nothing all day long and secondthat he really had nothing to do. After a while he resigned hiscommission.1932-37: Obviously he was able to resign because he was hisfather's heir and had inherited what remained of the family'sfortunes. Much later, when he was about to marry mother, herrelations were concerned at the apparently playboy existence ofher intended and caused som investigation to be made of hisfinances. He was then living in a substantial house with amodest fleet of servants including a butler. I have been toldit was found that he was living off half his income so there wasobviously a competency left of the family affairs.But this shows how he lived. He managed the estates through hisfather's solicitor, Theobald Mathew (later Director of PublicProsecutions), who dealt with all the agents, etc himself. Hetook up motor-sport, both hill-climbing and track-racing. Heengaged in various athletic activies: I have heard of sailingand skiing. He toured around Europe, certainly reaching Rome onone occasion. I do not know what part music had to play in thisbut it cannot have been far away, and would have had massiveencouragement from mother, herself a very competent youngmusicion. His scrap books of that period tell only ofmotor-racing, though this does include his attendance at theevents of SODS, a local club and of which his account of thevarious meetings survives. He took his motoring seriously,enough to spend a couple of months in London at Alvis' workshopsto learn what he could of how to maintain the beasts himself.In retrospect he did not think much of this workshop and laterin the 30s had changed his allegiance to Thomson and Taylor avery competent firm of racing and touring car tuners withworkshops within the old Brooklands, Surrey motor racingcircuit; T & T made at least one of Cobb's land speed recordbreaking cars and probably a few of his Brooklandsrecord-breaking specials.Mead House: I have left out the saga of the move from RectoryFarm, the house he was born to and, one way an another, lived inuntil his father died. His parents had separated around 1921and certainly by 1922. The agreement between them was that eachparent should each have the children, he and his sister Ursula,for half the holidays. In order, I suspect, to get his motherout of Rectory Farm, it was let, though his father did pleadpoverty. A few years later his father returned there, sayingthat he rather enjoyed living in the countryside, to which myfather commented to me, that he would since there were fifteenpeople waiting on his every need. When his parents separatedhis mother had purchased a small house which she did up and thensold, moving several times; it was at these that he spent, withhis sister Ursula, half his holidays. His father certainlyspent some of the time in the South of France, reading books, orso he reported to me, in terms of incredulity. But in theholidays his father would book places on cruise ships and theywould go round Europe in these; possibly the experience sohorrifed him that this was the reason why we were never takenanywhere near such monsters. He did report that he became quitecompetent at deck quoits. He also said that once or twice hedid not accompany his father and Ursula on the expeditions atport. Though he did remember going to a bull-fight which, inretrospect at least, convinced him that it was never to be seenagain.Should I explain that Rectory Farm had a double life? Aspurchased in 1907, doubtless in contemplation of marriage, itwas "Rectory Farm"a medium sized farmhouse with 150 or so acres,lying below Thurle Hill. It was then extended to accomodate asubstantial household. His mother then thought that "RectoryFarm" was not quite appropriate for its new existence so it wasrenamed to "Thurle Grange". I suspect that it reverted toRectory Farm when his father reoccupied it in the mid 1920s.I think part of the reason why his father moved back intoRectory Farm was because his brother Dick had divorced his wifewho had left him for a Mr E Macleod. Doubtless this was abitter blow for Dick who leter decided to start a new lfe inCanada and leave his children in Englnad in the care of hiselder brother, Reginald (or Reggie as he seems to have beenknown). (A story has been passed on to me that Dick was sounhappy at his planned fate that he spent his last few hourscrying under the table in the company of his children.) Sothese three children had to be accommodated somewhere in theholidays and Rectory Farm was the natural choice. Indeed theelder son (if not all of them) of these three was present at hisuncle's death.Anyhow in 1930 at the death of my paternal grandfather, his wife(for she remained such) immediately took up occupation, andpossession, of Rectory Farm, doubtelss reverting it to ThurleGrange. She organised the funeral ("no flowers") and it wasconducted, I gather, with military dispatch. She then decidedthat she must move, probably because too many neighbours knewthe preceding history and somehow Mead Hosue was bought inBradfield, little more than ten miles away. My grandmotherestablished herself there, with her many dogs though it did nottake many years before she moved out, leaiving my father alonein this large country house - though not quite of mansion size.After all this I should add some words of what my father thoughtof his parents. It must have been traumatic living through thesplit and then the dual house period. His sister Ursula oncetold me of their parents continually rowing duiring a some stayin a house in London "for the season" (I have yet to discoverwhat the "season" was). Of his mother my father said that shewas an excellent mother though she though that negroes reallylived in trees and belonged there. Of his father, he said, witha degree of scorn, that he was a perfect Edwardian gentleman whonever did a thing; while this was not totally true for the warand post-war period, it certainly described much of his father'slife. But there remained some devotion to his father and apainting was always close to either my father study or, on thelanding, to his bedroom. (This painting is tremendously dulland I recently put it on near-permanent loan with my sister-in-law Anne who gained the impression from my father that hisfather had been hard-done-by by his wife.)1937 Marriage of our parents, the start of a remarkablerelationship. I do not know how long they had known one anotherbeforehand but they were near neighbours, living no more than amile apart in Bradfield. I did hear that at one stage my fatherplayed the piano for his prospective mother-in-law's choir,conduct that much later he would have strongly eschewed.1938: the first child born, me! After her death I was givensome remarkable documents that indicated that he was over themoon at his first offspring and ordered a fur coat to celebrate(I wonder if this was was from John Cobb who was a noted furdealer and whom my father knew well?) Much later fatherenquired of me where the fur coat was that mother had had whenshe went into a nursing home; while he did not explain thereason for this question, I suspect it was the same coat.1939: War broke out and immediately he joined up as a seondlieutenant. We stayed at Mead House at least until well afterMartin was born.1941 (?) Somehow he was in Dunkirk and got injured. Mother usedto say that it was from a stone as he came out of a cinema;father said that it was a motoring accident when he or thedriver of the other vehicle went the wrong way round a Frenchroundabout (did the French have roundabouts then? They are notto be found in all countries.) Anyhow he was concussed for aweek and the usual effect of concussion is that you remembernothing of the preceding events. So some days before the mainevacuation of Dunkirk he was invalided to England and put insome hospital in Middlesex - where he still had to correspondwith his solicitor man of affairs, as I know from a letter thesolicitor wrote that refers to the hospital stay.1942: He was posted to Northern Ireland and we either went withhim or followed fairly soon afterwards. Mead House was let(which pleased my mother as she had had some evacuees landed onher and she could not get on with them). My father took a leaseon a house near Lisburn and gave his batman some money to buyfurniture, a task that was obviously executed well from theapproving manner in which he described this task.My memories are only of one stay in Northern Ireland but myfather insisted that there were two. Anyhow Olivia was bornthere, causing her no little trouble at custom check pointsduring the troubles of the 70s and 80s.My father always described some of his time in Ireland withenormous approval. The object of that approval was hisCommanidng Officer who had some genius for competentorganisation (perhaps my grandfather was right, that the CivilService was right for my father?). My father claimed to havelearned good lessons that he was able to practice for yearsafterwars, both in later commands and in managing his affairsafter the war.Late 1943: By then he must have risen to the dizzy ranks ofcaptain and suitably impressed someone as he was then chosen fora Field Officer's couse at Sandhurst. We all followed, livingin a small, it seemed, house in Camberley. Montgomery was oneof the lecturers there and my father, like my father-in-law,came to cordially disllike him. I presume he ended this with atemporary acting and unpaid appointment as a major.1944 or so: Posted to Eisenhower's headquarters in North Africa(or was this before the Sanhurst course?). He was obviouslygiven some special liaison role, doing little or nothing and wasonce ushered into the Great Man's presence.1944 or so: Posted to Italy and then had an chequered timethere. The pleasure of Italy was the music, he was able to goto the local opera house regularly and was thrilled by the styleof music there, far more pleasing to him than the strained andperhaps cold style of English musicians; mother used to complainthat he never went to the opera again after the war. But he gotinto trouble with his commanding officer, an American at some, Ibelieve, airport. A particular crime was that he had decided toorganise the telephones sensibly and use the local, Italiantelephone wires. These lines were reliable and did not requirelaying. But they were not secure and it was thought that thiswas playing strongly into the hands of the Enemy. Doubtlessthis led to full and frank exchanges of view between him and hisAmerican commanding officer. Anyhow some very sadcorrespondence survives in which he was begging to be releasedfrom this posting, even offering to be downgraded a rank or twoto achieve this. But he had to stay on and certainly after thewar he had a short fuse on the subject of Americans.Sept 1945: He resigned his commission as soon as decent afterthe cessation of hostilities and came home. This meant that hewas back running his affairs, to which he had given mother somepower of attorney which she had been executing to hersatisfaction at least. Mother could not understand why she hadto relinquish her powers as she thought she had done ratherwell.A few years after this mother complained to me that father hadchanged over the war. She wondered if it had been the injury hehad received at Dunkirk. But she thought - and said - he wasnot entirely sane. Certainly he became tempestuous but what wasgoing on we have no idea. If anything, I think his experiencesin Italy would have been shattering and confidence busting,particularly as he seems to have been something of a blued-eyedboy up till then.1946: He moved us all to Barkers, Amersham Common, Bucks. Atthe time mother passed on that the reason was that of povertydue to taxation. She instanced the much higher rates that werepayable on Mead House (which had some cottages as well assubstantial outbuildings). Towards the end of his life fathersaid this was not the sole, or even the, reason but that it wasthat he had to get away from his mother-in-law who lived thesame mile or so away and obviously made a habit of regularvisiting to see her many grandchildren. He said that inretrospect he should have been able to deal with this as he somuch loved Mead House.Barkers was a much smaller property, three acres instead oftwelve, six bedrooms instead of ten or so. The core of thehouse was a small farmhouse with small, low-ceilinged rooms andthe family portraits could not be displayed. School fees beganto mount up as I was away at Ladycross from 1945, Martinfollowing in c. 1948. Income was down as some of the propertieshad been bomb damaged, rents were still at prewar levels whilecost of living was three times higher. And taxes were rising.The only car was mother's little FIAT 500, a wedding presentfrom father. The numbers of staff slowly dropped. Onedelightful piece of legislation was to disallow deductions ofany estate administrative expenses, meaning that the lawyer'sand agents charges came out of taxed income, leaving even lessfor discretionary spending. There was an air of gloom aroundthe place, not helped by the occasional shouting matches betweenour parents, usually, if I remember correctly, about money.Eventually father decided to take the administration into hisown hands and put into practice what he had learnt from his COin Northern Ireland. The typewriter pounded away, reams ofletters poured into the front door and reams of replies pouredout again. Father even got the Post Office to collect the maildirectly from the house, saving him, and us, the labour ofrunning off to the nearest letter-box.At the same time he continued his musical life. Mother oncetold me that he was going to become a singer. So we had thescales being prectised at all hours. A mattress was put overthe inside door to his music room - and study, to lessen thenoise I was told. Some of my siblings say that his singing wasin fact quite good, perhaps recalling the days of his childhoodexcellence; I can't say I was much impressed but then I am notmusical. And I was not surprised when it came to an end and hereverted after a few years to the piano.In his financial affairs he soon, with his numeric abilities,mastered the tax system and found ways to make money thatavoided tax. In those days the interest on borrowings wasdeductible from income before tax. So he engaged in borrowing.He invested in life insurance policies for which he already hadan agency as a result of handling the property administration.He found that he could borrow money for, effectively, singlepremium life policies that he would convert to fully paid in ayear. He claimed that he could obtain a guanteed net income ofnearly 5% return on capital which was very good for the time. Ican certainly remembering him regularly walking or cycling tothe station to do business in London. He used log tables Iremember and once, he said, asked for an adjournment of anauction as they had corrected their figures at the last momentand he wished to recalculate.1948 or so: Somehow the financial strait-jacket lessened and hewas able to revert to motoring. In what order he bought the twocars, I cannot remember but buy he did. One was an Austinsaloon with occasional seats and which I remember I and mysiblings working out that at least nine of us could fit in it.Another was an Alfa 2.9 single seater racing car, made in themiddle to late 1930s.The Alfa was maintained by Thomson and Taylor again, I evenbelieve it was bought off them. He started racing it on smallcircuits such as Goodwood, bringing a T & T fitter along withhim. Eventually he was satisfied and took it to Ireland to raceeither in the Republic in their annual event at Curragh camp orin Northern Ireland at Dundrod (?). As long as the Jaguars didnot run, he had a modest degree of success, winning quite a fewraces over the following years. Because of his methods ofoperating, he even made some money out of the winning races;mother, Martin and I accompanied him on a least two of theexpeditions and we were accommodated in very modest style,though he esconced himself in the Officers mess at Curragh Camp.Eventually two things happened. First was the the Alfa becameless and less competitive at these rather informal races; hecommented that the Jaguars (mostly C types) could go roundcorners much faster than he. Second he lost the thrill ofwinning. Being an emotional man, this worked like a charm onhim when he was younger and pulled him through a sometimesfrustrating activity. But once he found he no longer enjoyedthe occasional win, he fairly rapidly gave up. Though at somestage diring this second motor-racing period, he had ordered aJaguar D type at the then price, cancelling the order when theyraised this by £1,000; he had reckoned that at the originalprice, he could make some money out of motor-racing, even at theage of 45, which he was when he finally retired around 1954.1950s: His piano playing took up a lot of his leisure time. Heused to enter competitions for this and did quite well in them;even to my cloth ears, he was always an attractive pianist. ButI think he wanted to be a real performer, for whom people wouldpay to hear him and in this there was no success. I suspectthis would have been a disappointment to him, particularly inview of the ease with which mother had been performing inconcert halls in London before marriage.1956 or so: he sold his two entertainment cars. First the 1902F.I.A.T and second the Alfa. Both sold well and while heregretted their demise, he had not done anything on either forsome while. I still have his notes on the F.I.A.T which he hadbought in the early 1930s as a bit of a wreck from a farmer inthe West Country and had made to work, running it on severalBrighton Old Crocks runs. He had restored it, after a fashion,to something like original appearance, reverting the steeringwheel to a tiller which he explained to me was the jack handleoff some pre-war Buick. The same jack handle, I believe, couldstill be seen on the car at Beaulieu where it was on dispay inthe 1980s.1958: Obviously his finances improved as we moved to BreveHouse, about three and a half acres in stead of just under threeand 8 bedrroms instead of 6 (plus a room at "Barkers End") and,most important, high ceilings so that the family portraits couldbe displayed again. Barkers was sold at a loss because ofstructural problems and fairly extensive redecoration was doneto the new house. Strikingly it had a spearate study to themusic room and the latter was to pay a large part in ourparents' lives.Farily soon after this he bought a ten-year old Bentley Mk VI toreplace his Buick. The Bentley was still quite smart then andhe remembered writing a letter to Rolls to say that it had beenquite the best car he had ever driven.Late 1950s: Mother had complained to me of some rather secretiveseries of visits that father was making to London. One of thesehad led his his obtaining in 1957 the ARCM, Associate of theRoyal College of Music., the certificate of which he eventuallyhad framed and which I now have. This led to a possibly crazyset of proposals. First he wrote to Passmore, the headmaster ofDownside, suggesting that he and mother should provide expertmusic tuition at Downside; this came to nothing. Second he didget a job at Beaumont, Old Windsor for two terms teaching thepiano. I was astonished at this last venture as I did not thinkhe had the patience to work with children but one or two of hisex-pupils spoke well of this some thirty years later (when wewere co-parents to boys at the surviving Beaumont prep-school).But the job did not last, for reasons I do not know thoughfather did mention some falling out with the head of music.1960s: By now, all of his ventures to find a congenialoccupation had failed. The army had failed him twice,motor-racing no longer appealed, he was not a publicly acclaimedperformer, nor was he a teacher at a local school. Curiouslyhis property management skills were appreciated and one largeLondon company even offered him a directorship, which he turneddown and an old firend of his had asked him to become a directorof his engineering company which had also fallen through throughthe friend's death. So he lowered his sights and went for aserious course in piano tuning, which culminated in his gettingsome sort of job with, I think, Maples tuning pianos. By 1968he had had enough of working for others (again I had notexpected any success in such for him) and decided to become aself-employed piano tuner in the local area. I would imaginethat his musical aprreciation combined with his high technicalskill made him into a good tuner, possibly a very good one butwhile I met a few of his customers afterwards, they never spokeof the quality of his work, merely the style. Part of the stylewas to drive round in his Bentley. More of it was to take lifecongenially, so one piano in the morning and one in theafterneoon with an extended break in some pub for lunch. At thesame time he had concluded his property manipulations, moving(unfortunately in hindsight) from London property to some 1300acres of bare land in middle and slightly western England. Hethen wrote to two estate agents, asking both if they would chosebetween his piano tuning business and his property managementbusiness. Not unnaturally each chose to manage the propertybusiness, one the four London properties that were badly let andunwise then to sell and the other the five farm holdings.Slowly over this time he simplified his financial affairs tofour income streams: farmland, shops, piano tuning and intereston money on deposit; this meant that tax returns were no longerthe agony of effort that they had been.During this time he also stuggled with some of us children. Hewas not a close parent, but we all were aware of the massivedepressions he continued to have over the years where he wouldlock himself up for days in his study and speak to no-one; mealswere taken after we had all eaten and he ate over-warmed food inthe kitchen strictly on his own. An over-riding concern for uschildren seem to be that he was determined that we were not tobe like him and live off the fat of the land, we must all gainsome profession and earn a living. I was a particular problemwith my lack of interest in enginerring and a wish to dophilosophy; Martin was for ever in conflict and Olivia marriedand had children very young, David had a few scrapes with hisediucation.. Nevertheless he thought he should make it easierfor us in a tax efficient way by giving us boys capital sumsinstead of allowances. He provided us with £20,000 nominal inConsuls, then worth less than half their paper value, at about£8,500 each. While this seem little enough now, it provided theprice of a small detached house and even left some change,though less so for those who lived in London. But even this wastied with strings; should we dispose of any of this, we shouldnform his bankers who would then inform him; I had no problemwith this and proceeded to move the investment around a bit,ending with the purchase of a house, though mortgaged to fundthe odd extravangance such as a car and a divorce. However thiscaused more heartache for Martin as he felt he was not beingtrusted; yet Martin I think more than any of us did exactly whatwas expected: early he became, and remained as, a teacher, hewas always hard working and he carefully guarded his pot of goldin a way that I certainly did not; the continual strugglesbetween them were a sad feature of father's life. He becamemore remote from all of us in those days.Curiously at the same time I later discovered that his sociallife had blossomed. He retained contact with his very oldriends, particularly James Haigh; he made new ones, particularlyAnthony Griffin who cleaned and restored all the portraits andwas devoted to father. He was much appreciated by the customersof his piano-tuning business. And he and mother enormouslyenjoyed getting their musical friends together for smallconcerts at Breve House; perhaps forty could be accomodated inthe music room if they squeezed up tight.Regrettably the glories of the pictures in the sitting and musicrooms obviously attracted one of his guests as burglariesstarted, much to my father's consternation. Over fourburglaries spread over perhaps fifteen years he lost a total ofthirty-five paintings. Only three were ever recovered. Afterthe last burglary, when he was on his own in the house, hedecided he had had enough. All significant items were put intostore and he eventually moved to a more secure location and atthe end he got local artists to make copies of the signifiantportraits, whose frames had, cuiriously, been left behind.Mother's death was traumatic. She inherited her mother'sproblem of early senility. She was less and less in contactwith what was going on as the years passed. Events of decadesbefore were retold as if they had happened yesterday.Particularly the various fallings out between our parents wereretold, perhaps to account for her sad current state. But thiswas a foible that father shared, as I was later to discover: hewas able to elicit sympathy too for his misfortunes. Perhaps Iam not one to have sympathy elicited from!Anyhow mother became able to do less and less. In the last fewyears father had done all the cooking and the housework for theoccasion of any visitors, neither with much skill, though he didmake a mean wholemal loaf. Mother started to wander and once wehad the police call on us to see if she was with us. Insteadlater that day she was found in a hotel to which she had drivenand then ordered meals and service, confusing the staff whothought she was a resident there; father picked her up and soldher car. Later still she did not know night from day andinsisted on gong out of the house in the middle of the night.Eventually father could cope no longer and Olivia madearrangement for mother to go to a nursing home near her. Eventhis was fraught. Father tried every dodge to reduce theincidence of the fees on his personal finances, causing someconsternation to Olivia. Mother had to be moved at least twiceas various establishments found they could not handle her.Father never visited. We did once or twice but it was a strainand our two boys would have nothing to do with the palpablycrazy woman. In August 1967, after six months, she died, ablessed relief. The funeral led to more problems which arestill causing waves. After her death father became reconciledto his earlier memories of mother, always speaking affectionatlyand approvingly of her, perhaps putting her too much on apedestal. I even found him putting our two sons on a pedestalas pinnacles of good behavious in comparison to a fretfulafternooon with one of his infant grandsons; he had not eventhought that our children were perfectly normal and sometimestrouble; he had this curious picture that some children reallycould be seen and not heard. This idolisation of children coldbe seen in the only pictures he had bought, to me full of sicklysentimentality.Late 1970s and early1980s: around this itme he divested himselfof much of his property, realising that a recent change of lawallowed him to transfer it without penalty of taxation.Regrettably this led to more disputes but at least it minimisedhis evantual inheritance tax bill.Shardeloes: Around 1979 he moved to Shardeloes, a grand mansionoutside old Amersham where he had a maisonette - town-house - inthe old stable block. There were over 20 accomodation units,flats, etc in the premises and the tenants were also thefreeholders as they owned the freeholding company of the site.The previous occupant of his unit had warned him that thefreeholding company's charges were not cheap and that this wasthe reason for her selling after her husband's death. Fatherwith his property management background thought he could dealwith minor problems such as those and purchased the unit anyway.Regrettably the rest of the occupants enjoyed the style withwhich they lived, were eager to maintain it and the premises andsaw no problem with the consequent charges on the twentytenants. Father just was not on the same planet and, after afew years refused to pay one set of increases. He continuedwith his deductions for some time until the other shareholdershad to take action and started legal proceedings. Father didsome riposting through a lawyer but slowly realised that he hadlost. At this he gave up spectacularly. He found a small semiin Old Amersham itself and took urgent steps to move therebefore he had sold his unit at Shardeloes. And I was instructedto wind up the case with the lawyers, with him paying the finalbill. I think he spent three thousand pounds on lawyers' fees;it could have been four thousand more but an error on the partof the managment company's solicitor prevented them fromclaiming their costs. Finally I discovered what it had all beenabout: the charges unpaid amounted to no more than two hundredand fifty pounds. Worse was to come: once he had vacated hisunit at Shardeloes, leaving it very bare and uninteresting theprospective purchaser dropped his offer by thirty thousandpounds. There was nothing I could do, the sale was completed atthis figure and father was esconced in his, to me, expensive newsemi-detached house. I shuddered to think what would become ofhim and his new neighbours. In fact this was to have been hislast spectacular quarrel.1994 on. Aged 85, he finally retired from everything. Even hispiano-tuning had to be abandoned because he could not hear thehigher notes. He spent time with his friends whom he wouldentertain to lunch at The Crown in Old Amersham and spent hisdays reading the paper, doing the crossword and continuing hisever-vast correspondence.With all else failed, he was left with an ability to writecharming letters much valued by their recipients. He had everhad a remarkable ability to write humourously and I remembermother and I being in kinks of laughter over something he hadwritten for a children's party (which he did not attend) in the1950s. To some extent I encouraged this letter writing byrecommending people who contacted me on matters that related tohim to write to him. Quite a few really appreciated his lettersand even after his funeral I was presented with a copy of acorrespondence of some thirty years previously.This literary ability was even commended to me by an in-law whosaid he should have become a music critic. With his profoundknowledge and aprreciation of music and his ability to writecreatively almost about performances, he should have made moreof it. But I cannot see him getting caught in the cut andthrust of a journalist's world.These communication skills also suprised me once after he motorrace he had won in Ireland in the early 1950s. He was awardedthe prize and got up to speak in return. His speech was abeatifully delivered account of a notable driver who hadrecently died, faithfully telling of the man's charm, practicesand foibles. I was astonished, I did no know my father had thisability though I saw glimmerings of it again much later in hislife.Regrettably he too caught the disease of senility, not seen inhis recent forbears because they had all died young. But Irecently found that his paternal gt-grandfather died senile, asdid a maternal grandmother, both having lived to 90 or nearlythere. What was most noticeable was that he could no longerhandle figures: a bank staement always confused him, though hecould talk eloquently and cogently of music almost to the end.He astonished himself that he should have survived that long.His father had died at 48, his father's father died at 31.Ursula reported once that she had heard from him that he wasexpecting do die around the age of fifty but curiously did not:instead he survived for longer than any ancestor that I know ofsince the early 1700s.So there we have it, a life of sadness, of frustration, ofquarrels and lack of any real accomplishments. But also a lifeof remarkable skills and talents that were never used to theirfull. But within all this a life of friendship withlong-standing and loyal friends who valued his company. Perhapsthe most remarkable feature of his character was a certainadaptability; having been brought up to considerable privilegeand living in a Big House, he was able to see all that go andlived happily in a small semi in the back streets of Amersham.__________________________________________________________

naissance: Entry no 177 of Bucklebury District book No 27 in 1909

deces: at c.7pm

niveau d'instruction: Ladycross, Downside, RA Woolwich, RCM

-- GEDCOM (INDI) --
1 ARMB @N2746@
1 W1DE Y

Haben Sie Ergänzungen, Korrekturen oder Fragen im Zusammenhang mit Antony Powys-Lybbe?
Der Autor dieser Publikation würde gerne von Ihnen hören!

Zeitbalken Antony Powys-Lybbe

Klicken Sie auf den Namen für weitere Informationen. Verwendete Symbole:  Großeltern    Eltern    Geschwister    Kinder