Folks I have known: Geraldine Ratcliffe Humpidge
In 1964 after the “Eric Hutchins” crusade in Bristol ended, he assigned me to Bath and an advance man for his forthcoming crusade there.
I was billeted with a wonderful “maiden lady”, Geraldine Ratcliffe Humpidge, already in her seventies. I grew to be very fond of her, but always despised her Siamese cat!
Geraldine was born in the lovely village of Amberly in the Gloucestershire Cotswolds. Her parents were middle class, and she was educated privately.
She had but one sibling Vernon. He opened a flower and vegetable nursery in the 20’s or 30’s in the village of Bromham, near Devizes, Wiltshire. The family moved there, and attended the Plymouth Brethren Assembly in Devizes, Salem Chapel.
Geraldine told stories of the difficulties of running a business and getting into town during the war because of gas rationing. But the family was never poor, and being country folks they were never short of good food.
Old Mr. Humpidge died, then Vernon. Geraldine and her Mother (who lived to be 100) moved to the City of Bath where they lived quiet middle class lives, centred around the Plymouth Brethren Assembly in Bath, Manvers Hall.
I lodged with Geraldine after her Mother had passed. We were good company for each other, and it was good to return to a home after days on the road for Eric Hutchins.
Long after I left the Hutchins Cabal I she and I sustained a friendship
Geraldine was a terrible driver, partly because she could never remember which was her left and which was her right. If you said “turn left”, she’d first have to check to see on which wrist was her watch.
She owned a little Austin A 30, and she allowed me to teach myself to drive on the country roads near Bath. I terrified her in the early days by careening down Brassknocker Hill.
She loved it when I arrived at her home and announced, let’s go out for a drive. One day she said “I’d like to hear a Cuckoo”. “That you will” I replied. I drove into the countryside, stopped in a little clearing on a country road. We got out of the car, and there it was - a cuckoo singing loudly. (What luck).
Geraldine was never happier in my company than when I accompanied her to Manvers Hall. That Assembly was populated by grave, grey-suited middle class men, and their ever so polite wives. It was not the place for belly-laughs. Manvers Hall is so close to Bath Abbey - to which my heart was already moving.
One day as we left the Hall, we heard the Bells of Bath Abbey in all their glory. “Ah” said one old Plymouth Brother, “the tintinabulations of hell”!
That annoyed Geraldine, for despite her Peeb foibles, she was very pleased that a cousin J.R.H. Moorman was Bishop of Ripon.
Geraldine eventually replaced her old Austin with a Wolseley 1500 saloon.
It was a boxy little car, with a nippy gear box, and a facia made of real wood! I once drove it, to Geraldine’s great glee, at 100 m.p.h. on the M4 Motorway.
I due course I bought that car (registration 403 ABX), and in turn in was owned by three of my four brothers.
The last time I saw Geraldine she had been moved to a Nursing Home. She was profoundly deaf. We were delighted to see each other, and communicated by writing notes.
Some time after I came to these United States, Geraldine was gathered to her ancestors, and her remains were buried alongside those of her parents and brother in the cemetery in Devizes. I stood at that graveside a few years later, treasuring the memory of this very kind and gentle Christian woman.
I was billeted with a wonderful “maiden lady”, Geraldine Ratcliffe Humpidge, already in her seventies. I grew to be very fond of her, but always despised her Siamese cat!
Geraldine was born in the lovely village of Amberly in the Gloucestershire Cotswolds. Her parents were middle class, and she was educated privately.
She had but one sibling Vernon. He opened a flower and vegetable nursery in the 20’s or 30’s in the village of Bromham, near Devizes, Wiltshire. The family moved there, and attended the Plymouth Brethren Assembly in Devizes, Salem Chapel.
Geraldine told stories of the difficulties of running a business and getting into town during the war because of gas rationing. But the family was never poor, and being country folks they were never short of good food.
Old Mr. Humpidge died, then Vernon. Geraldine and her Mother (who lived to be 100) moved to the City of Bath where they lived quiet middle class lives, centred around the Plymouth Brethren Assembly in Bath, Manvers Hall.
I lodged with Geraldine after her Mother had passed. We were good company for each other, and it was good to return to a home after days on the road for Eric Hutchins.
Long after I left the Hutchins Cabal I she and I sustained a friendship
Geraldine was a terrible driver, partly because she could never remember which was her left and which was her right. If you said “turn left”, she’d first have to check to see on which wrist was her watch.
She owned a little Austin A 30, and she allowed me to teach myself to drive on the country roads near Bath. I terrified her in the early days by careening down Brassknocker Hill.
She loved it when I arrived at her home and announced, let’s go out for a drive. One day she said “I’d like to hear a Cuckoo”. “That you will” I replied. I drove into the countryside, stopped in a little clearing on a country road. We got out of the car, and there it was - a cuckoo singing loudly. (What luck).
Geraldine was never happier in my company than when I accompanied her to Manvers Hall. That Assembly was populated by grave, grey-suited middle class men, and their ever so polite wives. It was not the place for belly-laughs. Manvers Hall is so close to Bath Abbey - to which my heart was already moving.
One day as we left the Hall, we heard the Bells of Bath Abbey in all their glory. “Ah” said one old Plymouth Brother, “the tintinabulations of hell”!
That annoyed Geraldine, for despite her Peeb foibles, she was very pleased that a cousin J.R.H. Moorman was Bishop of Ripon.
Geraldine eventually replaced her old Austin with a Wolseley 1500 saloon.
It was a boxy little car, with a nippy gear box, and a facia made of real wood! I once drove it, to Geraldine’s great glee, at 100 m.p.h. on the M4 Motorway.
I due course I bought that car (registration 403 ABX), and in turn in was owned by three of my four brothers.
The last time I saw Geraldine she had been moved to a Nursing Home. She was profoundly deaf. We were delighted to see each other, and communicated by writing notes.
Some time after I came to these United States, Geraldine was gathered to her ancestors, and her remains were buried alongside those of her parents and brother in the cemetery in Devizes. I stood at that graveside a few years later, treasuring the memory of this very kind and gentle Christian woman.
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