Brooklands Babe

I’ve been reading Barbara Cartland’s book on Etiquette this week. And why not. It might not be the done thing to admit it, but I’ve got a soft spot for Barbara Cartland.   Oddly enough, it’s not because I’m a secret Romance reader or anything.  I mean, I love some of Georgette Heyer’s books (Friday’s Child and The Talisman Ring are particular favourites) but that’s mainly because they’re funny and exciting rather than knee-trembling romances.  I’ve tried, on occasion, to read Mills and Boon  - usually when trapped in a hospital and all other resources have failed – but, reluctantly, I have to admit they’re not really my cup of tea.  So why this soft spot for The Queen of Romance?

Well, as anyone who’s devoted time to Mad About The Boy? (and what possible better use of time could there be?) will know Malcolm Smith-Fennimore, the gorgeous, glamorous Malcolm, is, as well as being rich, handsome, intelligent, an aviator and a racing-driver.  (Gosh:  I really went for it with Malcolm:  phew – pass me the smelling salts, someone!)

Now, in the 1920’s we’re not talking about Formula 1 with a theme tune from Fleetwood Mac, endless discussion of wet, dry and intermediate tyres, and how quickly Lewis Hamilton can manage his pit-stop.  Nor, as this is England, am I trying to summon up the roaring boards of the American Indy Car racing.  No, Malcolm’s spiritual home is Brooklands.

I’ve been to Brooklands twice (it costs seven quid to get in and is money well spent) once with my friend Liz Whitbourne, an archaeology teacher, who took me round what’s left of the track, virtually on hands and knees, obsessing about concrete, and once with the family, bless them.  They are terribly patient on occasion.  Brooklands was the first purpose-built motor-racing track anywhere in the world ever.  It opened in 1907 with a ground-breaking banked concrete track covering large bits of Surrey. Although you wouldn’t guess as much from the official Brooklands Guide, which waxes lyrical about Brookland’s (considerable) contribution to aviation, those Magnificent Men In Their Flying Machines were admitted only reluctantly.  Malcolm, the lucky beggar, “has a hanger at Brooklands”.  A.V. Roe, who was the first person really to have a hanger at Brooklands, wasn’t permitted a hanger as such; it was more a hut.  As it was only 20 feet wide, his biplane, with a wingspan of 36 feet had to go in sideways!

A.V. Roe's aeroplane, although it couldn't quite fit in the shed, at least looked as if it could get off the ground.

 

 

 

 

 

Unlike, the hilarious but perhaps ill-conceived multi-plane...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yes, I know it was early days, but it looks as if someone was trying to fly the shed, and a shed modelled on the inside of a football terrace at that.  Some things you can just sort of see will never work...   However, aviation moved on to the post-scaffolding part of its development, giving rise to, amongst other things, Jack Haldean and Malcolm Smith-Fennimore.

Brooklands, with its Clubhouse became one of the most glamorous places in England.   Although the glory has departed, you can still get a whiff of it and the Clubhouse has been restored.  Wandering through, making Gosh, Wow, Look at that noises, I was startled to come across the Barbara Cartland room.  It’s painted pink (natch) but what’s it doing there at all?  Well, BC took part in a Ladies’ Race for the benefit of the Press and also had some very bright ideas about gliders.  I think I’m right in saying that she designed The Ladies Reading Room.  Okay, so it’s very pink, but it’s there.  And so was she.

The Etiquette Book is quite handy, should you ever want to meet the Queen or know how to behave in Denmark (“Do not make rude remarks about the bed-coverings, which are blankets buttoned into clean sheets, making a kind of eiderdown”) says Dame B, for the benefit of Brits in those pre-duvet days and, actually, rather like Dame B herself, contains hard nuggets of sense.  Yes, even in a book on etiquette, she’s a bit too given to saying how many proposals of marriage she’s had , but no-one’s perfect.  And she did sell over a thousand million books.  Strewth.