Where the Wild Thyme Blew: Growing up with Nature in the Fifties and Sixties

(Written by Brenda W's husband) Ever since I came upon a stack of Observer's Observer's in a local bookshop back in 1999, I have been an enthusiastic follower of Mr Marren. His nature books particularly on butterflies, moths, botany and fungi are a revelation and a joy with a constant charm that hearkens back to an earlier era.Not being that interested in autobiographies, I ignored this title until the desire to know more about the author whose books I so enjoyed got the better of me. Where the Wild Thyme Blew starts the moment he was born and stops abruptly on degree ceremony day after which he stalked off and never looked back.Peter Marren is as I suspected 7 and a bit years younger than me but grew up in the same Post War aftermath that I did. He was born several rungs higher up the social ladder yet seemed to have a similar, unsupervised childhood where he could come and go as he pleased just as long as he appeared at mealtimes and when the day was over. His time after he was 11 was spent incarcerated in a Division 3 boarding school which is described in all its detail and it made me glad that I hadn't had to go to such a place. Boys and girls in a newly built (1950) Secondary Modern, a progressive educationalist's wet dream come true were remarkably the same. Between 1954-1958 I had the advantage which Peter didn't of waving goodbye to that motley crowd at 4 o'clock, weekdays only and for good soon after I was 15! His higher education was at university and mine was through the long grind of evening classes and day release until pass degree (HNC) standard in Chemistry.I had my Dee moment (see book) when I was a few years older than his and was less hurt when the butterfly flew off to the next flower. I was more put out that she had rode to form which I knew would come. However in the quest for experience one should never look a gift horse in the mouth and take it in good part when one is thrown off! For not of the herd sort of blokes a good soul mate is hard to come by unless she too is not of the herd. Perhaps Peter was less lucky in that department?I felt a remarkable empathy throughout the book on what he got up to, what he thought and his general cynicism of an imperfect world for all the same reasons. His stated interests were mainly mine too and we read the same natural history books then available in our quests for knowledge. His advantage was that his parent's took an interest in what he liked doing whilst mine expected boys to kick balls around and join boxing clubs. Boys who liked butterflies and wild flowers were yellow and latent pansies and hence they constantly mocked me. Just like my hero who hated organised school sport I was likewise, I too was uneasy with the mainstream popular culture at the time and its accompanying, loud racket. Probably like him I enjoyed a good booze up with like minded friends where we could put the world to rights.His dry comments and piercing observation throughout the book's 399 pages are an utter joy and fill the nostalgia gap full to the point of gluttony.This time around I really loved his book so it gets the full five stars.I would suppose that the 60+ brigade who probably remember Eagle, Hotspur and Beano. Remember £. s. d., early ITV adverts and 160 decibel, musically, insecure pop groups would enjoy this title very much. There is no need to be a naturalist and the language from start to finish is far from technical. A good knowledge of 1950's and 60's slang will prove useful.Thank you Mr Marren for being my time machine.