Written by Mary Button; from Now, Then And In Between, a Miscellany Of Writings by Warminster W.I., first published in 1994:
I first met my father-in-law to be, John Davenport Marriott, in the early 1940s, when I alighted from the Reading to Newport train at Badminton. He drove me from the station in a pony and trap; the pony, Pat, had once belonged to a traveling gipsy. We trotted along through the peaceful village of Acton Turnville, to the Wiltshire hamlet of Littleton Drew, where my future in-laws had a bungalow. Where there had once been a derelict cottage, J.D.M. had built his bungalow with local help, using some of the stones from the old cottage, and it was there he and my mother-in-law settled in the early days of the Second World War, on his (official) retirement.
My father-in-law was born in 1878 in Weston-Super-Mare. His father and family farmed for many years at Wybostob in Bedfordshire. His great-great-grandfather had been a commander of the Scots Guards at the famous battle of Minden in the mid-18th century. The author, Charles Kindersley, was also a descendant of that same commander.
In his late teens J.D.M.’s parents sent him to live with a wealthy uncle and aunt in California who wanted him to be their heir, but he couldn’t settle to a life of ease, so he went lumberjacking in Canada to earn his passage home. In 1898 he returned to his family and then went to London where he worked on the administrative staff of the Northampton College of Advanced Technology until his retirement, apart from army service as Colour Sergeant in the First World War.
Having settled in Wiltshire, he became a member of the Home Guard (Dad’s Army) until he became too old, and on Sunday mornings paraded on the village green outside his bungalow. When the village postmistress died, no-one was able to take over, so J.D.M. converted part of his home into a part-time local post office, which he ran well into the 1960s. In addition to his post office work he helped a local farmer in both the yard and the fields, refusing to take any payment. When newspaper deliveries stopped, as young men were called up, he stepped into the breech and took over, giving the profit to the Bristol Royal Infirmary, who made him a life governor. As well as these activities he made regular reports to the Met. Office of the local rainfall and weather conditions. After the war he became the village librarian, and he found time to learn to drive at the age of 69, which he did until he was 80.
When he was 83 he was awarded the B.E.M., a proud moment! Whatever the fashion, I well remember my father-in-law was nearly always attired in plus-fours, and my mother-in-law in ankle-length dresses. He was a highly intelligent man, and I found him a most interesting person to be with. I remember his doctor saying to me “If my mind is as sharp as his when I am 95, I’ll die a happy man.” My father-in-law finally died aged 97 and my mother-in-law at 93. Such people are the backbone of any rural community, and age did not deter him from doing his bit. What a loss his passing must have been to that village.