
Yesterday I went with Grandson-Luca to his school for a ‘bingo event’. Children, parents and staff were everywhere. Issued with bingo sheets, we were ushered into Luca’s classroom, joining forty other adults and children.
The amiable Mr Woods’ computer-generated random numbers were called out and displayed on the screen; we marked them off on our sheets.
One small girl cried ‘BINGO’. She’d won! She was laughing and so happy. She was given her prize. It was not what she wanted. Her expression changed. She got into an enormous dramatic grump that her parents eventually managed to pacify…
Unknown numbers, unknown winner, unexpected prize, unpredictable response…

On last night’s news we learnt about Gladys Lewis. We saw her, a bright hundred-year-old in her Yorkshire care-home.
In World War Two Gladys worked at Bletchley Park typing up transcripts of decoded Nazi intelligence. She’d signed the Official Secrets Act; her work remained secret from her family for 50 years.
Yesterday she was awarded the Legion d’Honneur, France’s highest honour for her work at the UK’s codebreaking HQ. A letter accompanying the medal said: “We must never forget heroes like you who came from Britain and the Commonwealth to begin the liberation of Europe by liberating France. We owe our freedom and security to your dedication.”
Unknown woman, unknown work, unrecognised contribution, unmeasurable results.

In his poem ‘Christmas’ John Betjeman, describing familiar Christmas scenes in shops, pubs, churches and homes, asks:
And is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window’s hue,
A Baby in an ox’s stall?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me?
In the well-rehearsed Christmas narrative, I’m confronted again by issues of truth and faith. I‘m invited to muse again on mystery that I don’t fully understand… I approach the ‘baby in the ox’s stall’, consider undiscovered truth with unaccustomed honesty…
I muse on this unexpected prize… the unpredictable responses… His unrecognised contribution… the unmeasurable results.
The poem by John Betjeman is wonderful. Thank you for sharing these stories. And Gladys Lewis- how amazing that she did not betray the confidence of those who trusted her for all those years. 🙂
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Thanks, Nancy. Perhaps another time I’ll comment on other parts of the poem… And over the years there have been a number of stories of what happened at Bletchley…
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