News from The Igloo
©2008 - Bernie Bennett
osbornelofts@rml-international.org
69, Osborne Square,
Dagenham,
Essex,
RM9 5AX
Tel: +44(0)2089841269
Origins of the Igloo.


Many readers have asked me how the "Igloo" came about. Well living in a two bedroom council house on the sprawling Becontree Estate Joy & I soon found more room was needed when our son reached his teenage days. So we purchased a glass conservatory that was just like a greenhouse, but it served its purpose, and I spent many hours writing articles while sitting out there. It was quite warm with the sun beating down during the day but at night a Calor Gas heater became my best friend. Most of my early writings were written by hand and the glass conservatory became known as the "Igloo" in my writings and the "Igloo" has stayed a part of the compound writing's until this very day! All went well until one day our dog, a Lakeland Border cross named "Bengi", saw a cat out side in the garden and went straight through the glass door shattering it like an animal jumping through a hoop at the circus. I expected to see blood every were and was quite relieved not to be able to find a scratch on the dog at all, mind you he had a coat like a lion.
The most dangerous moment occurred at a later time and you could say "Lady Fortune" was with us. We had a heavy snow storm one night and "Bengi" was kicking up a fuss down stairs, as he was shut out in the "Igloo", this saw me coming down about half past four in the morning to let him into the house. Roughly twenty minutes later, a huge amount of snow rumbled down the roof just like a mini avalanche and went straight through the "Igloo" roof and the "Igloo" was a complete write off, but nobody was injured! We decided then to have a wood conservatory built to replace the "Old Igloo" and this was much more comfortable. One of my readers sent along a plaque with "The Igloo" stamped on it and so this was attached to the present day conservatory and "Igloo" it remained.
Memories.
Looking back I remember travelling along the A6 to Buxton in the peak district to visit Eric Fox at his residence in Bakewell. It was a Sunday morning and it had been raining since I left London at 7.30am and all along the route there was full cloud coverage and a continuous drizzle. The clouds just hovered above the fields and the roofs in the villages as I past through on route for Bakewell. Speaking to Eric the night before on the phone, while making arrangements to travel down the following morning, he told me that the birds had been released at Angouleme that day (Saturday) and a few found their way into the Midlands that night, most flying a shorter distance than Eric. I arrived at Eric's residence at 10.00am after an uneventful journey and learnt that Eric had timed in early that morning. Considering the wet weather I had experienced, and that had persisted through out the journey, I believed his timing was good.
After a cuppa and refreshments and seeing the rain had stopped I went with Eric to see the birds not realising the length of walk to his lofts. Walking with Eric over the lichen cover granite, which had a very spongy feel and tiring effect, Eric told me how the quarry was blasted out for granite blocks, way back before the turn of the early 20th century, by his fore fathers. Turning sharply to our left the ground started to rise as we came to a U-shaped bend, here were some unoccupied lofts and sheds that were set against a woodland back ground. The ground then started to rise and the gradient increased quite sharply as Eric's racing lofts came into view. The lofts were set just below the brow of the peak with some overhanging tree's giving more protection. Climbing those last thirty to forty yards saw the rain return and the wind freshen up as I climbed the highest part of the path to the loft. The loft was sited on the highest part of the ground and had a panoramic view looking over the valley below, that was still shrouded in mist, while the distant high ground disappeared into the gloom.
Entering the loft, to get out of the drizzle and wind, I noticed it was raised at least three feet off the ground and though I was fairly wet when stepping into the loft I saw the corridor inside was bone dry. Eric told me that he had often been on his knees in the early hours of the morning with his miner's lamp supplying a beam of light as he scraped the loft floor before he went on shift. The wind out side was fresh with squalls of rain hitting the loft walls like a blast from a twelve bore and I was pleased to stay in the loft and listen to Eric and view his birds which were in impeccable condition. While in the loft we encountered a very heavy rain storm but I noticed the loft stayed dry with the front of the loft open from half way to the eaves giving a good fresh flow of air but not a draught. Eric had panels of translucent sheets screwed on battening, that was hinged at the top and covered the front of the loft allowing the fresh air to enter into the loft below, while keeping out the weather which we had just encountered. These simple device's could be lifted up on a summers day allowing the loft to be filled with fresh air and warmth from the sun's ray's as they danced on the loft floor.
Every pigeon in the loft looked ready to go into the basket and they were one of the finest teams of pigeons I have been fortunate enough to see. It was no surprise, when listening to Eric, to learn of the top class performances that the loft had put up at N.F.C. Level. Averaging four entries per race from Pau 683 miles and winning the section four times from that race point as well as three times first section from Nantes. The loft has also won from Bergerac 586 miles, Bordeaux 581 miles, Saintes 518 miles as well as Angouleme 518 miles. No young bird racing took place but the old bird performances had won Eric, and his son David, four R.P.R.A. centre awards, while in recognition of their breeding many fanciers countrywide have had success with their family of birds. We returned to the house and though the rain had left off the wind was still fresh, but at least the sun put in another appearance. Over a cuppa Eric told me of his friendship with James Moss of Congleton, who was ranked as having one of the greatest Old English strains, and I enjoyed listening to Eric before setting out for home. The home ward journey was very pleasant indeed and I am pleased I had the privilege of meeting one of the true gentleman within our fraternity. This visit will always have a special place in my memory bank, my visit to Rocklea.

Bernie Bennett