We
all loved the large house and garden of the Vicarage at Boulton after
our cramped conditions at Herne Bay. The garden I remember better
than the house: its front was surrounded by a high brick wall where we
had a swing suspended between apple trees. One bore the most delicious
apples I have ever tasted. The only snag was, we had to avoid eating
the grubs which occupied each one. In front of the house was a
round lawn surrounded by the drive and in the middle of the lawn a
large monkey puzzle tree. Further away from the house and just inside
the front brick wall was a grassy patch where stood a weeping willow
tree with branches that reached right to the ground. Underneath and
inside this dark, spooky, damp space we often used to play but I wasn't
happy with the many slugs which lived there.
Boulton vicarage garden Phil Gordon
Betty AMW w Barbara Doris Basil Theo Hugh
The back, mostly vegetable, garden was fun. The old stables had been
turned into a cosy cottage for the church verger to live in with his
wife. He was also our gardener and she helped in the house. Beyond
their cottage was a hen house and a very muddy duck yard where our two
ducks laid their eggs. (No knowledge in those days of salmonella and
the necessity of boiling duck eggs for ten minutes.) Great excitement
when a hawk was seen hovering overhead and mother duck had to hide her
ducklings under her wings. One summer the damson tree was so laden with
fruit that one of its branches broke under the weight. We had a dog
called Bruno and a mother cat. When she had kittens I thought Bruno was
the father!
Gordon and Philip cycled to the Grammar School in the town every day;
Betty and I went to the Alvaston Infant School three quarters of a mile
away. We had to cross the main Derby/London road where the trams
terminated but I don’t remember any warnings about crossing it on our
own. There couldn't have been much traffic. Our sums were done on
slates. I never remember having paper or pencil to write with.
One summer's day we were taken on a school outing to Elvaston Castle,
all of us little ones standing crowded together in an old farm cart
with the grown-ups walking by the side, my father among them. I enjoyed
being at that school and was very miserable at saying goodbye to my
friends when we had to leave.
Because Sunday was a so-called day of rest our roast joint dinner was
on Saturday. Chickens were an expensive treat which we only had on high
days and holidays so it was nearly always a large round of Argentinean
top-side of beef - the cheapest but delicious nevertheless. How
mouth-watering the gravy was and how delicious the dripping on our
bread for tea. Usually the spread was margarine, rather a nasty
concoction in those days; sometimes, when money was low, lard.
Marmalade and jam were always eaten on dry bread. I remember one red
letter occasion, towards the end of our days at Boulton (it may have
been after Daddy was made bishop) when we were allowed not only butter
but marmalade too on our bread. I made up my mind then and there always
to have butter and marmalade together on bread when I got older! Those
days were quite a long way off.
Mummy told me later that on one occasion at Boulton they hadn't a penny
left in the house so she and Daddy prayed about it and in the very next
day's post was a cheque for £80 - a fortune in those days.
I only remember one family outing and that was by train to Matlock. How
steep was that hill behind the town: that's all I can remember!