One Christmas we were looked after by Kitty - a distant relative,
a girl of about 18/19. She did her best to be fair and to control
us, and didn't show favours to the boys, but had a soft spot for
Barbara. This Christmas we put our big stockings at the end of our bed
on Christmas Eve, as usual. I slept soundly till Christmas day
dawned. I went straight to my stocking and put my hand inside - only to
feel a hard irregular piece of coal. My hand was black and I turned out
the contents on the blanket. This also was blackened as the
stocking was filled with coal lumps. Later we did get some
presents such as tin-whistle, mouth organ, trinkets and fruit and nuts.
I was experimenting with an oil-filled bicycle lamp. On this
occasion I set up a rough magic lantern display, and I intended to
produce a shadow on the wall. To do this I had to tip the lamp so
as to point it high up on the wall. I had lit the lamp and set it
on a book on the bed so as to shine on the wall. I left the room
for a time - then someone gave out a loud scream. There was a
smell of burning and smoke was filling the bedroom. I rushed in
but couldn't get very far. Mother, with great presence of mind,
rushed in and ripped a blanket off the bed and covered the flames with
the blanket and so put it out. I cant recall her scolding me
then, but I felt abashed.
One day the older ones were playing, Some of us were in the
garden. Gordon ran along the veranda and put his hand to grab the
veranda door but slipped. His knee struck and broke the glass
panel and he had a gash in front of the knee. Mother quickly cleaned it
and bandaged it. I don’t remember if a neighbour was called; we
had no transport. She probably had to send Philip on a bicycle
for a taxi. He was taken to the doctor's surgery at Saffron
Walden, where the doctor stitched it.
From the kitchen there was a short passage, then after turning the
corner, we had to go up 3 steps into the dining room. For high
tea I helped to lay the table. When it was time, mother called us
to wash and go and sit down. I asked mother if I could help, so
she gave me a large plate, with scrambled eggs on toast, to take into
the dining room. As I went to go up the steps, I slipped, and
dropped the dish on the floor. Mother really scolded me this
time. She picked what was left of the eggs and toast and we had
to eat it!
The Vicarage had a large garden. When you came to the front gate
there was a drive about 50 yards long, with a shrubbery on the left and
a few bushes the other side. At the side entrance there was a
circular area so that cars and grocers' vans could turn.
One of our bikes was left lying in this space. The grocer's van
from Haverhill used to come regularly. This time the driver came
in a hurry and his front wheel ran over the wheel of the bicycle and
bent it. It wasn't mine because I didn't get upset. Gordon
took it to the bicycle shop in Shudy Camps for repair.
In order to get to the village we had to go - usually by bicycle about
½ mile - down a little hill and at the corner, turn left to the short
lines of cottages. One of these, a thatch-roofed cottage, with
rather small and dark rooms, was converted into a Post Office and
shop. Auntie Pem owned the shop for a short time. The
children would go to visit her, when we had a little pocket money 'to
spend’.
Opposite the Vicarage front gate, there was the Entrance to Tillbrook's
farm. In the summer holidays it was such fun to see the farm workers
harvesting the corn and oats from the fields. The horse drawn
harvester - which in those days consisted of lengths of iron, welded to
radial struts which were pivoted to the axle and 2 iron wheels -with
cutting edges to the metal that rotated and cut the corn. Afterwards
the stalks and grain were raked together into stacks. These were
collected and, during the weeks in late August, the stubble was removed
by the threshing machine and the straw was piled into haystacks; this
was done with 2-barb rakes. When the field was being harvested the
machine circled round the field and cut the corn from the periphery
towards the centre. When this had proceeded for some time there
was only a small circle left in the centre. As the cutter circled
round, rats would dash out from the uncut corn, and, to an
accompaniment of barking from dogs and shouts from us, the prey had
little chance of escape.
On one occasion I recall an ugly argument with one of the boys of that
farm and he threatened me with fists, but I managed to run away in time!
The Vicarage was situated at the far end of the village and we were
sitting targets for the tramps, and occasional hawker. One tramp came
and told his story to Mother. She agreed to give him a task to
do. This was a simple job - such as to put a screw in a carpet
sweeper. When it was done, Mother gave him ½ a crown. He
was angry, saying it was worth more that that, and threw it back at
her. Mother was very upset. She went and found another coin -
there was nothing to spare, I am sure. We children did not know
that she was often at her wits' end to get the cash to feed and clothe
all 7 children. David, the youngest, was born at the Vicarage, in
1926.
During our 5 years at Shudy Camps I don’t recall Daddy joining us more
than 2-3 short holidays. About 1926 Father bought an old car -a
2-seater with a drop-hood and a "dicky". The bonnet sloped down to the
front and 2 oil lamps were the only lights. Daddy brought the car
named Ruth - from somewhere near London. He taught Mummy and
Gordon to drive. After some time "Ruth's" decor was stripped and
the older children took it round the front field. Ruth vandalised, Phil, Betty, Basil,
Gordon, David, Barbara, Hugh, gloomy Doris.
Daddy never owned another car; although in the late 1930's the boys
were lent a Morris Oxford, by Dr. Maisie McGill, when we lived in
Wokingham. Gordon and I learnt to drive. Daddy was asked
whether he would buy a car. He answered "I had to choose between
getting a car or a telephone - and I decided on a phone."
One holiday I had a "tummy infection" and was put to bed, on a
semi-starvation diet. Mother came in to rouse me. She was
always cheerful. She would go to the window, draw back the
curtains and open the windows, singing "Let the blessed sunshine
in". By her triumphant faith and cheerful bearing she was a
wonderful Mother and influenced all of us children for the rest of our
lives. One of her favoured expressions was, "0 be a brick, Basil
(or Doris) and fill up the lamps", or whatever.
She loved her "bairns" (Father's expression) and we knew it. She was
not demonstrative; her great gift was that she shared it with all
alike, so that each of us felt it, and not one of us became jealous of
another member of the family.
One summer John Gray came to stay for a few weeks. He was the
only son of one of Father's fellow students - Rev Dick Gray, at the CMS
Training College, Islington. Regrettably, our family was closely
knit and of such close age-group that John was left out of the outdoor
games and cycle rides. When we set up a swing from a branch of
the walnut tree, it was good fun. One day the rope broke.
John was the poor fellow who landed in the nettles! He
nicknamed us "The CAN’T FAG family"
It was a big day during the summer when Mother arranged a visit to the
sea-side - at Clacton. We were a mixed-age party who went by coach; and
were excited. We had our spades and buckets, cricket bat and
ball. One of the events was when we boarded a steamer, powered by a
coal-fired engine. I felt sick as we made a big circuit to return to
the shore. I was never sea-sick on the large ocean ships
to/from East Africa. It was a happy day for all of us. It was
possibly the only occasion we went on a trip to the sea-side.
In contrast, the winter of 1929 was severe. We were cut off from the
village by deep snow and it was some days before the Grocer's van was
able to reach the approach road, past the Hall. It was a relief to the
whole family when we could replenish the simple stock of food,
especially bread.
Another year. Mummy went to join Daddy for Christmas, and Kitty was
deputed to look after us for most of the 4 weeks' holiday. Hugh
and I were put up by the Vicar of Horseheath and his wife, who were
kind. On Christmas night there was a severe frost; so when I
cycled over the 2 miles to the Vicarage, carrying Hugh on the back
pillion, we had to walk up the last hill. I don’t know how we kept on
the bicycle. We were late on reaching the Vicarage, much to Kitty's
consternation.
The Vicarage had only an open fire in the sitting-room and if we felt
cold, we could go and warm ourselves by the big kitchen range. On some
winter days we had baths in an oval galvanised iron bath in the
kitchen. I don’t know if this was because we were short of water. We
were not on the mains but pumped it from a well. We boys took it in
turns to pump the water to the attic tank.
Sometimes we three cycled to Tilbrook's farm to get milk, and hooked
the milk cans on the handle-bars of the bicycles; on coming to the back
door we would cycle into the scullery, much to Mummy's amusement.
On one or two Christmas holidays there would be a concert and our
family would perform in them. I recall Betty and Gordon sung
community songs. One was: 0 No John.
"My father was a Spanish Captain
Went to sea a month ago.
First he kissed me, then he left me,
Bid me always answer No.
0 No John! No,John! No John! No!"
Also Londonderry air. There wasn't a village school, so we didn't do a
Nativity Play.
Canon Thornton was the Vicar, as well as Squire and lived at the
Hall. He was quietly spoken. His housekeeper, Miss Rodwell,
was a friendly person. One occasion my brothers and I went with one of
the Hall workmen with whippets, to catch rabbits. The whippet
would descend the rabbit warren. The men dug out further down the
hole and when the rabbit tried to escape it was caught by the dogs. On
one summer holidays, the Canon allowed us to swim in his lake. We
splashed about in the shallow end, but it was very muddy. On Sundays we
dutifully attended Church and occupied the length of the Vicarage pew.
There was no Sunday School. Mummy used to have family prayers daily
with CSSM choruses and read from the Bible. The one response to
anything of a religious nature was in our last year. Philip and I
arranged short acts of devotion in the front lounge. There were 2
prayer-desks, placed opposite each other, at which we knelt. We
read part of the Prayer Book service, but I don’t remember that we had
an audience. We didn't keep it up for long.
Our family, like most missionary children, had the accepted code of
conduct and behaviour which we inherited from the parents, and was part
of the post-Victorian training. The big asset in that culture was
the security. We learnt to give and take in a family unit.
Mummy was given a well-bred rabbit, and I helped with its care and
feeding. One day when I went to clean the cage, there were lots
of baby bunnies! They were common greys. Mother never
explained to me how they could have been conceived. I think a
wild male had got into the cage - and this was the result!
In the lovely summer weather, the four boys spent a lot of time out in
the garden. We caught butterflies; went searching for birds' eggs
and went for walks. There were a variety of birds - of which I
remember the yellowhammers frequenting the hawthorn hedges. The
hedge leaves were tasty - "a little bit of bread and no cheese".
On Sunday afternoons the younger ones went for walks.
Occasionally I would exhaust the games that we had for Christmas. In
order to counter this sense of boredom Mummy told a little rhyme. She
would imitate the puffing of the steam trains going up the hill, -"I
THINK I CAN, I THINK I CAN, I THINK I CAN", when it reached the top,
then it would free-wheel, "I THOUGHT I COULD, I THOUGHT I COULD, I
THOUGHT I COULD".
(Ed:) School - all went to St Michael's, Limpsfield, Surrey, but the
boys left and went to Weymouth College when they were old enough
(around 13).
1. St Michael's. 2. Daddy at Service on cricket pitch, St
Michael's. 3. 1928 Basil's class (he is seated far right).
4. 1928 Phil's class (he is seated far right). 5. Phil in the 1st
XI (he is in the middle of the back). 6. Gordon in Weymouth
uniform. 7. Gordon in O.T.C uniform (Officer Training Corps).
8. Mummy & Daddy (readily discernible) watching Weymouth 1st XV.
1. 2. 3. 4.
5. 6. 7. 8.
What a joy it was, when we came home at the end of the St Michael's
term. We were met at Bartlow station by the garage owner in his
T-model Ford. We 5 piled in (Gordon and Betty had left St
Michael's). We got more excited as we got near the Vicarage
drive. When the car drove slowly up the drive, we all sang a song to
tell Mummy of our arrival.
We boys spent a lot of time climbing the lower branches of a tall
Wellingtonia tree, nicknamed ‘Jumbo’. We became agile at climbing
the rough branches, but didn't risk going to the top. It was good
fun cycling through the shrubbery and along the drive, and the
days passed quickly.