Leaving
Shudy was very upsetting although we realised why we had to move, to be
near the ageing grandparents. A semi-detached house with decidedly
small rooms and a nondescript garden was a great comedown after the
spacious vicarage and gorgeous country garden of Shudy.
Fitting into the house was like having to use a shoe horn. In one of
the front rooms was Daddy's desk, a very large roll-top affair, and
Mummy's smaller desk. This was their sanctum and we hardly ever went
in. Our sitting room opposite had a largish table in the middle and a
couple of old easy chairs on either side of the fireplace. In the
window was a padded window seat made by Phil at Weymouth College. On
winter evenings we would sit round the table playing games such as
racing demon - a game where each had a pack of cards to play a
straightforward patience game with the addition of everyone's being
able to build on each others aces in the middle. Then there was rummy,
pelmanism, happy families, snap, among others. The dining room at the
back was practically filled by the table and a large sideboard. To get
to the chairs near the window the boys had to climb along the
intermediate chairs to get to them. The only other rooms downstairs
were the kitchen and pantry.
My main bugbear job there was to empty all the chamber pots under the
beds and keep the bathroom clean. That was a major task because the
boys had cold baths every morning and the floor was always flooded with
what seemed like half an inch of water which had to be mopped up. Of
course I helped as usual with the washing up and cooking and clothes
washing ironing. I think there must have been some boiler to heat the
water because I cant remember the chore of boiling kettles for the
washing up, as in Shudy days, and ending up having to wash the greasy
pots with half cold, grey, soda-filled water. There was also electric
light at Bourton, the first time we had had it in any of our houses.
For cooking we still had the paraffin stove and a primus stove. This
was placed on the table near the window and one time a curtain caught
on fire. It was soon put out. I cant remember what the boys chores
were. There was no milk to fetch because the milkman came to the back
door with his enormous straight-sided pail and ladled it out into our
gallon jug with his mouth-watering, brimming-over pint measure.
The three boys, Phil, Basil and Hugh used to spend a lot of time in
their bedroom, Phil fiddling about with his wireless sets and Basil
doing something with clocks. I think they spent a certain amount of
time during summer holidays watching the road, although that was some
distance away, for girls and young ladies walking past!
There was little room in the house for relations or friends to stay. On
one occasion though. Daddy had invited an African clergyman to stay,
who, at night, carefully left his shoes outside his bedroom door to be
cleaned. Little did he suspect the this was done by his very reverend
Lord Bishop!
The rough work in the house was done by a rather slovenly country girl
from down the lane called Gladys Screen. She was always sniffing
and this was picked up by our poll parrot, much to our amusement. The
parrot had been brought back by Daddy from Sierra Leone soon after we
moved to Shudy. It was a male parrot and adored Daddy. Whenever he
arrived home from Africa Poll would get all sentimental and bring up
his food for him. He never spoke; if he screamed we would shut him up
by throwing a cloth over his cage. He was never allowed out of his cage
- it wasn't done in those days. The house was never without its pussies
- one, two and sometimes three. (Ed: see pictures on previous page.) Pippy used to make us laugh when he
sneaked off to see his bitch friends. Hidden in the shed we watched him
tiptoeing close to the wall under the kitchen window so that Mummy
wouldn't see him, then, once round the corner, he would race away for
dear life. He sadly died of an adder bite one Good Friday. Good Fridays
were already sad enough without that. They were always national
holidays and at eleven o'clock we would troop off to church to a
no-music service: no hymns, sad psalms which were said, etc.
Because Daddy was a bishop we were taken a certain amount of notice of
by the well-to-do retired Generals and so on who lived on the edge of
the village. A kind single lady used to take me for outings in her
little red open sports car. Once it was to an auction at Mere, the
first auction I had ever been to and I found it fascinating. Once Mummy
and I were invited to luncheon by a General Berner's wife. We had to go
wearing hats and keep them on all the time we were there - a habit in
those days. One of my friends at Kennaway Hall, where I hostelled as a
student at King's College, London, lived at Blandford and she would
drive over sometimes to take me to stay at her home. What a contrast a
grand manor house was to our humble abode. Two footmen (local, from
Blandford) and many other servants. Such a luxury to lie in bed until
the chamber maid brought the hot water in a little bronze can to wash
in at the wash handstand and my first introduction to delicious Roger
& Gallet soap, carnation scented. Every evening dinner was a seven
course meal. Only Mr Williams (one of the owners of William &
Deacons Bank), Agnes's father could tackle all seven courses. Breakfast
was of the kind one only sees on television these days: one came down
and lifted the lids off the warming silver dishes to see which of the
smoked haddock, kidneys, bacon and variously cooked eggs one preferred.
I still remember the shock of returning from that peaceful, gracious
life to the hurly burly of our noisy household.
Phil at work
When Phil left Weymouth College he stayed at home for a year doing a
correspondence course to try and get into the Indian Police. He
occupied his leisure time in building his little wooden canvas-covered
boat, 'waters wet' and practising pole jumping, over hedges if they
were low enough.
We older ones (Gordon and Betty having left home) had a few friends of
our own age. There were the Brittons, Rosemary and John. Rosemary was
in the same form as me in St Michael's and we were always good friends
(even after school). John was at Weymouth, being led astray by my
brothers (with regard to smoking), only on the trains! We used to go on
cycle rides with them. Their Auntie Win coached Rosemary and me in
French one holiday before our School Certificate exams. I am sure that
was why I got a credit. Then there were other Weymouth boys called
Foulkes who also went to Weymouth and were doctor's sons in Gillingham.
We used to have parties at their house in the winter. Another house
where we had parties was the doctor's at Mere. He was our doctor and I
remember my poor mother finding the bills very difficult to pay after
Hugh had had mastoids very badly at Weymouth and on coming home for the
holidays had to be attended to and have his ear dressed by Dr Whitby
every day.
Barbara being mad on horses, discovered a riding stables nearby and
spent almost all and every day there. How the boys used to tease her
when she arrived back home for the evening meal smelling to high heaven
of horses. I came in for my share of teasing too. The boys called me
'fatty' which I hated, but I really did get horribly fat at St
Michael's because the food there was so starchy. (I remember once lying
awake one night longing for a whole tin of corned beef to eat!)
In 1934 I left St. Michael's and went to King's College, London. That
meant living away from home and C.M.S. very generously rallied round
and let me live as a hosteller at their Women’s Training College in
Stoke Newington, North London. I enjoyed my two years there. Kennaway
Hall, as it was called, was opposite Clissold Park where we could play
netball and hockey. Some of us made frequent visits to Sadlers Wells
Opera House which was on the tram route into town and where I was
introduced to many delicious operas such as Mozart's Magic Flute,
Puccini's Madam Butterfly and so on. The tram fare was only Id and a
seat in the 'gods' 6d. We would come back late and hungry and tuck into
white bread, butter and marmalade in the hall kitchen.
1925 Kennaway Hall, CMS Ladies Training College. Housekeeper & Miss Allshorn, Principal
The Principal, Miss Allshorn, was a lovely lady and a famous personage
in C.M.S. circles. The housekeeper, Miss Bottomley, was very kind to me
too and my last summer there invited me to accompany her and her niece
on a tour of Scotland in her little Austin 7. In spite of being
extremely cramped in the back seat sitting next to the pile of
suitcases I found it a fascinating journey, taking three days and two
nights (staying with friends of Miss Bottomley’s) up the Great North
Road to the Highlands. Our first week's stay was in a homely hotel
where I first learnt to eat delicious Scot's porridge with salt instead
of sugar and the breakfast scones were straight out of the oven. One or
two evenings there was dancing. Three kilted young Scotsmen arrived,
one to play the bagpipes and the others to throw us excitedly around
the room in their style of dancing. Our last visit was to Edinburgh.
Such a beautiful city. It was so hot in the top bedroom of the hotel
where the niece and I slept (I can’t even remember her name. She made
extraordinary little impression on me) and had to share a double bed
that I couldn't bear it on the bed and finished up sleeping the rest of
the night on the floor.