
A Box Childhood
Les Dancey
January 2015
Reminiscences from a resident of The Market Place in the 1940s and 1950s.
Some of Les' childhood friends have added their memories of this time.
Can you add more?
Photos courtesy Les Dancey and his nephew Chris Dancey
Les Dancey
January 2015
Reminiscences from a resident of The Market Place in the 1940s and 1950s.
Some of Les' childhood friends have added their memories of this time.
Can you add more?
Photos courtesy Les Dancey and his nephew Chris Dancey
I lived in Box for all of my childhood up to the age of 21 in 1960 when I was called up to do National Service. It has given me so many happy memories of childhood play, my parents and people in the village. It has helped to shape me into the person I am today. These are some of those memories which I hope that others will also enjoy. It is an era now long gone.
Growing Up in Box
As a small child, before school age, I remember that Marcia Cleverly, one of the daughters a few doors away in the Market Place, had a big rusty nail right through her foot. Today it would be a really nasty thing but in those days before antibiotics it was life threatening. Just about the only thing we were treated with was iodine. There were lots of similar incidents. George Rose broke his arm whilst tobogganing. They used my jacket as a sling and I don't ever remember getting it back. Another time a number of us were playing on top of the hay in a full hay barn when Herbie Hancock went too close to the edge which gave way and he fell about twenty feet into thick stinging nettles. I don't think that he was hurt by the fall but had really bad stings over a large area of his body, having just a pair of shorts on. We didn't have electricity in my early days and just had gas lights and took candles to bed just like Wee Willie Winkle and it was quite something when we had the electricity installed. You had one light and one plug installed for free and anything else, you had to pay for. We didn't have a lot of money so we only had the bare minimum at first. Some wouldn't have it at all because they were frightened of it. Left: Les, Chris and Jim in about 1954. The tin shed was a chicken run and the large corrugated shed was a workshop for Murray and Baldwins carpentry factory, where the car park is now |
Everyone could tell when the German planes were going over because their engines used to throb whereas the engines in the allied planes were a constant drone. We always said that we ducked when the Germans came over and that they ducked when we flew over but, when the Americans flew over, everybody ducked. We used to stand on the corner by the Post Office when the convoys were going through as the Yanks used to throw candies out of the trucks for us kids.
Again, we couldn't just go along and buy sweets as you had to take your ration book. My Mum used to swap them for other, more nutritious things. We kept chickens in the back garden. We also had metal railings and a gate in front of all the houses, numbered 1 to 7 Market Place, where I lived, but they came along and took them for the war effort. I expect that you may well still see evidence that they were there.
We used to have a quarter of a pint of milk delivered in crates to the school for each pupil to drink one. Originally they had cardboard tops but later the tops were foil. As boys, we found that if you pierced the lid with a pin and blew into the bottle you could build up a pressure which would then squirt the milk over everyone. The pupils loved to be Milk Monitors who were detailed to collect the bottles from the playground.
Again, we couldn't just go along and buy sweets as you had to take your ration book. My Mum used to swap them for other, more nutritious things. We kept chickens in the back garden. We also had metal railings and a gate in front of all the houses, numbered 1 to 7 Market Place, where I lived, but they came along and took them for the war effort. I expect that you may well still see evidence that they were there.
We used to have a quarter of a pint of milk delivered in crates to the school for each pupil to drink one. Originally they had cardboard tops but later the tops were foil. As boys, we found that if you pierced the lid with a pin and blew into the bottle you could build up a pressure which would then squirt the milk over everyone. The pupils loved to be Milk Monitors who were detailed to collect the bottles from the playground.
Memories of Childhood Play
I think it must have been the winter of 1947 when we had loads of snow that lasted for ages. We were tobogganing down Quarry Hill and suddenly a cry went up as a lorry had appeared at the top of the hill, which was a sheet of ice. Can you imagine the terror felt by that driver? Well anyway, he managed to get it to the bottom of the hill until he reached Price's Rubber Factory and then it slewed across the road and wedged between the factory wall and a lamp post. The driver was unharmed. What a lucky guy because, if he had carried on he would have gone straight into the house on the corner that turns off to the Ley. This was before the council houses were built on what used to be The Tunnel Field (Fete Field) where we used to have visiting fairs and circuses. |
Above: Les's father, Jim and left mother, Kate
As boys we also used to go into the primitive sewage works on the west side of the field as there were channels for the effluent to dissipate into the soil with the water, in addition to some of the waste flowing into the Brook. We would have races with sticks down these channels and we also swam in the Brook below that point. It's a wonder that we ever survived. Where the football field is now there used to be just another field below the Rec, separated by a hedge and, although used as a football field it sloped badly. One year large earth-moving machines came in to level the field. Ozzy Butt managed the football team and he had a Wire-Haired Terrier which used to dribble the ball around the field to entertain everyone during half time. The dog was better than some of the players. |
On the main road, we used the wide pavement area outside Box House for our roller skating. Further down, where the garage is now, was a dump for huge tyres. I guess they are still there in landfill. We were known to take some and trundle them up through the village for our Guy Fawkes bonfire, which was up on the lower side of the Woods, above Barn Piece.
Trips Out
Kennny Rickson lived across the road from the school in the houses that are at a right-angle to the road.[1] His path went down past the Box Fire Station, which was pulled down. (I see there's a little bungalow there now). One day we were playing in a pile of sand, which was there for some time after the fire station was pulled down, with our dinky toys, when the Sunday school Teacher came along on his motor-bike and said that he was taking me to Cheddar as a prize for an essay I did at Sunday School.
He took me home and waited whilst I washed and changed, then off we went. I remember that I had to crouch behind him as it was difficult to breathe if my face was in his slip-screen. It was the first time that I had been on a motor bike and found it very exciting. We were going through Bath, at the traffic lights of Walcot Street and Broad Street, when a dog ran out into the road barking and attacking us.[2] The motor bike had a horizontal twin engine and the dog got bowled over with that and then ran off. It nearly brought us off the bike. The rest of the journey was uneventful and we carried on to Cheddar where we met up with the teacher's parents, toured the caves and ended up with a cream tea before biking it back home.
A lovely day out was to go into Bath, and just below Clevedon Bridge behind the fire station, they hired out skiffs that we could row up the river to the weir at Batheaston, it was a nice place for a picnic. You can still hire skiffs there today from the Bath Boat Station [3].
There was also an open air swimming pool at Batheaston that we went to a few times, but our main swimming baths that we used were the hot spring baths in Bath itself. There were two. The Beau Street baths and The Royal Baths. The latter was also used by the Hospital that was next door for treatment of gout and the like. There was a separate channel in which the patients were wheeled into the water. I believe the baths have now been pulled down and the area has become a shopping precinct.
With the advent of Rock and Roll we used to go to shows at the Colston Hall in Bristol to see the top groups of the day 'in the flesh' such as Bill Haley and the Comets, Little Richard, The Everly Brothers, The Platters and Frankie Vaughan. I remember on one occasion Graham 'Archie' Moules came up with this bottle of drink which he said was something new. We all tried it and the informed opinion was that it was turps eaughhhhh! Then he would come out with one of his long monologues.
Another thing us boys enjoyed as teenagers were the fairs that used to be opposite the Pavilion in Bath, where they had a Rotor.
I haven't seen one of late, so they have probably been banned by health and safety. It was a large cylinder, probably fifteen feet in diameter and twenty foot deep.[4] When inside, it spun around and when the centrifugal force held you to the side, the floor sank away from under you, leaving you held to the wall. In those days the girls didn't wear jeans and the like, so they pretended to be embarrassed when their knickers were on show as they slid back down the wall as the Rotor slowed. There was also a viewing platform so that you could watch the riders.
Trips Out
Kennny Rickson lived across the road from the school in the houses that are at a right-angle to the road.[1] His path went down past the Box Fire Station, which was pulled down. (I see there's a little bungalow there now). One day we were playing in a pile of sand, which was there for some time after the fire station was pulled down, with our dinky toys, when the Sunday school Teacher came along on his motor-bike and said that he was taking me to Cheddar as a prize for an essay I did at Sunday School.
He took me home and waited whilst I washed and changed, then off we went. I remember that I had to crouch behind him as it was difficult to breathe if my face was in his slip-screen. It was the first time that I had been on a motor bike and found it very exciting. We were going through Bath, at the traffic lights of Walcot Street and Broad Street, when a dog ran out into the road barking and attacking us.[2] The motor bike had a horizontal twin engine and the dog got bowled over with that and then ran off. It nearly brought us off the bike. The rest of the journey was uneventful and we carried on to Cheddar where we met up with the teacher's parents, toured the caves and ended up with a cream tea before biking it back home.
A lovely day out was to go into Bath, and just below Clevedon Bridge behind the fire station, they hired out skiffs that we could row up the river to the weir at Batheaston, it was a nice place for a picnic. You can still hire skiffs there today from the Bath Boat Station [3].
There was also an open air swimming pool at Batheaston that we went to a few times, but our main swimming baths that we used were the hot spring baths in Bath itself. There were two. The Beau Street baths and The Royal Baths. The latter was also used by the Hospital that was next door for treatment of gout and the like. There was a separate channel in which the patients were wheeled into the water. I believe the baths have now been pulled down and the area has become a shopping precinct.
With the advent of Rock and Roll we used to go to shows at the Colston Hall in Bristol to see the top groups of the day 'in the flesh' such as Bill Haley and the Comets, Little Richard, The Everly Brothers, The Platters and Frankie Vaughan. I remember on one occasion Graham 'Archie' Moules came up with this bottle of drink which he said was something new. We all tried it and the informed opinion was that it was turps eaughhhhh! Then he would come out with one of his long monologues.
Another thing us boys enjoyed as teenagers were the fairs that used to be opposite the Pavilion in Bath, where they had a Rotor.
I haven't seen one of late, so they have probably been banned by health and safety. It was a large cylinder, probably fifteen feet in diameter and twenty foot deep.[4] When inside, it spun around and when the centrifugal force held you to the side, the floor sank away from under you, leaving you held to the wall. In those days the girls didn't wear jeans and the like, so they pretended to be embarrassed when their knickers were on show as they slid back down the wall as the Rotor slowed. There was also a viewing platform so that you could watch the riders.
Making Do
As kids growing up in wartime we couldn't pop down the toy shop so we had to make our own. We would make tractors with cotton reels, rubber bands, candles and matchsticks. The cotton reels would be the body and have grooves cut all the way round both sides to provide grip on the surface. A slice of candle would have a hot needle or nail poked through where the wick was. Half a matchstick was used to lock the rubber band when passed through the cotton reel, candle and over the end of a whole matchstick making a groove for it to grip the candle and this would propel the tractor when the rubber band had been wound up.
Another thing we used to make is a pistol which was just two pieces of wood, one for the handle and one for the barrel. The latter would have a nail knocked partially in to act as a trigger. The two pieces of wood would be just held together with a stout rubber band or tyre section and a smaller rubber band would be stretched from the front of the barrel and pinched between the two pieces of wood so that when the trigger was pulled it released the small rubber band as a missile.Of course we made pea-shooters, catapults, along with bows and arrows also spears which we launched in sling fashion.
I was showing my son how we used to do this one day in the Rec whilst visiting my Mother and a little boy came along and asked how my son could throw the spear so far. I looked about me secretively and said, You've heard of Batman and Robin? Yes, he said, so I told him that he was not to tell anybody, but my son was Robin ! The sweet little lad, who lived in the houses facing the Rec, went flying off back home excitedly shouting out Mummy, Mummy ! I still have a pang of conscience to this day, I guess he would be in his forties now.
For this spear you get a length of nut stick, put in flights at the narrow end and cut a groove around the bark about a quarter of the way down. With a piece of string, tie a knot in one end pass it round the groove and over the knot, keeping it taut and the other end of the string wrapped around your hand. With this method you can at least double the length of a normal throw. Another thing we used to make was bombs, which was two bolts screwed into each side of a nut with the red match top in between. When thrown it used to go off like a firework.
As kids growing up in wartime we couldn't pop down the toy shop so we had to make our own. We would make tractors with cotton reels, rubber bands, candles and matchsticks. The cotton reels would be the body and have grooves cut all the way round both sides to provide grip on the surface. A slice of candle would have a hot needle or nail poked through where the wick was. Half a matchstick was used to lock the rubber band when passed through the cotton reel, candle and over the end of a whole matchstick making a groove for it to grip the candle and this would propel the tractor when the rubber band had been wound up.
Another thing we used to make is a pistol which was just two pieces of wood, one for the handle and one for the barrel. The latter would have a nail knocked partially in to act as a trigger. The two pieces of wood would be just held together with a stout rubber band or tyre section and a smaller rubber band would be stretched from the front of the barrel and pinched between the two pieces of wood so that when the trigger was pulled it released the small rubber band as a missile.Of course we made pea-shooters, catapults, along with bows and arrows also spears which we launched in sling fashion.
I was showing my son how we used to do this one day in the Rec whilst visiting my Mother and a little boy came along and asked how my son could throw the spear so far. I looked about me secretively and said, You've heard of Batman and Robin? Yes, he said, so I told him that he was not to tell anybody, but my son was Robin ! The sweet little lad, who lived in the houses facing the Rec, went flying off back home excitedly shouting out Mummy, Mummy ! I still have a pang of conscience to this day, I guess he would be in his forties now.
For this spear you get a length of nut stick, put in flights at the narrow end and cut a groove around the bark about a quarter of the way down. With a piece of string, tie a knot in one end pass it round the groove and over the knot, keeping it taut and the other end of the string wrapped around your hand. With this method you can at least double the length of a normal throw. Another thing we used to make was bombs, which was two bolts screwed into each side of a nut with the red match top in between. When thrown it used to go off like a firework.
Playing Games
We spent most of our time in the woods playing Whip-tin and racing around on our bikes. We also used to play Cowboys and Indians with our air rifles and also get threepence (in old money), for a grey squirrel tail that we took into the post office. In those days there were red and grey squirrels in the area. We didn't earn a lot as they were too quick. Before this we used to make bows and arrows, also spears (that we used to propel great distances with a sling), out of nut sticks that we cut from the hedgerow.
Bulldog was where all but one would line up and try to stop the solo person breaking through. Dodge-ball was where one guy stood in front of a wall whilst the others tried to hit him with a tennis ball. My favourite was Whip-tin: one guy stood guard in a ten foot circle with a stick and tin, the others hid and had to creep up and kick the tin out of the circle before the guard saw him and could call out his name and hit the tin three times with the stick. Anyone caught had to take over the guard duties. This game was great in the woods and quarries. It stood me in good stead when I was in the army on exercises.
I remember that the older lads built a number of sideshows just off the path at The Ley where they threw darts at pinned up playing cards, and played hoopla and the like. It was great fun. We made paper aeroplanes and once, when we were throwing them in the Market Place a big car stopped and we were offered money for one of them. Can't remember how much it was. Now I am showing the grandchildren how to make them. I came up a few years ago and did the Box Fun Run that Mike Turner and Graham Hall organised but got too nostalgic and chatty so that I walked half of it.
We spent most of our time in the woods playing Whip-tin and racing around on our bikes. We also used to play Cowboys and Indians with our air rifles and also get threepence (in old money), for a grey squirrel tail that we took into the post office. In those days there were red and grey squirrels in the area. We didn't earn a lot as they were too quick. Before this we used to make bows and arrows, also spears (that we used to propel great distances with a sling), out of nut sticks that we cut from the hedgerow.
Bulldog was where all but one would line up and try to stop the solo person breaking through. Dodge-ball was where one guy stood in front of a wall whilst the others tried to hit him with a tennis ball. My favourite was Whip-tin: one guy stood guard in a ten foot circle with a stick and tin, the others hid and had to creep up and kick the tin out of the circle before the guard saw him and could call out his name and hit the tin three times with the stick. Anyone caught had to take over the guard duties. This game was great in the woods and quarries. It stood me in good stead when I was in the army on exercises.
I remember that the older lads built a number of sideshows just off the path at The Ley where they threw darts at pinned up playing cards, and played hoopla and the like. It was great fun. We made paper aeroplanes and once, when we were throwing them in the Market Place a big car stopped and we were offered money for one of them. Can't remember how much it was. Now I am showing the grandchildren how to make them. I came up a few years ago and did the Box Fun Run that Mike Turner and Graham Hall organised but got too nostalgic and chatty so that I walked half of it.
Of course, we had the Murray and Baldwin carpentry business where the Market Place car park is now. They made a variety of items such as wooden television cabinets, toboggans, tennis racquets and the like. We were never short of tennis balls to play with as they were made at Price's Rubber Factory and if there were rejects the chaps used to chuck them into the road, invariably they would roll down the slipway into the Market Place and end up outside the shop.
As kids we used to congregate at the fountain where the road dips down into the Market Place to sort out what was news and what we would do at the week-end. In those days you had to put two old pence, written as 2d (from the Roman denarius), into the public telephone box to make a call. We found that, if you tapped the buttons that the receiver rested on, you could call a number, and furthermore if you tapped them with a slight pause in between you could call the number that you wanted. The phones in the village only had three numbers so it was easy. We didn't do it to defraud but just to show how clever we were.
I was always doing something. At one time I did a paper round up Box Hill and ended up in The Mess at the air force camp where they gave me a cooked breakfast. Just below there was a house where they used to breed Great Danes. It had a high wire fence covering about quarter of an acre and the massive dogs used to jump about and bark as I cycled past and I was glad that I didn't have to deliver there.
As kids we used to congregate at the fountain where the road dips down into the Market Place to sort out what was news and what we would do at the week-end. In those days you had to put two old pence, written as 2d (from the Roman denarius), into the public telephone box to make a call. We found that, if you tapped the buttons that the receiver rested on, you could call a number, and furthermore if you tapped them with a slight pause in between you could call the number that you wanted. The phones in the village only had three numbers so it was easy. We didn't do it to defraud but just to show how clever we were.
I was always doing something. At one time I did a paper round up Box Hill and ended up in The Mess at the air force camp where they gave me a cooked breakfast. Just below there was a house where they used to breed Great Danes. It had a high wire fence covering about quarter of an acre and the massive dogs used to jump about and bark as I cycled past and I was glad that I didn't have to deliver there.
Accidents in Box
There were several vehicle accidents which stick in my memory. Two vehicles, at different times, went through the railings at the Dairy and, on another occasion, the brakes gave way on a tipper lorry that was parked outside Bradfield's paper shop. The vehicle ran backwards down the hill and embedded itself into Ozzy Butt's shop (later Les Bawtree's barber shop) which was full of cans of paint, and that brightened up the place no-end.
The evening previous to the Rising Sun disaster I had nearly come to grief myself with Mike Turner (who still lives in Box and was on the Council at one time). We used to go to night school together in Chippenham and I used to give him a lift home in my parents' car. Coming out of Chippenham we picked up a hitch-hiker and dropped him off in Corsham and I thought the clutch was going or something because the car didn't pick up too well. It wasn't until we were coming down Box Hill that I realised that it was icy. In front of us was a van going about fifteen or twenty miles an hour and I didn't realise why until we overtook him. The camber of the road was against us as we turned back to the left lane and the car slewed around sideways and for a few seconds we snaked down the road until I got it under control again. The rest of the journey was taken very steadily.
Of course the Rising Sun was a terrible thing. Around four in the morning I was awakened by the windows rattling and thought it strange. Whilst walking to Box Halt (now no longer there), going to work, my friends told me there had been an explosion. At the time I used to teach Sunday School with Christine Helps' (the girl next door, as she was then) playing the organ for the hymns. The two little children from the Rising Sun were in my Sunday School Class.
I found it difficult to believe that such a sweet little thing had died and the other badly injured. I never did get to know what happened to the survivor. I just remember a part of a wall, next to Eddie Callaway's house and a piano being all that was left. For years before that there had been a smell of gas and the hill is always on the move. Several times it has had to be repaired where large cracks have appeared. I find it difficult to believe that no-one was held accountable for this mishap.
Thinking of the War Memorial, there used to be a stone marker at that spot to show that it was exactly 100 miles to Hyde Park Corner. By coincidence, I met a guy living on his boat in Poole some twenty years or so ago who swore that he was the AA man who used to stand on that junction with his BSA motorcycle and side-car (as they used to have back in the 1950s) and salute all the cars that passed which were displaying the A A badge. I started driving my parents' car in 1957, an Austin A40 Somerset, and in those days when you drove into Bath you might only see two other cars on the way and you would always wave to one another.
I do remember that just after the war they had an open day at Colerne aerodrome with all the aeroplanes, that flew during the war, on display, including some captured German planes. They even had one of the little rocket jets there. We were able to go in and inspect Lancaster Bombers and the like. After the war they used the airfield for training purposes and we would often see Dakotas going in to land on one engine. At least one of them crashed and us boys raced up the hill on our bikes to view the wreckage.
There were several vehicle accidents which stick in my memory. Two vehicles, at different times, went through the railings at the Dairy and, on another occasion, the brakes gave way on a tipper lorry that was parked outside Bradfield's paper shop. The vehicle ran backwards down the hill and embedded itself into Ozzy Butt's shop (later Les Bawtree's barber shop) which was full of cans of paint, and that brightened up the place no-end.
The evening previous to the Rising Sun disaster I had nearly come to grief myself with Mike Turner (who still lives in Box and was on the Council at one time). We used to go to night school together in Chippenham and I used to give him a lift home in my parents' car. Coming out of Chippenham we picked up a hitch-hiker and dropped him off in Corsham and I thought the clutch was going or something because the car didn't pick up too well. It wasn't until we were coming down Box Hill that I realised that it was icy. In front of us was a van going about fifteen or twenty miles an hour and I didn't realise why until we overtook him. The camber of the road was against us as we turned back to the left lane and the car slewed around sideways and for a few seconds we snaked down the road until I got it under control again. The rest of the journey was taken very steadily.
Of course the Rising Sun was a terrible thing. Around four in the morning I was awakened by the windows rattling and thought it strange. Whilst walking to Box Halt (now no longer there), going to work, my friends told me there had been an explosion. At the time I used to teach Sunday School with Christine Helps' (the girl next door, as she was then) playing the organ for the hymns. The two little children from the Rising Sun were in my Sunday School Class.
I found it difficult to believe that such a sweet little thing had died and the other badly injured. I never did get to know what happened to the survivor. I just remember a part of a wall, next to Eddie Callaway's house and a piano being all that was left. For years before that there had been a smell of gas and the hill is always on the move. Several times it has had to be repaired where large cracks have appeared. I find it difficult to believe that no-one was held accountable for this mishap.
Thinking of the War Memorial, there used to be a stone marker at that spot to show that it was exactly 100 miles to Hyde Park Corner. By coincidence, I met a guy living on his boat in Poole some twenty years or so ago who swore that he was the AA man who used to stand on that junction with his BSA motorcycle and side-car (as they used to have back in the 1950s) and salute all the cars that passed which were displaying the A A badge. I started driving my parents' car in 1957, an Austin A40 Somerset, and in those days when you drove into Bath you might only see two other cars on the way and you would always wave to one another.
I do remember that just after the war they had an open day at Colerne aerodrome with all the aeroplanes, that flew during the war, on display, including some captured German planes. They even had one of the little rocket jets there. We were able to go in and inspect Lancaster Bombers and the like. After the war they used the airfield for training purposes and we would often see Dakotas going in to land on one engine. At least one of them crashed and us boys raced up the hill on our bikes to view the wreckage.
Ken Rickson Adds |
We used to go to the road at the end of the runway when the planes were doing circuit and bumps; they would make us duck. I remember one plane crash on the fields below Colerne. I saw it go down, just off the road, and cycled there. I saw four bodies still in the plane, just charred bones.
|
I was listening to a programme about the medical advances during WW1 regarding anesthetics and it brought back the memory of when I had my tonsils out in St Martins hospital at Bath. The staff were wheeling me along the corridor on a stretcher-type trolley and when I asked where we were going, they told me To the theatre so I said Oh good, what are we going to see? They then put a gauze cone over my nose and mouth and asked me to breathe deeply whilst they were pouring drops onto the gauze and that was the last thing I remembered until I woke up, at what I assumed to be the following morning, with my pyjama front covered in blood.
If you remember Les and would like to get in touch, please tell us and we will give you his details. He would love to hear from old pals from Box. Or you may care to just enjoy his reminiscences and add more to the story of Box's history.
References
[1] Kenny Rickson now lives in the Philippines.
[2] At this time a lot of Walcot Street had severe bomb damage, terminating at St Michael's Church, which had not been repaired.
[3] http://www.bathboating.co.uk
[4] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t8Y4CQgTrKw
[1] Kenny Rickson now lives in the Philippines.
[2] At this time a lot of Walcot Street had severe bomb damage, terminating at St Michael's Church, which had not been repaired.
[3] http://www.bathboating.co.uk
[4] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t8Y4CQgTrKw