Up the Hill and Down the Hill:
​
My Childhood in a Wiltshire Hamlet

Katherine Harris

Katherine Harris paints a marvellous picture of the people she encountered at The Old Jockey and of going to the Box Schools in the early 1900s. It was an era now long gone: of horse and cart, earth lavatories and oil stoves for domestic light and heat.

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Left: Katherine and her parents (All pictures courtesy of Katherine Harris)

Introduction: The History of The Old Jockey

This hamlet is situated in the south-east of the parish of Box, and at the centre of a district known as Hatt. Hatt was bordered by Wormwood, Wadswick, Longsplatt and an old Roman Road. The line of this old road forms the present boundary between Box and South Wraxall.

In the thirteenth century Reginald de Hatt lived in this minor manor, followed by Robert de Hatte and John atte Hatt in 1485. Later owners were a William Kenyon in 1634 and a George Speke who died in 1652. In 1682 it became the property of Lionel Duckett, Esquire of Hartham. In old documents Hatt is referred to as a farm. The winding road through the area is probably the oldest in Box as it is part of a Ridgeway and links the Cotswold Ridgeway with the ancient Harroway on the Dorset border. On reaching Kingsdown this old thoroughfare veered left towards Bradford-on-Avon but its line there is completely obliterated by the Golf Course. On the side of the old road and near the Old Jockey are tumuli dated circa 500 BC. Maybe the mounds were the inspiration of the place-name of Hatt! Today only Hatt House and Hatt Farm perpetuate the old name.

Hatt House is on the site of an older building and until the early nineteenth century several small dwellings stood alongside the lane leading to the rear entrance. Except for Blue Vein farmhouse and one derelict cottage, these have disappeared. The lane at one time affording the only access to Hatt House leaves the old Ridgeway road by the turnpike cottage and, after passing the big house, continues downhill where it is called the Drilly. From here and through Box Bottoms it continues as a footpath to the village of Box. As the Drilly reaches the lower ground this old track is bisected by the A365, a road completed as late as 1840. Hatt Farm is of this same date. The house and buildings stand in a field and well back from the road. It is a half-mile from Hatt House. The new farmer took over the responsibility of cultivating all the Hatt fields which had been leased piecemeal for many years to local people. It is interesting to note that a 1630 map shows the land at Hatt divided into fields long before the enclosure Acts became law.

The Old Bath Road went past Chapel Plaister

On the eastern boundary of the area two routes from London to Bath merged. One came via Devizes and the other through Lacock, Corsham and past the ancient pilgrim's rest called Chapel Plaister. Travellers from both roads were obliged to wind their way through Hatt, across Kingsdown Common and descend Bathford Hill to reach the city.

Packmen, drovers and merchants were among those who used the rough and rutted roads. Inns in towns and villages catered for folk making long weary journeys, and in rural areas refreshment was provided at ale-houses.
In the early seventeenth century an ale-house was built at Hatt. Standing in a bend in the road, it was about half-way between the lane leading to Hatt House and the crossroads where the London roads met.

It was built of local sandstone and roofed with thatch. A cobbled forecourt covered the ground between the road and the house: from this the entrance door opened directly into the ale-house kitchen. Heated by the fire in the ingle this room with its flagstone floor would have been used by both the family and customers. An extension at the rear of the main building, probably used as brew house and stable, completed this wayside tavern. In the right-angle formed by this L-shaped plan, stone steps once led down to the cellar that ran underneath the front part of the house. It is not known if it had a name but maybe it was called Cuff's Corner, as this particular bend in the road is so designated on some old maps.

The road to Bath coming past Chapel Plaister was turnpiked in 1713 and it continued as a main route to the city until the Rudloe-Box-Bath road was straightened and turnpiked about fifty years later. At Hatt a pike or gate was placed across the road near Blue Vein Farm. The gate-keeper's six-sided cottage stood alongside with its windows strategically sited to enable him to watch the road in either direction. The tolls collected at gates were used to mend the highways and the improved road surfaces encouraged more people to travel. The fashionable way to get from city to city was by stage-coach, and these picturesque but rather uncomfortable horse-drawn conveyances became a common sight on turnpiked roads.

Bath was fast becoming popular and consequently many more people used the roads leading to the city. Visitors were able to take the waters and enjoy social gatherings that were making Bath famous.

Turnpike Cottage Tollhouse

So the old Ridgeway became part of one of the main coaching routes and the little ale-house at Hatt could not cope with the increase in its trade. In 1737 a larger establishment was built alongside. This new inn with Queen Anne proportions, a frontage of dressed stone, large windows and stone-tiled roof, completely dwarfed its humble neighbour. However a curtain wall was built linking the two buildings and this unusual feature contained an arched opening leading to the rear of both.

On either side of the archway false window mullions were superimposed, and into the upper part of the one on the right, a large flat stone was later inserted to serve as a porch to the present day entrance of the old ale-house. Variation in the stonework of the front wall shows that the original doorway was between the two front windows. The old and new hostelries probably traded as one. They were called The Horse and Jockey Inn.

The well at the back, first sunk to supply the older house with water, now boasted a high iron superstructure with cog-wheels and chains attached to iron-banded wooden buckets. By turning a handle one bucket could be lowered into the well as the other came up full of water. Rings for tethering horses were fixed into the front wall of the new inn, and a stone mounting-block placed at one side. Ample stabling was provided a few yards away.

Sleeping accommodation was available and the stairs to the bedrooms rose from the stone-floored hallway inside the rear entrance. On the wall at the foot of the stairs hung an iron bell with which, I assume, the landlord roused sluggish overnight visitors. From the same hall, stone steps descended to the cellar which ran under the entire building. Its stone floor and vaulted stone roof gave it the appearance of a church crypt. The strong arched ceiling supported the inn above without the addition of central pillars. Double doors at one end of the cellar opened on to the base of a flight of outside steps leading up to the inn-yard near to the wall. The steps were sheltered by the left-hand side of the curtain-wall joining the new inn and the old ale-house and the protection this provided to the steps and the cellar entrance could be the reason it was built.

The new inn was indeed a very fine building and became popular with travellers and locals alike. In fact the Horse and Jockey became so well known that its name is used in a Turnpike Trust Act of 1753. This refers to the length of road as from Seend to the Horse and Jockey instead of from Seend to Hatt or Seend to Blue Vein in spite of the inn being some distance from the gate.

On the third Wednesday in September a sheep fair was held at Kingsdown. This was a busy time at the turnpike as animals were counted score by score, and the toll of five pence collected for every twenty before they could be driven through the gateway. Few people could count to more than twenty and a nick or score would be cut into a stick when this number was reached. Hence the word score became a synonym for twenty.

On Kingsdown Fair Day, the road through Hatt was used more than usual, as without doubt there were booths and amusements as well as the sheep to attract crowds to the common. The Fair was sited on the left-hand side of the present road to Bath, and it continued to be held until the 1930s. The third Wednesday in September would bring extra trade to the Horse and Jockey. Many folk stopped there for rest and refreshment, and to discuss the price of sheep.

The Old Jockey in 1934

The milestone that stood until 1939 by the Turnpike Cottage informed all who passed that they were 101 miles from London and six miles from Bath. It referred to the Chapel Plaister route used less after the road through Rudloe was improved. Travellers from the Devizes direction continued to use the road through Hatt, and a milestone standing by the inn referred to this route. They journeyed that way until Hatt was by-passed by a new road. This was cut from the cross-roads to the east through fields and woods to Box, where it met the road coming from Corsham. The roads merged and continued as one to Bath. Completed by 1840, this latest length of road enabled traffic to avoid the climb to Kingsdown and the steep descent to Bathford. Milestones were placed along this road and a new turnpike and gate-keeper's cottage erected where the road entered Box. Consequently the gate-keeper at Blue Vein had less to do and the amount of money colleted from the tolls dropped considerably. This was reflected in the deterioration of the road. Travellers to Bath preferred the new route, and thus the hey-day of Hatt and its inn was over. At this sad period of its history it became, with the exception of Blue Vein Farm, the property of the Fuller family of Neston Park in the next parish. The Horse and Jockey was obliged to close. It was let to a farmer who, with the now redundant inn stables and some fields at the rear of these buildings, developed a small-holding, eventually enlarged to become Old Jockey Farm.

To serve the new road to Box an inn was built at the now five crossroads, and called the New Horse and Jockey. However this establishment had a shorter life than its namesake. The railway line from London to Bath was now completed and journeying between these cities was quicker by train than by road. The coaching era was coming to an end.

The Decline of the area called The Old Horse and Jockey

Fortunately Hatt did not become a depressed area as the newly built Hatt Farm flourished, in spite of ceding some land to Old Jockey Farm and later to the farm at the crossroads. For many years it was occupied by the Pinchen family. Regrettably, after this date, Hatt gradually lost its identity. The houses near the turnpike became the hamlet of Blue Vein, taking this name from the nearby farm, and the gate-keeper's cottage became a farm-labourer's home. The old ale-house and its outbuildings were made into three small dwellings. The thatch on the roof was removed and replaced by slates. Shortly after this, the 1737 inn once so grand and important, was divided into two houses. The farmer living there since its closure, moved into a little house adjoining the farm buildings that were once the inn stables. It was of a later date than the inn and probably built to house an ostler during its hey-day.

All these hamlets were given a new postal address. The name Hatt was omitted, and everyone living in them found themselves in a hamlet called The Old Jockey, which was easier to say than The Old Horse and Jockey. The Old Jockey designation included an isolated cottage in the corner of a field. It had been converted from a field barn in 1801 and was reached by a footpath. To this day it is known as Jefferies Cottage, taking its name from the field in which it stands. Hatt Farm too became part of Old Jockey.
In the years preceding the Great War, Fullers enlarged the ostler's house at Old Jockey Farm. More fields were made available and new cowsheds and a dairy built. At Blue Vein the cottages beside the lane to Hatt House became empty and gradually crumbled away. The ruins of one still stand. It was occupied by a Hatt House gardener until the 1930s. Two cottages that stood immediately behind the turnpike were demolished ten years later. Thus Hatt faded from the map replaced by two hamlets, The Old Jockey and Blue Vein. No more entries in the Box Parish Register showed place of abode as Hatt. Hatt House fortunately retained the old name and was now approached by a new straight entrance drive through a gate half-way down Short Hill.

Early memories of being in the Gale's garden

Short Hill, though very steep, links the Old Jockey with Chapel Plaister, and is as old as the Ridgeway with which it connects at either end. In dry weather it was probably used as a short cut in 500 BC. Similarly used throughout the centuries it is obvious how it came by its name. The 1840 road to Box crossed Short Hill at the lowest point. This was raised to the level of the new thoroughfare, and no longer did a muddy hollow have to be negotiated before the steep rise to Chapel Plaister.

The land behind the converted Old Jockey buildings was divided into allotment-like gardens for the tenants. The garden spread around two sides of the old ale-house, covering almost all the pitching stones paving its forecourt. Grass grew over the open space in front of the once stately Horse and Jockey. By converting the inn and ale-house into smaller units, the Fullers of Neston Park certainly did their best to revitalise the hamlet and they kept the property well maintained.

After many years of ownership they installed a pump to supply their tenants with drinking water. It was situated by the gate into Old Jockey Farm and fetching water from the pump was far less arduous than drawing it from the well, hitherto the only source.

Much, much later, mains water reached Old Jockey house but in 1949, before this improvement, Neston Park sold the houses in the hamlet, retaining only the two farms. However thirty years later Old Jockey Farm house changed hands to become a private residence. Its fields have been returned to Hatt Farm which remains part of the Estate. The other holder of the old name, Hatt House, had been sold in the 1920s to Miss Doris Chappell who lived in it for a further fifty years. The 1737 inn is again one house and some of its original features have been uncovered and carefully restored by the present owners. Two of the smaller dwellings at The Old Jockey have been enlarged. The hamlet is changing once more.

Chapter 1 Settling Down [1]

On demobilisation from serving in the First World War, my father returned to work for the Fuller family of Neston where he had been employed as Estate carpenter prior to joining the Royal Engineers.
Now married with a baby daughter he needed a house and the first to become vacant on the Estate happened to be in the hamlet on the outskirts of the village of Box, known as The Old Jockey. So my parents and I, for I was that little girl, left the house we had been sharing with my paternal grandparents in the village and moved into our first real home. Of the event I remember nothing.
The Old Jockey is situated on rising ground alongside an old coaching road to Bath, at the junction with Short Hill. It was down this hill we went to reach the village two miles away. My father's daily cycle ride to Neston Park was about the same distance but this was in the opposite direction.

The hamlet I was to come to know so well was comprised of two farms and six smaller dwellings. One of these was completely isolated and only reached by a path through a field. The others, two converted from an eighteenth century inn and three made from an even older ale-house, were on the roadside. Our little home was actually the front part of the ale-house. Its forecourt had been walled round and made into a garden. The garden continued round the furthermost end of our house to join at the back with the garden of our neighbours. These plots were only separated by earthen paths but dry-stone walls bounded them. Thus they were protected from cattle in the fields of Old Jockey Farm and Hatt Farm. Old Jockey Farm was close to us whilst Hatt Farm stood a field away at the end of a rough track. A big white gate opening onto the track was attached to our front garden wall. The gate was also used by the occupants of the isolated house in the field.

The entrance doors to the three dwellings made from the old ale-house each opened directly into the larger of the two ground-floor rooms. Fitted with black oven grates these rooms were intended to be used as kitchens. In each inner room there were the low barred grates usual in parlours or front rooms in Victoria times. It was a most inconvenient arrangement.

This layout was a modification of medieval Manor House planning, where the main room, the hall, was used for cooking, eating and in some cases sleeping. Leading from this would be a solar or store or both.

Modification of our medieval Manor House

In humbler homes the hall became the kitchen and like the early manor houses, it would contain the entrance door, an open fireplace and, if there were upper rooms, a staircase winding upwards at one side of the chimney-breast. Leading from this room would be a pantry or as at The Old Jockey, a parlour. While manor houses became larger and grander it took hundreds of years for the landlords of rural properties to improve on the old plan for the lower classes, so when the ale-house was divided into three units in the mid nineteenth century it was still considered that the occupants would need nothing different. Except that is, an oven-grate instead of an open fire.

However my mother decided to use our inner room as her kitchen. There my father erected shelves for china and in one corner a wide wooden ledge for the enamel washing-up bowl and the tin draining tray. The low parlour-grate was completely ignored. So the larger room became our living room and in spite of the black range and the outside door, it was cosy and very comfortable.

Our door was not the original entrance. That had been at the centre front between the windows and from outside its position could be seen by a variation in the stonework. Inside, shelves marked the spot. The doorway had been filled in as thick as the old wall half-way up. The infill at the top was less and left a recess in which were the shelves. The later door was situated on the end of the house and opened at one side of the enormous chimney-breast. It would have been here by the fireplace that the original stairs or maybe only a ladder leading to the bedrooms would have stood. Our staircase covered by a wooden partition was approached by a door in the back room.

In the old days the larger room, the kitchen of the ale-house, would have been used by both family and customers sharing the warmth of the fire. Hollows in the stone-flagged floor show where countless ale drinkers had scuffed their boots while sitting on benches under the walls. Other features of the old days remained, such as cupboards built into the thickness of the walls, the heavy beam to support the upper floor and the cellar running underneath our house and under our next-door neighbour's larger room. At one time the cellar would have been entered by stone steps from the yard at the back of the house. By the time we arrived at The Old Jockey, the only remaining entrance was through a trap-door in the floor of our inner room, the kitchen. After a futile attempt to grow rhubarb in the hard earth that formed its base my father sealed the trap-door and never during my childhood did I have the opportunity to explore the dark, empty hole under the two houses.

Our windows had stone mullions and on the lower edge of one the sill was worn down into a curve. This was thought to be where many a knife had been sharpened on the stone. Below each window were seats cut out of the wall providing extra accommodation for callers in those old days.

The Well head

On our arrival, living conditions were little better than when our home was an open house, for The Old Jockey had no gas, electricity or mains water. We obtained our water from a communal pump by the front gate of Old Jockey Farm. Previous to the installation of the pump, I was told that the well in the yard behind the inn was the only source of supply. But at least once a year the pump ran dry and we had to resort to using the well again.

At these times of crisis Neston Estate sent along Mr Merrett with a traction engine; not to our pump, but to the storage tank buried in a field at the bottom of Short Hill. Here in a small stone building covering the tank was housed an engine to supply the power to force water up the hill to use. Mr Merrett linked this mechanism to the powerful traction engine with endless belts and eventually it started and our supply was restored.

To save journeys to the pump every household collected rain-water in wooden barrels or butts as they were often called, and this was used for washing ourselves and our clothes. It was considered ideal for these purposes as it was soft. Pump water and rain water were kept indoors in buckets and dipped from these with a jug.

My mother reserved an old bucket for used water, and emptied the contents into a trench in the garden. Every so often my father filled in one trench and dug another for the disposal of household waste, for we had no refuse collection or drains at The Old Jockey.

A wash-house had been built onto each house and to reach ours we went outside and along the path under the window. Inside stood a stone copper for boiling water on wash-days and to one side of it we kept our coal. On the other side in the darkest corner was our lavatory - an earth closet. This was emptied from the outside where low down in the wall was a sliding door - a wooden shutter as seen today on coal bunkers. The contents were shovelled out once a week and buried in the garden. It was a very unpleasant job for the man of the house. The closets of our neighbours were purpose-built in a block of four just where their gardens began. They worked on the same principle but being outside were lighter and appeared to be more hygienic.

New loos for The Old Jockey

While we were living at The Old Jockey, Neston Estate decided to 'modernise' and provided each closet with a wide topped bucket that could be removed by side handles from under the front seat. The front panels had to be removed to facilitate this. The contents were disposed of in the garden as before but the procedure was quicker and cleaner.

Laundry was always attended to on Mondays. The stone copper would be filled with rain-water and a fire lit in the small oven-like cavity underneath. The water took a long time to get hot and when it did, some was ladled out into a galvanised bath standing on a washing-stool. This was a long narrow table just wide enough to hold the bath. In this bath the clothes and linen were washed. All the white articles were then transferred to the copper where soda had been dissolved in the now boiling water, and stirred around with a copper stick. This was usually part of a broom handle. Every item was later lifted out with the aid of this stick and then rinsed in cold rain-water in another bath. After being wrung by hand the clean things were pegged on lines in the garden to dry in the fresh air. There were no detergents then, only Sunlight soap and soda until Rinso and Lux came along. Whiteness was ensured by the use of the blue-bag in a second rinse.

Tablecloths, men's collars, aprons and many other articles were starched and when dry needed to be liberally sprinkled with water in order to be ironed satisfactorily. Flat irons were heated on a trivet in front of the fire in the black range. Two irons were necessary so that one could be in use whilst the other got hot, and so able to be changed over quite often. The heat was tested by dabbing some saliva onto the iron. If it sizzled the iron was ready.

Mother relaxing in our garden after doing the housework

Housework was hard for women in rural areas. My mother was already thirty-six when she married and had for some years held senior positions in houses of wealthy families. She had been used to turning taps and switching on electric light and she told me she often cried when we first moved into our inconvenient little house. Coping with the laundry was fraught with difficulties and so was cooking on the range. Apparently the first time mother attempted to make jam on the open fire beside the oven the saucepan tipped over, spilling the jam over the bars and onto the coals. The mess and smell must have been heart-breaking. Even if a kettle boiled over the fire, the smell was most unpleasant, and the fire was likely to be put out too.

As the years passed, mother mastered wash-days, the oil-lamps and our little oil-stove, but never the black range. Knowing no other home, I took the conditions for granted and only later came to realise the difficulties my parents had to overcome. However they did what they could to improve matters.

It was at the time of the 1926 General Strike that they bought our big oil-stove, as coal was becoming hard to come by. Mother found this cooker of great benefit for years afterwards. Everyone at The Old Jockey possessed a small oil-stove useful for boiling a kettle or saucepan, but the big one made by Rippengale had an oven. This was heated underneath by two burners and on top of the oven were two round grills where saucepans could be heated at the same time. The Rippengale stood on a large wooden stand placed in the hearth of the unused parlour grate in our kitchen.

Next the problem of bathing was solved by the purchase of a long galvanised bungalow bath. It was kept in the wash-house. As water was too precious to be wasted, we bathed on Monday evenings. More water would be added to that remaining in the copper and the fire underneath rekindled. With buckets of rain water ready for cooling and the door of the cavity containing the embers open to let the warmth escape, bathing in the wash-house was reasonably comfortable. As a small child I was bathed indoors in a washing bath in front of the fire and it was also in front of the fire my long hair was dried on shampoo nights. Maybe shampoo is the wrong word as mother insisted on washing my hair with Wrights Coal Tar Soap. When dry, mother singed the ends of my tresses with a lighted taper to prevent them from becoming straggly.

My first bathroom
aged 11 years

I was eleven years old before I used a bath in a bathroom. It was during a visit to my aunt and uncle in London and although I had seen a bath before I was truly scared when told to step into this big white thing with hot water gushing into it from a brass tap. The water covered so much more of me than the two or three bucketsful dipped from the copper at home.

The next modern convenience invested in by our family was an Acme wringer. Laundry squeezed between its rubber rollers dried so much quicker than before. The procedure was simple and more efficient, making wash-day easier.

Soon afterwards we had a Primus stove. Methylated spirits were needed to start it burning, but after pumping with a little brass handle for a few seconds the paraffin took over and this produced a fierce heat. The Primus eliminated the necessity of lighting the fire in the summer for the sole purpose of heating the flat-irons. They still needed to be rubbed over with a duster before use.

Our garden was the only one at The Old Jockey without an old pigsty, and as none of the neighbours kept pigs, they were able to utilise these as garden sheds. My father built all the sheds we needed, and we soon had one in which to store the paraffin, one to shelter his hand-made wooden wheelbarrow, a house and run for our hens, and a carpenter's shop. My father retreated to this workshop on winter evenings and by the light of a hurricane lamp did repairs to neighbours' furniture and occasionally made small tables and cupboards for our house. He actually made my first bed. Making such pieces gave my father the opportunity to practise his craft of cabinet making and joinery which he had little chance to pursue on the Neston Estate.

The Old Jockey gardens were well cared for and I do not remember any unsightly heaps of rubbish. All waste was buried or burnt. Empty cocoa or mustard tins proved useful for storing nails and screws, and as my mother was reluctant to use tinned food, we had little refuse of that kind. I do not recall how we disposed of empty bottles. They were probably smashed and buried in an odd corner.

My father worked long hours at Nest Park Estate and his only free time was on Saturday afternoons, Sundays and Bank Holidays. Like other men at The Old Jockey he tilled his garden and an allotment. The allotments, one for each household, were in a corner of a field next to Jefferies Cottage. They were approached through a field belonging to Old Jockey Farm, and not by the path to the cottage. My mother made a delightful flower garden in front of our windows and for most of the year it was gay with colour. She loved making rockeries and crazy paving paths although I regret to say, she stole the stones, one by one, from the walls that bounded the fields round about.

So we settle down in our little house, accepting the inconveniences and making the most of the countryside on our doorstep. Ever hopeful of renting a larger house, my parents did not find one for some years. I spent all my childhood at The Old Jockey, the hamlet at the top of Short Hill.

Chapter 2 And They Came to the Door

Delivering milk by churn from the milk float

Writing about The Old Jockey has brought to mind the various tradesmen who called to supply our needs. Mr Davis, known as the oil-man, came every Tuesday and from him we bought paraffin for the lamps and oil-stoves. The paraffin tank took up most of the space in Mr Davis' big van but there was sufficient room left for buckets, brushes, enamel bowls and jugs, and galvanised baths. Some of the items were carried on the roof of the van, and some in fixtures on the sides. An excellent way to advertise these wares.

Coal was delivered in sacks by lorry as it is today but wood purchased from the Neston Estate arrived on a horse-drawn wagon.

The baker, Mr Brooks and later Mr Wilkins, called daily with bread. It was freshly baked each morning in the bake-house adjoining the general shop and Post Office at Kingsdown. On Good Fridays Hot Cross buns were still hot from the oven when they reached us. No bread was sold that day. I can just remember Mr Brooks using an enclosed horse-drawn bread cart. It had a curved roof and doors at the back.

On Wednesdays and Saturdays a Mr Hayward from Bath would arrive selling fish and fruit from a long flat wagon. While purchases were made, his horse enjoyed nibbling the grass growing on the open space in front of the old inn. The fish was chiefly of the smoked variety but he did bring fresh herrings.

Meat was delivered by the Box butcher, but had to be ordered. Groceries could be obtained in the same way from Bence's and later from the Co-op, the two largest shops in the village. The butcher used a van, but groceries were brought by the shops' errand-boy riding a bicycle with a large metal carrier basket in front for the goods. Under the bar of the bike a flat metal plate advertised the shop's name and trade. Newspapers were taken round by a boy riding a similar machine but the postman came on foot. There were no letter boxes on doors at The Old Jockey, so both had to knock.

On the Mlk Cart with Mr Clark and his children

Our postman, Mr Ford, always gave a cheery greeting with the mail and he could be relied upon to know the right time. This was a welcome way to check the clocks in pre-radio days. It was possible to hear the hours strike on Box School clock, but only if the wind was in the right direction. Occasionally a man would call at the hamlet selling china. He carried it on a flat wagon similar to the one used by the fish-man and all the items were buried in straw to prevent breakages. While the horse enjoyed eating the grass the housewives gathered round examining the wares and usually they would make a purchase. No doubt the china was seconds but my mother did buy some very good Delft and Ironstone pieces from this hawker.

Photographers called at houses in the 1920s offering to take pictures of children or to enlarge photographs already in possession of the family. Some were rogues who took the money and failed to return with the developed picture, but I have one of myself aged three taken by one of these entrepreneurs, so they were not all bad. Other tradesmen one had to be wary of were those selling linoleum and rugs. My mother did buy some linoleum from one of them. She grumbled about the price but years later when it was still in good condition decided that she had not done too badly after all, although she continued to wonder if the hawker had come by the floor covering honestly.

One other salesman came from time to time offering clothes and household linens. He was not patronised by my mother as she preferred to buy such things from the Bath shops. Being a good needlewoman she often bought material by the yard and made dresses and underwear for herself and for me. Mother also made my father shirts and collars from strong white cotton twill with either a brown or blue stripe on a white background. This fabric was called shirting. Socks, gloves, scarves, jerseys and my tam-o-shanters were all knitted by my mother. By her industry the three of us were always well clothed. Perhaps I should include our gypsy callers among those who supplied our needs at The Old Jockey. They sold clothes-pegs made from saplings whittled into shape at their encampment on Wadswick Common.

Being so close to Old Jockey Farm every household fetched their supply of milk in jugs from the dairy there. Mrs Clark, the wife of the farmer, also sold eggs, chickens and tasty home-made faggots. Going to the farm to make a purchase was a pleasant diversion. Having large gardens and allotments, all vegetables were home-grown. Every garden contained plums and apple trees, gooseberry and currant bushes, together with a root of rhubarb. These could be supplemented by blackberries, gathered from the hedgerows in the autumn, so consequently there was no need to buy fruit for pies or jam.

The potatoes needed for use during the winter were stored outside in a clamp. First a hollow had to be dug in the garden and this was lined with straw. The potatoes were piled on top of this and covered with more straw, wigwam fashion. The resulting mound was protected from the winter weather by soil. The clamp would be uncovered as the potatoes were required and carefully re-sealed. This process continued until all were used and the clamp dismantled.

We kept seven or eight hens to supply us with eggs. Potato peelings boiled and mixed with bran helped to feed them. It was necessary to buy maize for them and broken shells mixed with their food ensured the hens laid eggs with hard coverings. And so most of our needs were supplied. Some required an effort on our part while some needed no effort at all.

One of our neighbours, Mrs Bird, who lived in part of the old inn carried on a business of her own selling biscuits and soft drinks. Then for a short time my parents supplemented their income by selling cigarettes, tobacco and matches. Being so far from the village this was appreciated by the local men who all smoked in those days. Seeing the advertisement on our door, complete strangers called too and this made my mother feel nervous if she was alone at the time and so the venture ended.

The Old Jockey became
a miniature
shopping centre

While it lasted, The Old Jockey became a miniature shopping centre. For there could be purchased cigarettes, biscuits, lemonade, milk, eggs, chickens and Mrs Clark's faggots. In spite of the self-sufficiency practised in the hamlet and the regular deliveries of day-to-day requirements, my mother enjoyed visiting the Bath shops.

The city was not easy to reach when we moved to The Old Jockey. One either had to walk to Box Station and go by train or to walk to Bathford and take a tram from the terminus there. Mother chose the latter and apparently pushed me in my pram across Kingsdown and down Bathford Hill to a house where prams and bicycles could be left until the tram brought us back. Shopping with a toddler could not have been easy and after the return tram ride it was a long climb up to Kingsdown. On reaching Gridiron Farm the walk became easier as it was downhill for the rest of the journey home.

Fortunately buses soon began to run from Devizes to Bath, passing along the main road at the bottom of Short Hill. By walking there to catch the bus we could ride all the way to the Parade at Bath. As all these buses passed through Box they could be used to get to shops, friends and to the doctor in the village too.

With no telephone at The Old Jockey a doctor could only be summoned by someone calling at his house and leaving a message with the maid who answered the door. Our doctor, Dr Martin, visited his patients on horse-back. When calling on The Old Jockey folks he always used one of the tethering rings on the old inn to tie his horse.

We were a reasonably fit community but from time to time did require medical aid. If medicine was prescribed another journey to the doctor's house had to be undertaken by a neighbour or relative to collect the potion. The surgery and dispensary were both in this house and in the wall dividing them from the waiting room a shutter in a hatch-way was raised by the doctor who called Next please. Medicine was made up by a lady dispenser and when ready was passed through the same opening. Pills or tablets were rarely prescribed and so most medicines had to be bottled. All bottles were wrapped in paper and this was sealed top and bottom with red wax. Medicines were wrapped in white paper for paying patients and in newspaper for club patients.

By paying a few pence weekly to a sick benefit society, and one called The Pioneers comes to mind, a member became entitled to free medical attention. When the breadwinner, the husband, was ill and unable to work, he also received a small regular payment from the club. My parents subscribed to a Nursing Association and by doing so, I believe, we were entitled to free care from the Box District Nurse.

This dedicated lady ministered to the sick, elderly and the injured in the parish, and to reach these in outlying areas she used a bicycle. After I had a particularly bad tumble the nurse came daily to our home at The Old Jockey to attend to my injured knee.
Bicycles were a popular means of transport and many people relied on pedal power to travel to work. The village policeman used a bike to patrol the parish and telegrams were delivered by a boy riding one of these machines. So by various means (bike, horse, horse and wagon, van, lorry and Shank's pony) provisions, household goods and medical aid came to my childhood home.

There were occasions when answering a knock on the door one found a tramp standing outside. Called old tramps by virtue of their unshaven faces, these vagrants walked from workhouse to workhouse begging for food on the way. My mother never refused to brew them tea in the old cocoa-tins they used as both tea-pot and cup, and she fed them on bread and cheese. These men called so often that we thought there must be a secret sign on our wall to guide members of their fraternity to our house.

Mr Clark mowing at Old Jockey Farm

In winter we were forced to amuse ourselves in the house or barn or in one of the sheds. Sometimes we helped to cut up mangolds and swedes for the cows to eat when there was no grass. Cattle-cake, a manufactured winter-feed needed to be cut in small pieces too.

One day Walter, the youngest of the three Clark children, was playing with the cutting machine and cut off the top of one of his fingers.

I was in my own garden at the time, but so clearly heard his scream. Another lesson was learnt - leave machines alone !

If snow came we took Walter's home-made sledge to the steep field that was reached by crossing the main road at the bottom of Short Hill. Sliding was popular too. The roads would become slippery as the snow on them was pressed down and after sliding repeatedly over a stretch of a few feet, the surface shone like glass and became ideal for our purpose. Nevertheless our slides were dangerous for unwary pedestrians. Not all the roads around The Old Jockey boasted a footpath. But normally that did not matter as then there were very few cars about.

However winter turned to spring. The celandines and violets peeped out between the dead leaves under the hedges and walls, and birds built new nests. Rooks nested high in the many elms and beech trees which bordered the fields; even now, years later, if I hear the cawing of rooks, I am immediately reminded of The Old Jockey where the sound was so familiar.

Searching for nests in the hedgerow was a regular pastime every spring. Girls didn't steal the eggs but boys did. Perhaps just one from a nest, but another might be taken by a pilferer, and so on till the nest was empty, and the mother bird left bewildered and forlorn. By piercing an egg at both ends with a pin, the yolk could be blown out and the shell added to a treasured collection.
Robins often built their nests in the bank on the side of Short Hill but neither boys nor girls would steal their eggs. It was said that the fingers of the hand that picked up a robin's egg would for ever be fixed in that bent position.

With the arrival of spring the farm became our Mecca once more. New calves and baby chicks were arriving daily. The swing was fixed up in the old apple tree again, and in swinging high on it our feet touched its gnarled branches. Dolly, the eldest of the Clarks, often gave me rides on the carrier of her bike, and much later I learnt to balance on that same bike, after it had been handed down to Vi and then to Walter.

At haymaking time we would all take sandwiches to the hayfield and eat them in a house made of hay. Afterwards we were happy to follow the loaded wagons back to the farm, where the ricks were being made, just to have a ride back to the field when they returned empty to be loaded once more.

Wagons, mowing machines, tosser and rake were all pulled by horses and Captain, one horse, was a soldier for he had served in the Great War. Dumpling, as the name implies, was a chubby comfortable sort of horse, who plodded along quite happily beside his more athletic stable-mate. Witty and Tommy took turns drawing the milk-float. Milking was accomplished by hand and the milkers sat on three-legged stools to do this. Mr Clark thought it great fun to spray any child watching from the cow-shed doorway. He would hold a teat at an angle, squeeze it and the milk from it spurted all over the inquisitive face.

In the dairy all the milk passed through a cooler before going into the big brass churns that had to be heaved up into the milk-float, a two-wheeled cart, and taken into Box. The larger of the churns was placed in the rear of the cart where its tap was at the right level to be used to fill a milk pail, standing on the road. When unattended this tap proved a temptation to mischievous boys, but I can't remember hearing about any major loss of milk.

Chapter 3 Old Jockey Farm

The Clark family: Mrs Clark, Dolly, Walter, Vi and Mr Clark

As newly-weds, Mr and Mrs Clark came to the farm, and, so I was told, started out with only one cow. While building up his stock, Mr Clark supplemented his income by driving a Post Office mailcart. Using his own horse to draw the cart, he collected letters and parcels from Box and Corsham each evening and took them to the Head Post Office in Chippenham.

After a few hours rest at an inn he would return with the morning mail, carrying it back to the Box and Corsham offices, ready for the postmen to make their deliveries. After driving the mailcart back to The Old Jockey, Mr Clark worked on the farm until it was time to be off to Box again.

However when my parents and I arrived at The Old Jockey, the mailcart had become redundant and all I can remember of the old vehicle was its broken remains rotting in the orchard. The wheels had disappeared, but the box-like structure that once held the mail still showed traces of post office red paint.
Apparently the farmhouse had been enlarged and the farm buildings improved during the early years of Mr Clark's tenancy and by my childhood days he had increased his herd of cows, which enabled him to have a thriving milk round. Deliveries to Box and district were made twice daily.

Old Jockey Farm became my chief playground and there I spent many happy hours with the Clark children and others who lived nearby. All were welcome. Although I was the youngest in the group I joined in all the games and enjoyed helping with jobs on the farm. Whenever I felt lonely I would run round to Clarks as there was always something going on to interest me. Maybe it was time to fetch the cows from the fields to be milked, or the hens needed to be fed, and I particularly liked colleting the eggs.

By day the hens ran freely in the orchard, and at night roosted on perches in wooden hen-houses. These had to be securely fastened to prevent foxes from killing the birds, and woe betide a hen that wandered off and had no protection during the dark hours. Eggs were laid in the hen-houses and to collect them a long lid at the rear of each house could be raised to expose the row of straw-lined nesting boxes. Sometimes a broody hen had to be forcibly ejected from a nest by being lifted up by the tail. Needless to say she would squawk loud and long to register her disapproval of this treatment.

In the summer we roamed the fields of all the farms around and gathered fruit and flowers in season. Being country children we instinctively understood the country code. We knew it was wrong to trample grass growing for hay or to walk through fields of corn. We knew the hedgerow berries which were edible and those that were poisonous. Such knowledge was no doubt passed on from older child to younger child. Anyway we knew and so none of us came to harm.

We knew it was unwise to go too near to a cow with a calf, or to disturb a grazing horse. Mr Clark's bull was tied up in a shed. His name was Billy and the nearest we got to him was looking at him over the half-door.

Billy the Bull roamed free

We were guilty of swinging on field gates but knew better than to leave them open. Finding a closed gate obstructing our progress, it was more usual to climb over it, as we did the many dry stone walls in the area.

Mr Reeves of Norbin Farm was the only farmer around who objected to trespassers. His land adjoined Old Jockey Farm and bordering a field called Jefferies there was, and of course is still there, a boggy wood belonging to Mr Reeves. From time to time we crawled under the boundary fence of wire to explore this jungle. Unfamiliar plants thrived in the wet soil. Dodging the marshy spots and searching for these treasures was quite an adventure. If Mr Reeves discovered us he would shout and tell us to clear off, so evading the bogs and Mr Reeves was exciting.

The finest mushrooms grew in the Norbin fields too, and in September we would scramble through another wire fence to search for these delicacies. In sight of the farmhouse here we were very vulnerable, but if not seen we carried home our spoils in our handkerchiefs. A knotted handkerchief was the best way of carrying mushrooms and prevented them from being squashed. Blackberries and hazel-nuts could be found in all the fields and gathering those incurred no risk.

Both Witty and Tommy knew all the regular stopping places and would stand quite still until the driver returned. Housewives came to their door with jugs and these would be filled by the milkman dipping a pint or half-pint measure into the pail for the required amount. Then perhaps another quick dip with a drop more just for good measure.

The brass churns were incised with letters showing that they belonged to A. Clark. Old Jockey Farm and were always well polished. I believe the brass was an extra layer of metal over a normal steel churn. The brass only covered the upper part. The shining churns in the red and yellow milk-float were familiar in the village, and with the clip-clop of the horses' feet proved a pleasant sight and sound whenever they passed by. As Dolly and Vi left school they helped with the milk deliveries, and sometimes in the summer holidays would let me accompany them.

Left: Tommy and Witty, milk cart horses

They took orders for poultry, eggs and Mrs Clark's very tasty faggots, so customers were able to have these farmhouse delights delivered to their doors.Harvest time was a special and important season of the farming year, and I was always willing to carry jugs of Mrs Clark's home-made lemonade to the men working in the fields, and happy to linger there and watch the binder at work. This machine cut off the wheat, oats or barley a few inches from the ground and miraculously tied the stalks into sheaves with string known as binder-twine.

The sheaves were gathered up and piled into tent-shaped stooks with the grain heads, the ears, uppermost, and left to dry in the sun. After two or three days the sheaves were loaded onto wagons, taken to the farmyard and made into ricks. Later these corn-ricks were dismantled and the grain threshed out, leaving the stalks to be used as straw. The threshing machine was hired and was taken from farm to farm in the autumn. It was pulled by a traction-engine, and when it was due at the Clarks, the yard gate was taken off its hinges to allow a few extra inches for the entrance of this monster.

Extra labour was engaged at threshing time as the process required many hands. The ricks built at harvest were taken apart and each sheaf fed into the machine. This was driven by endless belts attached to the traction-engine and supervised by the engine driver. While working it made a lot of noise and smoke and much dust flew out of the thresher. Children had to keep well away.The separated grain poured out into sacks hooked onto a chute at the side of the thresher, and the stalks were ejected from another part of the machine, with twine again firmly tied around each sheaf. At the same time, new ricks were being made of this straw, all ready for use as food or bedding for the cattle in the winter. The ricks needed to be thatched to protect them from rain and snow. The sacks of grain would be sold to a miller. Probably it went to the mill at Box.

Vi and Dolly Clark and the milk float

The children at The Old Jockey always congregated at the farm on November 5th where there was ample space for a bonfire. We had a few fireworks and I only remember having sparklers. Walter did have some bangers, and in later years when we were left to our own devices we put one of these under a parked car in Jockey Road to scare the couple canoodling inside, taking to our heels as it exploded. Walter also hollowed out mangolds, cutting holes for eyes and mouth. With lighted candles inside, he stood these on the farmyard wall, an eerie sight for any passer-by. The custom is now connected with All Souls Night.As the girls grew up, and the other children who once shared our games went to work, Walter and I spent a lot of time together.

Playing cricket with him was hard work. He so soon bowled me out that I found myself bowling and fielding for most of the game. I was running all over the orchard while he stood at the wicket.In spite of being a boy and older than me, we remained pals while we were the only two juniors in the hamlet. Birthday parties at the farm continued for all three Clarks and I was always invited to join in, and of course they all came to mine. Our mothers were good friends and remained so until the end of their lives. The family was an important part of my childhood. How lonely I should have been if I had not been able to run round to the Clarks.

Chapter 4 Mosses and Gales

The rear wing and outbuildings of the old ale-house had been made into two cottages. They were completely hidden from the road and were approached by way of the arched opening in the curtain-wall that linked the ale-house with the larger inn.
Our cellar ran underneath the living room of our immediate neighbours, Mr and Mrs Moss and their daughter, Sis. The Mosses had two bedrooms reached by a twisting stair. The smaller of these was really only a landing as it had no door and one had to go through it to reach the larger bedroom. In a bed placed against the wall in this landing-bedroom lay Mrs Moss who only had one leg. Sis cared for her bedridden mother with the help of the District Nurse.

I barely remember Mr Moss as he died when I was very young. Apparently Sis found him dead in his chair on a Friday morning. It was Pension Day and the thought of losing his ten shillings for that week caused Sis great concern. She consulted my mother who advised her to go the Post Office with the old man's book, which was only marked with a cross in any case, and draw the money before calling on the doctor. Mother and Sis straightened Mr Moss as best they could and Sis went off to Box leaving mother in charge of the corpse. Sis sent telegrams to her brother and sisters, and they arrived from different parts of the country to attend their father's funeral.

Having no income of her own Sis was entitled to Parish Relief, and this was brought to her each week by Mr Norton, the Relieving Officer for the area. He lived at Corsham and cycled around making his calls and handing over the much needed money. My mother helped with gifts of biscuits and cakes, and as I grew older she would ask me to take these and other tit-bits in and give them to Mrs Moss. The landing-bedroom had a most unpleasant smell, and I disliked going to see the old lady. How long she had lain there I do not know.

Sis was not very bright, but nevertheless she did have an admirer. His name was George Smith and he lived at Washwells, a hamlet nearer the village, in a cottage roofed with corrugated iron. He worked as a casual labourer for any farm willing to employ him and spent his earnings on beer, invariably getting drunk on Saturday nights.

Death heralded
by a shrieking owl

Eventually Mrs Moss died and it was said her death was heralded by a screech owl shrieking outside the window that night. It was common for the country folk to believe that the presence of one of these birds near a house was a bad omen.

In this case the passing of Mrs Moss was a happy release. Again telegrams were sent to all her children and Mrs Figg, the eldest, arrived the same day. That night my parents were aroused by a banging on the wall. My father got up, put on some clothes and walked through the archway and round the corner to the Mosses house to find out the reason for the sister's agitation. He was surprised to discover George Smith knocking at their door. No doubt George had heard that the old lady had died, and thinking Sis would be alone, decided to pay his first visit to her house. It was very late and George had been drinking as usual but my father kept calm and asked him why he was frightening Sis and Mrs Figg in the middle of the night, and at such a sad time too. On learning that Sis was not alone, George slunk away.

However a few weeks after the funeral, Sis and he did get married. I remember seeing Sis walking off to Box Church dressed in a pale grey coat and skirt and matching hat. Some of her sisters were with her. The newly-weds settled in next door. Relieved of caring for her mother and with a husband to till the garden, Sis was able to take a cleaning job. She went to work for a friend of my mother who lived at a farm near Wadswick and for a time all went well. But gradually Sis became rather strange. She kept several tabby cats. Some were shut up in the old pigsty at the bottom of her garden while others wandered about. They were all pathetically thin as Sis often forgot to feed them.

One day another neighbour thought she saw Sis dropping a cat down the well. This was reported to Miss Chappell of Hatt House, and as a result a Health Inspector arrived to test the water. Cat or no cat, he passed it fit to drink. This was a great relief to the rest of the community as the well was used when the pump ran dry.

However Sis became more peculiar and a considerable worry to everyone. Eventually she was taken to the Mental Hospital at Devizes. My mother told me the doctor who finally decided to certify Sis used our house and our dining table to complete the necessary forms. After being told these gentlemen had come to take her for a ride in their car, it seems she went off with them quite happily. The remaining years of her life were spent in the hospital.

George Smith continued to live in the house and to get drunk on Saturday nights. My parents feared he might knock over his oil-lamp and cause a fire, so they would not go to bed until they were fairly certain that George had gone upstairs and was asleep. He was not an ideal next door neighbour.

Mr & Mrs Gale on their 60th weddiing anniversary

In the house on the other side of the Mosses' little home, lived a really delightful elderly couple, Mr and Mrs David Gale.
Mr Gale had been born and bred at Blue Vein Farm and his wife came from Leigh-on-Mendip in Somerset. They had first met when she worked at Hatt Farm for the Pinchen family who were also Mr Gale's employers.

Later Mrs Gale worked in the Grosvenor district of Bath, and she proudly told me how her young man walked the six miles there and six miles back to visit her on Sundays. They were married at the nearby St Saviour's Church in 1875 when the bride was nineteen years of age.

During my childhood I spent many happy hours with the Gales and as a tiny tot I called Mrs Gale Bommy. This was quite a concession by my parents as I was brought up to address and refer to all grown-ups as Mr, Mrs or Miss.

The Gales joint income was one pound a week Old Age Pension and with other old folk they revered Lloyd George for initiating the scheme. It saved the very poor from ending their days in the workhouse or being financed by their children. However many children did help their parents, and the Gales' younger daughter, Emily, married to a Swindon postman paid their rent and bought their coal.

My own mother regularly sent money to her parents far away in Norfolk. Every shilling made a difference in the 1920s. The Gales had one other child, an unmarried daughter, Edith, who was employed as a maid in a house in Bath.

During their married life the old couple had lived at the Old Turnpike and in Jefferies Cottage, where Emily was born. In their later years they moved next door but one to us. Their house had two advantages over the others made from the old ale-house. Firstly it had a back door, and secondly their front door boasted a smart black knocker. Like other houses the front door led directly into the room intended to be used as a kitchen-living room. The grate contained an oven but it was smaller than the one in our house, and quite inadequate for a family. It was kept well black-leaded and the brass knob on its door always shone, but the oven was not used.

Although Mr and Mrs Gale always referred to this room as the kitchen, it was kept as a parlour, whilst they lived, ate and, for what reason I do not know, slept in their inner room. On the low fire there a kettle could be heated or a pan of vegetables cooked. A trivet fixed on to the bars helped to support the containers.

It was in their wash-house that the Gales did most of their cooking. As it could be entered without going outside it proved most convenient although it was rather dark. Mr Gale made an oven from a cubic biscuit-tin by hingeing the lid with wire threaded through the holes. Positioned so that the lid or door was in the front, it looked like an oven and was actually larger than the ridiculously small one in the kitchen. It fitted nicely on the top of their double-boiler oil stove and indeed worked quite well.
The stone copper in the corner of the wash-house was used on Mondays, and having no wringer Mrs Gale wrung all her linen and garments by hand. I can see her now, twisting a sheet around her arm as she squeezed out the water until the sheet was spiralled snake-like along her arm.

The wash-house door opening on the garden was their back door. Mr Gale had trained honeysuckle and rambler roses over a rustic porch. A laburnum tree grew on one side of this shelter and in the summer it was sheer joy to sit in this sweet-scented arbour.

The Gale's house is still clear in my mind, especially the room they called the kitchen. Roses climbed up the wallpaper and the lower half of the window was covered with a lace curtain. A dresser filled with cups, saucers and plates was against one wall, and a chest of drawers by another wall.

The Courting couple sat on the sofa

Below the window stood a highly polished mahogany table where treasured ornaments were displayed. In the centre of the room there was a plain wooden table covered with a red and black thick patterned table cloth.
There were small chairs in the room but Mrs Gale's pride and joy was the sofa. A visitor would be invited to sit on this and would most likely be told that David, for Mrs Gale always referred to her husband so, had made the sofa when he was a young man. It was made of wood and covered with red and black material. Cushions to match were arranged along the back and on the seat was one long cushion filled with straw. This crackled when sat upon and with every movement continued to do so!

Among the many pictures on the walls hung two china plates decorated with flowers and bordered with gold leaf. Gold lettering showed they were presents from Weston-super-Mare. These plates now adorn my own sitting-room, and are constant reminders of my dear friends and the room they called kitchen.

Daughter Emily and her family often visited the old couple, and in due time the grandchildren brought their intended - Mrs Gales word - to be introduced. The courting couple would be invited to sit upon the sofa, as being a romantic, the old lady thought they should be close to each other. But I doubt if they were very comfortable on that rather high seat with the straw-filled cushion.
To cheer up the old people, their grandchildren gave them a wind-up gramophone and records of hymns and marches. However, the recipients were not interested in this form of amusement. They thought such entertainment was really for the younger generation. So when the grandchildren were expected, the records and the gramophone with its big horn were brought out ready to be played. They didn't appreciate hymns or marches either.

The Swindon family eventually bought car - a green Austin Seven with a folding black hood. Visits became more frequent when the long walk from Box Station was a thing of the past and on fine Sunday afternoons the old couple would be taken for rides in the car. This was a rare treat as few people owned cars at that time. However there were occasions when the Gales could be certain of riding in a car. These were Election Days.

The Gales landlords, Mr & Mrs Fuller

Miss Chappell would take them in her Sunbeam to cast their votes at Box. The car would be decorated with blue rosettes but the Gales were staunch Liberals, and were careful not to tell Miss Chappell of their true allegiance. The Fullers, our landlords were Liberals and their tenants and employees were inclined to vote likewise. Mr and Mrs Fuller who lived at Neston Park travelled around their Estate in a landau drawn by two horses. Only once did I see them in this, and when they halted at The Old Jockey Mrs Gale curtsied - the only person in the waiting group of women and children to do so. The Gales were of a generation fast passing away.

Having lived in the vicinity all his life, Mr Gale could remember how his father detoured by way of Wires Lane at Wadswick with his horse and cart, to get to Box dodging the turnpikes. The Horse and Jockey Inn closed before he was born, but Mr Gale remembered when it became a farmhouse. Both he and his wife always referred to the building as the farm, although it had been divided into smaller dwellings for many years. It was from the Gales that I learnt that our houses had once been roofed with thatch. To be able to consult them now would have added extra interest to my History of The Old Jockey.

Mr Gale kept his garden in an immaculate condition and, as was customary, grew a lot of vegetables. Both he and his wife were fond of flowers and their borders were full of old-fashioned plants. These they called by their common names such as lads-love, granny-bonnets, snapdragons, red-hot pokers, and creeping jenny. The pendant blossoms of the laburnum tree were golden chains.

Mrs Gale was the only one to curtsy to her landlords

There was a patch of grass between the well and their house which was kept neat and tidy by Mr Gale. He cut it with a pair of shears. It was actually common ground for all of us but it became known as Mr Gale's lawn.

 No-one else had a lawn. There was grass growing in front of the old inn but that was kept short by the fishman's horse! I believe Mr Gale was the only man in the hamlet to sweep his own chimney. He used a branch of holly as a brush and straight sticks as rods. These worked and did not cost anything.

Mr Gale always seemed to know if a horse had dropped manure on the road, for he would be there with a bucket and shovel in no time at all. This he spread on his garden, and this again was free.

Mrs Gale always wore a hat perched on top of her white wavy hair when outside the house even when hanging out the washing, and over her full length skirt she usually wore two aprons. Underneath would be a starched white one and over this a black apron. The top one would be hastily removed if there was a knock on the front door, as Mrs Gale felt that wearing a clean white apron was the proper way to receive a visitor.

All the other garments worn by the old lady were black. Her outdoor coats were fitted at the waist and knee length. Her skirts almost touched the ground, and with these were worn blouses with long sleeves and high necks. Mrs Gale called her blouses bodies, no doubt a corruption of bodices, and with her other day to day garments they hung on hooks on the back of their bed-sitting-room door. Mr Gale's clothes were stored in a wooden chest.

Mrs Gale was past middle age when her daughters persuaded her to wear knickers or Bloomers as she called them. It was not until the Victorian era that they were considered necessary and it would have taken time for the new fashion to spread to country districts.

Mrs Gale was past middle age when she first
wore knickers

The Bloomers were made of flannelette and reached below the knees. Each voluminous leg was separate and only connected by a waistband. This was fastened by buttons. The lower ends of the legs were gathered into a band to fit the calf, and on the washing line, for that is how I know about these Bloomers, they looked like two funnels. Being almost two garments, I am inclined to think these early designs led to the plurality still in use today: eg pants, knickers, trousers, briefs and jeans.

On Sundays, Mr Gale always wore a suit of thick grey cloth. In the morning he could be found sitting in his wicker-work armchair reading the Bible in a half-aloud voice, for he was unable to read otherwise. My mother called on the old couple every morning and would take them yesterday's newspaper to see. This with the Wiltshire Times was the extent of their other reading. I am not sure if Mr Gale could write but I know Mrs Gale could, although she was always willing to allow me to address her Christmas cards. As I grew older I was permitted to choose her cards from the selection at the village shop.

As the years passed by these dear old people became less active, so their unmarried daughter gave up her work in Bath to live at home and care for her parents. Three persons could not manage on the Old Age Pensions drawn by the old couple. Edith was obliged to apply for Parish Relief, and so Mr Horton who had called on Sis Moss before her marriage came again to The Old Jockey with those few shillings so vital to a caring daughter.

Mr and Mrs Gale lived to celebrate their Diamond Wedding and although by then we had left The Old Jockey, my mother was able to return to share their joy. The happy pair were twice photographed, once indoors sitting on their sofa with the crackly straw-filled cushion, and then outside standing together in the archway of the curtain wall. It appears that Mrs Gale was persuaded to leave off both her hat and her white apron on this auspicious occasion.

Chapter 5 Other Neighbours

One of the two houses made from The Horse and Jockey Inn was occupied by the Bird family, and the other by a middle-aged bachelor, Harry Franklin, whose parents had lived there before him. As a small girl I was a little afraid of Mr Franklin because he invariably rapped on his window and shouted at me to clear off when I threw my ball against the curtain-wall which linked our houses.

Thus it was a pleasant surprise when this crotchety man agreed to a request by my father to let me see the inn cellar. To do so, we had to go inside Mr Franklin's house. From his entrance hall situated at the back of the building one staircase led up to the bedrooms and another down to the cellar. On the wall of the hall hung an iron bell, a relic of former days.

By the light of our torches my father and I descended the twisting stone steps into the gloom below. The cellar was empty. Looking up into the arched stone ceiling I remember thinking that this big underground room looked very much like a church. It ran the length of the inn but the Bird family had no access. The only other entrance, by double doors at the foot of the outside stone steps, was securely locked on the inside. I was familiar with the other side of these doors as I had often ventured down the steps to retrieve my ball. Both doors and steps were sheltered by the curtain-wall but, even in my childhood, weeds and brambles were growing from the crevices.

As I grew older I learned to know Mr Franklin better and often pedalled alongside him and then walked up Short Hill with him coming home from Box. He was employed as a gardener by Miss Maskylene who lived in a house called The Hermitage. At one time Miss Maskylene had lived in Hatt House close by The Old Jockey, so she probably knew her gardener from childhood. I have been told that this rather stern old lady was once a suffragette.

The Bird family who lived in the other part of the old inn had the use of its front door. This was however rarely used as another door opening from an extension at the back was more convenient for the pump and their garden. Adjoining the garden but away from the houses stood a block of four earth-closets, one each for the Birds, the Gales, the Mosses and for Mr Franklin.

Four families shared the
earth closets

Many local people worked at Hazelbury Quarry

The surnames of the Old Jockey residents, Birds, Gales and Mosses, do seem very apt in such a rural environment, and there were Sheppards living in Jefferies Cottage. Up the road at Blue Vein were some people called Berry. The names Franklin and Clark are reminiscent of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, but alas my surname Stower has no pastoral or literary connection.

With Mr and Mrs Bird lived their two grown-up sons and three foster children called Day. These two girls and one boy were motherless and had come from London. As I did, they enjoyed the freedom of the countryside around, and particularly the farm, where we all had the company of the Clark children.

Mr Bird was a roadman responsible for keeping a length of the highway tidy. Roadmen, sometimes called lengthmen, cleared the gutters and trimmed the verges. In my young days they were a common sight working with spade, scythe, broom and wheelbarrow. The Bird's elder son worked on Clark's farm for some years but eventually he followed in his father's footsteps and became a council employee.

By then mechanisation had replaced broom and barrow, and less men were needed. The second son was employed by the Fuller family on Neston Park Estate. Mrs Bird who had black curly hair and a big wart on the side of her face, sold bottles of lemonade, the kind with glass marbles for stoppers, and packets of biscuits. In the summer, trade was quite good.

The Sheppards who lived in Jefferies Cottage had three boys and two girls. All were older than I was, except one girl who was often ill and rarely joined in our games. The eldest girl was married. The boys and their father cycled the six miles to Melksham every day to work in the Avon Rubber Factory.

To reach their house in the field they were obliged to use Hatt Farm gate, and follow a track beside our garden wall and past Jockey Farm orchard. To save making frequent journeys to the pump, the Sheppard boys rigged up a water carrier on wheels. It held the equivalent to several bucketfuls. In winter, if the roads were icy, these big boys enjoyed making slides, especially on the steep Short Hill. Here they attained quite a good speed and seemed to come to no harm. Needless to say, their slides made walking far more dangerous, as the hill had no footpath.

Mrs Sheppard was a sister of Harry Franklin and like him, had always lived at The Old Jockey. But eventually this family did move away to live closer to the factory at Melksham. Soon afterwards the Allens took up residence in Jefferies Cottage and they had a daughter about my age. As the Clark girls and Mrs Bird's foster children, the Days, were growing up, I was pleased to have a new pal. However they stayed but a short time. They left on a Saturday morning by horse and wagon. Mr Allen was driving with Mrs Allen sitting among the furniture. I remember she was nursing a metal safe. Perhaps it contained her valuables!

During their brief time at the cottage, the Allen's cat had kittens and I was given one of them. He was black and I called him Tinker. As a kitten, he let me dress him in doll's clothes and push him in my doll's pram. As a fully grown cat he lived dangerously roaming the district and disappearing for days at a time. He was a real tom and not at all popular. Sometimes when he came home it was obvious that very dirty water had been thrown over him. On his calmer days he was very sweet and would walk along the bank in Short Hill to meet me from school. He liked to be lifted on to my bicycle saddle and be pushed home. He would often follow mother and me when we went for a walk. We would shoo him back, and perhaps he'd go missing again, making us feel sorry for what we had done.

Mrs West and David

The next tenants of Jefferies Cottage were newly-weds, Mr and Mrs West. Mr West was chauffeur at Hatt House and met his wife while she worked there as lady's maid to Miss Chappell. For these newcomers, our landlords, the Fullers, laid on a water supply. The tap was situated in their wash-house just high enough from the floor to allow a bucket to stand under it. No sink, no drain, but nevertheless much more convenient than going to the pump.

We all enjoyed visiting our new neighbours. They had a three-piece suite downstairs and matching bedroom furniture upstairs. No one else at The Old Jockey had a suite, so the Wests' rooms were greatly admired. To cap it all, they also had a wireless set and on occasions neighbours would be invited to listen in. I remember going there to hear a broadcast from the Northey Arms at Box.

The landlady, Maisie Gay, an ex-music-hall artiste, had gathered together some old friends including Eveline Laye, to make up a programme. The Box vicar, the Reverend George Foster, was Master of Ceremonies. Hearing his familiar voice and the songs and repartee of the stars gave the Old Jockey folk great pleasure. Mr West was himself an entertainer. He played the cornet and was not adverse to playing it in the woods near Hatt House !

I favoured his one-man band, and can recall him giving a demonstration of his prowess whilst sitting on a chair just inside Hatt Farm gate. Everyone in the hamlet enjoyed the entertainment. I always thought of Mr West as Billy for his Christian name suited him so well, but I was brought up to address all grown-ups by their proper titles. Billy was a very jolly person and Mr sounded far too prim. He rode a motor-bike and his wife rode pillion. This and his ability to drive a car made him different from his neighbours. That is, with the one exception of Rex Long, the son of the farmer at Hatt Farm, who could drive a car as well as a tractor.

Long's tractor was the first to be seen in the district. It had iron wheels without tyres and made a lot of noise. Rex taught young Tommy Coles who cycled from Box to work on the farm, to drive this machine. One night at twelve o'clock Tommy came back to the farm and ploughed a set number of furrows in the field in front of our house. Rex had dared him to do it and as it happened had lost his bet! Not knowing of this arrangement, the hamlet, awakened by the noise, assumed it was Rex gone mad.

The track through Hatt Farm gate leading to Jefferies Cottage continued on into the next field where there were two ponds and a quarry. I can just remember stone being dug out of the quarry. It was used to repair side roads. Brought through the fields by horse and cart, it would be tipped in specific spots on the grass verges, ready for the stone breaker to hammer it into pieces small enough to be used for re-surfacing.

Horse drawn Steamrollers

Then they would be crushed down firmly by a steamroller. I can recall a heap of yellow stone from the quarry on the grass at the top of Short Hill opposite Old Jockey Farm. Later it was used to repair the steep hill. Only main roads were tarred in the twenties.

The quarry in the field had been cut in the shape of a square, and it was protected from the inquisitive farm animals by barbed wire. As it fell into disuse the big hole turned into a yellow lake. For a while steamrollers working in the district made use of this water. Up and down the track to the quarry would go the horse-drawn water cart that was an important part of steamrolling equipment.

Later on the quarry became a sanctuary for moorhens who nested on the tufts of grass growing on heaps of stones. It became a Mecca for the local children too, and planks left behind by the quarrymen made good bridges for us to get from one grassy island to another. In the next field which was owned by Farmer Clark there was another pond, almost surrounded by trees and bushes. It was quite close to the wire fence we could crawl under to explore Farmer Reeve's boggy wood. We did not realise then that the fence was part of the boundary between Box and South Wraxall, or that the lumps and bumps near the pond were the remains of a Roman road.

Miss Doris Chappell lived at Hatt House, at first with her mother and later alone. At least, not actually alone as she employed an indoor staff of servants, a gardener and Mr West as chauffeur. The house was separated from The Old Jockey by a field called the Park, which was bordered on one side by beech trees and the road. Here the Park was level with the top of the boundary wall, so that the road below was completely hidden from the windows of the big house. There was a special foothold in the wall making it easy to climb, and oft-times I went into the Park this way to explore the hedgerows or to gather moon daisies in the summer.
A well-worn path led from this spot to Hatt House. Mr West used the path to go to work and it was not unusual to see Miss Chappell's cocker spaniels, and she had several, lined up on the wall waiting for him. The postman regularly used this path and so did members of the Clark family when delivering milk to the house.

Miss Chappell was respected by all who knew her. She was the first President of the Box Women's Institute, and for her tireless work with the District Nursing Association and was decorated by the Queen.

Miss Chappell was decorated by the Queen

One night my parents thought Hatt House was on fire. Concerned for Miss Chappell's safety my father climbed the wall and walked across the Park to warn the household. On nearing the building he realised the glow was only the reflection of the moon on a window. So he quickly retraced his steps. It would have looked very suspicious if he had been discovered near the house so late at night.

Once every year the Park wall and the grass growing level with the top of it provided The Old Jockey children with a grandstand view of some motorbike trials. The riders came from the Kingsdown direction, passed right below our vantage point and continued down Short Hill and then up to Wadswick. Their speeds would not merit a second glance now, but then we thought these young men such dare-devils as they whizzed by. In recent years the wall has been moved back from the road in the interest of safety. Sadly, the beech trees had to be removed too.

Of the houses that cluttered around the old turnpike at Blue Vein, I shall write only of one. It was a bungalow containing three rooms, and the roof was of corrugated iron. A sheep hurdle served as a garden gate. This was fastened to a post with string. Here lived Miss Mary Gale all alone after the death of her brother John. David Gale our close neighbour was another brother.

The bungalow was built on common land, that is on the wide grass verge bordering one of the fields of Blue Vein Farm where the Gale family had lived for three generations. The lease did not include a fourth generation and this meant that the two unmarried children would have to find another home. Their father decided to use the grass verge and began by building a pig-sty and run.

Squatters' rights claimed

From time to time he enlarged it, and eventually it became big enough for human habitation and the run large enough for a garden. Whether pigs were ever kept there I do not know. But on their father's death John and Mary moved in, claiming the property by squatter's rights.

Mary was very proud of owning her own home, something no one else around did. Not even Miss Chappell owned Hatt House at first. A low doorway led into Miss Gale's living-room which smelt of apples, potatoes and smoke. On the hob of the iron cooking range lay John's watch, so much better kept warm as Miss Gale said, and it was her only timepiece. The ceiling and walls had been whitewashed but were almost black when I knew the place. The one very small window covered with a lace curtain let in very little light, but it was enough to see the sacks of potatoes and boxes of apples stored under the wooden table in the middle of the room.

A chest of drawers topped by a swing mirror, and some kitchen chairs completed the furnishings. A sack before the fire did duty as a hearth rug on the stone floor. Two doors from this room led to bedrooms but as no one I knew had seen inside them, I thought they must be full of treasures.

Mary Gale dressed in Victorian style, and wore light coloured garments in winter and summer. She wore a cape, never a coat, and her hats were miniature trilbies, white with hardly any brim. They were decorated with flowers. Her hair was dyed black, probably from plants she grew in the garden, for she was extremely knowledgeable about herbs. The dye had run onto her forehead where it left a brown stain. This dark colour on her skin puzzled my childish mind until my mother explained how it may have happened.
I doubt if Miss Gale was particularly clean, as having no water supply on her property, she was obliged to fetch water from Blue Vein Farm. Carrying buckets of water was heavy work for an elderly lady. Every Friday Miss Gale walked to Box via the Drilly to collect her pension. owing to her out-of-date style of dress, she was considered to be a curiosity by both grown-ups and the children in the village.

I last saw Miss Gale in the 1930s looking as she always had done, like a character from Dickens. After her death her home was sold, and later it was enlarged into an attractive residence.

Chapter 6 Box School Between the Wars

Box School in the 1920s

Life was not all fields and freedom for the children living at The Old Jockey, for like other youngsters we went to school. My fifth birthday coincided with a Whitsun holiday and I entered the village school after this mid-term break. To ensure my name was correctly entered in the register my mother accompanied me to school on the first day but afterwards I went along with the Clarks and the Days.

Down Short Hill we went and on reaching the main road we frequently met the children from Norbin Farm and Norbin Cottages who had already walked a mile before joining us for the remainder of the journey.

The road to Box is bordered by fields and woods and quite lonely but in those days long ago our group numbered ten or eleven and we trudged along happily without fear. We were wary of tramps whom we often met on our way and we would cross to the opposite side of the road rather than pass close to these shabbily dressed bearded old men.

In wet weather Mr Reeves of Norbin Farm would convey the Norbin children to school in his big square dark blue saloon car, passing The Old Jockey contingent plodding along in the rain. To protect my feet and legs from the rain I had to wear galoshes over my shoes and buttoned-up leather leggings. I hated these as none of my companions was so encumbered. Talking to a teacher years later, she remarked that I was always well wrapped up!

In summer, we discarded our coats and scarves, but continued to wear hats. The girls had straw hats held on with elastic under the chin instead of tam-o-shanters, while the boys wore caps all the year round.

Lessons in the Infants school ended half an hour earlier than in the big school and while Walter Clark was still in the Infants, we walked home together. He was told to look after me. On one occasion we arrived back very late. He explained to my irate mother that he had taken Peg (my pet name) into the woods to look for snakes!

One afternoon we accepted a lift in a lorry, and the driver did not stop where we asked him to, at the foot of Short Hill. My mother had come that far to meet us and was terrified when she saw us being driven past the turning. But after we told the driver that she was my mother, he stopped round the next bend. It must have been a great relief to her to see us running back, and I do wonder what might have happened to Walter and me if she had not been waiting there. Never again did we accept a lift from a stranger.

The young Katherine in the garden at home

In school the five-year-olds were looked after by the elderly Miss Smith. Under her kindly tuition we drew A's and B's with our fingers in the sand spread on shallow tin trays. It was easy to shake the sand level and try again.

We progressed to using slates and I well remember how the slate pencils scratched and set our teeth on edge. Even at this early age girls had sewing lessons. We practised hemming and running stitches on small pieces of material.

To help both boys and girls lace their boots and shoes we threaded coloured laces into eyelets punched into six-inch long strips of leather, split between the holes like the front of a shoe. We were shown how to close the gap and how to tie a bow at the top.

At six years old, we moved into another room where Mrs McIlwraith taught us how to write with lead pencils on lined paper. The lines were printed in groups of four and our upward loops had to touch the top line and our downward loops reached the bottom line. We joined our letters together from the beginning.

While listening to Mrs McIlwraith reading us stories, she made us sit with our arms behind our backs. This prevented fidgeting and was particularly good for our posture. In this class we learned to spell simple words, to read and do sums. We relaxed by drawing pictures and singing songs.

Mrs McIlwraith who was in sole charge of the Infants school was called the Governess. In my innocence, I thought the words of the Collect used in church that includes the phrase but all our doings may be ordered by Thy Governance referred to my teacher.
The Infants used a playground, or yard as it was called, at the back of the school. The girls' lavatories were situated on the far side of this play area, and it was there I first pulled a chain! Two of the cubicles were fitted with very low pans for the exclusive use of the infants.

Between the ages of seven and eight we went up into the big school and spent our morning and afternoon breaks in the front yard where a wall separated boys from the girls. But inside the school the classes combined both sexes and had done so since 1922. The two front doors remained. Carved in stone above them the letters denoted one was for BOYS and the other for GIRLS & INFANTS. These entrances continued to be used as intended until the school was modernised in the 1980s. Inside the building the sliding wooden screen reaching from floor to ceiling which once separated the girls from the boys also remained in situ until the alterations were undertaken.

While I was a pupil at Box, the lower Standards used the one-time boys half of the school and the upper Standards the other side of the screen. In each section there was a private room, and Standard I used one of these, and Mr Druett, the headmaster, supervised Standards VI and VII in the other.[2] All the Standards had a teacher and so with those in the Infants School there was a staff of eight to educate the two hundred and fifty pupils there in my time. Staff who did not live in the village took lodgings near the school, although Miss Drew of Standard III cycled daily from her home at Thickwood, some way beyond Colerne.

The ink spluttered across the page

In Standard I we began to write with pen and ink. The nibs often crossed causing the ink to splutter all over the paper and we often made blots. Each double desk contained two holes for inkwells. These were filled with ink made from a powder.

The mixture could thicken and come out in lumps or block the inkwells altogether. Periodically we had to remove these white china containers and wash the wretched things. Gradually we coped with the difficulty of using ink, and managed to write compositions, dictation and spelling tests.

Our reading ability was considered important, but sometimes just for a change our teachers read to us, and Mr Kipling's Just So Stories and The Greek Myths and Legends were introduced to us in this way in Standard IV. We learned poetry from books suitable to our age group. Wordsworth's Daffodils and Tennyson's Brook spring to mind. Arithmetic, the third of the three Rs, was not neglected. Having the basic knowledge of all the tables learnt by rote by the age of nine, we went ahead quite fast.

Geography was taught with the aid of a globe and maps. We soon became familiar with the names of continents, the countries and oceans of the world. Needless to say the great importance of those lands coloured red, the British Empire, was impressed upon us. From the maps of the British Isles, we learned about our own country, our big cities, our ports, rivers and hills. History consisted of learning dates and being told about King Alfred, Queen Elizabeth I and other renowned figures.

Nature Study was covered by learning the names of the wild flowers we gathered and took to school, and by keeping tadpoles until they changed into frogs. On reaching Standard V pupils learned a little science, as I can remember turning litmus paper red with acid, and trying to pick up mercury! Some grammar was taught and we were instructed about the various parts of speech. On the big wooden screen Mr Druett chalked A preposition comes before, as in or through the door so there was no excuse to forget that.

Mr Bradfield who looked after Standard V was an organist and choirmaster at the church so he gave singing lessons to the older children.

For several years Box School Children Won the Music Festival

Every year he trained a choir to compete at the Wiltshire Musical Festival held in the Corn Exchange at Devizes. For several years running, Box School Choir won a shield for singing or sight-reading or for both. Villagers would linger outside the school to listen to the choir practising before the great day, and eagerly await the return of the charabanc carrying the singers home. The children would hold their trophy aloft in the open-topped vehicle as it entered the village and revel in the cheers and congratulations of their parents and friends.

Practical subjects had their place too. Girls were given sewing lessons on two afternoons a week. Useful garments were made and sold to parents and teachers. All materials were provided by the school authorities in the first place, so money from sales was welcome. Knitting, darning and patching were also practised in these classes.

Mr Druett's room was often required for other purposes. Being private, it became a consulting room when the school doctor was called, and a surgery when the school dentist's skill was needed. Also in that room, erring pupils received the wrath and sometimes the cane of the headmaster.

Cookery Lesson for Senior Girls

Regularly on Wednesday mornings, Standards VI and VII were evacuated from their room, so that it could be used by the senior girls for cookery lessons.

The old but empty high-mantled fireplace was large enough to accommodate two iron gas cooking stoves and in one corner of the room was a shallow sink with a cold water tap. Incidentally this tap and those over the wash-basins in the cloakrooms were the only ones in the school. There was no hot water supply.

Cupboards built along one wall of the room held all the cooking utensils and the girls worked around a big well-scrubbed table, which was at other times the headmaster's desk. I dreaded joining the cookery class as I had a secret fear of lighting the gas. At home, we had only oil-stoves. Gas was a fuel of which I knew nothing, and I was unsure of what would happen if the lighted match failed to ignite the jets. I imagined the worst - an explosion or perhaps a fire! However, I did enter the class and I cannot remember anything untoward happening. Maybe I was never asked to light the gas.

Miss Horler from Standard IV was our teacher and showed us how to make cakes, pies and puddings. We also cooked a small number of dinners, and these meals, previously ordered, were purchased by members of the staff and some of the pupils. Everything we made was sold to recoup the cost of the ingredients we used. Miss Horler also taught her pupils how to plan well-balanced meals and how to shop economically. Every recipe we followed was conscientiously written in our exercise books for future reference.

Our beloved cookery teacher supervised the senior girls; needlework classes too but sometimes instead of sewing and knitting, Miss Horler gave her pupils lessons on Baby Care. She brought along a big doll weighing about the same as a three month old child, and showed us how to bath it and dress it in clothes made in our needlework sessions. Baby Care proved popular with all those attending the lesson but sadly this instruction came to an abrupt end when Miss Horler left Box School to teach in Bath.

Shortly before I moved to my next school, a new activity took place in the headmaster's room. A battery-powered wireless set miraculously arrived at the school, and was given pride of place in this room. Once a week, the children in Standards VI and VII were privileged to listen to and join in a BBC singing lesson.

There was a competition to compose a tune to a set verse and one of the Box boys, Percy Head, entered and did well enough to have his tune played over the air. It was a proud moment when we heard his name and our school mentioned on the wireless. Perhaps I should add that this diversion in no way replaced our singing lessons with Mr Bradfield.

Prize Day Certificate

In fine weather every Standard went outside into the yard on two mornings a week for drill. My memories of this break from lessons are of lining up and doing exercises such as hands on hips and knees bend and partaking in team games with balls and bean-bags. We were supervised by our class teacher.

Mr George Kidston of Hazelbury Manor had, a few years earlier, purchased two fields at the rear of the school and given them to the village for recreation. A gate in the wall of one of the rear yards gave the school children direct access and being able to use these fields was a great advantage. Here the girls played rounders or stoolball, and the boys cricket or football. Box Cricket Club and Football Club played their matches in the recreation fields on Saturdays, and at all times the fields were open to the public.

Swinging Maypole

Near the school some swings had been erected, and close to these was another amusement called a maypole.

This consisted of a central pole and attached to the top were eight or nine chains. On the end of each chain was a handle similar to that of a garden roller. By holding one of these handles and running round and round the pole, the chains swung outwards lifting the feet of each participating child off the ground. Getting faster and higher and spinning out away from the centre, it was difficult to stop. It needed a combined effort was needed by all those on the maypole to scuff the cinders spread underneath and gradually come to a standstill. It was a dangerous pastime as chains not being used also swung round and round, and their empty handles could easily hit the head of a whirling child. But fortunately nothing serious occurred.

We were all free to play in the fields or the yards for a quarter of an hour during the mornings and afternoon. Girls played touch, ball-games or skipped. In the very hot weather we were content to sit on the grass or on the low walls of the yards. In winter we huddled round the radiators in the lobbies (our name for the cloakrooms) where we hung our outdoor clothes. The dinner break was heralded by the whole school singing: Be present at our table, Lord. Be here and everywhere adored. Thy people bless and grant that we May feast in Paradise with Thee to the tune of the Old Hundredth.

Pupils living in the village went home to eat, while the rest of us, the long distance children, ate sandwiches on the premises, without benefit of a table of any kind, in cold weather in the lobbies, and in summer in the fields. We had all walked to school from Box Hill, Kingsdown, Shockerwick, Ashley, Ditteridge, Middlehill, Alcombe and Wadswick, as well as Norbin, Blue Vein, Henley and from my own hamlet, The Old Jockey. In the winter the hour and a half break was shortened to one hour, in order that the school could be closed earlier in the afternoon. This was to enable the long distance children to reach their home before darkness fell.

Caretaker Mr Pinnock provided hot cocoa

Mr Pinnock was the school caretaker and kept an eye on us at dinner times. He and his wife cleaned the building, and originally lit the old tortoise stoves.

Then after central heating was installed, Mr Pinnock looked after the boiler. During my early years at Box School, those staying for dinner-time were given the opportunity of eating their sandwiches in the Standard III room, and to drink cocoa. Mr Pinnock boiled an enormous black kettle of water on the tortoise stove and, as long as we had remembered to bring some cocoa and sugar from home in a screw of paper and a drop of milk in a bottle, we were able to have a hot drink. We used white enamel mugs provided by the school.

The snag came afterwards when we had to wash the mugs in a bowl of hot water and drain them on a big tin tray. We took turns to do this, using a table under the window. By the time this chore was completed the water was quite brown and the mugs still far from clean. This amenity ceased when the pipes, as we called the central heating, were installed and the tortoise stoves removed. Radiators were fitted in the lobbies as well, so eating there was not so unpleasant. As regards having a drink, some children brought bottles of cold tea or lemonade, and others managed to drink cold water from the taps over the wash-basins. To do this, some contortion was needed, namely bending the head and shoulders until the mouth was directly under the tap.

The central heating boiler was in the old coke store in a semi-cellar under the infants' rooms. As it was always warm there in the winter, any pupil arriving at school with wet feet could leave their shoes there to dry. While this was taking place, canvas shoes with string soles were worn. Several pairs of these were kept in the coal-hole ready for use. They belonged to the school, and saved many a long distance child from catching a chill.

Mrs Tranter's Sweet Shop

I remember the warm summer days best, when after eating our sandwiches we often wandered round the village. If anyone had a penny to spend, we would go to Mrs Tranter's shop in the Market Place.

As the door opened a bell rang, and inside were jars of sweets, toffee apples, liquorice and sherbet. A pennorth of sweets would be weighed out and put into a piece of paper twisted into a cone by Mrs Tranter's nimble fingers. When folded over at the top, this formed a small bag. The sherbet was packed in triangular yellow envelopes with a tube of liquorice protruding from one corner. Through this the sherbet was sucked up and the pleasure completed by consuming the liquorice.

Mrs Tranter sold more than sweets. She kept a stock of ointments, pills, syrup of figs, cough mixtures and corn-plasters. All these were very useful items when there was no chemist in the village. Hardware was on sale as well. Kettles, pie-dishes, brushes and buckets were piled up in every corner. I remember buying my first skipping rope with wooden handles from Mrs Tranter.

Sometimes we found time to go round the Ley where we gathered marsh-marigolds and cuckoo flowers from the banks of the stream. The hand-rail at the steps into this field made a good slide and the little bridge over the water was a pleasant place to linger in. Going through the mill yard and following Box Brook to the swimming sheds was another favourite summer walk, even with no time for a dip. But one day a week after school, old Dr Martin took time off from visiting patients, to encourage children to swim in that part of the brook which was kept clear of weeds for this purpose.

Dr Martin, accompanied by those eager to learn, walked to the corrugated iron sheds used as changing rooms, carrying a pole with a rope attached. At the end of the rope was a corset of sacking. This was tied round each shivering body in turn, and down the steps into the water the body had to go and endeavour to follow the doctor's instructions. He walked along the bank holding the pole as one would a fishing rod (and woe betide the unfortunate learner who did not obey him) as a ducking would ensue.
Nevertheless many Box children learnt to swim this way. For the accomplished swimmers there was a springboard, and for onlookers benches to sit on.

On the occasions when we chose to stay at school in the dinner break, we organised our own games.

Children's Payground Games

There were seasons for skipping, trundling hoops, whipping tops and for marbles, the latter popular with boys. Skipping was favoured by girls and could be played solo with a short rope or with a group using an old clothes line. There were infinite varieties of skipping games. Come away Peter, come away Paul is one I remember best. Using the long rope which needed a girl at either end to twist it, two others entered and left the rope as they all sang the words of the rhyme. At one period the girls revived several old singing games. In and Out the Windows, The Mulberry Bush, The Farmer's in his Den, Sally Go Round the Sun and I Sent a Letter to My Love are some I can recall.

Hopscotch could be played all the year round. All we needed was a hard surface and a sharp stone to scratch out the six squares that together formed an oblong, with another stone of suitable size to kick across the lines as we hopped from number one square to number six.

Needless to say, all these outside activities ceased in wet or wintry weather. All we could do then was to retreat to the lobbies till it was time for afternoon school. The sound of the bell signalled the end of the midday break and, after lining up outside, each Standard walked into school and returned to their desks. After singing thanks to the Lord for our food, we settled down till playtime at 2.30pm followed by the last lesson of the day. School over, we scurried off in every direction.

In winter there was no dawdling along the way, but in the summer our little band on the Devizes Road often strayed into the woods, or maybe used the Drilly and Blue Vein as an alternative route home. The horse trough beside the main road was a favourite stopping place. There we cupped our hands and drank the clear spring water as it poured into the trough from its source in the woods. From this trough the water ran under the road to join the stream in Box Bottom.

Every gate we passed on our way home had a name; ie. Washwells, Pinchpon (Pinchen's Pond), Woodgate, Cox's Van and Hallsgate. Cox's Van gate came by its name in this way. For several weeks each year a Mr Cox lived in a caravan parked just inside the gate of the field which rose steeply to the rear of Hatt House. His horse grazed happily on the slope. Mr Cox was not a gypsy. He was the son of a jeweller and suffered from a complaint that was eased by life in the open air. While in the caravan he pursued his trade of mending clocks and watches.

On our way home from school one afternoon we heard sounds of music coming from the van, and also observed that wires had been fastened between short poles which were fixed to the ends of the roof of the van. Mr Cox had actually made a wireless set and the wires, we learned later, were needed to make it work.

The first time I heard the Wireless (radio)

Thus it was at Cox's Van Gate, that I first heard the wireless.
This was a long before it was installed at Box School, and long before the Wests married and had a set at Jefferies Cottage.

From time to time the road we knew so well was mended. This meant that a pile of grey stone chippings, a steam roller and a tar barrel would arrive on the wide grass sward by the horse trough, a handy supply of water for the thirsty steam engine. Firstly the roadmen sprayed the hot tar over the road, and then they shovelled the chippings on to the sticky mess. Next the steam roller crushed these into the tar to form a fresh surface. One summer day, when Walter Clark was very young, he got too near the tar sprayer and spoilt his new straw hat. It was a sailor hat with a black ribbon band and black binding round the brim, then thought very smart for little boys. I remember that his mother was very cross.

The speed of the traffic on the main road was much slower than today and lorries travelled along quite steadily. They all had an iron bar at the back, and oft-times we would catch hold of this and run behind a lorry, and so arrive home earlier. The problem was to let go as we reached the foot of Short Hill, but we managed to do so and to recover our breath by the time we reached home.
In those days it was not unusual to see a cyclist holding on the offside rear end of a lorry, and covering the rising ground from the village without making any effort. When I eventually got a bike I often did this myself.

Children collected Primroses for Sale

On one evening each week in springtime, we hurried home to tea in order to return to the woods bordering the main road to gather primroses.

We tied them into bunches, kept them in water overnight and on our way to school next morning, took them to Miss Batterbury, who lived in the last house before The Lamb Inn. Together with primroses picked by other children, Miss Batterbury packed these into boxes and sent them by rail to London and Birmingham to be sold. The money received for the flowers was handed to a Church of England charity. Sad to say that now, fifty years on, primroses are rarely seen in the Devizes Road woods. Maybe we overdid our good work and left no flowers to seed. Outdoor activities appear to dominate my memories of Box School and more will be described in the next chapter.

Nevertheless, inside the Victorian buildings we were well taught and no pupil left the school unable to read and write. The majority gathered much more knowledge than just the three R's and many owe their success in life to the training and discipline received there. Every child had to attempt to pass the Scholarship Examination with a view to progressing to Chippenham Secondary School, later known as the Grammar School. To attain this, two tests were taken at the ages of eleven and twelve. For the first one, The Wilts Annual, we sat in our own desks in our familiar classrooms. Using foolscap paper, we struggled with arithmetic and composition.

Successful pupils later made the journey to the Chippenham School, to take a further exam, a more difficult one. Sitting in strange desks, in a strange room, with an unknown invigilator did not help those of a nervous disposition but every year a handful from Box made the grade. The others remained at the village school until the school leaving age, which was then fourteen.

Chapter 7 Six Special Days

Already I have written about the Musical Festival which took place every year in May. Soon afterwards on the 24th of this month came Empire Day, a celebration now erased from the calendar. Box school children looked forward to the 24th, as after morning prayers every pupil became an important person for the rest of the day.[3]

Boys and girls from the top Standards dressed up as people from the various countries of the British Empire. I well remember representing India, swathed in a sari made from a long curtain, and wearing several strings of beads around my neck.
All the other children were given strips of strong white paper bearing the names of famous persons from our own country. These paper sashes were pinned across the chest of every pupil, in the way the Royal Orders are worn.

The sliding screen dividing the upper school from the lower would be pulled back to expose a stage formed by planks placed across long wooden desks at the back of Standard III's room. The shields won at the Musical Festivals on that wall made a splendid background. Displaying their costumes and famous names the children lined up facing the platform in readiness for the arrival of the vicar and the school governors who were then seated on chairs on the temporary stage.

Empire Day at Box School

With the scene set and everyone in place, the guest of honour, a retired major or captain from the district, would be introduced by the headmaster. The military gentlemen would then stand up and talk to us about our wonderful Empire and tell us how fortunate we were to be British. In our turn we sang patriotic songs, ending with the National Anthem.

The visitors took their leave and all the children, now more relaxed, marched in a procession to the War Memorial passing the interested villagers who were standing along the way. Afterwards each Standard had a group photograph taken. The setting was the boy's yard at the back of the school.

On Empire Day, as well as being perhaps Lord Kitchener or Queen Victoria, everyone would be wearing their best clothes ready for the camera. The sadness of relinquishing famous names and handing the paper back to the teachers was short-lived as the rest of the day was a holiday.

Sports Day in June was the next break from routine. The events took place in the evening but all that day there was an air of excitement at school. When lessons were over we hurried home to tea, returning at 6.30pm with parents and friends to the Recreation Field. The evening was enjoyed by all, as the egg and spoon, sack, three-legged and old clothes races gave the less athletic of the children a chance to win too.

The prowess of those taking part in the flat races was carefully observed by the teachers, and the most able were selected to compete in the Area Sports at Corsham. I believe the winners there were given the opportunity of entering the county competitions.

At the end of the summer term, the stage would be erected again in the Standard III's room, ready for Prize Day. Actually this was a misnomer as no prizes were presented, only certificates. On the platform the chairs would be occupied by the vicar and governors again. With them would be some other notable person specially invited to do the honours.

The pupil who came top of the class received a certificate For General Proficiency and those others who had done well in just one subject were not forgotten. Henry Day from The Old Jockey had a certificate for being Never Absent, Never Late in five years.
The summer holiday passed all too quickly. I spent the warm August days on Clark's Farm, in the woods and walking or cycling with my friends. On returning to school in September, almost everyone went up into the next Standard, with most of us eager to show our new teacher what we could do.

Armistice Day remembered with two minutes silence

Armistice Day, that ended the Great War on the 11th November 1918, was remembered countrywide. At eleven in the morning on the anniversary of that day, all activities ceased for two minutes.[4]

At Box School we bought poppies at one penny each, and wore them all that day. A religious service held in the school followed the two minutes silence and this was taken very seriously. Hardly a family was without a lost or injured relative as a result of that carnage. remembering the brave men who had fought in the Great War gave us a short respite from lessons. Then there would be no more special days until the start of the Christmas holidays.

These provided a welcome break from the daily journey to school in the wintry weather but on one afternoon before the beginning of the next term, we willingly returned to our classrooms for the Christmas Treat. We sat in our usual desks and sang Grace before tucking into the sandwiches and cakes. All the food was provided by the Honourable Mrs Shaw-Mellor of Box House and prepared in her own kitchen. Our teachers came back to be with us, and they handed round goodies and poured tea into the mugs we had to bring from home. Our benefactress and her kitchen staff were there to share our enjoyment, and as we left at the end of the feast they handed each pupil a bun, an orange and a bag of sweets. We gave three cheers for the Honourable Lady and went off clutching these extras and our mugs.

The School Concert was the other high spot of the dark cold days. Practising for this was almost as difficult as our lessons but far more exciting. The concert was always held at the Bingham Hall in Chapel Lane. This had a proper stage with curtains, and the hall was large enough to seat a considerable audience. The choir sang the Musical Festival songs again, and maybe one of their number would be chosen to give a solo performance. Poetry would be recited and there was always some folk-dancing and sword-dancing.

Percy Head played the piano, and the little children acted out nursery rhymes and sang simple ditties. Excerpts from Dickens's novels were favoured by Mr Druett, the headmaster, and these were acted by the older pupils. It was at school concerts I was introduced to Mrs Gamp and Scrooge. To end the evening there would be community singing and God Save the King. After such an enjoyable time, the walk home in the dark accompanied by parents and friends was no hardship. Tired but happy, The Old Jockey children climbed Short Hill, quite sure that the Box School Concert was as usual a great success.

Chapter 8 Holy Days and Happenings

Chapel Plaister is a very small Anglican Church at Wadswick. The building dates from 1340 and for many years it was a resting place for pilgrims journeying to Glastonbury.
Later it became neglected and was used as an outhouse of the adjoining alehouse.

In the 1890s it was restored and became a church in the care of the vicar of Box. Being nearer to The Old Jockey than the village church, it was at this ancient place I went to Sunday school.

As was customary then, classes were held both in the morning and afternoon. Miss Annie Vezey walked from Box to take charge of our little group at Chapel Plaister every Sunday morning, and in the afternoon Mrs Razey who lived but a few steps away, came along accompanied by her daughter who, like Miss Vezey, could play the harmonium for the hymns.

Pupils numbered around twenty, and mainly came from the struggling hamlets of Lower and Upper Wadswick. Children from The Old Jockey had to descend Short Hill, cross the main road and then climb uphill to Wadswick Common. This part of the old road could be clearly seen from The Old Jockey as a winding yellow ribbon rising to the highest part of the grassy wasteland.

Gypsies camped around the perimeter of the common for weeks at a time and I was somewhat frightened of these nomadic people and their lurcher dogs. Their brightly painted wooden caravans were certainly very picturesque but, when an owner died, his van was burnt. The gypsies' piebald horses were tethered on the common and a spring in an adjoining field provided drinking water for both man and beast. In the evenings the men and women sat around camp fires with their children. In the daytime they called at the houses in the neighbourhood selling clothes pegs and begging for old clothes. They harmed no one and were accepted as part of the country scene.

On Sundays I often crossed the common for the third time in one day. This was to attend Evensong at Chapel Plaister with my parents. The service was usually conducted by a retired priest, although on occasions Mr Druett of Box School stood in for him. If no one could come, Mr Kidston from Hazelbury Manor did his best to fill the gap. Mr Kidston was a regular worshipper and a generous benefactor to the little church. He paid for the interior walls to be panelled to shoulder height in oak and for an underfloor heating system to be installed.

At Harvest Festival, latecomers were obliged to stand outside, as the limited space inside soon filled on these special evenings. Vegetables overflowed from every ledge and niche. My father would load his wheelbarrow with produce from our garden and push it down Short Hill, across the main road and up the steep rise to the church on the Saturday. Other men did the same. After the service, the fruit and vegetables were given to the Bath hospitals, a bonus welcomed by the patients in those pre-National Health days.

Whilst my parents and I never missed a Harvest Festival we sometimes missed Evensong. This was because we visited my paternal grandparents who had retired to a bungalow at Totney on Kingsdown.

It was the first of many to be built in that area, so when asked where they lived at Kingsdown they would reply in the bungalow and no more directions were needed. On the occasions of our visits there, I was obliged to miss Sunday School too, and these absences prevented me from receiving a prize for Good Attendance. Indeed during all my years there I only attained such a reward twice. One of my prize books was Alice in Wonderland.

Grandfather outside his Kingsdown bungalow

On reaching the age of fourteen I was put in charge of the younger children. After the opening hymn and prayers, I ushered these little ones into the vestry where they sat in a circle. By reading Bible Stories to them I managed to keep them quiet until the closing hymn. By attending Chapel Plaister Sunday School, all pupils were entitled to go on the outing with those who went to Sunday School at Box Church. At Christmas time we joined these again for the party in Bingham Hall. This corrugated iron building was the village hall for many years and numerous events took place there.

It would be very soon after Christmas Day that the Sunday School enjoyed a festive tea and pulled crackers. After eating our fill and drinking tea from the cups we had to bring with us, the tables were cleared and the chairs moved to face the stage for the entertainment. In my early days we were shown silent movies of Charlie Chaplin and Felix the Cat. Later we were introduced to the talkies with films of Mickey Mouse and Popeye the Sailorman. On leaving the hall, the Box Vicar presented each one of us with a currant bun and an orange. That bun was eaten long before we reached home.

At the lowest part of Short Hill, The Old Jockey children parted company with those from Wadswick, and as the Day family grew too old to be included, I had to walk up the hill in the dark all alone. I missed the Clarks on these Church of England occasions. They were Methodists, and enjoyed separate celebrations at their Chapel in Box.

For some years I walked up and down the hill to Sunday School alone, but taking immense pleasure in wandering on the common searching for the downland flowers that grew there in abundance. I found great satisfaction in discovering bee-orchids, and I regret to say I picked every one I saw, blissfully ignorant of the fact that these plants would not produce more flowers for seven years.

The first Sunday School summer treat (they were not called outings) I remember was at Edington Priory Gardens where we were given tea on long trestles tables near a lake. The older children of the party took the long walk to Westbury White Horse, while the younger ones played organised games on the grass. 

The Charabanc broke down on School Outing to Weston

The charabanc broke down on the way home, and I can still remember the look of relief on my mother's face when we eventually arrived back at the five cross roads where the Chapel Plaister pupils were dropped off.

Later, the summer treats or outings were always to Weston-super-Mare. If Crook's charabancs from Melksham were hired, our little group waiting at the crossroads were picked up before those from Box Sunday School waiting at the Lamb Inn. By paying their fares, mothers and sometimes fathers came too, and it could be a great day for all the family. Brownings, the haulage firm at Box, often supplied one charabanc, which served as a coal lorry on other days. But after a good brush down, and with the seat section hoisted on and bolted down, it was just as good as those from Crooks.

Charabanc seats were in rows, and each row was entered by its own door on the near side of the vehicle. The back seat was the most sought after. To protect passengers from the elements, a hood like an outsized pram hood could be raised from its folded position behind the back seat. The driver had to stop for this to be done, and each row of passengers had to help the hood forward as it reached them. At the front it was fixed to the windscreen and off we would go again. Needless to say, as children we preferred to travel with the hood back.

At Weston the tide was invariably out but somehow we managed to paddle in the sea, the girls carefully tucking their dresses into their knickers. Ice-cream cornets were a penny each and a wafer tuppence. Those with extra pennies enjoyed a donkey ride or maybe bought a trinket to take home. This free outing included a tea at Browne's Restaurant, where we sat at long tables with our Sunday School teacher (not our mother) in a room reserved for such parties. Here we partook of a splendid meal of bread and butter, jam and fancy cakes.

The outings really were treats in those days, and by living at The Old Jockey I was privileged to share another treat at Christmas that did not include anyone from the village. This was at Hazelbury Manor, and every child and their mothers from Wadswick and The Old Jockey were invited by the kindness of Mr and Mrs Kidston. In the late afternoon on the appointed day, the family groups hurried along the drive leading to the old house. The lighted windows glowed through the dusk in a most welcome way. Tea was served in a big room over the garages which was gay with paper chains and balloons for the occasion. We were waited upon by the butler, footman and other staff of the Manor, and thoroughly enjoyed the delicious food prepared in the Hazelbury kitchens.

Having eaten our fill, we pulled crackers, donned paper hats and made a great noise blowing whistles and popping balloons. Next we were shepherded down the stairs and across the courtyard to use the staff lavatories before going into the Great Hall of the Manor for the entertainment. This was given for the next hour or so by a conjuror who amazed everyone with his clever tricks.
After clapping him loudly, all eyes turned towards the Christmas tree. It always stood in the impressive oriel window and was lit by candles - real candles, not electric replicas. Brown paper parcels were piled up underneath the branches. Every child was given two of these. One contained a useful gift, such as a scarf or gloves, and in the other would be a toy. Small girls received dolls, beautifully dressed in handmade clothes. I loved dolls and treasured two of those I was given at Hazelbury parties until I discovered that dolls had become collectable. Somewhat sadly I parted with Violet and Tony for money.

The generosity of Mr Kidston
at Hazelbury Manor

As was customary, each child was given extra gifts on leaving the Manor. Members of the Kidston family handed each of us an orange and a bag of sweets as we said goodnight to them. In turn we were told not to drop orange peel in the drive!

Without the anticipation of the three Christmas treats, at Box School, with the Sunday School in the Bingham Hall and the wonderful Hazelbury party, the Festive Season held little excitement for me. Having no brothers or sisters, the 25th December was a quiet day spent indoors with my parents. I do remember being taken to Bath to see Father Christmas on Christmas Eve. He was not to be found in the big shops as now, but stood by the colonnade in front of the Abbey, with a sack full of toys for sale. He did not make his appearance until the 24th. Christmas began on that day, and the parties which took place during the Twelve Days which coincided with the school holidays.In the socks I left at the foot of my bed on Christmas Eve I would find sugar mice, handkerchiefs, coloured pencils and perhaps a pair of slippers. Folded carefully alongside might be a dress or a jersey, and I soon realised such items had been made by my mother and added to swell my simple collection of gifts. My London aunt regularly sent me an Annual and I still have one, Pip and Squeak, its pages loose and the cover hanging on by threads. From my mother's sister who lived in Norfolk, I always received socks or gloves. For a doll, I had to wait for the Hazelbury party.

Christmas cards rarely arrived before Christmas Day and posting would be delayed to facilitate this. Postman Ford's rat-a-tat on the door was eagerly awaited and while handing over the cards he would wish us a Happy Christmas. My father liked to attend the Morning Service at Box Church, and when I was old enough to cycle there I went with him. We would return to a traditional Christmas dinner, consisting of pork or beef, pudding and mince pies. There was iced cake and cold meat for tea, and the great day would be over except perhaps for a game of ludo, halma or snakes and  ladders.[5]

Boxing Day provided an opportunity to visit friends, and on the following day my father would be back at work. These two days in December and Bank Holidays were the only holidays enjoyed by the working men at that time. On Whit Mondays we always went by bus to Market Lavington to visit my father's relations. My paternal grandmother came from this village on the edge of Salisbury Plain and some of her family had moved away. One year, Great Aunt Hannah invited us to stay for the whole weekend, and so we had ample time to walk to the top of Lavington Hill, and to have a long ride in my aunt's governess cart. This two-wheeled vehicle could carry three on its horse-padded seat, and it was mother and I who had the pleasure of sitting beside Aunt Hannah who took the reins.

Box Tunnel in the 1920s

I was quite used to going away to stay, as my mother always took me with her when visiting her parents who lived in Norfolk. Like mother, I am a Norfolk Dumpling as I was born in my aunt's house at Fakenham.

We travelled by train, and as our luggage was sent In Advance we were not unduly hampered on the journey.
Our cases, collected by a railway lorry from our house at The Old Jockey, would be waiting at my grandparents' home by the time we arrived. It was exciting changing at Paddington and crossing London by Underground to Liverpool Street Station. There we boarded another express train, changing at Wymondham to a slow train that took us to our destination.

My mother's sister lived near the station and would be waiting for us with transport of some kind to carry us on the last lap of our journey. I can just remember jogging along the final seven miles in a carrier's cart loaded with all kinds of goods, but going along those country roads in a taxi is clearer in my mind. The end of the ride was on a grassy track, for believe it or not, my grandparents lived in a field. The nearest village was a mile and a half distant. One of my mother's brothers and his family lived there.

As we usually went to Norfolk in August, I was able to join my cousins on their Sunday School outing to Wells-Next-the-Sea. It was there I first saw the sea, for my mother had taken me there when I was six years old, on the train from Fakenham. Going on the outing was very different from the way we went to Weston from Box. Instead of travelling in charabancs, we rode in wagons belonging to the local farmers. Planks were placed across the wagons for seats, and the horses wore ribbons in their manes and tails, and brasses on their head harnesses. The carters vied with one another regarding the appearance of their horses, especially as church farmers conveyed the church children and the chapel farmers the chapel children, both denominations going on their outings on the same day. At Wells the horses were unhitched to spend the day in stables provided for them and for the horses from other villages using the same form of transport.

After a day on the sands and a free tea in a big shed near the stables, the children returned home in the wagons. Tired but happy we trundled along the lanes that were bordered for most of the five mile journey by the brick boundary wall of Lord Leicester's Holkam Estate.

Travelling on the
London Underground

Back at The Old Jockey I would boast about my time in Norfolk, about London and the Underground. None of the children living there had travelled so far as I had, and none of them had taken a holiday away from home.

One year when I was eight, my mother and I went to Norfolk in a great hurry as my grandfather had been taken ill. It was during term time, so I had to go to the school in the village for a few weeks. It seemed very different to my school at Box. The children were allowed to spend playtime on the road outside and it was there I learnt how to play round hopscotch. Only occasionally were we interrupted by a passing horse and cart, and even less by a motor car. The school yard stretched around the small flint-walled building and at the back was bounded by a stream, the little River Burn that flowed through the village.

Apparently most pupils fell into the water at least once and my mother told me she did so, when she went to school there. Many of the children I met were the sons and daughters of her contemporaries. It was at this Norfolk School where I had to stay in to write Kitchen fifty times, after misspelling that word. I have always spelt it correctly since, and never write it without remembering South Creake School.

Eventually both my grandparents became ill, and my mother made the long train journey to Norfolk alone. This time I was left in London with my uncle, a brother of my mother, and my aunt. It was then I used a bath for the first time. Soon afterwards my grandparents died, both in the same month. The Norfolk visits of my childhood came to an end, and all the August holidays were spent with my friends at The Old Jockey.

For my tenth birthday my parents gave me a second-hand bicycle, and I was able to explore the countryside around. In no time at all I could be down Short Hill and along the main road to Box to see school friends, or up to Wadswick to play on the farm where some friends of my parents lived. During the holidays cousins of the Clarks at Old Jockey Farm came to stay, swelling our little group in the hamlet.

Perhaps I would be taken to Bath on the bus one day, or out to tea on another, and so the hot summer days passed until it was time to go back to school. Although I had a bike, I continued to walk to school for a while. On rare occasions The Old Jockey children were given a lift to the village by Rex Long, the grown up son of the farmer at Hatt Farm. His car and Miss Chappell's Sunbeam were the only two in our immediate neighbourhood, and both were tourers with folding hoods.

Bicycles were in general use for those who had some distance to travel to work, like Tommy Coles who had to cycle daily from Box up to Hatt Farm. One dark morning he was attacked on his way to work. As he turned into Short Hill some men jumped out of a parked car, grabbed him and covered his head in a cloth soaked in chloroform. Tommy knew no more until he came to in the ditch with the car gone. Getting up he recovered his bike and pushed it up the hill, arriving at the farm with one legging missing. Farmer Long was concerned about Tommy's dishevelled appearance and while listening to his story noticed a piece of paper sticking out of Tommy's coat pocket.

On it was written Sorry you are the wrong man. Who was the right man? Someone the assailants expected  to be about at an early hour apparently, but surely no-one from The Old Jockey.

Wrong man attacked
and robbed

It was a very mysterious affair. Farmer Long and Tommy went back to the bottom of Short Hill and retrieved the missing legging. On the damp surface of the road, tyre marks of the parked car could be seen. The police were informed and detectives were around for several days.

It was during this period I contracted mumps and so was home from school. One morning the nanny from Hazelbury Manor came by with the young John Kidston in his pram, and stopped to chat with my mother. I patted the golden retriever called Roy that accompanied them, when suddenly the dog turned and bit my cheek. Mother rushed me indoors and I remember climbing on a chair to look in a mirror where I saw the reflection of the gaping wound made by the animal's teeth. The detectives on the Tommy Cole's case were but a few yards from our house at the time and when mother ran out to them for help, she saw Dr Parsons from Box pass by in his Austin Seven. Mother begged the detectives to get into their car to overtake him and fetch them back. This they did and the doctor drove us to his surgery in the village where with the assistance of his wife he attended to the bite.

My mother took me to the surgery daily and the gash was eventually closed without being stitched. Dr Parsons gave me the utmost care and attention although he wasn't our usual doctor. He did say in my hearing that my fat cheek just save the bite from going right through, and if that had happened I would have been done for. Perhaps he meant that I would have been left with a far uglier scar than the one I have carried all my life. I am glad I wasn't done for.

The Kidston family gave me toys and books and paid half the doctor's bill - only half, and they were so rich! But there were no hard feelings. However Roy bit two more people soon afterwards and had to be destroyed. He is buried and has a headstone in the Manor garden.

Several years later I could easily have been done for. A shot was heard outside our house, followed by a rattling noise on our stairs. A bullet had come through the open window of my bedroom, flown across the room and out the door, hitting the wall of the landing to ricochet on the staircase. Had I been in the room and in the line of fire, I could have been severely injured. Rex Long had fired the shot. He had been in the field in front of the house, firing at rooks, and must have made a misjudgement. I found the bullet and ran outside with it in my hand, shouting my accusation. Realising his mistake, he had turned tail and pretended not to hear me. No doubt he was very relieved to see me uninjured.

Chapter 9 All Change

At Atworth with Babs

At the age of twelve I left the village school to continue my education at Chippenham Secondary (later Grammar) School, This meant leaving home earlier every morning in order to catch the train at Box Mill Lane Halt. So with my leather satchel full of books over my shoulder, I cycled down Sort Hill to the village and the little station. A dozen or so fellow pupils waited there on the narrow platform built of railway sleepers, for the bunk, as the school train was familiarly called.

We would only just be seated when the bunk entered Box Tunnel and after emerging, stopped at Corsham to pick up children from that town and the surrounding villages. On arrival at Chippenham Station, we had to cross the foot-bridge on which our footsteps made a thunderous noise.

The school was nearby but there was no time to loiter as the bunk took us to Chippenham only just in time for Morning Assembly. How different it was from the village school! There were so many new faces, so many new rules and regulations.

We were all required to wear uniform, the girls in navy gym-slips, white blouses and black shoes and stockings. Blazers, ties and hat-bands were in the school colours of yellow and green. The boys wore green caps to match their blazers. Our badge was that of the town - Unity and Loyalty. The teachers, collectively called the Staff, and individually Masters and Mistresses, wore academic gowns and only taught their special subject or subjects. Consequently most moved from classroom to classroom throughout the day. For Science, Botany, Art, Domestic Science and Gymnastics we used rooms fitted out for these subjects, and those members of the staff who taught them had the advantage of staying in their own domain. We had to go to them, carrying the relevant books etc from our form room. There were Forms now instead of Standards, and monitors elected by the class were in charge during the short intervals between lessons when no teacher was present.

The staff gradually introduced us to hitherto unknown subjects. Our familiar arithmetic was just one part of Maths. Geometry, Algebra and Trigonometry were the other mathematical mysteries. Learning French was a novel experience for most of us. For those like me, the only words in that language we knew were on the HP Sauce bottles praising the product being sold.

Under the heading of Science girls were given Chemistry lessons for their first two years. Then they changed over to Botany in preparation for the School Certificate Examination at sixteen. Boys continued to study Science subjects throughout their years at the school. The lessons took place in the Science Laboratory, the stinks room where we sat on high stools and worked at long benches. Here we learnt how to use bunsen burners, pipettes, retorts and balances to enable us to carry out experiments. It was entirely new work for most of us and I was relieved when my two years were over. I much preferred Botany, which involved drawing flowers - something I did well.

Compositions were now called essays, and with grammar, dictation, spelling and poetry had the blanket name of English. We studied Shakespeare's plays and many good books in depth, and I found this an absorbing task. For each subject we had an exercise book, or sometimes two, and the covers varied in colour. Black was for Maths (very suitable in my case), pale green appropriate for Botany, and I believe purple for French. We studied Geography and History in more detail than before, and wrote about these subjects illustrating our work with diagrams and maps.Our school lessons were supplemented by homework. We were told that the days were too short to get through the curriculum, so we travelled to and from each day loaded with books.

The gymnasium awed me at first. The ropes, ladders, box horse and balancing beams were unfamiliar, but as with everything else at my new school they soon became commonplace. The climbing, jumping and all the exercises we did with the aid of the apparatus were vastly different from the knee-bending in the yard at Box School. We changed into shorts and vests to partake in the rather demanding exercises, although the teacher always wore a gym-slip and black stockings, similar to our usual winter uniform. In the summer we wore green and white gingham dresses to school, but had to wear those dreadful black stockings in spite of the warm weather. I would stop on my way home from Box and take the wretched things off. I was safely away from seeing any of the staff but woe betide a girl going without stockings in Chippenham, or her black velour hat in winter or her summer panama.

Growing up and leaving The Old Jockey

The gymnasium was used for other purposes: as a school hall, a lecture room, occasionally as a theatre and daily as a dining room for pupils who brought sandwiches for lunch. For the latter, the caretaker erected trestle tables, and on these we spread checked tablecloths. Sitting on chairs, with plates and glasses of water provided, was rather more civilised than eating in the cloakrooms at Box School. A member of the staff was always present and we all said Grace before beginning our meal.

On our first day at school we were told that we would belong to one of the four Houses. This system was used mainly for competitive purposes. On games days House matches were played, with the participants wearing House colours.

Girls played tennis, hockey and netball, while the boys were engaged in cricket and football. Sports Day was the big occasion when loyalty to one's House and its athletes was of paramount importance. The winning House would get a cup. Cups and prizes were awarded once a year on Speech Day. Our gym would not hold parents as well as pupils, so we all walked through the town to the Neeld Hall. Girls had to wear white dresses with long sleeves on that day but, believe it or not, with black shoes and stockings.

Bad behaviour or slip-shod schoolwork was not tolerated. The ultimate punishment was the end of the rope in the gym brought down sharply on the behind for the boys, but the more usual method was detention. This entailed remaining after school to correct work or write lines. Another way of making us tremble with apprehension was having to report to the Headmaster or Headmistress and tell them of your misdemeanour.

Life at my new school was different in so many ways but looking on the bright side, we did have longer holidays than did the Elementary Schools. While at Chippenham I made many new friends, and I enjoyed most of the work we did there. However having to spend so much time on homework, I found it necessary to give up Girl Guides, as I was unable to return to the village after tea to the meetings and camp-fire suppers. Music lessons had to finish as well as I had so little time to practise on the piano.
So the rhythm of my life altered as my horizons broadened. However, my new interests and new friends softened the blow which was to descend on The Old Jockey.

The Clark family decided to move away to a farm at Atworth. The new tenant had no children and I did not set foot in the farmyard or any of those fields again. The Day children all left school by this time and I became the only child left in the hamlet. Nevertheless I continued to roam alone in some of Hatt Farm fields. The disused quarry, gradually filling with water, proved invaluable when water-beetles and other pond life were needed to aid me with Biology homework.

Visiting my new friends took up any spare time I had on Saturdays, and for these jaunts and in the holidays, I found my bicycle extremely useful. I spent many happy hours with my dear friend, Babs, who lived on a farm at Wadswick, and this no doubt made up for the loss of the freedom I once knew on the Old Jockey Farm. Whenever possible I went to Atworth to visit the Clarks at their new abode. On Sundays I was mainly occupied with Church and Sunday School at Chapel Plaister. At home, I found increasing pleasure in reading, entirely due to the influence of my new school. So with homework and visits to and from friends the weekends and the long holidays passed happily.

Sad changes took place too, for in my first year at Chippenham my Norfolk grandparents both died, so there were no more journeys to the county of my birth. Within a few months my paternal grandmother at Kingsdown died, and the fortnightly visits for Sunday teas ceased.

Mother, Dad and I went to see my grandfather quite often and I enjoyed my contribution - getting his tea on a Saturday, but all this suddenly came to an end. Grandfather, now eighty years old, married a much younger new wife. She disliked living at Kingsdown, and they moved right away. However one happy event did take place about this time. Mr and Mrs West, who lived in Jefferies Cottage, had a baby boy called David.

My grandparents' bungalow in Norfolk

From that day, I was no longer the only child at The Old Jockey, and Sunday mornings would see us out together as Mrs West allowed me to push her baby in his pram. I was now taking an interest in much older boys too, and was very lucky to find one who was good at maths. He could help me with quadratic equations and other algebraic problems given for homework. We spent many hours together cycling and walking in the district, and during the two years we were close friends, I'm sure we helped each other mature.

Youngsters were very innocent at this time. References to sex, bodily functions, swear words and insolent behaviour were considered rude. Consequently I was puzzled when I first read about the rude forefathers in Gray's poem Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard.

All around changes were taking place, with mechanisation increasing on the farms and more cars on the roads. No longer did we run out-of-doors when we heard an aeroplane overhead. My parents decided to make a change too, and moved to Atworth. It was wonderful to live near the Clarks again. I left school and my childhood was over.

New families came to The Old Jockey to live in our house, in the Gale's old home and, as time went by, every other house in the hamlet had fresh occupants. I sincerely hope their children were happy there, and will be able to look back, as I have, with fond memories of the place.

Footnotes

[1] These pages contain recollections of a childhood spent in a rural area. Local History and Social History have crept in, but chiefly I have written of the neighbours I so well remember, of going to school and the simple pleasures of my early life.
[2] Standards (what we call years) arose in the 1840s when schools received grants of 12s per pupil who each year acquired a pre-set level of proficiency in reading, writing and arithmetic. Christopher Martin, A Short History of English Schools, 1979, Wayland Publishers Ltd, p.19, 50
[3] Empire Day was started in 1906 to instil in the minds of children what are the privileges, the responsibilities and the duties of citizenship of the Empire. Christopher Martin, A Short History of English Schools, 1979, Wayland Publishers Ltd, p.84
[4] The first minute's silence was to remember the fallen and the second to honour those who survived the war.
[5] A board game similar to Chequers

Sources
This information was gleaned from the following sources:
Ancient Trackways of Wessex: Timperley and Brill
Roman Roads: Ivan Margery
The History of Hazelbury Manor: George Kidston
Box Church Registers: Record Office
1840 Tithe Map of Box Record Office
Post Office Directories: Record Office
Records of Turnpike Trusts: Record Office
The late Miss Doris Chappell
The late Mr and Mrs David Gale

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