Bill, a regular visitor to the website from New Zealand. He was born when his family were living in Lawrence Road. He and his other relatives living in New Zealand Keep in touch with Wrington news viaI the website. On his visit home in 2016, we met in All Saints’ church <http://www.wrington.net/allsaints/2016/billcrookvisit/> and he went across the road to spend time with Trevor Wedlake, whose contributions to the website, about growing up in Wrington, must have sparked off the idea in Bill’s mind for this present series. Indeed, he’s already written a fascinating piece about how, as a 9-year old at Wrington School, he heard from the headmaster of the death of King George VI. He writes “ A muffled gasp went round the room and one of the older boys fainted. It didn’t mean much to me at my age but … we were told we could go home early that day, YIPPEE !!!

Wrington Revisited. 1948. The prime minister was Clement Attlee and it was the year Mahatna Gandhi was assassinated and the Berlin Airlift began. The Axbridge Rural District Council built 14 new council houses in Silver Street, now known as Lawrence Road. Our family moved into No.1 and, just as a memory prodder, the following families took residence, in order, up the road. Crook, Vowles, Wilkins, Hillman, Frappell, Martin, Moss, Owers, Dewsberry, Cummings, Mellott, Fear, Cox and Steadman. Does that ring a bell or two? The village had two shoe shops (Millard and Parkes), three grocers (Farley, Amor and Cook), Amor also had a drapery shop managed by Miss. Milton. One clothes shop (Farley), one general merchandise (Parsley), A post office (Phillip may wish to confirm if Mr. Whitehouse was postmaster in 1948), two motor repair shops (Kingcott and Richards (?) ), Mr. and Mrs. Cox ran the paper shop on Station road and Mr. Waite ran the school on School road. Wedlake and Bathard each had a butcher shop, one with sawdust on the floor!! Mr.Edwards was the chemist and two doors down from his shop you could watch Clar Lane shoeing horses. I’m not sure if Angus Spalding had opened his electrical store at this time. Miss. Bathgates’ Cuckoo Workshop was still out West Hay and Mr. Bruncker was caretaker at the Memorial hall. Tom Bush was a builder and the fire chief. Lloyds bank had a branch by Amors and Burnetts had a sawmill behind the memorial hall. Yates made coffins and Mr.Biggs (School Road) made the headstones to go on top! Dr. Bell made house calls and Burnetts built houses. Three postmen (Mr. Hurley and two Ferris brothers) and one postlady (Ivy Davies) delivered letters five days a week, a steam train delivered coal to Clements coal merchants on a Monday and Clements coal merchants delivered coal to our place on a Wednesday. Marshalls delivered milk on Saturdays. Organs operated a printing business in “The Dring” and grew delicious Orange Pippin apples in an orchard where Garstons now exists. Mr. Bollinger(?) ran “The Bell”, Bert Clarke was landlord of “The Golden Lion”, Mr. Holland(?) operated “The Plough” and Bridie Sherbourne was the personable landlady of “The White Hart”. Resident policeman Constable Hebditch kept an eye on law and order. Legal matters were handled by the High street firm of Bennetts and dental matters by Mr. Calder on his weekly visit to Mrs. Shapleys’ home. Ah! Mr. Calder and Mrs Shapley, to us kids the lesser of the two evils was arguable! Colonel Lee cut a dash striding through Broad street with his walking stick whilst Mr. Hurley, the postman, cut men’s hair at his home in Station road. For their hair needs ladies could visit Vera Bugden in her Ladywell home. A bakers’ dozen of the best tea cakes was available at Sullivans bakery and their birthday cakes were iced to perfection by Art Badger. Across the road another bakery was run by Mr.Coles. Jack Sperry operated a general carrying company specialising in agricultural products and Wrington Vale nurseries, managed by Bill Ridley, grew tomatoes and lettuces opposite the White Hart. A man whose name escapes me grew anenomes, commercially, in a field at the top of Iwood Lane. In those DIY days Tincknells hardware, by the railway crossing, was the place to visit. Spiritual needs were met by three churches in those days. All Saints’ was the architectural showpiece and important place of worship but both the “top” and “bottom” chapels were a valued part of the overall well being of the parish. More of that later. To be continued……….. Footnote: Readers, my articles represent recollections not reflections of events or places visited. I use a little poetic licence so may not always be entirely correct especially timewise. If you have any comments, corrections or additions please feel free to contact at <bill.crook17@gmail.com>. I would love to hear from you.

Jo Lewis - barely minutes after Bill’s piece was uploaded ! I would like to thank Bill for his piece relating all the Wrington businesses in the village when he first moved into the village. I was born in Council Houses, Kings Road, Wrington in 1949, moved to Congresbury at 7 months old but came back to Wrington when I was just seven. I lived in 20 Silver Street, later Lawrence Road. with my Dad Jim Edwards and Mum Lil and there were 6 of us kiddies. We had the best place in which to grow up, with our house at the top of the road with only fields from then on, what a playground we all had! A few of the names, recollected by Bill, I didn’t recognise but the majority I did. We were well served with shops and amenities considering Wrington wasn’t a large village at that time. I worked in the school holidays and Saturdays at Farleys and then later the mushroom farm before leaving school, happy days. I look forward to any more reminiscences from Bill should he (I was going to say put pen to paper, showing my age now even if I hadn’t mentioned it above!) decide to carry on. George Collins - Thank you for this, a good read! Philip Whitehouse - What an interesting series of parade of memories Bill Crook presents. To correct him a little, my father became Post Master in 1951, immedately before us the Post Office was occupied by the Thomas family. (for a time,in fact, we - and my mother's parents, Bert and Louisa Howells -- were running two Post Offices simultaneously - Magor "across the water" and Wrington. Happily, Magor still possesses its PO) .My parents, having fallen in love with the place, returned to Wrington in 1956, and we lived at Cox's Green,and remained in the village until 1959. But I remember my arrival at Wrington school as a rather shy, timid boy of six. What a culture shock ! Migrating to a bush part of Australia eleven years hence was of no comparison ! It was during Mr Waite's regime:. The teaching staff were : Ms Gunning, the infant teacher who, from memory, also instructed in Scripture, Ms Green - into whose class I was ushered, Ms George and Mr Webber (I have used a rather anachronistic "Ms" as I am unsure of the ladies' marital status). I came from a south Birmingham Primary school (Hall Green) and in those days, I think, regional differences in accent were probably more marked. I remember being struck by the broad Somersetshire accent, particularly in Morning Assembly when the Lord's Prayer was sung. "For Everrrr, and Everrrrr, Arrrrmen". Still, I settled in reasonably well and became quite happy: Going to the pictures at the Memorial Hall. Going into both Somerset Bakeries and Cole Bakery and demanding a "penny bun"- which I usually got. Climbing the quarry and playing in the woods (now all out-of-bounds, I noticed, when we visited a few years ago) After Mr Hurley retired cycling to Yatton, via "The Rhoddy" to get a haircut . And there was a railway. We arrived when the lines onward from Wrington were being removed, but we managed to cadge a ride (Anthony Parsley and myself) on the footplate to Burrington before they were. The 1953 Coronation was another Big Deal (another anachronism). The School went to visit the Naval Review at Spithead where we cruised around the assembled warships and, of course, visited HMS Victory:- wonderful for a small boy. Then there was a Children's party the length of Broad Street. There was always a Children's Day each year, unless my memory plays me false, but perhaps it still happens. A Fancy Dress Parade and games at the "Rec. All good. Kind regards, Philip W. Jo Lewis Lovely memories evoked when reading Part 4 of Bill Crook’s memories – thank you Bill. We Edwards children attended the Congregational Chapel and yes, enjoyed the outings to Weymouth, sorry to hear Bill didn’t get to go on these! Always a wonderful day on the beach - Dads rolling up their trousers for a paddle, knotted hankie on top of their heads if the sun was too hot. At the beach, Dads carried (very carefully) a tray with proper teapot and cups, for the mums’ tea, ice creams (of course), swimming (or, in my case, trying to) in the beautiful clear blue water, finishing the day at the fairground where the coaches parked. Fish and chips (and a trip to the loo) at Castle Carey on the way home. Lots of singing and laughter on the coaches. Magical outings made all the more precious as many, in those days, didn’t get to go far from the village. I have seen a photograph of my Great Aunt Phyl and other villagers on an open top charabanc, taken many years before, an outing arranged by the Methodist Chapel I believe so this tradition was long lived. Did I see this on the Wrington website I must take another look? Such simple pleasures now but what a very happy time was had by all and Weymouth is still my favourite seaside town. Best wishes, Jo

Wrington Revisited - A series by Bill Crook

1949. NATO is established. West Germany is formalised as the Federal Republic of Germany and east Germany becomes the German Democratic Republic. Mao Tse-tung proclaims the establishment of the Communist People’s Republic of China. The district council had built another ten houses in Silver St. These were occupied, clockwise from the top, by the following families:- Porter, Todd (son of whom acquired the obvious nick name Sweeney!) Neath, Clements, Bell, Brooks, Crook, Dagleish, Parsons and Cox. The Brooks family moved to Gatcombe within a year or two and were replaced by the Harse family. Commercial changes now occurred with Molly Richards opening her “emporium” where “The Bell” once was and Mostyn moving his business to shedding behind the shop. Mr. Parkes closed his shoe business and the Tringhams converted it into something akin to what we now call a “convenience” store. Mr. Tringham deserves a space in the village history for two innovations primarily aimed at his younger clientele. Firstly, his home- made ice blocks. Word soon got round that after school kids could get a FREE ice block that afternoon and another FREE one the next day. After that they were available at the bargain price of ONE FARTHING each!. More importantly Mr. Tringham introduced the local population to MONKEY NUTS. Monkey nuts, they became the talk of the village, especially amongst the kids. For a few pennies you could get a little bagful of these new delights. Each sawdust textured and tasting shell usually contained two kernals and that’s what you got, plain and unadulterated! Their popularity soared and they would eventually became known by their American name…..PEANUTS. To us they remained monkey nuts. Meanwhile Wrington Vale Nurseries was undergoing a change from lettuce and tomato producers to mushroom growers. As Gatcombe was being developed a plantation of black currents below the new mushroom houses ensured continuing work for local women. Somewhere in this time frame Owen Mathlin opened a butcher shop next to Shapleys. The same Mr. Mathlin used to hand dig the area now known as Hannah More Close and grow potatoes. All harvested almost single handedly by Owen. On a Saturday evening you could go to Mr. Mathlins’ home (near Branches Cross) where his wife, May, would sell you a dozen of the best home -made faggots in the west! I had heard that as a young man Owen acted as a stockman delivering sheep to New Zealand on what would have been quite a long voyage. Around the same time a local, likeable rogue, lets call him Teddy, was summoned to appear before the Axbridge Magistrates Court on a charge of stealing a few bales of hay from a farmers’ barn. On the day of the hearing Teddy rode his bike from Wrington to Axbridge, parked his bike against the wall of the courthouse and went inside. The case for the defence being somewhat weak resulted in a conviction and Teddy was sentenced to ten days imprisonment. Police delivered him to Horfield prison in Bristol. Given two days off for good behaviour Teddy was released and returned to Axbridge by the police. He found his bike exactly where he had left it whereupon he mounted his trusty steed and simply peddled back to Wrington. There was some talk that the rear wheel was slightly damaged but we’ll never know because Teddy never spoke about it! Sadly, history is not always pleasant. I recall on several occasions when I was six or seven years of age coming across the following situation. Either going to, or coming from school, a group of older children would be outside the home of a local businessman. Some were throwing stones at the large brown gates of the residence, at the same chanting what I thought was “dew, dew, dew, something, something”? Not understanding what it was all about I think I might have joined in the chorus. I use the word “something” because I simply can’t remember what was said. Later in life and learning about recent history the true sinister meaning of the chant hit me like a brick. To this day I carry a share of innocent guilt for joining in. Lulsgate aerodrome was still just that. A few aero club Austers and Cessnas flew around and/or towed the occasional glider into the sky. A new Gloster Meteor jet fighter might sweep across the sky from time to time but you would be just as likely see Frank Board on his way to sweep someone’s chimney. By todays’ standards the sky was quiet. The streets however were a different matter. 24 homes in Lawrence Rd. meant a lot of kids and a lot kids meant a lot of noise and a fair share of mischief. What on earth kept them entertained? I’ll take a look at that later. To be continued. Footnote: Thankyou George Collins for your appreciation and thanks Jo Lewis for your comments. The fields were a very important part of growing up in Wrington and will be covered later. Cousin Simon (Warkworth NZ) reminded me that the anemone grower was Mr. Thayer.

Wrington Revisited 3. 1950. India becomes a Republic. The Group Areas Act (Apartheid) comes into effect in South Africa. Communist North Korea invades South Korea. Mother Theresa establishes Missionaries of Charity in India. Starting school in 1948, It was Mrs. Gunning, our primary teacher, who crafted us kids from Silver St. (and others, of course) into a class and a community group. Most pupils stayed in the same learning and social bubble through to the age of twelve. I was part of this particular bubble and so this is their story as much as mine. To five year olds room 1 was big, very big. It needed to be because there were about 25 people in that space consisting of 22 kids, Mrs. Gunning and two other very important people. Two people who were to influence, to a greater or lesser degree, the future of all the kids in the class. I refer, of course, to Janet and John. Together they appeared on little brown cards about 10cm x 20cm with characters coloured red and yellow and with the first simple written words of English printed in black. This is Janet Janet has a cat This is John John has a hat. …….. or something like that!! There were a dozen or so of these cards which progressively became a little more challenging. Each child would be taken in turn and coaxed by the motherly and very patient Mrs. Gunning. As it happened I was relatively quick learning to read and was pleased with my own skill level. Handwriting, however, was a different matter and one that I have struggled with for ever. In room 2 it caused me some grief. First the pens, then the nibs and then the ink. I could never get them coordinated! Teacher, who shall remain nameless, would write screeds on the blackboard and we had to copy them onto paper. Well the pen went one way and the ink went the other way and I just couldn’t keep up. Teacher grabbed me by the scruff of the neck, dragged me to the front of the class, sat me down at another desk, clipped me under the ear and said “now, get a move on”. Tears came to my eyes but they prompted no mercy from teacher who said “get that paper wet, my boy, and you’ll get another clip under the ear”! Some 18 months later I was found to be short sighted and for a while was known as “four eyes”. How I loved school. Something to look forward to was the annual children’s day. The day began with a fancy dress parade starting from the railway station and making it’s way to Broad Street. Here the judging took place, not only for the best dressed, but also to choose the Carnival Queen. I don’t know what year it was but the only Carnival Queen I can remember was Joan Day. After judging, the parade continued on to the recreation field before dispersing. Children’s sports followed which included egg and spoon, three legged and sack races as well as the traditional 100yards and long jump events. First prize, sixpence. Second prize threepence and Third prize the princely sum of one penny. But wait, there’s more. The day was completed by the childrens’ tea in the Memorial Hall. Each kid took his/hers own cup, spoon and small plate to enjoy sandwiches and cakes. Jelly and ice cream may have been served but I can’t remember. One thing I do remember was that wherever there was food and kids there was the ubiquitous Mrs. Bryce. Before moving to Silver Street we lived in Rose Cottage, by the church. It was two dwellings then and Mrs. Bryce lived next door. Mrs. Bryce was a regular film goer to Mr. Cattermauls’ Monday and Friday nights’ picture show at the Memorial Hall. So were me and Mickey Owers! Mrs. Bryce sat at the back (One and three pence) whilst me and Mickey Owers sat in the front rows (Eight pence). Mrs. Bryce liked westerns and her enthusiasm was infectious. As the Indians tightened their stranglehold on the wagon train and when all appeared lost the cavalry would appear from over the hills. As they charged to the rescue Mrs. Bryce would urge them on. “C’mon our side, c’mon our side”, she would yell with glee. I can hear her as I write this. After 70 years what finer tribute? Mr. Cattermauls’ cashier at the picture show was Ivy Davies, the post lady no less. Miss. Davies’s mail delivery route was not an easy one. She had to plod to the top of Wrington Hill, down an unnamed lane into the rather isolated and lonely walking track at the bottom of the warren to where there used to be a goldfish pond (might still be there) and up and over to the top of the hill road. Then down to the village, every day, rain or shine. For some reason and I know not why Miss. Davies was known locally as Ivy K’Davies. As cashier she was always well made up, impeccably dressed and she had a penchant for wearing her cardigan over her shoulders. Ivy was also missing one or two fingers on her right hand but this was no hurdle and she made the flicking of coins across the table into an art form. Her act was as good as some of the films I saw! And I saw quite a few films. It was films like “Gone with the wind” and “Across the wide Missouri” with their powerful and poignant theme tunes that stirred within me a love of music. What the musical arrangers of Shenandoah did for the American west, so later I would learn, Dvoraks’ New World symphony did for America. To be continued.

Wrington Revisited 4. 1951. The Archers and The Goons are broadcast for the first time. Dennis the Menace appears in The Beano comic and Winston Churchill became Prime Minister. All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small, all things wise and wonderful, the Lord God made them all. This was probably the first hymn learned by infants either at school or Sunday school. I associate this hymn with All Saints’ in general and their Sunday school in particular. At 2pm (I think) the Sanctus bell would toll calling us to Sunday school. Off we’d go in our Sunday best to share an hour, of what, I don’t remember! Well, I do remember the Rev. Talbot reading excerpts from The Robe. I’m sure he meant well but a bit out of touch as we say today. I do remember staring aimlessly around the magnificent church structure wondering why we kept praying? The summer outing was a key point for the kids and the three churches. It was disappointing for us that All Saints’ could only get to Weston-Super-Mare while the two chapels made it to Weymouth or even Bournemouth. I remember on one outing getting badly sunburned at what used to be The Pool. We were there with Dorothy Drew, remember her? Onward Christian soldiers Marching as to war With the Cross of Jesus Going on before. This hymn reminds me of the Methodist bottom chapel. A little older so slightly improved memory. The hymn, as you would expect, was also a favourite of the tambourine bearing Salvation Army groups that used gather up the road on a Sunday night to spread God’s word. Scorned by some, to me they were part of a time. A time which may have been as good as it would ever get. “Sunday” school was held during the week in the evening. The main organisers were Mr. and Mrs. Millard who lived near Butt’s Batch. I can see them both in my mind’s eye especially Mrs. Millard who always had a gentle smile on her face. Mr. and Mrs. Maidment lived in one of the Alms houses in Langford. Mr. Maidment gave a talk or several talks about Methodist missionaries in the South Pacific. His words were illustrated with coloured pictures projected by a lantern slide. I distinctly remember three of those images :- (1) A three masted sailing ship taking personnel and supplies to the Islands. (2) A modern oil tanker used to take personnel and supplies to the Islands. (3) A picture showing “poor Captain Cook being killed” in the Friendly Isles! (Hawaii) Mr. Maidment was a quiet spoken and well-versed gentleman who totally believed in the work carried out by the Methodist missionaries. If he were alive today I could tell him their efforts were not in vain. Auckland has the largest Polynesian population in the world and the Methodist legacy is very plain to see. Methodists took their kids to Weymouth! NB. In New Zealand “the Islands” is a collective term for the different neighbouring Island nations. eg Tonga, Samoa Etc. who share this region with us. Now the Now the day is over night is drawing nigh shadows of the evening steal across the sky. Our bubble is a little older now, still at primary school but somewhat independent. To cater for this group the Congregational top chapel established a little social club called Christian Endeavour. The meetings were held at night starting at 7pm. The leader was Mr. Davis who happened to live in Rose Cottage where we once lived. It started with a little service followed by some home craft workshops. Sometimes the service went a bit longer than the kids could handle. One evening just as we thought we were going to the craft room Mr. Davis suggested we bow our heads and close our eyes. This was too much for one young lady who exasperatedly exclaimed “Oh no, not another bloody prayer”! In modern parlance I still LOL when I think of this moment. Going home was bit of a challenge for some of the kids because it was twilight or dark. The walls of the top dring made a great enclosure for the bats to practice low flying skills. And what else did bats do? They got in your hair, so run Mary, Run! The myth was still real to some. Three different churches each providing religious education as best as they saw fit. I don’t how successful they were, if indeed, you could measure success but I’m sure no one came away any the worse off for their participation. Stalwart of the Congregational church was Clifford Marshall of Rydings farm. If there was one man, one place, one institution that played an overwhelming part in the nurturing, education and development of the children of Wrington it was Cliff Marshall and his Rydings farm. Get your wellies on, we’ll go there next time. To be continued. Footnote. Thankyou Phillip Whitehouse for your contribution. The time to which you refer is at the furthest extent of my memory although I do remember you starting school. Similarly I have been reminded that Coles bakery had been Hydes bakery and that Wedlakes butchery had been Kings butchery. I remember Butcher King because he used to buy the holly wreathes that my father, Alfred Crook, made at Christmas time. If I and/or my sister was there when he called in he would give us two shillings each. A generous man. My impression was that his business then operated in Congresbury or Yatton To be continued.

Wrington Revisited 5 1952. Death of King George VI. Death of Eva Peron aged 33 years. Dwight Eisenhower is elected 34th. President of the United States. “All things bright and beautiful”. What could be more stunningly “bright and beautiful” to a child who sees a hedgerow full of primroses for the first time. And, indeed, for each time thereafter. What Mum didn’t receive a little posy of primroses whose short stems were crushed by the tight grip of a small child not wanting to drop the precious gift? The freedom to wander over Rydings Farm was granted by the goodwill of Cliff Marshall and any further mention of Rydings will be simply “the farm”. After a few escorted forays into the magic primrose world the children would be next introduced to the awe inspiring bluebell wood. Wordsworth might well have mused “ A host, a crowd of Bells so blue”. Fortunately the bluebells have survived the practices of modern farming methods. As I recall, the brook rose up from Wrangle Spring situated in the coppice well below Barley Wood gardens. From there it made its way under two bridges before proceeding under the bridge on Silver street and then on, unseen, until joining the river Yeo at some point I’d never visited. The area from the first bridge to where the brook meandered past the orchard, in front of the rickyard, was the free kindergarten to a generation of Wrington kids. The first bridge had a wooden structure attached to its’ north side so that planks could be slotted in to form a dam. This theoretically would create a deep pond for dipping stock. How this quite worked I have never yet fathomed! An oak tree was on the south side with branches spreading over the brook. The bank to the water was a little steeper here so the site was used more as a picnic area than a paddling one. I fell out of the tree once into the water. If that happened today some twerp would want the tree cut down. It was just before the second bridge where most of the action took place. Just before the bridge was a little waterfall behind which was formed a pool of a few square yards. The bottom of the pool was sandy but the edges consisted of black smelly mud! The mud provided anchorage to the water cress which grew in abundance and served as building material for the older kids to dam the flow of water over the falls. Hours were spent here, carefree and content. On the grassy banks older siblings showed the younger ones how to make daisy chains. It was in this environment we learned the names of the flowers, trees and birds. Some years ago I wrote a poem as a self introductory address to a service club. I would like to share these verses:- Childhood then, tho’ poor, was good We played quite freely in field and wood We knew the birds and their habits We knew the fox, the hares, the rabbits. We knew the trees, the flowers and clover We had a dog whose name was Brinsea! In summertime we’d walk for miles We’d never heard of paedophiles The roads were narrow, the hedges tall Here and there an old stone wall Over which in those halcyon days The cattle and the sheep did graze. After flowing under the second bridge the brook dispersed itself over a wider area forming what we now call wetlands. This marsh grew reeds in profusion as well as water cress and the stately Kingcup flower. Like the Bluebell, the Kingcup had a very short “shelf” life and was usually left where it was. The reeds however offered a very handy option for making hideouts. I remember seeing some quite remarkable huts made from interwoven reeds. Such building was usually done after school. We called it the rush hour! It was also home to the occasional reed warbler who had a silly habit of involuntarily rearing a young cuckoo rather than its own chicks. How many different species of dragonfly skipped from stem to stem? Moorhens darted from cover to cover and hawks circled high overhead. And then the brook reformed itself and continued on to where it provided a shallow crossing between the council houses and Mr. Marshall’s orchard. On one occasion five or six of us were up a tree, pinching apples, when we were caught red handed by Mr. Marshall. He ordered us down from the tree and marched us back to the farmhouse. The back door was down a narrow passageway between the house and the farm dairy. Once at the back door our exit was blocked by the presence of Lena (I think that was her name). Lena was a snappy dog and most kids were afraid of her but I don’t think she ever harmed anyone however this was not the time to find out! After a stern reproach for our mischief, Mr. Marshall offered us a choice of punishments and said “Well, lads, what is it to be? Shall I get my stick and cross it over your backsides, or shall I put you in my car and drive you up to Constable Hebditch’s place”? The reply was instant and unanimous, we’d take the hiding! Of course, Cliff Marshall did neither but the lesson was soundly given and, in my case at least, uncharacteristically bravely taken. Whilst on the subject of pinching apples, across the road from the farm lived Commander Lawder. Commander Lawder also had an orchard and in that orchard was a tall tree with branches that slightly hung over the road, quite high but not beyond the ingenuity of boys who fancied a Sweet Morgan (or was it Morgan sweet?) apple. The method on this particular occasion was to throw a heavy piece of stick attached to a length of string in the hope that if we didn’t loosen an apple at least we’d get the stick back. After an unsuccessful period of time a face appeared over the wall. It was Commander Lawder, he said “hello boys, want some apples? Why don’t you come in and get some”! Say no more. Included in the buildings on the farm was the horse stables. These were the indoor shelter for two solid Clydesdales, Kit and Duke. What part did they play in the interaction between farm and kids and how did they help to ensure that……. All is safely gathered in ‘ere the winter storms begin? To be continued.

Footnote: Cobber Whitehouse remembered the school trip to Portsmouth (1953 or 54) and so do I. It was HMS Victory which fascinated me the most. The little headroom throughout the ship but especially on the cannon decks bothered me particularly. On the main deck was a plaque which read “Here is where Nelson fell’. It was raised about 2 inches from the ground and was at the base of one of the three masts. For years I thought Nelson had fallen from the crow’s nest at the top of the mast!! Revisiting that fine vessel in 2016 I told this story to a guide who then pointed out that the plaque was now at ground level. It transpired that visitors occasionally tripped over the plaque and then insisted on getting a photo of “Where me and Nelson fell”. This was considered somewhat disrespectful towards the national hero so the obstacle was lowered to ground level. A delightful story, don’t you agree? In June 2016 my wife and I arrived at Gatwick airport, she from Auckland and me from Cyprus. We were on our way to visit my brother Derrick and his wife, Sheila, at Torpoint and Portsmouth was on our route. So what town is situated between Portsmouth and Torpoint?. WEYMOUTH, yes WEYMOUTH. Jo Lewis, your sentiment towards this seaside town is shared by me. There used to be a miniature steam train by the carpark and it was always a “must go on” ride for me. I don’t remember a fairground. I did go on a Methodist trip plus others by the skittles and darts clubs. Of course, the coaches always stopped at Castle Carey but not just for fish and chips! After the stop the singing got better and louder. “Ten green bottles” and “She’ll be coming round the mountain” were all part of the fun. No village memory tale would be complete without paying tribute to the Blagdon Lioness Bus Company. Goodness knows how many villagers were transported on how many trips all over the country on a Lioness coach. Anyway, it did seem appropriate to spend some time in Weymouth. We walked along the empty beach and I had a sense of vague familiarity but not much else. Not the best of weather considering it was June. And then I saw it! I said to Kathy “Look, Punch and Judy”. Didn’t mean much to her but it changed the whole day for me and the memories flooded back. Oh, and it was a Monday which explains the lack of people.

Jo Lewis Thank you Bill for the latest in your memoirs of growing up in the village. I followed, in my mind, every step you took across the fields, over the bridges, into the streams, hedgerow primroses and bluebell wood! Also Farmer Marshall’s orchard where I remember there was one old tree that had fallen but continued to grow; they were the only apples I could reach to scrump! My payment one day for helping myself to an apple or two, on my way through to get home, was to be chased by the geese, I never knew they could run that fast! Before they caught up with me, I noticed a gate at the back of one of the Lawrence Road houses, Mr Porter’s maybe, and dashed through there! I never took the short cut through the orchard again! It’s so lovely to know that the children who lived in the village, at that time, have most of the same memories and, indeed, I know many of Mum’s generation did the same.

!953 Coronation of Queen Elizabeth the Second. Mt. Everest climbed by Edmond Hillary and Tenzing Norgay. Death of Josef Stalin and armistice signed “ending” the Korean war. Tangiwai rail disaster in NZ kills 151 people, some of whom were on their way to see the Queen in Auckland. Smell is one of our most powerful senses. Most people would have experienced that fleeting moment of déjà vu when some long forgotten fragrance of a bygone age or event flashes through the inner self and vanishes as mysteriously as it arrived. Other smells can be more pragmatic and remain in the memory as would the memory of some great landmark. Three childhood “Wrington” aromas that are still very real to me are :- (1) Lilac growing in the hedge part way up Old hill. (2) Steam engines. (3) Clar Lanes’ Smithy. The last steamroller I remember was working on Silver Street between the farm and the Rec. On this day it had got too close to the drain, the side of which collapsed causing the back left wheel to drop into the ditch. The road was being re-sealed at the time with an agregate that included crushed sea shells! Funny how small details remain in the mind’s eye. Coincidentally where the roller became stuck was right next to Commander Lawders’ Sweet Morgan apple tree. When I was there council workers were trying resolve the situation but it was not proving easy. However it was gone the next day. The Steamrollers’ driver was Lardy Millard. Perhaps the most evocative smell of all could be found over that half-door at the entry to Clar Lane’s forge. It was a little difficult getting one’s nose over the top to see what was going on but sometimes Mr. Lane would leave the door open. An invitation to look and learn? I think it was. The horses, maybe Kit and Duke, would stand there docile and compliant whilst Clar shaped the shoes he was about to put on them. They would allow Clar to lift their leg between his own legs and then press the red hot shoe onto the hoof. When the hot shoe came into contact with the horny proteinous hoof there was a release of steam and smell that captured the very essence of life for a small boy in a small English village. Pardon the sentiment. Meanwhile back on the farm there was a trailer. A large blue wooden trailer with four large wooden wheels which was used to bring in the hay and corn. Oliver Millard drove the Fordson tractor towing the kid laden trailer to the pasture where the crop was being gathered. Children were encouraged to take the ride and were lifted into and out of the trailer by the farm workers. I don’t think the horses towed the trailer but I do remember them pulling the hay rake, the corn binder and possibly the reciprocal mower. At harvest time the corn (Wheat, Oats or Barley) was cut and then tied into sheaves by the binder before being placed in stooks. Stooks contained about a dozen sheaves each. The stooks, resembling rows of tents, remained in the field for natural drying “Until the Church bells strike thrice”. When ready the sheaves were taken to the rickyard and piled up in “ricks” awaiting the next stage of harvest. The arrival of the threshing machine and baler was welcomed by the kids but was a deadly threat to………the rats! I think the contractor was a Mr. Jackson from Redhill. The thresher and the baler were powered by belts running from pulley wheels attached to stationary tractors and I have a faint vision of a traction engine being used early on. A team of men pitch forked the sheaves into the thresher. The thresher separated the grain from the chaff and the chaff from the straw. The straw continued up a conveyor belt and into the baler. The bales that emerged were slightly larger than traditional hay bales and somewhat lighter. Hay bales were tied with string but on straw bales wire was used. The ricks were built on a layer of sticks and twigs to keep the corn off the ground. This area provided Mr. and Mrs. Rat with a perfect venue for a home to raise a family. Shelter, warmth and the biggest larder imaginable. The population soared.

The families remained in their nests as the rick got lower and lower. Soon it was time to make their escape. The rick was enclosed by two stone walls, one on the side and one at the end. The clear escape route had a ring of boys, armed with pitch forks, ready to do battle. As they ran from their refuge they risked being impaled onto the prongs of a fork by a quick acting lad. On one occasion Sweeney Todd had eight or nine rats, some writhing and screaming, skewered on a four pronged fork. It sounds ghastly now but back then no one gave it a second thought. Sorry about that but that was how it was. One year, neither the thresher nor the baler turned up. They weren’t needed. The rats, however, still died. To the three boys involved it seemed a good idea at the time. The day was a bit boring in room two so the plot was hatched. One had acquired a box of matches and the other two had lunch wrap paper which was all that was needed to go across the farm and into the coppice next to Lynhams’ farm; there they could light a fire! After school they set off over Mr. Mathlin’s potato patch, through the hedge into the field by the brook. Across the brook into the orchard and on until they arrived at the rickyard. Once in the rickyard and, looking at a rick, came the notion that straw might make a better fire starter than lunch paper. First they pulled some loose stalks of straw from the rick which they crumpled and put into a small pile along side the same rick. One of them struck a match and instantly the trio were seconds from disaster. The boys didn’t and couldn’t have known how quickly the straw would ignite and how easily the flames would leap across to the adjacent stack. The next thing they saw was a wall of flames leaping skywards. What could they do?. RUN! And that’s what they did. As they sped towards the closed gate onto Silver Street their identities and unusual haste was noted by farm worker, Fred Hollier. Having climbed over the gate one headed to the Rec and another towards the Memorial Hall. Momentarily I just froze. Oops!!!, yes I was the other one!! Later I returned to the scene where I sat on the wall, watching the fire brigade dampening down the smouldering remains and listening to older kids theorising on how the blaze started. The sun shining through some glass was the most likely scenario. Sounded good to me and I hoped the authorities would think the same. Later again Contstable Hebditch came round whilst I was hiding in the toilet. I heard him tell my dad that he had come in plain clothes “So has not to frighten the boys anymore than they already were”. I remember nothing else and the incident was never spoken of again. I’m very sorry, Mr. Marshall. To be continued Footnote. The reader may find a smidgen of irony in the fact that the three miscreants have spent all their adult lives in the former Antipodean colonies. One in Australia and two in New Zealand

1954. Roger Bannister ran a mile in under four minutes. The French were defeated at Dien Bien Phu and the Indo-China war ended soon after. The Southeast Asia Treaty Organisation (SEATO) was signed up in Manilla. Much of the leisure time for the early bubble was spent on the road, Silver street in our case. The footpath and many of the paths leading to front and back doors were littered with chalked hop-scotch squares. When a large number of kids gathered they played “What’s the time, Mr. Wolf” or skipped three or four (or more) at a time with a piece of rope stretched over the width of the road. No danger from cars, there weren’t any! New bike riders were encouraged by an enthusiastic band of helpers all keen to get the novice mobile. Of course, the “big” boys preferred to kick a football into a goalmouth delineated by two items of clothing. Success was often vocalised by expressions of prowess and knowledge with comments like “Up the Rovers” or “Up the City”. Some of them had even been to Eastville or Ashton Gate (or so they said). To be in with the right set I said that I supported the Rovers but really knew nothing about them. On the other side of the road from No.1 was an area covered in stinging nettles and that was one place you didn’t want the ball to go. We did learn, however, that you could run your hands up a nettle stem without getting stung because the stingers all pointed upwards. My sense of bravado did not extend to the point where I tried it!! In autumn the same spot was ideal for a Guy Fawkes’ bonfire. And we had some good ones. Sunday evening was the time to “walk across the fields” with various options available. The air, still warm from the day, would carry the sound of church bells from All Saints, Burrington, Redhill and I think Blagdon if you strolled over Rydings towards the main road. Remember the smell of fresh mown hay? Did you pick cowslips or quaker grass (who remembers quaker grass?) And sometimes in a hedgerow you might come across a celandine or two. Somewhere out there was a row of tall trees, the tops of which, were colonised by a noisy rookery. Later in the year the sight of waving stands of ripening corn would be implanted forever into your mental library. Another walk would take us down near Beam bridge. There was a long field just before the bridge which led to a narrow wooden bridge over the Yeo. Is it still there? (the bridge, I mean) Crossing the bridge we would then follow the river until we came to Iwood. The cottage by the Iwood bridge was occupied by my Aunty Ivy, her daughter Susan and her brother Johnny Crook. Turning left the road took us to the railway line from where we walked back to Wrington. We soon grew tired of counting the sleepers! The most adventurous walk was to the Warren. Quite a trek up The Old Hill but I don’t remember it being called that in those days. I’m sure we knew it as the Roman road. (to Bristol). The scent of the Lilac hedge lingers as does the sightings of Foxes, Jays, Pheasants. Woodpeckers and countless Rabbits. Mum used to cut pieces of sweet briar from the hedge, shave off the outer skin and barb and give to us kids to taste. Further down near the goldfish pond we found wild strawberries about the same size as peas with almost the same taste and texture! And on through that track used by the post lady until we came to the lane leading to the top chapel. The field at the top of the lane was where the Fairy ring could be found. A fairy ring was where mushrooms grew in a natural circle. It was also the last place I remember seeing stooks of corn. For the less energetic a stroll “round the Mill” could fill an hour or so especially if a small diversion out to the main road was included. On a Sunday evening it was just one long stream of cars heading back to Bristol.” Who were they all”? I would think to myself? “ None of my friends have a car. Why is that”? The first bridge over the Yeo was an occasional playground, for below the bridge, below the water and below a stone might live a Loggerhead or Minnow. The slightly larger Loggerhead was a bit easier to catch than the nimble Minnow but in either case the capture was futile. Like Bluebells and Kingcups, Loggerheads and Minnows did not survive for long out of their natural habitat. The next bridge by the waterfall is where older boys made rafts and floated them on that part of the river. In the early fifties polio became rampant and it was believed that the virus was water borne. This stopped interest in the river but not before Michael Cummins fell victim to the disease. I hope it isn’t too trite to say “Gone, but not forgotten”.

The Lime kiln, aka, the Quarry was another playground as well as rubbish dump. It wasn’t overly used as a dump or not noticeably so anyway. A group of older lads, probably in their mid to late teens, decided to make a bicycle speedway track. Two circles of stones marked the inner and outer limits of the course which could not have been more than twenty yards in diameter. A tight fit for the six riders in each heat because the actual track was only four or five yards wide. I remember being impressed by the start method. A couple of bicycle tyre inner tubes were tied to a tree and stretched across to the inside of the track and held taut by the starter. Three, two, one! Let loose, the tubes flew back to the tree and they were off. They peddled like hell for six or eight laps and it was quite exciting for the large audience assembled. The rock face leading up to the tree line was a popular viewing spot and provided a steep but well worn track to another widely used play area, “The Woods”. Another well worn track was the footpath from the school to the British Restaurant. This building was used as a soup kitchen during the war and then a general meeting place for groups such as the school. I recall several occasions being there but not sure what the functions were about! I do remember seeing a very old “flick” movie about the Crimean war. We walked from the school for “school dinners” or were they called “school lunches”? We moved crocodile style each day. One day I was walking with Mickey Owers when, just outside Mr. Biggs’ masons’ shop, I got smacked twice, without warning, hard, across my backside by Mr. Harris. At the same time he yelled “get ‘em out, get ‘em out! I had had my hands in my pockets! It hurt, really hurt Then it was just a joke, but not to me. I swear I can still feel it. How I loved school! The food arrived in metal containers, from Yatton I think, and were manually carried into the kitchen. Mrs. Bryce and her helpers dished the contents on to the plates and placed them on the servery from where they were collected, table by table, by the kids. The collecting and dining was supervised by the fearsome Mrs. Shapley and the more friendly Mrs. Lane. The meal was always preceded with the singing of “All people that on Earth do dwell” accompanied by Mrs. Green at the piano. Returning to school we had to sit at our desks, lay our heads on our folded arms and rest!. Woe-be-tide any child daring to whisper or even cough. Oh, happy days ! “The British Restaurant” is now “Buglers”. To be continued. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Addenda. The August edition of the Village Journal contains two delightful stories of two delightful village characters. The Farley’s shop was part and parcel of daily life in the village. Annie ran the drapery side, always with a tape measure over her shoulders and a pencil behind her ear. She was the consummate shopkeeper of whom Napolean would have been proud! Stan ran the grocery side of the business and Ernie Atherall used to sit and talk to Stan and any customer who wanted to listen. Brenda had her own sweet kiosk from where she weighed out ounces of assorted confectionary from the ubiquitous glass jars. Her range included Sherbet lemons, MacIntosh’s toffees, Liqourice allsorts and the ever popular Dolly mixture. One day I purchased a Crunchie bar from Brenda for the princely sum of sixpence. I decided to test myself and see if I could resist eating it until after lunch. I did! When eventually I opened my golden pack and took a mouthful, disaster! The crunchie hokey-pokey interior had dissolved into nothingness. Just a chocolate shell remained, empty, hollow, my own Wookey Hole! If disappointment is on a scale from 1 to 10 then this was 11. Brenda must see this. Straight after school I boldly stepped where I had never stepped before, into a commercial dispute, but I was ready. However, I was not so ready when I was told Brenda was away and Mrs. Farley would take care of things. I explained the situation to Mrs. Farley and gave her the evidence to examine. Her reply, “Hm, I see what you mean. Sorry, Billy, but this happens sometimes and there’s nothing I can do”! End of storey, no refund and no replacement. That was then and no malice is intended. I remember George Bond leaning on his gate talking to passerbys, anyone and everyone in his own cheerful way. The story goes that George also enjoyed a beer or two and sometimes more. One particular night George was escorted, somewhat tipsy, back to his cottage. When he got to the front door he realised he did not have his door key. Being even more considerate than normal and not wanting to wake his parents he sat down and slept under the porch. He was awakened in the morning by his mother who enquired as to why he didn’t come in when he got home because “the door wasn’t locked, George”. I cannot verify whether this is a true story but I have always believed it to be so.

Jo Lewis I really enjoyed Bill Crook’s latest meanderings through his childhood, his reminiscences bring back so many of mine. Hopscotch that stretched all across the road, dozens of kids playing skipping games, cowboys and indians (would kids of today even know about cowboys and indians). Marbles in the gutters, tarmac on the paths melting in the heat! Five stones, Queenie Ball, Creep Mouse, so many ball games you never see a child play nowadays. I didn’t know about the bike track up near the woods but I do remember hearing fairly recently that my Uncle Ray Schroeder did just that when he was a child, I think there may be a photograph somewhere on here. The Sweet Morgan trees here and there around the village, Mum’s favourite apple, there was one tree just up the lane to the side of the woods. By the time I went to Wrington School the dinners were eaten there although, living diagonally across from the school, we went home for dinner. I can still smell the cooked cabbage at school, was it really cabbage every day or did everything smell the same?! Mr and Mrs Farley I remember so well and fondly from working there as a Saturday and school holiday job. Mrs Farley wouldn’t let anyone else answer the phone and she would jot down orders for delivery on a piece of paper on the wall. Many an hour passed with Mr Farley and myself trying to decipher her ‘shorthand’! Winking smile The occasional item was returned, but not often, so we must have got pretty good at it! The Haberdashery side of the shop was wholly her domain, unless she wasn’t there. I spent a whole week one Summer tidying it from top to bottom for her. I have had a passion for haberdashery shops ever since although never found one fitted out as hers was, all those tiny wooden drawers and cupboards. Brenda’s sweetie counter was my job when I worked there. On a sad note, I’m not sure Bill has heard that Brenda passed away this year. I hear the villagers lined Broad Street to say goodbye. I too remember George Bond, always a cheery word as we went by, even to us kids. I had to smile at the story Bill told of him sleeping on the porch although the door wasn’t locked! Keep those memories coming, Bill, reading them is very good for the health of my brain, use it or lose it they always say! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Final note from Bill: Jo Lewis provides encouragement and I think she is a kindred spirit! Please thank her for her latest kind words and suggest she might also go to print. Kia kaha for now, Bill.

1955. Ray Kroc opens first McDonalds outlet. James Dean killed in Californian road accident. First Guinness Book of Records published. Last woman (Ruth Ellis) hanged for murder in UK. Do you remember the days in the old school yard? There was a large Sycamore tree down by the steps into the school and all the kids loved throwing the seedheads into the air and watching them fall to the ground rotating like helicopter blades. The same steps were where the four or five crates of school milk bottles were delivered each morning, often freezing solid before being taken inside. I think the bottles contained one third of a pint of milk each. The same freezing conditions made the steps perilous to climb and one day Ms. George slipped, fell and broke her leg. Some of the kids who saw the fall thought it was funny. Ms. George and Mr. Waite did not! A stern telling-off was duly given. Between the two playgrounds was a green corrugated-iron shed. This shed held outdoor playing equipment like balls and hoops, cricket gear, etc. as well as mats whose real purpose now escapes me. This shed also had an odour. A smelly mixture of oil, paraffin and other chemical substances and although my senses won’t bring it back now, it was quite addictive at the time especially on hot days. Wednesday 30th. June 1954 dawned a bright and sunny summer morning. This boded well for the expected partial eclipse of the sun due to occur on this day. I’m not sure what time it started but the day was very warm when the shadow started to appear on the sun so it must have been early afternoon. Some pupils had sunglasses at the ready but the majority had to make do with photograph negatives (remember them?) Others had homemade paper devices with narrow slits cut in them, can’t really remember the theory behind them. I was looking at the sun from the partial shade of the sycamore tree when the likeable Mrs. Green asked me why I was standing under the tree. I must have given her a smartass answer (a habit of which I was becoming prone) to which she replied “very funny, Crewk”, (that’s how she pronounced my name), “You’ll go a long way”. Would that I could communicate to her from Aotearoa / New Zealand to say that from a distance perspective at least, her prediction was correct! It’s never dawned on me as to the weather conditions on Tuesday 13th. July 1955 but it must have been dry because a small group of us were standing outside, in a circle, before 9am. Someone had a watch and we were counting down the seconds before the hour. The school bell rang at about the same time as we got to zero. Up went the cry “She’s gone, she’s gone”. Ruth Ellis had just been hanged! Another not-so-proud moment. We were eleven / twelve year olds. Did we really do that? Yes, we did! It was in the front playground and the one where limited school sports were played as well as ball games, skipping and leapfrog. And then there was that game “In and out the windows”. A circle was formed by the holding of hands and others danced through the raised arms at the same time singing “In and out the windows, in and out the windows, in and out the windows like we have done before”. How good is that to remember? Another method of musical exercise came over the radio once a week with a programme entitled “Music and Movement”. Each pupil had a little songbook and we learned new songs interspersed with physical exercises. Songs were usually traditional tunes from around the world as well as English sea shanties. It was rewarding to know some of the words and so to be able to singalong when they were performed on the Last Night of the Promenade Concerts. Circa 1954 / 55 Mr. Waite introduced the “house” concept to the school. The four houses were named after Somerset hill ranges namely Mendip, Brendon, Quantock and Exmoor. Each was given a colour, red, yellow, green and blue but I don’t remember which house was which colour. I was the first house captain of Exmoor. Around the same time Mr. Waite created a small library of takehome books. A simple bookshelf with about 50 or sixty books to begin with. It made me feel important to be the first borrower from that collection. Behind room 1 was the girls’ toilets and behind them were the boys’ toilets. In between was another little shed full of gardening tools. Across what is now Bell’s walk were walled gardens which were looked after by the boys. Four plots about 8yards x 5yards were tended once a week by 6 or 8 boys. We were taught, by Mr. Waite, how to prepare the soil and how to plant seeds and plants. There were a few fruit trees and a netted raspberry enclosure. My memory is a bit vague on detail but I do recall Mr. Waite introducing a new specimen of radish. The seeds were carefully sown and the seedlings lovingly nurtured and we were rewarded with a great crop of very large radishes, Black Spanish radishes no less. Oddly they were neither black nor Spanish! That much I do remember. A good start in the art of gardening. The Old Hill road was the border between two important playing areas. On the left going up were the woods. Countless hours spent playing running and chasing through the trees. How many “forts” were built on the stony bank leading down to, and as a result of, the lime kiln. And the endless trolley races on the wooded track that ran down parallel to the Old Hill. Who of us would swap those days for these days? On the other side of the hill was the winter sports arena. It was the toboggan paradise every snow season. The best toboggan was the one borrowed from the Leggett family who loaned their sled so willingly and kindly. We used to roll a snowball down the field and by the time it got to the bottom it could be six or eight foot across. Then, with four or five kids on the toboggan we’d slide down the slope and crash into it! On one occasion we left the snowball until the next day unawares that it would freeze solid overnight. The resulting impact did some damage to Donald Cox’s leg as well as to the Leggett’s toboggan. Fortunately both were repaired and the winter sports continued! We all had a lot of fun and thanks to them. Care was needed to avoid the large Horse Chestnut trees growing in the snow field. The Horse Chestnuts growing in the Old Rectory were a different matter because they provided us with conkers. The game of conkers was considered dangerous by some and was not encouraged in the schoolyard. It was played everywhere else with claims of having onesers, twosers, threesers and so on. The number indicating the number of wins. Might have been a few fibs told! Trixie and Les Kirk, purveyors of fine fish and chips deserve a mention as does Mr.Corfield who set up a restaurant near the Triangle. Sadly I don’t know how long it survived or whether it was too late or too early in the village life. Another passing name was Constance More who ran the same shop as the Tringhams had earlier. So growing up in Wrington in the fifties was about the playing areas, the farm, the fields, the church bells and the woods. It was being a cub or scout in the Reading room, It was standing outside the post office or watching Clar Lane in his smithy. It was the school and the churches. It was the leaders, teachers, your neighbours and your friends. It was walking whenever and wherever. The old adage says “it takes a village to raise a child” and this is emphasised in a Maori proverb……… He aha te mea nui o tea oa he tangata, he tangata, he tangata (The most important thing is the people, the people, the people) The End. (for now)