PREFACE

January 1996

My children have been asking me to write my ‘life story’ for sometime. Now while I am still able to use a pen I feel I should try to do just that.

Perhaps I should start by giving a little information about my parent’s background.

My father was born in Ashbourne, in Derbyshire, in 1887 and my mother in Chevington, in Suffolk. My father moved to Suffolk with his family and they first met at Gedding Hall, in Suffolk; mother worked in the Hall and father was engaged in some building work there. The Hall is now owned by Bill Wyman, he of the Rolling Stones fame (and a few other things).

My parents became engaged in 1911, just before father went to Canada with his employer from Bury St Edmunds, to work on the Pacific Railway for 2 years in Vancouver B.C. Whilst there, in 1913, he bought a plot of land on which he hoped to build a house and take his new bride to live. It was 99ft by 45ft and cost of 375 dollars.

However, mother wouldn't leave her family and friends so they never went back. I can understand how she felt but I think father was rather hurt. They married in Chevington on February 24th, 1914, and then went to live in Ipswich where my father was at that time working. When World War I broke I ‘believe’ he volunteered for service in the RAF.


My Story.

My oldest brother was born in Ipswich, on October 18th, 1915. My mother remained there on her own until January 1916, when she was expecting me. She then moved back to Chevington to be near her parents to await my birth.

My great-grandparents, being elderly, had recently gone to live at Garoods Farm, with my grandparents, and, as my mother's two brothers still lived at home, there wasn't room for us as well. So I was born in a small cottage on an adjoining farm, called Broad Green Farm. The owners, by name of Pettit, were close friends of our family. I was a tiny baby; born prematurely barely eleven months after my brother, and with my father away it must have been something of a struggle for my mother.

When my father came home from the War I was about three years old and we moved to a pretty little village called Tostock, where my paternal grandparents lived. When I was nearly four years old, my sister was born. My youngest brother was born two years and eight months later.

Incidentally, my mother’s oldest brother John died in World War One, at the age of 18. She felt this very deeply.

In April 1921 father bought a larger house in the village called ‘White House’. Strangely over the years that name has been lost.

In 1922 we all went down with Whooping Cough. My sister, being only about 18 months old, was very much worse than the rest of us and at one time it was touch and go as to whether she would survive. At about 11 months old she could walk, but at 18 months we had to carry her around on a cushion because she had lost so much weight. My youngest brother was born in 1923.


School Days

By this time my elder brother and I were at school (which I enjoyed very much), excelling in quite a few subjects, especially writing and needlework. Although only a small school, most of the pupils left with a good knowledge of the three R's (which is more than can be said today, when we hear that many children leave school unable to read or write). We used slates when we first went to school and our only heating was a coal fireplace in each classroom. They smoked so badly when the weather was windy that they were put out and we finished the day wearing our coats and shivering with cold. The subjects we took were almost the same as today but without the many costly facilities provided now.

After tea, just before bedtime, I attempted to read the Bible right through to my sister and younger brother; leastwise that was my intentions. But a lot of the first chapters were quite difficult to read and eventually my enthusiasm dwindled. However, I am glad to say that I never gave up reading the Bible and still do so today. It has helped me a great deal in times of trouble. My mother first introduced me to her Bible and I still have that today.

When all the other members of the family had gone to bed, mother and I sat up quite late into the night, making shirts for my father and brothers, and nightdresses for we womenfolk. Mother did the cutting out and machining, I did the sewing on of buttons, buttonholes and the embroidery, which was quite a feature in those days. We also knitted socks for the family. I first learned from my mother how to turn heels and decrease for the toes.

Each summer we spent a fortnight of our school holidays with our grandparents in Chevington on their farm. How we enjoyed that. The hens wandered all over the fields and meadows and we spent many hours collecting the eggs, which had been laid in all sorts of places. Sometimes a hen seemed a bit crafty and hid her eggs. What a lovely sight when one morning she would lead a dozen chicks, like little balls of fluff, into the farmyard proudly clucking away. One lovely old horse was blind but he did everything my grandfather asked of him. There were turkeys (noisy things), cows, pigs, ducks, geese, dogs and several cats. We had a lovely time.

Every year the whole family, father, mother, my 2 brothers, my sister and me, spent Christmas on the farm. The old farmhouse was cold in spite of the roaring fires, but we had great fun and returned home with homemade butter and fresh cream and many other goodies. Wonderful memories.

We played marbles and hopscotch, the boys usually bowling wooden hoops or anything circular, even old cycle rims. We could safely play on the roads in those days, as there were very few cars around.

My oldest brother and I went to dancing classes in the village hall for a time. He was in the Scouts and I in the Brownies. We Brownies had to walk to the village of Beyton, about 2½ miles, for our meeting every Saturday. I enjoyed those get-togethers, we had outings and concerts and all sorts of lovely things to make.


I well remember going to Bury St Edmunds with my mother in a ‘carriers cart’. This was a vehicle that once a week transported villagers to do shopping or scour the market for bargains, and the farmers to the cattle market. The cart was quite open to the weather, and when it rained we held up our umbrellas and covered our knees with a huge waterproof sheet. Not pleasant at all. My grandfather did this run into town every Wednesday for some time after he retired and had bought a smallholding in Tostock. He had been a head-groom in a livery stable in Chichester, and moved to Tostock with his employer in 1902.

My father first owned a Triumph motorcycle with a sidecar. Then when the local Public House proprietor bought a car, my father did also. For some time they were the only people in the village to own cars. Although about three families of the ‘gentry’ did have cars of course, they were seldom seen in the village as they did their shopping in town, or travelled to London.

We attended the village Anglican Church and later I went to the little Wesleyan Chapel as one of my school friends played the organ there. From there she and I used to walk to Norton Baptist Church, which was where I was to meet my future husband.

As far as I was concerned I had a happy childhood, my sister thinks there was much to be desired. I never found out what opinions my brothers had but I remember my youngest brother got into trouble because he wouldn’t go to school on Mondays.

As I have said I was content with my lot, my parents were better placed than a lot of people in those days. They didn’t worry too much about comfort perhaps but we were never kept short of food, kept scrupulously clean, taught to be honest in all things and be respectful to everyone. A bit strict, but kind.


After School

My father worked in the building trade and each of my brothers was apprenticed to him in that trade.

In 1930 I left school just before my 14th birthday and for a year I stayed at home to help my mother, who was finding it a struggle to care for 6 of us, and my paternal grandparents (my grandmother died 4 months after I left school). We continued to look after my grandfather until he died, in hospital, in 1953 when he was in his 96th year. My grandparents had taken up residence in part of our house in 1926, after my father had made quite a few alterations to it.

In June 1931 my mother felt (as I did) that, as my friends were earning money and having things, which I couldn't, I should be going out to work to earn my own living. She wanted me to be able to cook, marry, run a home and hopefully raise a family as most women did in those days and so I became a ‘Domestic Servant’.

After taking me to be interviewed by a few prospective employers, at the end of 1931, I began working for a Major & Mrs Fowler of Drinkstone House, in a village near Bury St Edmunds, my wages being £14 a year plus board and lodging. In appreciation of what I had done in helping to look after my grandfather he gave me an inscribed gold wristwatch, a trunk and a suitcase, into which we packed ‘all’ my belongings and the uniforms I was to wear. I was very happy at Drinkstone and stayed there about 5½ years, when I left to better myself, as was the done thing then.

Perhaps here I might tell of a typical day’s work.

I had to get up at 6.20 a.m., fill two very large kettles (or so they felt to little me) and heavy they were too. They were boiled on a 3 burner oil-stove. This was for the early morning tea for the whole household.

Next I had to get a huge hot-water boiler going. Sometimes, according to the wind it would have to be re-lit, which took much longer. Then the kitchen range fire had to be lit and black-leaded. This was rather like shoe polish; it had to be spread on and then polished till it shone. Also the steel plates in front of the ovens, etc., had to be cleaned with emery-paper, and finally the surrounding floor had to be scrubbed. This was quite a mammoth task and on Saturdays I had to get up at 5.30 a.m. to clean out the flues.

By this time the kettles were well and truly boiling and I had to make the tea and take it up two flights of stairs to call the ladies-maid and cook, while the housemaid did likewise for the family and any guests.

Now off to the front lobby to clean it, black-lead the shoe scrapers, clean brass door handles, etc. and scrub doorstep.


Then sweep and dust the Servants Hall. By this time the staff were assembling in the kitchen for breakfast, after which I had to wash up. I then went upstairs to make my bed, etc. and put on a clean apron. All the staff, with family and guests, then paraded into the dining room for prayers and Bible Reading. While the family was at breakfast I scrubbed the kitchen floor, (everyday except Sunday) so that everything was clean and tidy when the mistress came through to discuss the days meals with the cook.

My next job was to sweep and dust three of the staffs’ bedrooms. Then down to the kitchen again for ‘elevenses’, a cup of cocoa and a scone or the like. After this the vegetables had to be prepared for lunch and the scullery scrubbed (every day) and the table laid for the staff.

Then washing up, again, after all the lunches, except the dining room silverware and glassware, which was done by the parlour maid. After all this the tea-clothes had to be washed (every day) and there were lots of these.

By this time it was about 3.30 p.m. when I was able to go to my room for a refreshing wash and change of clothes. Then down to the Servants Hall for tea after which I prepared the vegetables for dinner. When the family had finished in the dining room I set the table for the staff supper, and finally did the washing up.

I was expected to be in bed by 9.30 p.m. As I was the first one up in the morning anyway, I was really tired by then.

On Friday afternoons I had to clean the staff and kitchen cutlery and often nearly fell asleep doing it. Also on a Friday the larders had to be scrubbed and in an outside larder, where the game birds, etc. hung, there was an icebox. This had to be cleaned. Far removed from anything we see today, it was like a wooden cupboard with a steel lining. Each week a huge block of ice was brought in and placed on a sort of shelf at the top of the cupboard. Once a week I had to drain the water from a tap at the bottom. This was a terribly cold job and my hands used to bleed with chapping. The water used to scrub the marble shelves in the larder soon got very cold.

In March 1935 my sister came to join the staff, taking over my place in the kitchen, whilst I was ‘promoted’ to the position of housemaid.

That was quite nice really as we shared a bedroom. However there was a little snag, she wouldn’t go to sleep without a light, which meant that when she did get off I had to get up to turn the light off.

We had a half-day off once a week from about 3.00 p.m. to 9.30 p.m. and the same every other Sunday, with a Sunday morning off in between to go to Church if we so wished. Major Fowler read the lesson each Sunday and he must have noticed that we were hardly ever there.


The staff had quite a nice time at Christmas. An evening meal with a seasonal flavour, turkey etc., with the chauffeur and his family, the gardeners and their families, with a sort of Whist Drive afterwards, the winners receiving prizes from the Major (I always seem to get one, more by luck than judgement, I’m sure). The village hand-bell ringers came in and played carols, which was very enjoyable. To finish off the evening we were all given a present. A table was laid out with various items on and we choose whatever we fancied. I never saw this done in any of the other houses in which I worked.

It wasn’t all work though. We had fun too; looking back perhaps the exuberance of youth went a little too far. We played jokes on the poor-suffering chauffeur. I remember we once daubed the handle of the harness room with treacle. This was the room in which he changed into his uniform. Needless to say he wasn’t too impressed, although mostly he took it in good parts and we did apologise.