Updated 23/9/2010
Why am I writing all this,
As one gets closer to leaving this mortal plane one looks forever inwards. You are the only person on this planet the rest as a famous fellow once said ‘but players’. It seems you are your closest friend and lifelong companion. Are all the other folk really there or just part of the long dream of life. “I think therefore you are” am I a closet schizophrenic.
Anyway one likes to think one will be remembered. Authors painters film stars architects singers and the like leave their mark on the world. Most of us can really only leave our children and a few close friends. The friends memory of us will only last their lifetime.
In my later years I have been a little more creative after finding my niche in computer digital engineering. My creations have found there way into a lot of folks homes. There nature means they will be retained and looked at. I became a digital artist. This text I will leave behind on my life along with my web site and family tree. Oh! and my children and grandchildren…
These are hyperlinks to images to help you along, just click on them then come back via the back key.
The Infant and Junior years. This is all that was me then.
I was born Terence Maurice Bailey on 23rd February 1948, 3 years after the end of World War 2. My parents where, Raymond Frances Bailey , eldest son of Henry and Lily Bailey, (ne Horder) they the children of Ebenezer and Eleanor Bailey, (ne Roberts)and Georgina Broome, youngest daughter of George and Winifred, (ne Blanchard) Broome. The Broome’s were the children of James Broom (no ‘e’) and Frances Maloney and Edwin Blanchard and Frances Edsall. For the rest see my family tree.
My birth took place at Frenchay Hospital Bristol England. This is and Ancestral picture of our family and one of my collage Creations.
I was the second eldest of three children, Malcolm Keith my older brother was born 6th January 1947. Our younger sister Pauline Sandra born September 6th 1949.
We all lived in a council house at 83 Saltmarsh Drive, Lawrence Weston, Bristol. One of the large post war estates built to house the “Baby Boomers following WW2.”
The estate built on a North facing hillside was bordered by the suburbs of Henbury Blaise Castle, Shirehampton and Avonmouth where most of the early dwellers worked in the docks area. Though abutting those suburbs Lawrence Weston was separated From Shirehampton Henbury and also Shirehampton by Blaise Castle and Kingsweston Woods. This woodland Grew on the peak of an escarpment that flowed downhill to the lowlands that stretched to the river Severn. These woods often provided an endless retreat for a growing boy. The Estate was also steeped in history having its own Roman Villa from around 200AD. There also existed evidence of Saxon occupation.
Saltmarsh Drive was the Northernmost street on the estate and number 83 was on the northern side. This meant that a hop over the back fence (three strands of 4mm wire) and passing between Mr. McDonalds and Mr. Phelps Allotment you had nothing but fields, meadows, streams, ponds and small woods until the river Severn about 3-4 miles down the country lane.
As small boys we often gathered around a concrete pipe that carried water from under the estate from up the escarpment . Little did we know that this stream itself was the ancient water supply to the old Village on the site and too those Romans that lived in the area.
There were only 2-3 water supplies this one, another at the base of Kings Weston lane and the remaining one ran near the Masons Arms Inn. In fact I remember an old pump near the stone wall next to a phone box outside that pub. The Masons was also the place our parents took us as children. We all sat in the outside garden on wooden benches sipping Schweppes lemonade and Smith Crisps complete with blue salt bag.
These streams at the back of Saltmarsh formed a major part of my early memories. I would and could leave in the early morning with some jam sandwiches and spend the whole day, always ending within earshot of mums calls at dusk, “Terry, time for tea now” she would say.
Walking beside those streams one would see weed like tiny clover growing over the surface. Deeper was the grass like plants rooted in the soil base. The water was far from cloudy but crystal clear and abundant with wildlife. Patches of clear water revealed the tiny fish called sticklebacks I would catch and bring home in jam jars. On the surface minute water beetles looked like dodgem cars and they had long legged insects friends called water boatmen for company. These animals where caught with nets either home made from wire and mums stocking or purchased complete from Burdens Iron monger. The fish where there year round. Seasonal Tadpoles that turned into frogs filled me with wonder and sometimes if I was lucky I caught a newt. Water rats as we called them where actually Voles inhabited the banks and as one walked along they would dive into the water and leave a trail of bubbles. As I grew older I ended up Hunting these tiny creatures first with home made catapult crafted from Willow branch and ¼ inch gray square elastic. Later it was with and 177 or .22 Diana air rifle. Those days of Hunting I am not today proud of as Starlings sparrows and other birds also fell foul of my deadly aim. But I would loose myself out there in those meadows.
Immediately behind our house were a few old oaks one of them was spiked with nails to enable a clime into its upper parts. Dens where built up there and a rope made for a swing out and onto the opposite bank. I was sometimes able to climb trees but much to the annoyance of brother Mac was unable to get back down. My mother was always sending the poor lad out to rescue his little brother.
Fire was another pastime. I loved fire. An old willow has balsa wood like sponge properties as it dried out and rotted. A magnifying glass and sunshine started a glowing ember that turns into a burning tree that would go for days. The tree incredibly would survive and keep on growing.
Boots full of water where a hazarded of fishing and crossing these streams. My ever patient mother would be used to getting me out of wet socks and into a hot bath. I can remember dad carrying buckets of hot water up the stairs for our baths. Mac went first then sister then me. The baths and sinks in England have an overflow pipe or vent in them. The bath one went straight through the wall and out into a basin like affair on the outside wall. The strange thing about this was that if folk where talking outside in the garden one could hear it through the pipe. Anyway back to the streams. One of the fields out back had an old dead oak lying on its side long bleached by sun and rain. This formed the battlements of forts in our never ending games of cowboys and Indians. Games like these cost nothing and some would go on for days. Sometimes a large part of the estate would become involved dressing up their kids in feathers chaps and war paint. I would feel great with my six gun in my holster on my right hip. My heroes where the Lone Ranger, Superman (The Original cinema Kirk Alyn) Roy Rogers and perhaps Hopalong Cassidy. Later, the Range Rider and Dick West. Our games cost nothing or very little, Five stones, bows and arrows marbles hopscotch for the girls. I was not a football (soccer bloke) when a game was on I was always last to be picked. Andrew McDonald & Dave Johnson where the best footy Players.
There were farms over the back with pretty farm houses or cottages therein. The nearest one also had an orchard prime for apple stealing or Knobbing apples as we called it. It farmed dairy cattle and they were Herefords I seem to remember, large black and whites bovines that I was never sure if I was scarred off or not. Walking across the fields one often stepped into the cow pat and if it was fresh you spent the next 10 minutes with grass and stream water washing it off. Saltmarsh by name and by nature, following heavy rains the farm land out the back could flood and the streams over flow. We would sometimes see large areas flooded. In the winter the streams would freeze and I could walk on top of the ice to cross the expanse of water.
The long summer grasses brought chirping grasshoppers and they to found their way into the jam jar. Another creature I had a fondness for was the Slow Worm a legless lizard looking more like a snake it grew to perhaps a foot long with a girth of about ½ inch.
They were found under pieces of discarded corrugated roofing metal or any large flat material. One lad would lift the object whilst another boy was ready to pounce on the hapless animal before it slithered away at high speed. Sometimes we also disturbed a mouse nest and they to would scurry in all directions. One of the boys that accompanied me was Johnny Porter from across the road. The places where we found the reptiles we named slow worm paradise. There where two, one where St Bedes school is now and the other a very long walk to the Banks of the river Avon over the Portway at Shirehampton. Blessed mother Georgina helped me care for all these creatures over the years as well as innumerable baby birds, adult birds with broken wings and frogs called Freddy.
The lane that wormed its way down to the river Severn was Lawrence Weston Road. It passed more farms on its way both dairy and grain. The farms had hay stacks in the summer good to try and climb Along its sides where more streams to explore and Blackberry bushes heavy with fruit in the spring. The whole family armed with bowls and buckets would harvest the berries and mum would add a ‘cooks’ or ‘Banbury’ apple and make heavenly fruit pie with birds custard. An hour or so walk east and over a railway line brought you to Blue Bell Wood. A hill with a wood on top, the grass before the tree line was at times covered with the gently swaying flowers of its name.
Although close to the River Severn it was only on a few occasions that I made the trek down the lane. I think it was because it was a depressing and bleak place. The tide was rarely in and the Severn is renowned for its vast tidal movement. One could look across at Newport in Wales and not see any water at all. Just the endless gray slimy mud. I made a few attempts to fish there to no avail. The road that formed the ‘T’ junction was St Andrews road coming from the left was Avonmouth it continued to the right on through to Severn Beach. This was a resort village in the Fifties with pool and pebble beach and now the approach to the old Severn Bridge across to Wales.
Also living on the estate where a number of relatives. My mothers brother Jack lived with his wife Ann and three later to be four children Tulla June Ester and late arrival George in Commonfield Road. This street was just below Awdlett close inhabited by the Pincent family and Marlene Gilbert later to be my bride. In Saltmarsh Drive for a while was Jacks younger brother Percy wife (well I’ll be damned) Barbara (Babs)ne (Ford) and brood Jenny, Susan, David later came Christine and in Australia Lisa and Andy. These where all Broomes from my mothers side. There where also some Baileys as just up the street was my fathers first cousin Philip wife Lily and daughters Margaret and Barbara. They still live in that house today, Philip and Lily that is the girls and later son have moved on. though Margaret is still on the estate in Broadlands Drive. Along the end of Long Cross the main road through Lawrence Weston and looking at the Roman Villa was my fathers sister Peggy. We had very little contact with my fathers side of the family. They haled from another council estate called Southmead other brothers and sisters being Ken, Mary, Peggy, Hilda and Fred being father the eldest.
Uncle Percy and Babs with kids later moved to one of two addresses in the Henbury estate just past Blaise Castle. First to Marrisal Road next to Henbury School and later to I think Northover Close. There where three other sisters older than my mother Frances the first born first married to Jack Pike( later Tom Williamson) lived in Lakewood Crescent Henleaze. Followed by Florrie married to Frank Meadows lived in 24 Kingsholm Road Horfield. Florrie took over the Broome home following the death of Grandmother Winifred (Blanchard) Broome. The patriarch George died many years earlier. The next sister Kathleen and Husband Norman Bush were in the RAF so little seen by the civilian Broomes. The cousins of the above where oldest cousin Michael and his sister Diane children of Frances and Jack Pike. John was the son of Florrie and Frank and Nicky Norma and Bob the children of Kathleen and Norman. Uncle Frank was in the merchant navy so he too was away quite a lot. His home was filled with lots of artifacts from overseas trips to exotic places. Camels, elephants and things to mystify young minds.
Cousin Diane mixed with us a little in the early years, she looked on us I think in a motherly way being the oldest. Her brother Michael I do not remember at all. He later in life moved to America and only in the early 2000’s was killed in a motor accident. Diane would to take us to Shirehampton pool with its strong chlorine smell. I was closest to the children of Jack and Percy as we where estate kids. Whilst our parents visited and chatted about adult things we played with each other in fields, the street, the back yard or in our rooms. Rarely bored or demanding of money to sate our appetite. Though when an Aunt or Uncle chucked thrupence our way it was up to perhaps Measons the Sweet shop, or the off license at the English Rose public house for goodies. Sherbet Fountains from Bassetts, Spangles, smarties, Talm Toffee, (ruined my teeth) Five Boys chocolate, Black Jacks. Verrechia’s was the ice cream van that came around with Walls ice cream. Ninety Niners with a flake in it.
Before I forget, other vehicles that called into the street in those early years where, the Fish and Chip man with fragrances to die for and a chimney that belched steam from the fryer. The rag and bone man sometimes with horse and cart to swap your rags for goldfish in a bowl. An Iron Monger van with brushes and stuff. A knife sharpener and the council waste pump truck. This large tanker was equipped with long hose on a swivel pipe. The reason for its presence a few times a year was when the street drain outside of Mrs Lilies up the street would block and flood the street. It would suck out all the twigs’n putrid mucky stuff much to the joy of little boys. Other visitors where the garbage men with half curved top truck with sliding doors. The coal man carried six or eight sacks one at a time on his back on top of a leather back apron. They tramped down the little covered alley between the house and the outhouses tool shed, coal shed and outside toilet. The milkman came with electric humming and whining Float the baker in a conventional petrol engine van.
The rent man would also call in the early days and sometimes when money was very short we would have to hide and pretend we where out. To further stretch the ‘pennies’ we would file the half pennies. A half penny or copper happeny piece coin was about one millimeter wider than the silver shilling used in the electric and gas meter. One place coin into slot and rotated dial thingy till it dropped into a cash box. Dad had us filing down Half pennies on the back concrete step until it fitted the slot.
1953 was coronation year and the whole estate and Bristol Centre was decorated and every home had a coronation mug. The center of the city housed a large crown.
The estate in those days was a joy. Everything was newly built and most of the folk where young with young families. Houses where still being built and it seems there was always the smell of paint in the air. Half way along Saltmarsh was an area used to house the raw materials for building. Mostly road base, bricks and sand. There where workmen with a coke fueled brazier fire in an oil drum to chat to. Tractors and earth moving vehicles with caterpillar tracks. Cute where the little dumpster trucks rear wheel steered with small tip able bucket on the front. The compound as it was known was between the houses and Longcross. There are new houses there today. Just in the stretch of road along the edge of Longcross was a police phone box. Blue in Colour just like the ones in Dixon of Dock Green with Jack Warner from the Fifties and sixties. Our neighbors back then where on either side of us The Horans Mum Dad and Kids Bridget, Josie and John at number 81. In 85 was the McDonalds Angela and Andrew with Mr & Mrs Mac. 87 The Phelps(who had his own business painting and putting up posters) had two boys Raymond who stuttered and John. Before the gap with service road was Molly Moor, Mr Moor and Kids Gordon who used to beat me up every week till I fought back at aged 12 and he backed down. Another Moors where daughters Susan and Margaret. Others in the Street where Mrs Hampton, Mrs Lily by the Lane, The Johnsons with son David and Daughter Janet. Councilor O’Neil and family. These where on our side. Crossing the road The Franklins with son Roger we became mates in our teenage years though he a few years older than I. He now runs hairdressing shop in Sea Mills. The Rickets, Sullivans, Workmans later replaced by Porters, Truemans with Son Jeffery and daughter Janet, Mostyns (who had Haberdashery shop in Ridingleaze), Bloke who was petrol tanker driver for Fina Fuel. The Fentons or McAullifs Irish family consisting of John, Seamus (Jimmy) and daughters?. I had run in with the family in my self righteous days that was really my fault. The only ones I still remember left are the Dickens. No…more coming the Blacks and another family though not related called Franklin. Saltmarsh Drive was split into two layers the Upper part lower numbers and us down the sloop. Only ones up top where Uncle Phillip Bailey and family across the road a bloke called Dave was mates with in teens. And when very young first little girl friend Sheila Miller? I think.