Bygone Yarnton! A daunting subject covering centuries but I must begin somewhere, so I’ve finally decided to try to draw a word picture of Yarnton within living memory and except for one or two little stories from the generation before, this is what I have done. Perhaps I had better explain why I have always loved the village, and how upon finally settling here in 1942 I felt I was really coming home.

Although I was not born here, I have been visiting relations here since I was very young. My ancestors had lived here for more than 200 years, so my roots go down pretty deep.

My elderly relations were able to tell me about old Yarnton and its people, and very kindly left me many pictures and family relics. Even so, I am sure that there are people who were born in Yarnton that have fresher memories than I have. If any of my remarks spark off other recollections, please do tell me.

I have just been reading some books by Mollie Harris, and I regret that I do not have a fund of amusing stories like hers, but I did see some familiarity to our village. Like her, I have had great pleasure in talking to the older villagers and hearing their reminiscences.

Less than 60 years ago, Yarnton was a really small close knit village. Most of the farms and cottages clustered round the centre. The cottages were nearly all thatched and built of stone or wattle and daub it was unusual to see a red brick building.

Trees were a great feature they lined all the lanes and overhung many cottages, giving shade in the summer and protection in the winter. The Manor Park was full of huge trees, providing lovely vistas from any angle.

Beyond Little Blenheim turn, Rutten Lane was twisting and narrow, edged by huge elms, with no houses at all. The banks of either side were covered with wild flowers. I always went along there to gather the first periwinkles and violets. There would be cattle in most fields, except in winter when they had to be moved to higher ground. The fields around the present Merton Way district were often flooded. The lane would be extremely muddy, but Yarntonians were used to that.

The railway had arrived in 1854, so trains were available for the occasional trip to Oxford or Witney, but there were no buses until comparatively recent times. So we walked everywhere often using the old rights of way’ paths across the fields. It often was quite common to meet other walkers and to stop and pass the time of day, often to be greeted by and how are you, my duck which I found very endearing. Whereupon, some time would be spent on local gossip. Everyone was interested in everyone else. Should there be sickness in a certain cottage, callers would arrive with napkin covered baskets of homemade delicacies.

Most farmers and larger households kept ponies and used traps or governess carts for visits further afield. I remember the joy of driving to Kidlington to visit friends. We jogged through Rutten Lane and Sandy Lane for what seemed like hours, enjoying the peaceful scene, passing only an occasional bicycle or walker. Kidlington itself was a tranquil village, not much bigger than Yarnton.

Of course, the roads and lanes were without pavements. The grassy banks or paths at the sides were kept tidy by our own roadman who lived in the village and who could always be seen at work. There was no such thing as litter it was almost an unknown word.

I spent many happy holidays at Mead Farm in Church Lane. Visitors were always collected from the station by farm cart as the track across the field was too rough for a pony trap. One night I arrived after dark, but was soon reassured by the Station Master, Ernest Carter, that a farm lad was waiting for me. Sure enough, there stood a cart, lantern on its side. I was helped up front and off we went, swaying across the field, towards the farm with its welcoming glow from the lamplit windows.

My Great Aunt farmed the Mead for 53 years. At first she was ably assisted by two nieces. One took care of the housework, and the poultry, the other one organised the farm work. Extra help was given by daily villagers and one specialised in doing all the washing and ironing. The luxury of tap water had not arrived and in the back kitchen all water was pumped up by hand. If hot water was required, it had to be baled out of the large copper, which was wood fired, and was kept going all day. All the washing was done in this kitchen, and the door was kept open to let out the steam. There was never a lack of company as the chickens ran in and out looking for scraps. These same chickens had to be rounded up every night and shut up in their houses as foxes were known to lurk nearby.

There was a particularly fierce rooster at one time, who took advantage of my smallness, and I often had to climb up onto a hay rick to escape him. Then I had to yell for help to get down, much to the amusement of the farm hands. The daily search for eggs was always fun for me, especially if I found a new nesting place. It was quite common for a hen to come marching triumphantly into the yard with a retinue of chicks no one had discovered her nest.

Another daily talk in the house was to clean and trim the lamp wicks and fill up with oil. I remember with pleasure the soft cozy glow of the lamps, especially on winter nights when we sat round the table playing cards or discussing the day’s happenings.

Going to bed was quite an adventure. Your special candle had to be lit and protected from draughts as you picked your way carefully across the stone flagged floors and up the winding staircase and along the narrow passage, watching out for the odd steps. But it was all worthwhile when you eventually clambered into the high four poster bed, and snuggled down into the feather mattress even this had been made on the farm.

As I have already mentioned the outside farm work was organised by the other niece. She seemed thoroughly to enjoy working in the fields, often driving a team of horses. I think she must have been the forerunner of the land army girls, as it was most unusual for a woman to do that sort of work in those days. She was also very good with horses and bred the huge Clydesdales which were mostly used for farm work. I used to sit on a bale of straw in the stables and watch Teddy the horseman, dealing with his horses. They were his pride and joy and had such lovely names Comonole Flower, time to be going he would say. There was also Blossom, Prince and others I cannot remember. One exquisite foal was born during one of my holidays. He was a beautiful russet colour, and I was allowed to name him, I thought Pippin’ most appropriate. He seemed to like my attention and would follow me about.

Of course the cows were all milked by hand in those early days. Much of the milk was put into churns and taken to the station. The rest was poured into lead pans in the cool dark dairy. Villagers would call daily with their jugs and cans for milk. The milk would be skimmed off for cream and butter making. This took place weekly and entailed much churning of the wooden machine until the butter came. It was then slapped into round shapes with two wooden spatulas and marked on the top with a design stamper.

Hares, rabbits and game in season would hang in the dairy. Farmhouse rabbit pies are a never to be forgotten treat.

In its darker recesses, the dairy also housed the home made wines. Parsnip was a special favourite. I can recommend it as a nightcap mixed with sugar and hot water, it soon sent us off to sleep. I think it must have been pretty potent stuff.

The old Meadow Road, winding past the Mead, was quite busy in spite of deep muddy cart ruts, soft in winter and rock hard in the summer. Floods frequently extended along the lane in the winter and swans came up to the farm gates to be fed.

On fine Sundays the villagers strolled down the lane to the Fish pool or river quite often to bathe and picnic. They also picked the wild plums or bullaces from the hedges, which they bottled or made into jam and very good they were.

In his youth, my Father caught some fish in the old Fish pool. These were called Jack and could have been the same type of fish stocked in the pool by the monks who lived on the site of the present Manor House.

Almost opposite the Fish pool stood the old inn known as Folletts. The origin of the name is not certain, but there was a John Folliot in the village in the 17^th Century. It was last used as a cow shed I believe. The Thames Water Authority demolished it within recent years.

The Church, Vicarage and School were really the hub of the Village, although functions were held occasionally in the Manor grounds and the Tithe Barn where Christmas parties were held. In the Church, special pews were used by the farms and bigger houses, and the Manor was always represented, using a pew near the front of the church. Everyone went to church at least once on Sundays, and afterwards it was usual to see groups outside, catching up on the latest news.

The small building by the wall inside the Vicarage garden was called the Parish or Reading Room, and quite a lot of activity went on in this tiny building. It was carpeted with coconut matting and was quite cosy. There was a small library which was much appreciated in those days and a small organ for choir practice. Here the Mothers’ Union and the Band of Hope held their meetings and the Bell Ringers used it for their annual supper.

In connection with the church, I was told an interesting little story by one of the Cox family. It was a story told by his grandmother about Great Uncle David so that would be quite a long time ago. It shows a most unusual devotion to duty. Apparently at one period there had been no resident Parson and Yarnton was served by one from Oxford, who rode on horseback from the City, fording the river, across the meadows, finally making his way up the old lane. On Sunday mornings old David would post himself on the church tower and act as look out. When the Parson came in sight he would ring the little bell and folks would hurry to church. No bell no Parson, so no time was wasted by anybody.

The vicarage also boasted a tennis lawn, and some jolly parties took place there. Whist drives were held in the Church School usually to raise money for the Village Hall. I have some copies of the Parish news printed about 70 years ago, and in the 1912 issue it mentions the schoolroom being used for woodwork class and in the following year Mr Ballard of Woodstock gave a lecture on Yarnton history.

The Church, Vicarage and School were really the hub of the Village, although functions were held occasionally in the Manor grounds and the Tithe Barn where Christmas parties were held. In the Church, special pews were used by the farms and bigger houses, and the Manor was always represented, using a pew near the front of the church. Everyone went to church at least once on Sundays, and afterwards it was usual to see groups outside, catching up on the latest news.

The small building by the wall inside the Vicarage garden was called the Parish or Reading Room, and quite a lot of activity went on in this tiny building. It was carpeted with coconut matting and was quite cosy. There was a small library which was much appreciated in those days and a small organ for choir practice. Here the Mothers’ Union and the Band of Hope held their meetings and the Bell Ringers used it for their annual supper.

In connection with the church, I was told an interesting little story by one of the Cox family. It was a story told by his grandmother about Great Uncle David so that would be quite a long time ago. It shows a most unusual devotion to duty. Apparently at one period there had been no resident Parson and Yarnton was served by one from Oxford, who rode on horseback from the City, fording the river, across the meadows, finally making his way up the old lane. On Sunday mornings old David would post himself on the church tower and act as look out. When the Parson came in sight he would ring the little bell and folks would hurry to church. No bell no Parson, so no time was wasted by anybody.

The vicarage also boasted a tennis lawn, and some jolly parties took place there. Whist drives were held in the Church School usually to raise money for the Village Hall. I have some copies of the Parish news printed about 70 years ago, and in the 1912 issue it mentions the schoolroom being used for woodwork class and in the following year Mr Ballard of Woodstock gave a lecture on Yarnton history.

The building actually stood on land once owned by the Manor, formed into a sort of garden, shaded by a prolific walnut tree. When the nuts came tumbling down the children were allowed to gather them up. Mentioning walnut trees I hear that there were many in the village, along the Cassington Road, down Church Lane, and I know there was a huge one in the Mead farmyard.

When the Oxford County Council bought the land from Miss Franklin of the Manor House, in order to erect Council Houses alongside the Pound, she made a condition of sale that the building should be retained. In the early part of this century, the little building housed a large family named Fennemore. It is said that there were so many of them that they had to sleep round the room with their feet pointing into the middle! Years later it was used by the tenants in the end Council House, in whose garden it then stood, as a coal shed and W.C. Gradually it became dilapidated and about thirty five years ago the Council declared that £200 would be needed to repair it. As this sum was not forthcoming, this unique building was pulled down and vanished without trace. I understand that there are very few left in the whole country.

Unfortunately the next village landmark to vanish was the old Red Lion. This was a very ancient building indeed, with a thatched roof which rose very steeply from a few yards off the ground.

At one time the landlord was named Stivie Putt, and according to accounts, was a most useful fellow. He operated as village carrier and could be relied upon to bring back anything from Oxford for a charge of 2d from a yard of elastic to a pair of knickers. As well as these commissions, he collected coal from Kidlington station, then drove his cart round the village, weighing it up from scales he carried with him, and selling it for 2/- a cwt.

The Red Lion appeared to be very important socially. A room at the back was called the Dance room and was used for parties. Up above was another room where the Pig Club met and had their Annual Supper. Practically every cottage had a pig or two in the back garden so that when pig killing time came round, everyone lived exceedingly well. Not a scrap of meat was wasted. Those unfortunates unable to keep pigs were usually given a joint of pig meat, or at least some chitterlings. I have never tasted any pork as good as those fresh spare ribs we often enjoyed on the farms.

My chief memory of the old Red Lion was of carol singing outside one night with the late Albert Green and a group of children. We were sometimes joined by Mr Durham (now deceased). It was our custom to do this every Christmas for Church funds. We sang lustily outside the door, by the light of a swaying lantern suspended on a stick which Albert held as best he could. The door was opened and we peeped in. The tiny low ceilinged room was full of smoke and through the haze, the local lads pressed us to come in. Because of the children we regretfully declined, so the collecting box was taken in and passed round with excellent results.

I understand that a poker was kept in the bar fire and when it was red hot it was plunged into the beer mugs on cold nights. Yarnton Feast was celebrated under the apple trees behind the Inn.

Mentioning Albert Green brings back memories of how he used to entertain us with his fund of songs. There were certain houses where we were made extremely welcome, enjoying mince pies and drinks etc. and always Albert would be asked to sing. He would regale us with verse after verse in his good Oxfordshire accent, and the children would wait expectantly for the one or two slightly naughty verses they were the highlight of the evening. These delightful outings continued for several years.

When the brewery decided to pull down the old building, I did write to the Secretary for the Preservation of Old Buildings. He came to look at the Inn and wrote to the brewery. They assured him that they would build another pub in keeping with the village. No one seems to agree that this was done.

However an enterprising Cassington man bought up the old stone and bay window, and this was incorporated in a cottage which stands at the entrance to the village.

Many years ago, there were four cottages in Pebble Alley. One was occupied by Mr and Mrs Biles and their 10 children. As there were only 2 bedrooms, the older ones had to go out to service as soon as they were old enough. Mrs Biles washed and ironed sheets for 2d a pair and goffered caps for 1d. She had to heat the irons on an open fire, so the work was long and tedious. Milk for the family cost her ½d a pint. Mr Biles had attended school in the Clerk’s House, so that must have been before 1875. One of the children remembers collecting “The Oxford Times” from Yarnton Station. She then walked round Yarnton to deliver the copies.

At Christmas time kind Mrs Evans from Byways’ would bring baskets of fruit for the children. It is difficult to imagine that oranges and bananas were real luxuries in those days. One lady told me that she tasted her first banana when she obtained one from a stall after a travelling fair broke down and had to stay in field next to the Grapes.

Another cottage in Pebble Alley was occupied by Granny Cox and her family. She is remembered for making faggots, sweets and wine, which she sold. The Biles children would collect cowslips, elderberry flowers etc for wine making and receive sweets for their efforts.

This remarkable old lady opened another shop when the family moved to The College. This was a row of cottages opposite Exeter Farm. The end cottage had a bay window and here she would display her wares. Alongside the cottages was an old barn and in here Grandfather Cox sawed up branches from the trees and made them up into small bundles. These were called pimps and sold for ½d each. Apparently the wood shed was a meeting place for young people along with the Stocks Tree Green.

Sad to relate, Granny Cox was killed at the nearby railway crossing in Minnis Farm fields. Perhaps I should explain that Minnis Farm has had its name changed to Stonehouse Farm. It had been called Minnis from the name of the family who lived there called Myn and who are mentioned in the Parish Register. The farm was once moated. It was used as a staging post for changing horses when coaches used the road.

Towards the end of the Cassington Road stands a tiny thatched cottage, now on Southern Electricity Board ground. This once housed a very large family named Quainton. He was a farm worker and had ten or more children living in this small building. Mrs Quainton added to the family income by selling sweets. Her specialities were sherbet dabs’ and anky panky’ sweets, I am told.

Also in a thatched cottage alongside lived Mr and Mrs Ern Charlett who grew vegetables in their garden and also had an allotment. They could be seen side by side, driving their cart round the village to sell the vegetables. Opposite the Grapes was a small dairy where milk was bottled and collected. The Grapes was once called the Turn Pike Inn. This was when the actual turn pike was in action and highwaymen frequented the road to Woodstock, but there is still a cottage nearby known as Turnpike Cottage.

Some people remember two generations of landlords, father and son named Ayres. Father was known as Ratler’ Ayres and was famous for his collection of clocks. I am told that he had 400 of them, ticking and chiming all day and night. Calling time’ must have been rather difficult in some ways, but on the other hand time’ did not matter so much in those days I imagine. There always seemed to be more of it.

On his father’s death, Gene Ayres took over and was a well known character of this popular inn. It only had three small rooms downstairs, all with stone flagged floors and wooden settles around the walls. It also had a nickelodeon which would play your choice for 1d.

The large upstairs room with its uneven wooden floor was used for WI meetings forty years ago. I recall some hilarious times with strange situations which used to occur as everything had to take place in the one room. Even the large black kettle had to be boiled on the open fire to make the tea, and it often insisted on interrupting the speaker by boiling over. Whereupon a very old and much loved member, Bertha Charlett, would halt proceedings while she rescued the kettle everything had to stop for tea.

It seems strange to imagine that same room as the SEB office during the war. Along with a small building at the rear of the Grapes, this comprised the centre for all work for a large area, including Chipping Norton, Bicester, Buckingham and even as far as Bourton-on-Water. Three men controlled and worked this district. What a different story today. It was about 35 years ago that the Wessex Electricity Board, as it was then called, bought up part of the Minnis Farm land to build their headquarters.

Since then it has expanded even more.

I have been told that the thatched cottage near the Grapes was once a Dames’ school but I have no details of this.

On the opposite side of the road stands the string of collages called Kings Row, probably named after H O King, an Oxford businessman who once lived at Frieze Farm, and who owned the cottages. Among the old Yarnton folk who lived there was Bill Cox, one of the few knowledgeable men on the system of the Lot Meadows. He would be present when the Mead Balls were drawn and wielding his old scythe, would cut the first swathes of grass ready for the owner’s initials for be cut in the turf.

At the end cottage, jolly old Mrs Axtell would stand at her wash tub under a little shelter, or outside in good weather. She would call to passers by with a cheery word. She was a grand old lady who seemed to enjoy her work, which she continued for many years, dying not so long ago at a great age.

Further along the Woodstock Road stands the Ivy House much depleted when the road was widened. A wing, lodge house and quite a stretch of garden have vanished. About a hundred years ago it was a girls’ school, but in the early part of this century it was owned by Mr Parker (of Parker’s bookshop in Broad Street). Mrs Parker was an invalid, but a great dog lover. At one time she kept 25 St Bernards and liked to exercise these huge dogs every day. The housekeeper, Miss Hicks, used to push Mrs Parker out in her invalid chair, accompanied by the dogs on leads. It must have been quite a sight to see this procession on their daily walk up to the Sun at Begbroke. It also says something for the quietness of the road in those days.

I can just remember being taken to have tea with Miss Hicks when I was a small child the Parkers were then dead. I was absolutely fascinated by the parrot which sat on her shoulder, and joined in the conversation.

When the road was made a dual carriageway, the County Council bought the Ivy House and the ground floor was used for offices. The Babies’ Clinic and WI also used some of the rooms at one time.

Tudor Cottage, next door, was an alehouse called The Flying Arrow’ very many years ago. Later it was altered to become two cottages owned by the Neville family who also owned Six Bells’ in Cassington Road. Another branch of this family had a tailor’s shop in Rose Cottage’, which stands at the entrance to Gravel Pits Lane. There were only 4 or 5 cottages in this lane in those days.

Near the centre of the village, Little Blenheim has always been an attractive district and once housed some delightful old characters. The cottages were all thatched until a disastrous fire carried off two lots of thatch, and gradually most became tiled. The picturesque tall trees which leaned over the cottages have gone and some of the buildings have been altered.

College Mead was once called Coopers Farm and the surrounding fields were part of the farm.

In White Cottage lived Cuckoo Charlett surely he must have been related to Pigeon Charlett who worked at Mead Farm and made his home in old Folletts Inn. Yarnton’s old villagers seem to have rejoiced in nick-names and it would be interesting to find out how they came by these names.

Leonard Hall had lived in this cottage all his life as had his father before him. He worked at Windmill Farm for more than 50 years and had received a medal from the late Princess Royal. He told me that she congratulated him on his long service to agriculture and “she was very pleasant indeed”. He had been a member of Yarnton’s famous cricket team and he proudly showed me a picture of the team with a local cup they had won. Matches took place twice a week on Windmill Farm Field. The team was mostly comprised of farmers and their workers.

Mr Will Charlett and his wife lived next door. Will had the job of dispensing one of the Church charities. Apparently this entailed visiting those villagers eligible for the charity and asking them whether they would like a beef or mutton joint.

Mrs Will Charlett was always called Mrs Gramp and many people will remember her enthusiasm for the village to have its own village hall. She managed to raise money for this project in many different ways. I’m sure she would be delighted to know that her dream came true at last.

In order to obtain the Fletcher charity, which was given to mothers and children, great care was taken to make sure that the child could walk, as babies in arms were not eligible. If the child could walk, it received two buns and the mother a small loaf.

Another well remembered Little Blenheim resident was Mrs Salisbury. She was a member of the Neville family, a widow, and a very stately gracious lady. She was a noted needlewoman and always wore a needlework chatelaine. This beautiful steel object and a lovely bed-cover worked by Mrs Salisbury still remains with a family in the village.

The first school of any size was built by the Church Authorities in 1875, and was maintained with the help of voluntary subscriptions from the Parish. In 1910 a wing was added through the generosity of Mrs Franklin of the Manor House. It is interesting to note that there were 43 children in 1875 and by 1955 there were 130.

Some people still remember the little ceremony which took place on Empire Day 24^th May, when they were school children. They would march from the School to the Manor waving Union Jacks. On arrival they would stand outside the entrance and sing. Mrs Franklin came out and gave each child a new penny from a basket on her arm. Then the butler joined her with another basket full of new buns and these would be distributed.

The children were especially fond of the Vicar at this time, the Rev Parsons and his wife. On fine moonlit winter evenings when the flooded fields were frozen, they would take parties of children across Paternoster field, over Jacob’s ladder, to a field where the ice was particularly good. Then with the help of some old stools, they would pull the delighted children across the ice.

There was a time when there was no water at all in the school, so buckets were filled every day, from the Clerk’s House. On the way home from school, the children would often call on Mrs Lambourne in Little Blenheim as she put a bucket of water and a basket of apples outside her door, for the children to help themselves.

Some remember Miss Howse who lived at Exeter Farm (purchased by Exeter College in 1789) once called Southbys Farm. The story is told of how Mr Lay, who delivered bread in the village, spent many hours doing his courting there. His poor assistant had to stay with the horse and van outside on cold winters nights. There was a happy ending as the couple married, and Mr Lay, who is remembered as a very fine horseman, lived at Exeter Farm for many years alone, after the death of his wife.

Stephen Howse, who lived at Paternoster Farm, is remembered particularly for driving a cart round the village, with joints of meat for sale, when he killed a sheep or pig.

Mr and Mrs George Charlett looked after the Post Office in one room of the Clerk’s House. I remember it was possible to buy postcards of village views and I am very glad that I did so, as I still have quite a number.

The village shop was run by Hubert Davis for many years. He seemed to be able to produce everything required from his tiny premises. The previous occupant was the carpenter and undertaker named Dickie Hill, who also supplied beeswax and turpentine to the housewives for polishing their floors and furniture. Alongside stood the smithy part of it is still visible. The blacksmith came twice a week from Kidlington to operate the forge, much to the interest of the children on their way to school.

Here are some Yarnton customs:

Mole trapping was once a village sport. The skins were stretched, dried, and sold. Miss Clara Rogerson, who lived at the Mead for some years, collected enough of these skins to have a beautiful coat made.

Hedgehogs were killed, skinned and hung on chains in front of the fire. As they cooked, oil was collected in tins beneath them this was the finest thing out for earache so I’m told.

Sparrows were caught in nets, killed, plucked and made into sparrow pie.

At lambing time, the little creatures’ tails were cut, or sometimes bitten off. They were buried in the earth, where they remained until the skins could easily be removed. These were now ready to be made into lambs tail pie.

From lambs tails to my tale which is almost told. It is of a Yarnton which some of us knew and most of us loved. Many of the times were good, but some very hard.

It is very pleasant indeed to see the interest which has been aroused in the history of the village, and it is to be hoped that present day Yarnton will be regarded with as much affection as was the old one.