Recollections of a childhood in Yarnton in the early years of the Twentieth Century
Here is a story about early childhood in Yarton during the early years of the Twentieth Century by Mary Wesley (nee Lambourn).
I was born in a cottage at Little Blenheim in 1909. Little Blenheim was called a dead end “ it was approached by either Big Lane or Little Lane. There was a farm house at the top where a farmhand, then called a carter, lived. He looked after four lovely Shire horses. One of my earliest memories is of those horses clip clop down the lane every morning and back in the evening.
There were six cottages and all the men (except my Father who was a gardener) worked on various farms, as did most of the men in the small villages in those days. Of course the cottages had no mod cons, we had to fetch our water from a pump in the road, making sure we had some to last overnight because in the winter, when the pump was frozen, the first person to use it had to take a kettle of boiling water to pour in the top to thaw it. On the opposite side of the road a little spring ran down from the hills; it never ran dry, my Father used to dig out a miniature pond so that we could scoop out buckets of water for washing and the garden. I remember when there was a drought a farmer from Begbroke used to bring churns in a milk float to get water for his cattle.
Both lanes led to the centre of the village where there were two large elm trees called Stocks Trees. Later they had to be felled because they were dangerous, what a pity they were not replaced.
Between the bottom of Little Lane and the centre of the village stood the old Red Lion and a little round house where my Great Grandmother lived at one time. Alas, the little round house fell down or was knocked down when council houses were built. Just past Stocks Trees and facing Church Lane there was a Blacksmith, a small General shop kept by Mr and Mrs Davis, where we could buy sherbet daps, aniseed balls, etc, if we had a penny or even a halfpenny. Next was a carpenter where Dickie Hill used to make coffins, repair wagons, etc. There was also a Clerks House which had been a small school to which my Father went, it later became the Post Office and this house still stands.
Down Church Lane, first the School, then the Church and the Manor House. A few yards past the Manor House there was a footpath which led to Yarnton Station across a field known as Station Field which belonged to Mead Farm at the end of Church Lane. Sometimes my Mother used to take me to Oxford on the train to see my grandparents, 6d return fare, 3d for children. The evening before going to Oxford my Mother would ask our neighbour who worked at Mead Farm if the Bull would be in the field!
I do not remember much of my very early years. I did not have many toys, there were some small celluloid dolls which I could bath, a china doll that Mother made lovely clothes for and one or two picture books, maybe there was snakes and ladders and ludo. The thing I liked best was running down the road on Mondays to meet my Father who brought my comic, The Rainbow. Mother had a sweet little book about three inches square which had been given to her for a Sunday school prize. She let us look at it on Sundays; it had lovely pictures of roses, forget-me-nots and other flowers, how I wished it was mine. I think my sister has got it, a treasure, more than one hundred years old. Perhaps I should add here that when I was six a baby sister arrived (found under a gooseberry bush) and later, when I was ten, a little brother.
Now, memories of school where I started when I was five. There were three class rooms and three teachers, Infant Room, Middle Room and Big Room. In the Infants, after Pot hooks and hangers, we were taught to write between double lines. From Standard I upwards we had the usual lessons; History, Geography, Scripture, Singing, but the most important were the three Rs and spelling. How well I remember learning the tables, twice one are two, twelve pence one shilling, twelve inches one foot, four gills one pint, etc, etc.
We had Drill every day, which would now be called PE. There was a school garden where the older boys had a plot. What I hated most was knitting, we had to knit socks on four steel needles which were rusty, I do not think I ever finished a sock. In top classes we only had three books to read from: David Copperfield, Oliver Twist and The Story of a Donkey. If we were absent from school for more than one or two days the attendance officer used to call at our home to find out why.
On St Georges Day we used to march down to the Manor carrying a Union Jack, the Lady of the Manor used to give each of us 1d and I think an orange. On May Day some of the girls used to make garlands of wild flowers and go round the Village singing Good Morning Ladies and Gentlemen, we wish you a happy day. We have come to show our garlands because it is May Day.
I might add here that Yarnton used to flood, sometimes a farmer used to ferry us home from school in a milk float. Of course we were surrounded by fields and one of the things I enjoyed most was playing in the hay, we used to draw up the hay round us to make armchairs. How I remember the lovely smell.
A few steps from our cottage there was an orchard, it belonged to someone at Wolvercote, so of course it was a temptation to scramble through the hedge to get apples and pears, however just before the First World War my Father bought the orchard. Then we used to pick up the sweet windfalls and sell them, 12 for 1d. Having so many apples, they needed to be conveyed to Oxford, so Father bought a pony and trolley and later a trap. Sometimes he took me out in the trap to Flower Shows, etc. Any surplus apples were made into cider, one could hire a Cider Press. When the orchard was mowed, a good deal of it with a scythe, some of our neighbouring Mums used to turn the hay, they were glad to earn a little money.
My Mother made all our clothes, she was an expert dressmaker, How well I remember the lovely scarlet winter coats with black velvet collars she made for my sister and me, and always something new for Easter.
I think my best memory of all is of the beautiful wild flowers and butterflies, especially the ones found in the fields called the Rutten and the Clay; There were little blue orchids (we called them Butcher Boys), cowslips, cuckoo flowers, moon daisies, yellow rattle, cherry knobs, scabious, ragged robin and the lovely quaker grass that we were not allowed to bring indoors because it was supposed to be unlucky. Violets in Sandy Lane, primroses in Burleigh Road and dog roses up Frogwelldown Lane; as well as the peacock and tortoiseshell butterflies, there were lovely bright blue ones. Alas these fields and the orchard have been built on years ago. Many of the birds are much less common now, the swallows, skylarks and the cuckoo, how I would like to hear the cuckoo again.
I used to fetch the milk in a can from Hill Farm in Cassington Lane, the cowman at this farm used to drive a herd of cows to Oxford Market every Wednesday.
How well I remember the tradesmen “ the baker came from Kidlington to deliver lovely crusty bread. I used to hear it said that he sometimes drank too much and fell asleep in the cart, but the old horse knew his way and where to stop. The butcher, Mr Honour, also came from Kidlington in the horse and trap to call for orders and deliver. He was renowned for his delicious pork sausages. The landlord from the old Red Lion was a carrier and would bring anything from Oxford, whether a hat from Capes or a sack of pig meal.
I must not forget the rag and bone man “ Frankie Bridge from Cassington “ who used to come with his donkey and cart to collect rags, rabbit skins, etc. Also there was a pedlar who came sometimes, selling odds and ends and a man who gave us children windmills in exchange for clean jam jars. The scissor grinder “ I could go on for ever. I expect most children today would think this all very dull, but it was a way of life.
Another thing I remember is that sometimes on Saturday we used to walk across Stouts field,which adjoined our house, then across the Clay (keeping to the footpaths we were warned not to walk in the Standing Grass), this took us to the main Oxford to Woodstock Road where we sat on the stile to wait for Carlo the Ice Cream man, a great treat for 2d.
On the opposite side of the main road there stood the Ivy House, a large house where Mr Parker, who had the book shop in Broad Street, Oxford, used to live. He kept a number of lovely St Bernard dogs, we used to see them taken out for exercise. There was a bank at the side of the house where masses of periwinkles grew. A few yards from the big house there was a little Lodge with lattice windows where the gardener handy man used to live. Later a section of the house and the lodge were demolished when the road was widened.
Returning to my early schooldays, I forgot to recall my memories of the Great War, our school master was called up, he was replaced by an elderly retired master who was very strict and used the cane! In the autumn we used to go out to pick blackberries to make jam for the troops for which we were paid a few coppers (I did not earn much!).
I remember how one night when we had all gone to bed there was a loud knock on the door, it was my Uncle Charlie, my Mothers youngest brother. He had got a few hours leave before being sent overseas, he gave me a ride on his bike next day, we never saw him again.
Of course we sang the usual war time songs at school: Keep the Home Fires Burning, Pack up Your Troubles, etc etc.
But I also remember singing a song from the Boer War.
Lord Roberts and Kitchener
Baden Powell and White
All went out to the Transvaal
To help the British to fight
Soon the War will be over
Then how happy well be
The Flag will fly over Pretoria
And Daddy will come back to me.
I left Yarnton School when I was twelve to go to a Convent School in North Oxford. This meant walking to Yarnton Station to catch the 8.05 am train to Oxford, then a longer walk from Oxford Station to school, which was on the Woodstock Road, a short distance past the Radcliffe Infirmary. Then the same journey in reverse, catching the 4.15 pm from Oxford. I certainly got plenty of exercise, no school buses in those days!
I will conclude my “Memoirs” which I have enjoyed writing and perhaps some one will be amused to read.
September 1995
Postscript
Having just read and enjoyed, Julia Kennedys The Changing Face of Yarnton, Begbroke and Cassington, made me think that I could add a little to my own Childhood Memories of Yarnton, extracts of which are mentioned in her book. I wrote mine about five years ago for the amusement and interest of my family.
First Old Customs. The Curfew Bell was rung every evening at 8 oclock, sometimes by my brother. When anyone died in the village the bell was tolled again at the funeral. Another custom was The Churching of Women; the first outing a mother had after the birth of her baby was to give thanks for a safe delivery. She was expected to put a few coppers in the offertory box.
The charities are interesting to remember. There was THE BOX - when a woman was confined she could send to the Vicarage for The Box; it contained bed linen and baby clothes and she received one pint of milk per day, I think for a week. If the box was returned with everything clean she was given one shilling and a garment for the baby. I do not know who left the money for this charity.
Then the Fletcher Charities. Alderman Fletcher took an interest in Yarnton, so bequeathed money to be spent on bread and meat for Christmas and bread and buns on January 4th (the day of his funeral) for the poor of the parish. (They were mostly poor in those days.) Also the Clerk of the Parish tolled the bell on the anniversary of his funeral, for this he received £8. I do not know when these charities ceased.
In those far-off days I knew everyone in our village by name. There are one or two people I especially remember from Little Blenheim - Benny Hall, he worked for the Hastings family, at Windmill Farm, all his life and I am sure his employers thought of Benny with affection, as we all did. He lived with his sister Emily (who died years before him); I remember they had a blackbird in a cage. Benny was a great authority on the weather, when mother planned to go to Oxford she always asked what the weather was likely to be. At one time they had a lodger or should I say paying guest, her name was Mrs Salisbury, she used to sit for hours crocheting lace. Miles of it! She had a musical box that I coveted, I even hoped she would leave it to me in her will. No luck!
There was Mrs Bushell, who never walked anywhere, she always scurried. Her husband was a carter, they lived in the farm house, at Little Blenheim, when her family was young, later they moved into what used to be the Dairy converted into living quarters, her husband was bedridden for many years. When you think there was no sanitation and all the water had to be scooped from the dip-in, what a hard life, no carers or Attendance Allowance in those days.
I also remember Mr Roadman Charlett who kept the village tidy and when we saw him and said Hello Mr Charlett. He replied, I be alright. How bist thou? Then there was Mr Gramp Charlett, he was on the Parish Council and kept a strict eye on Little Lane, no one dared cycle down there.
When my family moved from the cottage to the bungalow, Corncroft Close, my father and brother always kept the hedges and grass of our boundary cut. The two people my sister and I remember very well were Mrs Fred Charlett and Mrs Tom Axtell. Mrs Fred Charlett lived at the college, she had a large family, a fine figure and always looked so smart when she went to church, it fascinated us because she rustled as she walked. I think her underwear must have been well starched!!
Mrs Tom Axtell, from Kings Row, used to TAKE IN washing from the Manor and Vicarage. She used to fetch and return it in a little handcart. In my minds eye I can see all those snowy white sheets billowing in the wind. No mains water or electricity in those days. I wonder how she dried it in the winter? I have been reminded by my sister that Mrs Axtell also did washing from one or more of the colleges, this was brought to her and delivered back, to Oxford, by Mr Knibbs, the carrier from Woodstock.
Another thing that I remember was that Thursday was early closing day for the shops in Oxford, they closed at 1pm. Many people bicycled to Yarnton on that afternoon to pick blackberries, alas, now most of the hedges have gone. What changes have happened during my long life, some wonderful and some not so good. I sometimes feel that I am living on another planet.
I will finish my memoirs. It always surprises me that when one gets old you can clearly remember what happened in your youth but cannot recall what happened last week or even yesterday.
Mary Wesley (nee Lambourn).
September 1999.
