On Saturdays and holidays we had to go with Mother sometimes quite a long way to collect all sorts of herbs. When we got home the herbs were laid out on top of the shed or on sacks on the floor to dry. When they were completely dry they had to taken to Mr Bray's at Sutton Benger who would pay according to weight. Mother would use the money to buy us new boots (black boots then!). Sometimes my Aunt Jane would come with us and I used to wonder why I could often hear the sound of running water when she was collecting the herbs. One day I found out it was because she was spending a penny! Of course the old people years ago used to wear open crotch drawers and all they had to do was stand astride!
We also went blackberrying and mushrooming. Sometimes the fields were white with mushrooms, but now you've got a job to find any at all. I suppose it's because of the pesticides they put on the fields these days. The blackberries and mushrooms we picked were taken to the Old Bell Hotel and sold for a few shillings. I remember once we went to Stanton to pick mushrooms. We'd been told there was plenty out that way. We found the field and sure enough it was white with them. We filled our baskets to the top and were coming away when the farmer stopped us and said we had no rights to be there. We were frightened when he said "Follow me!" We got to his house and we had to give him our baskets, and to my surprise he took one mushroom off each basket and started laughing. That was all he wanted – just a taste for his breakfast! He thought that was a joke, we didn't though because we were frightened.
We'd pick wild sorrel and eat it – it was good! We also used to dig in the fields for some kind of nuts and eat those. It wasn't because we were starving or anything like that, it was just part of our lives outdoors. We would pull the flowers part off the ordinary stinging nettle and suck the bottom which tasted just like honey.
My mother never bought any bread. Once a week she'd make dough – enough to last a week. She would put it in a washing basket wrapped in a clean white sheet and it would take two of us to carry it to the Bake House in Gloucester Road. The baker, Mr Ernest Boulton, would shape our dough into loaves and bake them and he charged one penny. He also charged a penny to cook a large Sunday joint and there was always enough dripping from the meat to keep us going for a few days. We had it on bread with salt on, or toasted. Dripping toast - it was lovely, especially the brown jelly that settled at the bottom! You don't get that kind of dripping from the meat today.
In those days there was a bacon factory along the foundry road. Mother would send us along with a basket to get six pennyworth of pig meat bones, sometimes a pig's head, and she'd make beautiful brawn.
There was a milk factory along Park Road and because I had an uncle working there we had as much milk as we could manage. We used to get 'boyster's milk' as well and that made lovely puddings. I also remember the big suety puddings. If there was any left over it was cut into slices and fried in the frying pan with a sprinkle of salt. The memory of that, and the big bread puddings, makes my mouth water!
Where are all the lovely little shops we used to have? In the Horsefair alone there was Boulton's Bakers shop. Next to that was Sally Parsons who sold oil etc. Next to that there was Adye's Groceries. Mr Adye was nicknamed 'Sherbert Adye'. There was also the Bath Arms off licence which sold other things like sweets, cigarettes and home made faggots and polonies. There was also the Barley Mow where the present dentist is now.
In the Triangle there was Pratt's shop. Next to that was Mr Wilkins' Barber shop. One side was the men's barbers and the other side was a sweet shop which later became Mrs Isle's 'Stella's' hairdressers. Then, where John Mott's betting shop was until recently there was a Tailors shop. We used to watch the tailor sitting on the table with his legs crossed, working away. Around the corner was Rabbage's shop and next to that was Redman's Butchers, then there was a small cake shop. The current Fish Shop used to be a lovely little sweet shop and tobacconist run by Mr and Mrs Lea, a lovely couple. Next door was Harry Vizor's Fruit and Veg shop which also sold sweets. Where the Health shop is now in Abbey Row there was a clothes shop run by two old ladies called the Misses Muscle. Then there was the Blacksmith's and a little further down was a little clothes shop belonging to Mr and Mrs McGrath. A couple of doors on was the Castle Inn, and across the road from there was Mr Woodman's Cake shop and Bakers.
There used to be a big corn filed where Bremilham School was built and where the White Lion Park houses are now there used to be the White Lion allotments. My father had two long pieces of ground up there and my Uncle Bert, who was a water diviner, found water and my father had a well built there so he was always all right for watering his plants. He grew plenty of veg and every night he would bring something home for Mother to cook. So different from the majority of vegetables you buy today!
None of the houses in this part of the town were built then. That's Parklands, Corn Gastons, Hobbes Close, Athelstan Road and Alexander Road. Where the row of houses are now, opposite Burnham House, there was a slaughter house and yard belonging to Mr Redman the butcher. My brother Fred was Slaughterman. One year when the foot and mouth disease was about I remember lots of cows being taken out to a field in Brokenborough where they were killed with a humane killer.
Burnham House was a private house where two old ladies lived. Their names were the Misses Pinagar. They had an orchard where the old people's home is now.
My sister Edith was cook for Mr and Mrs Joe Moore at the Bell Hotel and she would sometimes tell Mother to send me to the back door to collect perhaps curry, soup, meat dripping – whatever was left over. Not off the plates of course, but what was going spare! This was always a treat for us and very kind of Mrs Moore.
I had the pleasure of seeing Queen Mary when she came to the Abbey. I can picture her clearly because I was on the balcony over the front door of the Bell Hotel. I've always remembered the kind of hat she wore. It was a greyish colour, very rounded and covered with lace.
When I was about twelve years old my mother got a job for me. It was at Whitchurch Farm. I went straight from school. The first job I was given was to pick the gooseberries etc from the garden and various other jobs. On Saturdays I had to scrub the kitchen floor. It was flagstones and they're still there today.
As soon as I was old enough I had to go to chapel every Sunday. Three times! Service in the morning, Sunday school in the afternoon and service at night with my mother and father. When I left school I still went to bible class in the afternoon. It was expected of us in those days.
Every summer we used to go to Weston Super Mare in an open-roofed 'charabanc' and sing at the tops of our voices!
I joined the Girl Guides when I was about twelve and used to camp out on the Charlton Park Estate grounds. We had some good times, lighting a fire with one match and cooking over a wood fire. One year I recall we had to take buckets down Daniel's Well to get spring water from the small stream; it was as clear as crystal. We also picked lovely watercress there too. I've been told that the stream has been filled in now, but what a pity if it has because that was a part of our lovely old historic town.
The weather years ago was so different! Summer was summer and winter was winter. Through the summer, if my father wasn't working overtime on the farm, we used to walk down the Common, down the sides of both Groves – the first and the second, and we'd some to the 'Slappy' pub. We'd have a drink and, if we were lucky, something to eat. After a little rest we'd walk back Foxley Road way to home. Sometimes I'd sit on the side of the road and wait for my dad to pick me up and give me a ride on his back.
On Good Friday morning all school children could go down the Alexander's Coal Yard (which is now Athelstan Garage) and they would give us a hot cross bun each. We would take these and a drink and go down the Common, down the second grove wood and pick primroses, anemones and bluebells. It was lovely! In the second grove there was a well and they say an old man used to live in a little cottage there. We did see a lot of stones etc, so it could have been right.
At the beginning of winter, around October, each family was allowed to borrow two blankets to help them keep warm and at Easter we had to take them back clean. There were no washing machines then, just a scrubbing board, the big copper, the old mangle, Puritan soap, soda and the 'blue bag'. I must say the washing was snow white!
Every summer they held a Flower Show with all kinds of roundabouts up in the field belonging to Arches Farm, and to this day it's called the Flower Show Field. To get entrance we had to go through the gardens of Burton Hill House, which later became a Shaftsbury Home. I remember the fairy lights down the steps and into the field. My father bought me a big china doll which I treasured for quite a long time. I used to lay it on Mum's sofa covered with an old shawl, until one day the cat's paw caught in the shawl and dragged it off, smashing it to pieces. I broke my heart and never had another doll.
In the Cross Hayes where the Fish Shop is there used to be a Grocer's Store. Mother used to give us a halfpenny to buy some broken biscuits for our lunch. The man who ran the shop was called Johnnie Naile. I can see him now, in my mind, wearing a white coat and apron.
We used to get big floods all around Malmesbury years ago. The water used to pour over the top of Town Bridge by the Silk Mills and flood the surrounding houses and along Baskerville. Also down by the present Somerfield store and the bridge nearby. I remember my brother Bill and sister Mary and I went down to the floods. Of course we thought it fun to paddle in the water with our boots on and didn't we get into trouble! My brother and sister had a good hiding and were put to bed without any supper. I have to confess that because I was the youngest I was spoilt and let off!
Now it was nearly time for me to leave school. We left when we were fourteen then. Anyway it was two weeks before Christmas and Mother made sure that I wasn't going to be hanging around doing nothing during the two weeks holiday, so she got me a job helping in the kitchen of Dr Moore's place on Abbey Row. As soon as Christmas was over I went to work at the Silk Mills. The first job I was given was to learn winding stocking net. That was in the front of the mills. Seven and sixpence a week! From eight in the morning until six at night. The hooter would go when it was time to start and when it was time to leave. On Friday nights if we put our name down and paid sixpence we could have a bath in the proper bath – not like the one we had at home (a big galvanised bath in front of the fire!). That was a fair treat, especially if we were going to the 'Sixpenny Hop' at the YMCA that night.
About three months after I started work I was transferred to the second shed to learn the weaving of silk. When they thought I was good enough I was given two looms to manage on my own. It was beautiful silk!
Our boss at the Silk Mills was Joe Hurst and he used to stroll up and down between the looms to make sure we weren't messing about. We had to give the work our full attention. He sometimes stood still with his hands behind his back and his eyes would be everywhere. I remember I used to blush like billy-oh if he stopped anywhere near me. I must have thought he was looking at me and no one else. The examiner of our work when one big roll was completed was Tom Paul, and if there was any kind of fault in our work he would send for us and we'd have to explain why. We would get paid for how many rolls of work we could get done. The last couple of years we made nylon which was used for parachutes in the war.
We didn't work on Saturdays, so my friend Florrie Cutts and I would go by train to Swindon shopping. It was one and sixpence return. Now it was time for Florrie to meet her future husband and it wasn't long before I met mine.
I was going home one night after going to the pictures when a young man in uniform went by on a bicycle. He came back and asked if he could see me home. He had just started a week's leave from the Wilts Regiment and we saw each other every night. By the end of that week we had fallen deeply in love. Then the time came for us to part and for him to return to the barracks at Devizes. His name was Maurice Wicks, son of John Wicks, hurdle maker of Hullavington. We wrote to each other every day and couldn't wait until he got his next leave. The postman, old Mr Gilmore, used to pull my leg about having so many letters. Sometimes Maurice managed to get the weekend off and I would cycle over to his home at Hill Hayes in Hullavington. We did most of our courting out there, in a place called Happy Land. Most times we'd take his dad's dog and the gun and shoot many a rabbit. His mother made the most lovely rabbit pies and I've never had any like it since. Sometimes after a weekend off I would go to Chippenham Station to see my beloved off. During this time I was buying things each week towards our happy home. We used to talk about when we got married. We both wanted two children – a boy and a girl, but we had six (two boys and four girls). I will tell you more about them as I go along.
After a time Maurice bought himself out of the army; I believe it was seventy pounds he had to pay. That was in 1936. They had just started to build the aerodrome at Hullavington and he managed to get a job there.
We were married at the Congregational Church in Malmesbury and managed to get a little cottage in West Street. The only thing we still had to buy was a table and chairs and the first week's groceries to start off with.
Our first child was a boy, Brian John, and we were so proud! My father, mother and family idolised him! I can picture him now in his dark blue shirt blouse with lovely smocking on and patent shoes and white socks. My friend, Florrie, made the shirt blouses and did the lovely smocking.
Two years went by and we had a baby girl, Rosemary Jean. She was lovely too. Next came Maureen Angela. She was fair like Brian; Rosemary was dark. Well, it became a real struggle to feed and clothe them, but I was fortunate to have a good sister who never married and she was wonderful. She would take the children on the train to Swindon on a Saturday and buy them new shoes or dresses etc.
It was about this time that my husband got a job as an Air Ministry Warden (later a Constable) at the aerodrome. War broke out, but he didn't go. They had to have police guarding the aerodrome with all the planes and things there. When he was on night shift the sirens would go and let us know that the German bombers were going over, and some of the bombs dropped quite close to the aerodrome. The nights they bombed Bristol were the worst I knew of. The sky was alight with the fires they caused and I would get my children all in one bed and pray we would all be safe. I'd pray for my husband too who was patrolling out in the dark – he daren't even use a flashlight.
I remember how kind all the neighbours were to each other. It must have been the fear of being killed or injured or something like that. We all needed each other to keep our spirits up.
Anyway, life had to go on as usual. It was strange to see the American MPs patrolling all over the place, some at Charlton Park and some in Malmesbury, but they never bothered us.
Now time was creeping by and our two eldest children were at school. I was pregnant again and had my second son, Roger Francis, so our family was increasing and we had more hungry mouths to feed. If ever I had a chance to earn a bit of money to help out I would do so, like doing laundry or scrubbing out new houses. I cleaned Barclay's Bank when it was newly built and carried on working there cleaning after closing time at night. I've also gone potato picking at Brokenborough and remember once after the machine had (so say) worked the potato field we took an old pram and picked up what the machine had left. My dear friend, Barbara, who is now deceased, didn't have a pram so she took her husband's wheelbarrow. We were nearly home, coming up the hill, when her wheelbarrow tipped up and the potatoes went rolling back down the hill. No way were we going to leave them after bringing them that far so we picked them up – every one of them! You can imagine what words came out at first, then continual laughter. In the years after we often had a good laugh about it.
Once when my friend Barbara and I were walking down the common in front of us was old Mr Exton driving his horse and cart. He was always singing hymns and this day he was singing 'Abide With Me' and all of a sudden he was whipping the poor old horse and shouting "Gee up you b…..!" We thought that was wicked so we gave him a telling off!
We had permission to help ourselves to a cow cabbage down the common and this particular day was a sharp frost and the farmer was going by and saw us cutting some cabbages. He shouted "You'll get the guts ache!" but Barbara said "There won't be any frost in them once they're put in boiling water!" She was right. We also went kale and flax picking for Mr Cripps. We were paid so much per bag. It was hard work but the extra money came in handy.
The time came when we needed a larger house to live in so we were given a council house in Athelstan Road. There I soon got to know the neighbours who were very nice. There was Hilda Williams who we were soon calling Auntie Hilda. Then there was Alice Lowes and she became Auntie Alice. Hilda played the organ and Alice the accordion and we had many a gathering and sing song – and a cup of tea of course! Those were the good old days!
At last the war was over, the bells were ringing and it was the end of the sirens. All the parents got together and did their bit to organise a street party. It was lovely and everyone had a good time.
Some time passed and I became pregnant again; this time another dark haired girl, Anne Elizabeth. Three or four years later came my youngest daughter, Marisa Mary Joy.
