Category: Oral Transcript: Alford, Evelyn

The edited transcript of a tape-recorded conversation Danny Howell made with Evelyn Alford at her home in Bishopstrow on Thursday 30th April 1998. First published in Danny Howell’s book Wylye Valley Folk Volume One published by Bedeguar Books, July 1999:

Evelyn Alford said:

“I’m 72. I don’t feel 72, well not always, only sometimes. I can only really remember things from since I was three years old. My earliest days are something of a mystery. To begin with I was brought up by the nuns at the Orphanage at West Street, Warminster. The nuns told me my mother died a week after I was born. My father was in the RAMC and I was born on 5th September 1925 at Salisbury Infirmary. The only thing I can think of is that mum was travelling round with dad while he was in the services. He may have been at Bulford Camp or somewhere round that area and that’s how I came to be born at Salisbury.”

“The facts concerning what happened to my mother are not certain. As I just said, I was told my mother died about a week after I was born and that’s why I was brought up in the Orphanage at Warminster. Presumably, dad was away in the RAMC and another member of the family wasn’t able to take an extra child on in those days. It was tricky. That’s what I always thought but looking at my birth certificate recently it’s obvious my mother didn’t die when I was a week old. According to my birth certificate my mother registered my birth on the 29th October 1925. If my mother died, she must have died after the 29th of October. I never realised that until recently. The nuns at the Orphanage told me I was a week old when she died. So, they were wrong, weren’t they?”

“My birth certificate confirms I was indeed born on 5th September 1925 at the maternity ward in Salisbury Infirmary. My name was registered as Dora Evelyn Cunningham. I have always been known as Evelyn because I’ve got a feeling there were already two Doras in the Orphanage. The certificate says my father’s name was Ivan Henry William Cunningham, and my mother’s name was Dora Lilian Cunningham, formerly Harvey. Father’s occupation is listed as a private in the RAMC. So that part of the story, about dad being in the army, was correct. Dad and mum’s address is given on my birth certificate as 2 Condor Road, Woolston, Southampton.”

“Funnily enough there’s a big shop called Cunningham’s in Southampton. Whenever I see it I wonder to myself if those people are related to me. I used to want to know more about my real parents, especially when it was announced that adopted children could try and trace their real parents. Other days I thought no because it could go one way or the other. You can trace them but I’ve decided to leave it as it is. It’s not too late and I would probably find some relations. As far as I know I never had any brothers and sisters. I asked my adopted mum that one day and she said no there wasn’t. Of course, my real father would be dead and gone now.”

“Apparently I was the youngest child they had ever had, when I arrived at the Orphanage in Warminster. The nuns were a bit frightened about looking after me, so they used to give me to a neighbour who had children. That was Mrs. Butcher. I know her name and I can remember going in her house. She lived on the town side of the Orphanage, next door to it [No.98 West Street].”

“There was a garden outside the back of the Orphanage for the children to play in. The nuns used to put me out there in my pram for a sleep in the mornings. I used to fall out of it because it was a low one. I can remember playing in the Orphanage. There was a rocking horse and I can remember going on that. There were toys and things. I remember once, when it was my birthday, I was given a lovely rubber duck but I only had it for the one day. I never saw it after that. I suppose they gave it to someone else somewhere else. You accepted it had disappeared and that was that.”

“I can remember one or two of the children who were in the Orphanage with me. There was a Kathleen Wellyard. Her family, I think, were in Warminster. She moved and I lost touch with her. I wrote to her once after I got married and after that we lost touch. Then there was a Dorothy and a Barbara and a Nelly. I didn’t know their surnames. The orphans were aged up to about 14 years old. Some children had parents but were put in the Orphanage for a while perhaps because their mother was ill. People came to visit the children. They would have a cup of tea and talk to the nuns. I suppose they were people who were looking to adopt. Some children would disappear, presumably they got adopted but we never knew anything about it. We just took it all for granted.”

“I should say there were 20 to 25 children in the Orphanage. We slept in dormitories. The younger ones were in cots and the older ones in beds. We didn’t know if the beds were good or bad because we didn’t know anything different. We were put to bed and that was it. The beds were in rows, four one side of the room and four the other. There were different bedrooms. If we misbehaved we had to go to bed early, which happened to me more than once. I used to look out of the window and watch people going by along West Street. I had to stand on my bed to look out. Luckily I never got caught. Whenever I go by there now I always look up and think to myself that’s the window I used to look out of.”

“The Orphanage had saints’ names over the doors and was reasonably furnished. There was one big dining room. The food was put in front of you and you had to eat what you were given. It was good enough for us and we didn’t go hungry. It was a very routine breakfast – boiled egg now and again with pieces of bread and butter to dip in the yolk but I disliked that. We were made to eat it though. If you didn’t or if you were naughty the nuns used the back of a hairbrush to clout you. That way they didn’t leave any fingermarks. They could dish out the punishment when they wanted to. It made you cry but there was nothing you could do. I don’t think we were in fear of them because it was the only life we knew and we just accepted it.”

“The nuns were good but strict. They had to be strict because they had so many children to look after. We got punished when we done wrong. Sometimes we didn’t know what we had done wrong but we still got punished for it. It was strict but we knew no different. We didn’t know other people lived a different life. The way we lived was normal to us. Not until I came out of the Orphanage did I realise there were words such as mum, dad, auntie and uncle. Looking back I wish things had been different, that I had been brought up by real parents. It was tough alright.”

“There was Sister Celia, Sister Faith and Sister Jessie. That’s the three that stick in my mind. They dressed in their habits like they do today. Sister Faith’s name is on a plaque in the Minster Church. The sisters took us to church on Sundays and there was a chapel inside the Convent where the Nuns lived. We went to both. The church was packed out with people. We used to hear the parson say ‘I hope to see you all again next Sunday.’ We never knew the days of the week but we knew when it was Sunday because we went to church. We wore red blazers and red tams for church, and for St Denys’ Chapel we had red blazers and blue head-cloths. I don’t know why they made the difference but they did. We also went to Sunday school at the church on Sunday afternoons. Everything revolved around religion but I didn’t understand it because I was too young. I just accepted what was being said and what we had to do.”

“In the afternoons the nuns took us out for walks and then we had tea before going to bed. We went to bed about six o’clock in the evening, as soon as they could get rid of us. Sometimes we would have a bath before going to bed. It was a great big bath. They’d put four of us children in the bath together. For some reason, I don’t know why, I would always get in with my socks on, unless the Sister was quick enough to stop me.”

“The nuns did their own laundry. One day I was asked to get some clothes out of a tin trunk and the lid fell down on my thumb. To this day I have a scar. Many years after I had left the Orphanage I met one of the sisters. When she heard I was Evelyn from the Orphanage she said ‘I don’t believe it unless she shows me her thumb.’ Of course I was able to do so.”

“I was about five when I started school at the Minster School on the corner of Vicarage Street and Emwell Street. The older children from the Orphanage took us younger ones across the road to school. We were allowed to play with sand and things at the Minster School and I enjoyed it. I can’t remember who the teacher was because I was only there about a week before my life changed.”

“I was at the Minster School and I was asked to go outside, where Sister brushed my hair and took me over to St Denys’ Convent. I can remember coming out of school and going over to St Denys’ to see the Mother Superior in her office. She said something to me. I turned round and saw a woman. I was told to go to her, so I went over to her. What you were told to do you did and you didn’t ask questions about it.”

“Although I didn’t know it at the time, the woman was Mrs. Carpenter and she had come to the Orphanage to take me home with her. I had no idea where I was going. We went by car to Corton. The full name is Cortington but it’s not used much now. It’s been shortened to Corton. The driver of the car was a Mr. Hill. Many years later I was in Warminster and I wanted a taxi and I asked this chappie if he would take me to Corton. When we got there he said ‘You were adopted weren’t you?’ I said ‘Yes.’ He said ‘Well, I was the person who brought you out here for the first time when you were a child.’ He remembered that.”

“When Mrs. Carpenter and I got to Cortington I saw a man shoeing a horse. That was Mrs. Carpenter’s husband, Fred Carpenter, who was to be my adopted father. That was the first time I saw him. I quite enjoyed myself watching him work. After tea, when evening came, I was lifted into bed and it was heavenly. I went to sleep in a bedroom all to myself and so began my life as an adopted child. Some years later, we were having a meal one day and I asked why dad (Mr. Carpenter) had not come to the Orphanage with mum to get me on that first day. Mum said he had been very busy. When I look back I realise that from the first day at Corton, when I saw dad shoeing the horse I was dad’s girl.”

“After six weeks I got adopted officially. It was at Warminster Town Hall. I think the magistrate was Mr. Neville Marriage, who was the miller at Boreham Mill. He signed the papers. Mum and dad both had to go. I can’t remember it at all but mum told me about it afterwards. She said I wouldn’t sit still and kept walking up and down the room.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter didn’t have any children. That’s why they adopted me. Today they wouldn’t have been allowed to adopt me because they would have been too old. That scheme came out not long after I was adopted. As far as I know you could only adopt to a certain age. Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter were quite elderly. I think they were in their late 40s or early 50s. Dad was a bit younger than mum. He was about 45 when I was adopted. Their life must have changed dramatically when they adopted me. Of course it did. They were very good parents though, very good indeed.”

“Things went on alright. Like my life before in the Orphanage I accepted my new life. Again I never knew no different. I called my new parents, Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter, ‘mum’ and ‘dad,’ and to begin with I was unaware of my real parentage. As I grew older and asked questions my adopted parents explained things to me. They told me I was adopted and they told me what my real surname was. Before I was adopted I used my real name Cunningham but after I was adopted I used the name Carpenter. My parents always called me Evelyn.”

“My adopted father Fred Carpenter came from Imber originally. That’s where he was born. He had one sister and three brothers. His sister was called Kate. I met her. She lived at Bradford On Avon. Dad’s brothers were Een (short for Enos) and Frank. The other brother got killed. Frank lived at Imber. Enos lived in London. I’ve got a feeling he may have been a carpenter but I can’t say for sure. He was a proper gentleman.”

“Dad was a real happy looking person. He was generally smiling. He was happy-go-lucky. You couldn’t very often upset father. It took a lot to get him going. He would speak his mind but that was it. Once he had spoken he would let it go. I never heard father and mother argue with one another. If they did, they did it after I had gone to bed or when I was out. There was no sort of side to them. Dad very seldom swore. He may have swore more when he was outside the home or away from us but not in front of me. I never ever heard him swear.”

“When it came to politics dad would stick up for the politician he voted for. As far as I know he was a Conservative. Remember he was in business and a lot of the people who had horses, like the farmers, who came to dad to get their horses shod, were Conservatives. Years ago when you worked for anybody you had to vote the way they did. If they were Conservative you had to vote Conservative. Otherwise you could lose your job, and if you had a house with your job, you could lose your house. That’s how you were treated in those days. You had to be careful.”

“Dad had a Wiltshire accent but not a broad one, just ordinary. Dad was short and plump. He had a moustache and grey hair. He didn’t wear glasses until later on in life and then he wore glasses for reading. He had old clothes for working and a change of clothes, not a suit but casual, for Sundays.”

“Was my father religious? That’s an awkward question because he used to say that during the First World War people who said their prayers got killed and wounded and those that cussed and swore came through hardly touched. He went to church but after the War he only went for weddings and funerals. He seldom went for an evensong or morning church. The First World War changed him. It affected him that way.”

“He used to tell me about his Army days and his time in the War. [According to his obituary in the Warminster Journal, in June 1956, Fred Carpenter ‘served in the 1914-1918 War with distinction as a Farrier Sergeant in the Horsed Detachment of the Royal Artillery (R.F.A.). He duly received the Mentioned in Despatches citation for brave deeds.’]. He volunteered for the Army. He went to France. He was at the Battle of the Somme. He was lucky to come back from the terrible carnage. A lot of his mates had been killed but father didn’t tell me about that. He didn’t comment on the bad things but he used to tell me the funny ones. I used to like listening to dad.”

“Dad, like many more ex-service men, joined the British Legion. He was full of that, same as myself. It’s now called the Royal British Legion. On the Sunday nearest 11th November (Armistice Day) they had church parades. One year it was held at Chitterne and I went with Mr. Burt’s daughter. Mr. Burt was another blacksmith who would come and help put the iron rims on the wheels for dad. Afterwards, dad and Mr. Burt and the other chaps would land up in the pub. I remember I got on the bus to come home. The driver got in and started the engine up. I called out ‘Don’t you go without my dad.’ He said ‘Who’s your dad?’ I said ‘Fred Carpenter.’ The driver got out of the bus and went in the pub. He asked who Fred Carpenter was. Dad said ‘I am.’ The driver said ‘I haven’t got to go without you so you had better come on.’ Dad soon came out, letting me know all was well and he wasn’t going to get left behind!”

“Dad liked cricket but that’s the only sport I remember him taking an interest in. He played cricket for Imber years ago, before he adopted me. I expect he played in the Army too. And he used to listen to cricket on the wireless later on. He didn’t get much spare time. He was on the go all the time. He was usually working. In the evenings he had a light in the blacksmith’s shop but when the Second World War came, and there was the blackout, he couldn’t carry on so late at night so he used to come in home and turn on the wireless, as they called it in those days. He also read the newspaper. Dad was aware of things happening locally and he knew what was happening in the world by listening to the wireless and reading the newspaper.”

“Dad didn’t smoke. I wouldn’t say he didn’t mind about others smoking but he never stopped others. He used to like a little drink of beer but not wines or spirits. He used to go to the pub in Corton. It’s called The Dove now but it used to be The New Inn. Dad preferred to go to the Prince Leopold at Upton Lovell. Whether or not he had an argument with the landlord at Corton I don’t know but he usually went to The Prince Leopold. When the Second World War came and there was the possibility of bombs, mum put her foot down and got dad to stop home with her. Then they used to order some beer from Wadworth’s Brewery at Devizes. The brewery would deliver your order to your home. They’d call out to Corton and deliver.”

“Dad had started his blacksmithing and farriery business after he came out of the Army. To begin with, his business was in Mr. Rugg’s yard. Mr. Rugg lived at Cortington Manor, the big house where the Duchess of Newcastle later lived. Mr. Rugg was a farmer but his farm wasn’t too big. Well, to be honest, I don’t remember much about it because I was only little. Not long after starting at Rugg’s yard, dad was woken up one night and told his forge was on fire. He lost everything. He was then offered the chance to rent some army huts that had been used in the Great War. That’s where he started up again. The huts were on the outskirts of the village, on the back road, as you go down to Cortington Manor. There’s some houses built there now [Nos.30b and 30c Corton]. Those houses were built after the Second World War [in 1958]. The huts were pulled down during the last 15 or 20 years. For quite a few years after the First World War had finished we had discharged soldiers coming to our place, saying that they had been in the army camp at Corton. I expect many a tale was told again. Rhubarb grew at the bottom of the Cleeve. That clump must have been planted by a soldier and it kept us supplied with stewing rhubarb and a good few tarts for many years.”

“We had two or three huts for our house and there was another one where we kept the vegetables. There were two more where dad shod the horses and there was another place where dad’s forge was. Dad altered the hut and made them into a forge and a home which they called Sunnydale [later numbered 30a Corton]. As I say, the house was really about three huts, and there were doorways through. The huts were made of tin and three-ply. They were cold in the winter and very hot in the summer. Mum did quite a bit of work like painting but anything she couldn’t do, like papering, she got someone in to do that.”

“It was one storey. We had a fairly big kitchen, a big room where we lived, and another big place halved off for a bedroom and a hall. There was another big place halved off for two bedrooms which were a double bedroom and a single bedroom. The single one was what we called my play room. Dad and mum had a double iron bed. There was another double bed in the other bedroom. Mine was a single bed and we had wardrobes and dressing tables. Mum and dad had quite a bit of furniture because it was a big place. There was a dresser in the kitchen. Dad had a writing bureau and a table with a wireless on. They had one of those old-fashioned round tables in the hall. There was lino on the floor. In the kitchen, until circumstances changed, it was covered in the middle with lino and mum had the outside varnished. It was a cement floor all the way through but there was no dampness at all.”

“The hut for shoeing the horses had a cement floor which dad put in. There was an anvil and a bench with tools on, in the forge. There was a big heap of old horseshoes outside and a scrap merchant used to come round and get them. I used to watch dad at work in his forge. I was interested in that. He’d be hammering away. He’d heat up the shoes and push them on to the horse’s hooves with all the smoke coming off. I remember one day one little child burst into tears. She thought the horse was being burnt. I took hold of her and took her away. Other kiddies used to come up to the forge because dad used to make their iron hoops for them. I had a wooden hoop and I thought that was wonderful. I had hours of fun with it. A child wouldn’t be satisfied with playing with a hoop today.”

“Dad had a good trade. He would go up to Shrewton shoeing horses, and down to Bath if any horses were poorly. Dad was also known as a horse-doctor. He only had to watch a horse for a few moments and could tell at a glance if it was 100% in good health or not. He could tell whether a horse was in good fettle. He learnt that from his Army days. He could advise people whether to buy a particular horse or not. People used to come to dad for advice. This knowledge often took him away for the day. He would go off by train and would tell us what train he would come back on. We knew what time he was expected back. I would stand by our back door and the guard on the train would blow his whistle as the train passed Corton. Dad had asked him to do this. When I heard it I would go on my bike to meet him coming home from Codford Station.”

“One day I set off early and got all the way to the Station before the train had come in. Mum always told me not to cross over the railway but to stay on the south side. I knew everyone, from the Stationmaster to the porter, at Codford Station. When I got there, Mr. Grant from Sherrington, was the signalman on duty. He was on the opposite side. He saw me and got talking. He said ‘Come on over to this side and have a chat while you’re waiting.’ I told him I had to stay on the south side because mum had said so. When the train came in, dad got off. Mr. Grant told him how I would not cross the line.”

“Another time, dad took me on the train but he didn’t tell me what was going to happen. We got out at Bradford On Avon. Someone who was a stranger to me, met us. Dad left me with her and got back on the train. I can still picture it to this day. I didn’t cry, even though I thought he was going to leave me. I thought I wouldn’t be going back to Corton. I soon discovered that the woman was dad’s sister, my aunt Kate. I spent some time with her and dad came back, later in the afternoon, and collected me. I cannot remember ever going there again.”

“One Sunday, mum and I were waiting for dad to come back home. He had been to check that everything was alright at Sherrington Mill. He came in and looked up at the ceiling. He said ‘Where’s that smoke coming from?’ Mum didn’t have much of a fire in the grate. Dad quickly went outside. The hut was on fire. Luckily, dad had not unharnessed the pony. He took the pony and went to the village to get help. Mum and I went into the bedroom and flames were coming down, just missing the foot of mum and dad’s bed. I got my dolls out and put them under a beech tree. Then mum took me up to my aunt Edith’s. My aunt Id, from Woking, was staying for a few days. After mum had told her what had happened she went back with mum to clear things up. After a while she came back and told me she had taken my dolls back inside. The fire had started, they thought, by a spark which had gone up under the roof and set some dry leaves on fire. Luckily they were able to put it out.”

“Dad was a real country person. He always made people think he had more than what he had. He was a bit shrewd. Dad was very mechanically minded though. Not only was he a blacksmith and a horse-doctor but he used to look after Sherrington Mill and the troughs on the Duke of Newcastle’s Boyton Estate. The mill at Sherrington closed down quite a few years ago but the Boyton Estate once owned it. The mill was used to pump the water up to Corton, Boyton and Sherrington. The water was pumped up to a reservoir at the top of the hill, from which various places were fed with water. Dad used to have to go up to the reservoir sometimes and climb up the ladder to see how much water was inside. I regularly went with dad when he was attending to the water. Sometimes I would take a jam jar with some string for a handle, and I would catch minnows. I would bring them back with us and I used to put them in a water trough at the top of a field that dad rented from the Boyton Estate. Those minnows lived in that trough for a few years.”

“We never had a telephone so the farmers used to come down to us. They’d say ‘We haven’t got any water, Fred?’ It didn’t matter if it was Saturday or Sunday, dad would have to harness up his pony in the shafts of the cart and go down to Sherrington Mill to see what the trouble was. There was quite a bit of machinery in the mill and it was powered by the waterwheel. Dad used to have to oil the machinery and do the switch for the flow of the water. It was a responsibility for dad to look after that. The mill was quite up together. It’s a house now and it’s a nice place. I’ve often thought about calling there and telling them my dad used to look after it. Dad went to the mill everyday until he got a friend to help him out. Dad showed him what to do and he did it on Sundays so dad could have a day off from it. I think he was Mr. Feltham. He lived in a cottage on the right-hand side as you went into Sherrington. It was near where Mr. Case, the watercress grower, used to live. Mr. Case used to grow watercress in the beds at Sherrington and send it up to London on the train.”

“Once a week dad used to call on the head-keeper Mr. Nokes and take the rabbits to Codford Station, where they were put on the train and sent away. I suppose they went to London. Mr. Nokes lived near Sufferer’s Bridge, on the right-hand side of the road between Boyton and the Upton Lovell turning. There’s two or three bungalows there now but there used to be only one place there. Mr. Nokes’ house is still standing. Mr. Nokes was a tall man. Dad was short and fat. They used to get about together and people called them Fat and Thin. They used to catch loads of rabbits.”

“Dad’s pony was brown and it was called Kit. It was a Forest pony. It had the initials JB branded on it. Dad always called it John Barnes, because he used to say the the owner could have been someone called John Barnes. I used to harness the pony but I could never put the bit in its mouth. I couldn’t manage the bit but I could do all the rest. I loved going out with my dad. It was much better than going to school. He would go out with the pony and trap to Sherrington, Codford and Stockton.”

“Sir Sidney Herbert came to live at Boyton Manor after Major Fane. Sir Sidney only had one leg and dad’s pony and trap came in useful for him. He would get up in the trap and dad would drive him round on partridge shoots. Kit did not mind a gun being fired over his head. At the end of the day dad would be given a brace of partridges. Dad was also able to meet a lot of the gentlemen who used to come down from Westminster for a weekend’s shooting. I bet many a yarn about the old days in the army was told during lunch.”

“Mum didn’t mind plucking and drawing a partridge for our dinner. Sometimes the odd pheasant would come into the field where mum kept her hens. If dad was around it was seldom that a pheasant would leave the field again. Mum used to worry about dad killing a pheasant because that was poaching. She used to open the top of the range and burn one feather at a time, to get rid of the evidence. It didn’t dawn on mum that outside you could smell the feathers being burnt. Mum and dad never got caught though.”

“At Christmas time Sir Sidney Herbert gave the children from Corton, Sherrington and Boyton a party, which he would come along to. One Christmas he got delayed and was a bit late, so different people took it in turn to do little turns. I was asked to do something. I recited a poem called Naughty Words but unbeknown to me Sir Sidney arrived while I was reciting. Sir Sidney used to hand out presents at the party and when I went up to get mine he greeted me with a smile and thanked me for saying the poem. When he found out that I was the daughter of Fred Carpenter, whose pony and trap he borrowed, he told my dad how he had quite enjoyed my recitation.”

“Sometimes dad was unable to take Sir Sidney Herbert shooting, so the head-keeper Mr. Nokes (no relation to Mrs. Nokes who helped me to knit) would borrow the pony and trap and do it. Kit, the pony, knew he had a different driver and would stop and eat the grass but with a bit of encouragement would eventually move on.”

“Another thing I remember about Kit is when dad would go to Sherrington with a lot of people in the trap. She would stop at the bottom of Walker’s Hill, which was sometimes called Rectory Hill, Boyton, and everyone would have to get out, except dad who would take the pony and trap to the top of the hill. Everyone else had to walk up the hill and then get back in.”

“Dad had the use of a small field by the railway at Corton, where he used to keep some heifers. Dad would sometimes go on his bike to see the heifers. I used to go with him, riding on the back, on the carrier seat. That was until I caught my foot in the back wheel and ended up being laid up for six weeks. I had to be pushed around in a push chair. There was no penicillin and it was just a matter of things taking their time. The sinews could be seen and it was thought I would not walk again. Anyhow it was proved wrong and many a mile I’ve walked since but it did stop the growth of my foot which to this day is still a bit stumpy.”

“I didn’t go on dad’s bike again but later on he did get me a Fairy cycle of my own. There was a little slope by the blacksmith’s shop. I used to get on the bike at the top of the slope and end up falling off at the bottom. Dad used to shout at me to keep on pedalling, which I soon started to do, and that’s how I learnt to ride a bicycle.”

“One day, near dad’s field, I heard a gun go off for the first time. I wasn’t warned that there was going to be a big bang. Wasn’t I ill? Later, in my teens, I learnt to shoot a 6-4 single barrel gun. I was left-handed at shooting. One day, much to dad’s surprise as I do not think he had ever done such a thing, I shot three rabbits with one shot. I hit them in the back legs.”

“Harvest was a grand time. As the cutter went round and round the field, the rabbits would gather in the centre, trying to get out of the way of the cutter. When the cutter got to the centre it was fine fun for the men, women and children, to try to hit the rabbits with sticks. Not many escaped and most people were able to take a rabbit each home for dinner.”

“One day dad saw a very sick calf that a farmer, Mr. Rugg, had. It was going to be put down because it would not drink powdered milk. The milk was made up and put in a bucket. You put your first and second fingers in the calf’s mouth and lowered its head in the bucket. Usually calves would drink like this but this particular calf wouldn’t. It was still being fed with a bottle when it was three days of age. Dad brought this calf home and put it in a shed. I called her Brownie and took her over a bottle but she wouldn’t drink from it. I told dad I was going to take the top off. Dad said ‘Don’t do that, the calf will choke.’ I replied ‘Well, you said it was going to die anyhow.’ I took the top off the teat of the bottle and she drank the lot. Dad made up another bottle and the contents of that disappeared down the calf’s neck too. From that day she went ahead. Later, when the calf was out in the field, Mr. Rugg came up to the forge with a horse to be shod. He looked at the calf in the field and remarked how nice it was. Dad said to him ‘That’s the one you were going to have put down. Evelyn made a larger hole in the teat. That was the trouble.’

“Whenever I went with dad to see if there was enough water in the trough in the field the calf would come over to me. I used to pretend that I hadn’t seen her coming and I would turn my back on her. She would lick my leg to let me know she was there. As time went on she grew up and came into calf. A few weeks before she was due she fell into a ditch, so dad sold her to a farmer. Much to my sorrow I never saw her again but we did hear later that she had given birth and both mother and calf were doing well.”

“Mr. Jakins was the farmer who bought Brownie after she fell in the ditch. His farm was near where the telephone kiosk is in Corton. There’s a brick building near it. That’s where Mr. Jakins’ farm was. I’ve got a feeling Mr. Jakins’ first wife died and he got married again to the children’s nanny. His son Peter Jakins got killed in the Second World War. I’ve got a feeling there was another son but I don’t know what happened to him.”

“As well as rearing heifers dad’s other pastime was keeping pigs. Anyone who had a shed could do that. It was allowed in those days. Dad got his pigs from the market in Warminster or Salisbury. He’d bring them home in a cart pulled by the pony. He kept two or three sows and they had their piglets. Dad would fatten them up. He fed them potato peelings and cabbage leaves, mixed up with some barley meal. It wouldn’t be allowed today. They’d say it wasn’t hygienic but we lived. Keeping pigs provided dad with a bit of pocket money.”

“Dad and mum also kept chickens so we were alright for those. Mother looked after the hens for a pastime. They were free range and dad would take the eggs to Warminster Market on Mondays. People would buy eggs and put them in isinglass. This was a liquid which eggs could be kept for quite a while in. Remember, this is the days before fridges. Mother’s eggs always got top price. When there were plenty of eggs for sale most made a halfpenny each. Mum’s eggs always made a penny each. There were two sisters who used to go to the market. They told my mum that when her eggs came down to a halfpenny each they would buy them. They said they would wait. Mum’s eggs never came down to a halfpenny, so I don’t suppose those sisters ever bought them.”

“When a hen went broody it would be put in a coop and a china egg placed under it for a couple of days until a sitting of eggs could be acquired. It was three weeks before the chicks arrived. Sometimes a hen would ‘steal her nest’ by laying her own eggs and hatching them. When that happened it was always a surprise because we did not always notice if one hen out of the many mum kept was missing.”

“Mum also sold chickens ready for the table. Dad would wring the necks and mum would do the rest. When I got older I was able to help mum. One day I went to start plucking and a hen opened her eyes and looked at me. I told mum that the hen was not dead. She said ‘Of course it is.’ Mum would put her finger into her mouth to wet it before starting to pluck the feathers. When she went to pluck the hen which I had said opened its eyes, the hen made a caw. Mum threw it down. Dad had just come into the room. Mum looked at him and said ‘It’s not dead.’ Dad caught hold of it and gave it another tug on the neck. ‘It is now,’ he said.”

“My adopted mum, Frances Maud Carpenter, was from Tytherington. I’ve got a feeling she was from there. There were quite a few of them, seven or eight children, in her family. Six sisters and two brothers I think. Her name was Watts before she got married. She was medium build and thinnish. She had grey hair and a nice complexion. She was very good but, as regards my upbringing, she was a bit stricter than dad. She liked a little drop of stout but she didn’t smoke. She belonged to the Mothers’ Union. That was the Boyton and Corton branch. Mum was religious but not terribly religious. She had her beliefs and you couldn’t change her from them. She didn’t preach but if I wanted to ask mum questions about the Bible she would tell me what I wanted to know. I was brought up to believe in God. I used to go to church, not because I had to but because I loved going. Mum used to take me and later on, as I got older, I used to go by myself. We went to church but if there was anything special happening, like on Trinity Sunday, we would go to the Baptist Chapel at the bottom of Corton.”

“Mrs. Pickford, who lived at Corton in Sundial House, which was formerly called Sundial Farm, used to take the Sunday school. The sundial was up over the front door. It’s still there but I suppose the inside of the house is altered now. Mrs. Pickford was tallish and dark haired. I got on alright with her. She was quite a nice person. She had her beliefs in Christianity. She used to play the organ at Corton Church. I never knew Mr. Pickford. I think he died before I went to Corton.”

“As I was saying, every Sunday we would go to Mrs. Pickford’s for the Sunday school. That was quite enjoyable. It was held in her kitchen. It was a big room with a stone floor. All the meetings for the women of the village were held in her kitchen. The women and the girls used to go there to do patchwork or knitting squares which were sent to the Orphanage in Warminster. The squares were about three and a half inches across and were stitched together.”

“I remember I knitted a purple scarf for the Orphanage. I put a lot of work into it. The scarf was knitted in moss stitch. I could do purl and plain, even though I was only nine, but some of it came out in a rib. Some while after, when mum took me to visit St Monica’s School in Warminster, when they were celebrating their anniversary, I asked Sister Faith about the scarf I had knitted. I asked her if she liked it but she never answered. I don’t think the orphans ever got it. It couldn’t have been sent. I suppose I had made too many mistakes with it.”

“Every year they had a Sunday School outing. That was a treat eagerly looked forward to. I could never get to sleep the night before. I used to worry that mum and dad would oversleep and I would be unable to go. One year the outing went by charabanc and another year it went by train. We usually went to Weymouth. We’d go for the day. That was something different. We played on the sands and paddled in the water. Us children would go with our mothers. One year my dad and a few of the other dads decided to come with us. My dad teased me he had not paid for his ticket. I was scared stiff that he would be found out and would have to go to prison. I was ever so pleased to get home that evening.”

“The Sunday School Harvest Festival was held at Boyton Church. The Reverend Bridson conducted the festival. The produce was sent afterwards to the Orphanage in Warminster. Of course I had a great interest in that. Mum used to make a cake for me to take. We children used to leave our gifts at the altar. One year I decided I would be the last person to hand my gift in. When I turned round everyone else had gone back to their seats. I didn’t realise they were no longer with me. When I realised I was on my own out at the front I took to my heels and ran back to my seat.”

“As I said, the gifts were taken after the festival to the Orphanage in Warminster. I expect the Reverend Bridson used to take it in, in his car. He was the Rector at Boyton. He was a very nice person. I knew Mrs. Bridson quite well. They lived in the Rectory. For the evening service at Boyton Church they used to have students come out from St Boniface College in Warminster and I think the Reverend Bridson went to do the church service in Sherrington. Then, another week, the students would go to Sherrington and the Rev Bridson took the service at Corton. Roger Royle, who you sometimes see on television today, was one of the students at St Boniface College. I found a book by him at a jumble sale and he mentions Warminster in it. I heard him talk about St Boniface College at Warminster on the wireless one day.”

“If mum had to go to Warminster, in the days before the buses ran through the Wylye Valley, she would bike to Codford Station to catch the train. One day she got back to Corton to find about six families of Gipsies waiting at the forge to have their horses shod. When she got home she realised she had lost her purse. She had to bike the three miles back to Codford Station to ask if the purse had been found. It hadn’t been reported but was handed in later. The station porter brought it back to her.”

“Mum would take the train from Codford Station to Warminster to do some of her shopping. That’s where our clothes came from. My mum got her clothes and mine, brand new, from Hibberd’s. They had a shop in Warminster’s Market Place. Mother could darn and patch but she couldn’t make clothes. She wasn’t so good as her sister Edith when it came to sewing, so her sister used to do little things like that. My mum also used to pastronise the Co-op in Warminster. My mum shopped with them to get the dividend. The Co-op used to deliver. You put your order in one week and they delivered either later in the week or the following week. The Co-op in Warminster delivered our groceries.”

“All the shopkeepers used to deliver out round the villages. They’d bring what you wanted to your door. Mum got her bread off the baker that came round. That was Oliver Lines from Sutton Veny. Sometimes she’d get an extra loaf when she was in Warminster if she wanted one. Oliver Lines delivered with a van and his bread was lovely. I can’t remember much about him except he used to play the organ at Sutton Veny Church for many years. Mum got her meat from Chinn’s in Warminster. They used to come round with a pony and trap. They delivered and you ordered what you wanted for the following week. Mum used to buy lamb but she never used to tell me it was lamb because I didn’t like the thought of that. I thought it was terrible to eat lambs. Mum also bought mutton. There was another butcher who came delivering in Corton. When the weather was fine the butcher used to be accompanied by his wife and daughter, and when his horse needed shoeing he would bring it to dad. Bunny Wyatt came out from Warminster with his horse and cart, delivering fish and fruit. Mother generally bought some fish off him.”

“There was also another man who came round delivering fish, fruit and vegetables. One day I can clearly remember the roadmen were tarring and gritting the road. The steamroller was parked in dad’s entrance. The steamroller driver was talking to my dad when the fish man arrived. The steamroller driver bought some fish. Dad gave the driver a drink of cider. The driver enjoyed it and he had more than one glass. Dad put the fish in the driver’s dinner bag for him. Dad told him where he had put it. The driver said ‘Alright, thanks. Cheerio.’ He set off on his bike back to Warminster. Goodness knows how far he got but about an hour afterwards he came back. He said ‘Ere, Fred, I bought some fish. What did you do with it?’ Dad laughed until he cried. He told him again it was in his bag. The man then set off on his bike again. Goodness knows what his wife said when he finally got home but I think they did have a few words because the cider had gone to his head.”

“An oilman delivered the paraffin for the lamps. We had oil lamps in home for lighting and candles to go to bed with. The oil came from the Prince Leopold at Upton Lovell. That was both a pub and a shop. Mr. Polden had that. He used to come round the villages with a van, filling up people’s cans with paraffin. Mother used to trim the wicks on the lamps. It was quite a job. Eventually we got an Aladdin lamp with a mantle. I’ve still got it. Of course that was a much brighter light. Electric did come into the village eventually but we never had it.”

“On Saturdays mum and I would walk across the meadow, along the footpath, to Upton Lovell, to go to the shop. I always had a bit of mischief in me. When we went past where the big woollen factory used to be, there was a jacket on the wooden fence. I said to mum ‘Oh look, there’s a jacket. Let’s take it.’ At that moment a man looked over the fence. Mum walked quickly away. She certainly wished the ground had opened up and swallowed her. Another time mum called in to see her brother. He told her there was no need to go back along the footpath. The railway was near his home and he said to cross there. He reckoned it was a short-cut. He took us along the railway embankment. As we got to the place where we were going to cross she tripped and fell down. She grumbled at me but the more she grumbled the more I had to laugh.”

“There was a post office and shop in Corton. You know where the telephone kiosk is? It was close to that, inside the first house in the rank of houses there. We knew that row as ‘The Rank.’ I can remember going in that shop. There was a bell on the door that would ting as you went in. The shop was just a room in the cottage with a counter for the post office. Mrs. [Emma] Withers ran it. I always remember her with one of those black neckties, as I used to call them, round her neck. It was usually just Mrs. Withers in the shop but sometimes her daughters would help out. You could get most of the things you wanted in there. I don’t think you could buy bread or meat in there because bakers and butchers used to come round. It was just an ordinary little shop and post office.”

“Mum would get me some sweets when she went shopping. I never got pocket money, well, not regular. If we went anywhere they would give me some money to spend. I had to help mother around the home with odd jobs but if I could get out of doing it, I would, because I would rather be out with dad. I preferred being with him, watching him shoe the horses or going with him in the pony and trap. Housework was hard work. There were no mod-cons like washing machines and hoovers. There was no refuse collection in those days. Dad used to burn any rubbish or he would take it away somewhere and tip it.”

“Mother boiled the water up in a copper for washing. She had the copper in the kitchen. Mondays was washing day. Fridays was bath night. We bathed in a tin bath. The water for the bath was heated up in the copper. The tin bath, when not in use, was hung up on a nail on the wall. When we wanted a bath mum would put a rug on the floor and the tin bath was brought in doors and placed on the rug. Otherwise the coldness would come up from the floor and into the tin bath, taking the heat out of the water.”

“We didn’t have a tap. We had a pump inside the kitchen. All the water had to be pumped by hand. It was lovely water. It came from a spring outside in the field and it never dried up. I don’t think they know today that there is a spring there. Farmers used to come down with their empty milk churns and fill up, if they ran short. It was a good supply. Like at Sherrington, that’s beautiful water.”

“Mum’s meals were good. She cooked on a range. We ate wholesome food. We used to eat a lot of rabbits. Dad got wild rabbits off the field. He used to shoot them. We always had plenty of vegetables too. Dad had quite a big garden out the front and he had quite a big place down the side of the road where he used to grow potatoes. Dad did most of it himself. Sometimes he got a chap in to help dig it. We were more or less self-sufficient with vegetables. We never went short of anything to eat and drink. In those days people generally drank tea and you could also get Ovaltine and cocoa. It was seldom that anyone drank coffee, unlike today.”

“I went to Corton School to begin with. That was in what they call the Fane Hall now. There was a playground next to the building but it’s not there now. There were quite a few children going to Corton School. There were two classes and two teachers. The head-teacher was Miss Clack. She lived at Corton. I’ve got a feeling it was near what we called The Lane. Miss Hart was the other teacher at Corton School. That was Dorothy Hart. She got married and became Mrs. King. She used to play the piano and she taught music. She lived at Sherrington, on the corner by the cress beds, as you go round to Sherrington Church.”

“It was rather strict at Corton School. I was always being blamed for things I hadn’t done. Looking back, and I’ve thought about this only just recently, I think it was because I was an adopted child. I was the only adopted child they had at Corton School and I think they didn’t know what to make of me. I’ve got a feeling I was made an example of because I was adopted.”

“I had only been at Corton School for about a year when it was announced that it would close. I cried bucketfuls when they said that. After Corton School closed [in 1932] I had to go to Codford St Mary School. The council ran a bus so I went from Corton to Codford and back on that. Mr. Couchman had the bus. I got on it at the road just down from my home. It left about half past eight in the morning.”

“Miss Scull was the Headmistress at Codford St Mary School. She was strict. She was always giving me a smacked hand. I never knew what for but I was always getting them. She could dish it out. I could never make out why I was being smacked so much, so I didn’t like school. Some of the lessons were tricky for me because I was left- handed and the teachers wanted me to use my right hand. It was a natural thing for me to use my left hand but the teachers didn’t understand it. They would tell me off.”

“I was a little bit musically minded. I had piano lessons when I was nine years old. Mrs. Few taught me to play the piano. She lived in Corton, on the corner by the Chapel. She lived there when she married Tom Few. Her name was Bartlett before she married and she lived in a cottage at the lane. The white house by the Lane used to be called Hope but they changed the name. That used to be a thatched cottage. Whoever went in that cottage had the lane named after them. So, when Bartletts were there, it was known as Bartlett’s Lane. Mr. Bartlett was a carpenter. The lane comes out on the main road. I got on alright with the piano lessons but with one thing and another I stopped. I could play the piano a little bit now but I wouldn’t be very good.”

“We had a percussion band at Codford St Mary School. All the class was in the band. We each had a different instrument. I played a triangle and at another time I played a tambourine. I enjoyed it. I loved it. We used to take part in a schools’ music festival which was held at a school by the duck pond, the Crammer, in Devizes. I’ve got a feeling that’s where it was. For weeks before the festival I used to walk from my home in Corton to Codford St Mary School, which was about three miles, on Saturday mornings, to have a practice. We learnt a piece off by heart. You used to have one set piece for the festival. Then, for the rest of the festival, we could play what we wanted to. We used to learn our set piece and all the other pieces off by heart. We never had no music at all put up in front of us. It wasn’t put up on a blackboard. We had to play by ear. That gave us extra points. Miss Scull was in charge of us. Usually she would conduct but sometimes she would have one of the children to conduct. Miss Bartlett used to play the piano. It was good fun and it was out of school too.”

“If we won we played our set piece at a concert at the Corn Exchange in Devizes in the afternoon. It was really lovely. A lot of people used to come to watch. I don’t remember my parents coming to watch the concert but I expect they did. The people back in Codford knew if we had won, before we got back to the village, because the Headmistress, Miss Scull, used to telephone the Rector, the Reverend Merrick, and let him know. The word would get all round Codford before we arrived back from Devizes.”

“I was 11 when I left Codford School to go to the senior school in Warminster. The school term commenced on 7th September. Because my birthday was on the 5th of September I was able to go on to the senior school straight away. Now if I had been 11 after September 5th I would have had to go on for another year at junior school. I went to Sambourne School. That was a Church of England school. Mum, being Church of England, wanted me to go to Sambourne. Some children went to Sambourne and others went to the Avenue School. Mum chose Sambourne and I didn’t argue. I just did as she said and went.”

“I travelled by bus to Sambourne School. Mr. White, from Longbridge Deverill, had the contract to run the school bus through the Wylye Valley. He used to go right down to Bapton and then come back through, picking up, on the way to Warminster. The bus was old and jerky and bumpy. There was no messing about, singing or shouting on the bus because Mr. White would soon stop and tell you to get out and walk. Oh yes. One or two children played him up though. Someone let off some stink bombs once.”

“Mr. White picked up children for both Sambourne School and the Avenue School. He had a coach-load by the time he got to Warminster. The nearest stop he picked up was at Tytherington. Mr. White didn’t stop at Sutton Veny because that was within three miles of the school, so the children there had to bike. Except under medical conditions. If a child was classed as unfit or unable to ride a bike then Mr. White had to pick him or her up. Kathleen Hunt at Sutton Veny was exempt from cycling but I don’t remember why.”

“The Headmaster at Sambourne School was Fred Taylor. Mrs. Wyer was the Headmistress. Mr. Taylor would cane the boys if need be and Mrs. Wyer would cane any girls found in the wrong. The caning was not done publicly but if anyone got the cane they would tell us afterwards. The other teachers included Miss Johnstone, Mr. Looker and Mr. Pearce. Mr. Looker was quite good. We went down to the Close, to the old Tec School, for science and cooking. Mr. Pearce taught science and Miss Hughes taught cooking. The science class was on the first floor of the building and the cookery and laundry classes were held on the ground floor.”

“A bell rang for start of school and you lined up for class. You marched into the hall for assembly. There’d be a hymn and a prayer. Then Mrs. Wyer would play a march tune and you’d march back out and off to your classroom. One teacher took us for all the different classes at Sambourne. To begin with I had Miss Johnstone. Then I moved on to Mr. Looker’s class. There were such a lot of children come to the school they had to make another class by putting some screens across the hall. Mr. Pearce’s wife took that class. When Mrs. Pearce came along, because they had so many children, I wasn’t good enough to be in Mr. Looker’s class and I was put in with Mrs. Pearce. She was very good. She’d say ‘If you can’t do something, come out and I’ll show you.’ She helped us. I improved because of her.”

“The teachers at the village schools had no time for me because I was left-handed but they understood my problem at Sambourne and they helped me. It was almost like dyslexia. It was explained to me and I got over it. Life at school definitely changed when I went to Sambourne. At junior school I was the only adopted child and, therefore, the odd one out. They had other orphaned children at Sambourne, as well as me, so there was no difference between me and the others. Everyone mixed together and I enjoyed Sambourne School a lot better. I never had so much as a smacked hand at Sambourne. I got on well. All the teachers at Sambourne were good. My favourite subjects were knitting and sewing and games. To me, history and geography, well, why learn about what happened years ago? I wanted to learn about what was happening then.”

“We wore gym slips to school but it wasn’t compulsory. We wore navy blue gymslips if our parents could afford them. There was poverty. It was evident among some of the children. It was noticeable because of the clothes they wore. In the winter we used to have soup or cocoa at school. Mrs. Turner, who was the caretaker, used to make these big saucepans of soup. You could buy a cupful for about a penny. If there were a couple of cups of soup or cocoa left over Mrs. Wyer would see that some of the children who were not so well off would have them. And we had bottles of milk. School meals were just coming in as I left. That would be about 1939. Prior to that we took sandwiches to school. We ate them in the hall. The nearby kids went home to dinner. The dinner break was about an hour or more.”

“The school dentist put the fear of god in me. If anybody mentioned a dentist I would be struck with fear. They could talk about doctors and nurses but dentists, no way. I would cry with fright. I was really scared. That stuck with me for years. I think the Headmistress was sorry for me because I used to go in first. I was very brave because I would not cry out no matter how much it hurt. I didn’t get too much trouble with my teeth but I used to wonder if they said you had to have some teeth out on purpose so that they could get some money. You couldn’t argue with them. It cost sixpence. Mum never grumbled about paying for the dentist. She used to say ‘Have it done if it’s got to be done.’ The dentist would come to the school every so often and check your teeth. Perhaps a week after, he’d come back to do any treatment. If we had treatment in the morning before our lunch (sandwiches in those days), we would wash our mouths out with drinking water.”

“In the summer, during the school holiday, mum and me would go to Lyndhurst in the New Forest. We went by train, getting on at Codford Station. Mum’s niece and nephew, who I called uncle Louie and aunty Harriett, worked on a farm at the Green in Lyndhurst. It was a dairy farm and it was a big set-up. They had quite a few cows. They had one or two helpers to assist with the milking. The milk was cooled and then it was bottled. It was all done by hand. The bottle tops were made of cardboard. I used to love getting up early to help put the tops on the bottles. When we had finished someone came and collected the bottles of milk, ready for delivering.”

“Louie and Harriett’s surname was Smith and they worked for a man called General Powell who lived in the house nearby. Uncle Louie was the manager for General Powell. Uncle Louie only had one eye to see with. He had a patch over the other one. How he lost it I don’t know. He was of medium build. My uncle and aunt’s home was a big place. They had a passage with some steps and if you ran along it, it used to make a hollow sound. So I used to run up and down it. I can remember doing that.”

“A policeman used to direct traffic in the High Street. It used to fascinate me how he could stop one lot of traffic to let another lot through, and then, with his hand, get it moving again. I would stand on the pavement, opposite where he was, and I would speak to him about all and everything, like my holiday, where I had been and what I had been doing. He was alright but I used to drive him nuts. Ha ha ha. I told him when my holiday was coming to an end and that I was going home. Much to my mum’s amusement, he said ‘Jolly good job.’

“One day mum took me for a walk in Lyndhurst and she went in one of the shops and bought me a doll in a box. It was a beautiful doll. I refused to carry it under my arm. I used to carry it like a baby wherever I went. The shops were nice and there would always be ponies wandering about. There were ponies on the Green and on the top of that was the cemetery. That’s where aunt Harriett and uncle Lou are buried. General Powell is buried there too. Not too many years ago I went on a coach outing down through the New Forest and I told the driver about my connection with Lyndhurst. I knew we were going that way. He took us round by the farm so I could see it again. The farm is still there. When I saw the farm it brought back a lot of memories for me. Uncle Louie and aunty Harriett were old-fashioned but happy-go-lucky people. We used to have a holiday with them for a week and we went once or twice a year. I liked it at Lyndhurst.”

“Another place we used to visit, but only for a day, was Devizes because my mum’s brother, Bill, lived there. I think he married twice. His first wife was Nelly but she died and he married again to Laura. Mum and I would visit Bill and Laura. I’m not sure what Bill did for a living. Laura came to my wedding. My mum also had a sister called Jessie and sometimes we went to my mum’s niece Edith. She lived at Bridewell Street, in Devizes, with her husband George Watts. George used to drive the cattle into the pens at Devizes Market. It was a very busy market. We used to go along to the market, in the Shambles, to watch people buying and selling things. It used to fascinate me.”

“My mother and I also used to go on day trips to Imber via Upton Lovell to see uncle Frank and aunty Mabel (dad’s brother and his wife). That was Frank and Mabel Carpenter. Dad seldom came to Imber with us because he was busy. He had business to see to. Dad used to take us in the pony and trap as far as the turnpike at Upton Lovell. My mum was frightened of riding in the pony trap. She always had that fear. From Upton Lovell me and mum would get the bus. It would go into Warminster and go up Imber Road, up over Sack Hill. It would come back that way. It picked up people along the way. I can’t remember whose bus it was. The bus would call at Imber and go on to Devizes.”

“Imber was out in the wilds. The people there were a happy crowd. They were born and bred and died there. Imber people were nice people. Uncle Frank and aunty Mabel and their two children, Audrey and Marion (my cousins), lived by the pub, the Bell. They had a cottage with a garden. It wasn’t thatched. It had a tiled roof. I would play with my cousins while mum chatted with my uncle and aunt. Occasionally they came to Corton to see us.”

“Audrey was older than me and Marion was younger. Audrey joined the A.T.S. when the Second World War broke out. She lives at Corton now. She’s now Mrs. Streeting. She celebrated her Golden Wedding Anniversary not long ago. Marion went into service, she got friendly with a soldier and they got married. I can’t remember what regiment he was in but they married at the Minster Church in Warminster. Marion is now Mrs. Till.”

“Imber was a nice little place and it was quite busy. The pub, the Bell, was a shop as well. I used to go in there to buy my sweets. You went along a passage inside to the shop bit. There was a stream beside the street. We called it Imber Docks. It was running with water and sometimes it would flood. In very bad weather, if there was a big snowstorm, the people couldn’t get out of Imber and the tradespeople in Warminster couldn’t deliver to them. The village was snowbound.”

“I was on holiday at Imber when the Second World War broke out. As soon as it was announced on the wireless [3rd September 1939] my mother and I went back to Corton. It was natural for people to feel worried. There was the blackout and rationing. We were lucky being in the country because mum kept chickens and we had rabbits and pheasants out in the fields. We did alright.”

“I left Sambourne School in 1939. I wasn’t quite 14 years old. Some children, who had taken the 11 Plus exam, went on to Trowbridge High School. I didn’t take an exam. I just left. I was happy to leave school and I never wanted to go back. I was keen to leave. My education could have been better. The schoolteachers didn’t make it interesting for me to learn things. I definitely learned more after I left school but my parents never really told me about the world when I was growing up. You learned things for yourself, really, and hoped for the best.”

“Things weren’t talked about like they are today. There was no sex education. You never heard about it. Mum told me how to look after myself but she was very shy about things to do with womanhood. Because I didn’t have any brothers or sisters it made it more tricky. I knew nothing about periods. I came on and then mum had to tell me and I thought it was terrible until I realised other girls were in the same boat.”

“Mum used to say things to me like ‘Don’t let a man be rude to you or you’ll have a baby.’ That was it but it wasn’t very practical was it? Well, a man could be rude without doing much! If I missed a period, even though I never went out with a man, I used to wonder if I would have a baby. I never knew where babies came from until a week before I got married. I was very much in the dark. I never knew. Until I got married I thought a baby came out of your belly button. That’s how ignorant I was. Today, children know it all.”

“When I left school my mother was ill. She was being treated by Dr Lewis who was based at Codford. In those days you had to pay for doctors but not everyone could afford it. Mum, like lots of other people, paid into a hospital club which helped with the cost of treatment. Dr Lewis would come out if you needed him. He had an old-fashioned car. We couldn’t phone him because we never had a telephone. If the doctor was needed you had to send someone to his house on foot or by horse and cart to tell him. When phones did come in, people who had a phone would let us use it.”

“Dr Lewis was a kind sort of chap. He was a real family doctor. He seemed old to me but when you’re a child all adults look old. Dr Lewis’s daughter married and she went out to Australia to live. Eventually Dr Lewis went out there to live as well. He’s dead now. Dr Houghton Brown took on Dr Lewis’s practice after he left.”

“Mum’s illness had been building up but the doctor never told her what it was and then it suddenly went off bang. She had appendicitis. In those days there were no ambulances. If someone was ill you had to get the doctor first and if the patient had to go to hospital you then had to get someone with a car to take them. It could take anything up to two hours from finding someone with a car and getting the patient to hospital. Dad got through to Mr. Whitfield at Heytesbury. He ran a taxi service. Later on he or his family owned the caravan estate at Woodcock in Warminster. I’m sure that was the same family. Mr. Whitfield came with his big car and took mum to Warminster Cottage Hospital. Dad went with her in the car.”

“Mum’s condition was serious but dad sort of kept it from me. He told me she had an operation for appendicitis. In those days the operation for appendicitis was a big one compared to today. Peritonitis set in as they operated, so it was a bit nasty. Mum was in bed in hospital for three weeks. I stayed home and did the housework and the cooking for dad. I went to visit mum in hospital. I got to and from the hospital by bus. I looked after mum when she came out of hospital and she made a good recovery.”

“After leaving school I was at home with mum and dad for about a year until I got my first job. Mrs. Manning, from Boyton Rectory, came and asked if I would help out. I suppose the person she had was leaving. Mrs. Manning was quite nice and she was short. To begin with I looked after Mrs. Manning and her family and any guests she had there. Boyton Rectory was a big place. The Second World War was on and there were soldiers stationed at Warminster and Codford. The officers’ wives used to come to see them and they would stay at Boyton Rectory as paying guests.”

“I did the housework and the cooking at Boyton Rectory. Mrs. Manning taught me different ways to cook than what my mum had done. I took to the job alright. I went from nine o’clock in the morning until three o’clock in the afternoon for seven days a week, Monday through to Sunday, every day. In the summer I used to go from nine o’clock in the morning until when we had finished washing up all the dinner things at night time.”

“Mrs. Manning had one person come in, in the mornings, to help upstairs with the beds. I can’t remember who that was but I know one person who used to come and help at one time. That was Mrs. Frostick. She came to Boyton Rectory for a while. She lives in Warminster now. Funnily enough I was only talking to her about it last Tuesday morning. And another person who came to help at the Rectory was Mrs. Poulter. She used to come and do the laundry. The washing was pegged out down the bottom by the Rectory Cottage, in the garden there. Mrs. Poulter didn’t stop until it dried. Once it was washed and pegged out she went on home. I used to have to go down and collect it in. There was a lot to do. I got on and did it. I knew no different. The pay was about seven shillings and six pence a week. I used to keep it but if mum wanted any shopping done I would buy it for her. Mum was good like that.”

“Looking back, I always did what mum said I had to do, but sometimes I feel I should have said ‘No.’ I went to work at Boyton Rectory because mum said I had to go there. I should have said ‘Mum, I don’t want to do that, I want to do so and so.’ I never spoke up for myself. If I had I would have travelled a bit more but I didn’t.”

“You had to show respect for vicars years ago because they ruled. Today you could say ‘I’m not bothering to go to church because I simply don’t want to go.’ Years ago you were expected to be at church. The Reverend Manning and his wife had three children. Michael, David and Nigel I think. Michael was at Marlborough College. David was at Greenways, the prep school, at Codford. I’m not sure if Nigel went there or not. I got on alright with all of them.”

“The Reverend Manning was in his fifties I suppose. He liked to have a tipple and that proved troublesome. He threatened to kill my father once. Rev Manning had swapped his horse for one belonging to someone in Codford. My dad, being an expert farrier, could see there was something wrong with the horse as soon as he saw it. It wasn’t 100%. The Reverend Manning said to me one day ‘What does your father think of my new horse, Evelyn?’ Of course, me being honest, said ‘Not much.’ The Reverend Manning snapped back ‘Major Jeans thinks it’s a wonderful horse.’ I said ‘Major Jeans doesn’t know about horses like my dad does.’ Major Jeans lived at Cortington Grange. Dad was proved right, the horse was no good and the Reverend Manning got upset. He threatened to kill my dad. I think it was the drink talking. He could be temperamental when he was like that. One year the rector was taken ill and had to go away. It was all hushed up at the time.”

“I worked at Boyton Rectory for about three years. I left the job for a couple of reasons. There was the problem with the Reverend Manning threatening my dad and I was poorly. I wasn’t 100% in the best of health. I was taken ill and left the Rectory. I used to have dreadful nosebleeds and my mum used to worry. There was some talk about me having it cauterised. Dr Lewis said to my mum ‘If you have that done I will not be responsible for her.’ So, mum was frightened about it. The doctor said it could burst out into my brain.”

“I was about 18 and I was supposed to register for military service. I was at the age where I could have got called up but my mum didn’t want me to go in the forces. Mum wasn’t happy about it. I could have been called up if it had come to a great big push. I was, however, in the Girls Training Corps which used to meet at Sambourne School in Warminster. There were quite a few girls in it, including Sylvia Haines and Lilian Prince who is now Mrs. Ingram. Mrs. Hanson, who had the hairdressers, Annette’s, at East Street, was in charge. There were officers under her. We used to have church parades and sometimes we went on marches. They used to be over two days but I only went on one day at a time because I couldn’t get the time off work. We used to go up to the army camp in Warminster and learn Morse and shooting. One girl did quite well with target practice. That was Eileen Brown. She married Des Bishop. We were prepared for things. Sometimes I wish I had gone in the services because I had a hell of a life in service.”

“After leaving Boyton Rectory I got a job as housekeeper for Mrs. [Gladys May] Chew, a shopkeeper, at East Street in Warminster. Somebody who worked for Mrs. Chew was leaving to get married. A relation of hers, living at Corton, must have mentioned it to my mum. That’s how I got the job. Once again I had to do what mum wanted.”

“Mrs. Chew’s shop was where the Indian restaurant, the Agra, is now. The shop was well patronised. It sold ladies clothes and was a high class quality shop in Warminster in those days. There was Meg’s over the road, that was another clothing shop. I think that’s where the Knitting Cabin is now. And there was Hibberd’s in the Market Place, and Tanswell’s and Heading Mitchell’s at the High Street. Mrs. Chew’s was a high class shop compared to the others. Mr. Chew had died before I went there. Mrs. Chew had a son, Arthur, and he had a wife called Doris. Arthur wasn’t away in the war. I’ve got a feeling he was working at Warminster Post Office. They lived at [No.2] East End Avenue.”

“I was the housekeeper at East Street and someone else used to come in to clean the shop but they left. So after I finished in the house I had to go into the shop, after it shut at six o’clock and scrub that through. I used to have to thoroughly clean the shop. Then I’d have to go back up and start getting the supper ready for Mrs. Chew. Least said the better. It was hard work. I was the only one working there, cleaning, preparing her meals, doing the housework, seeing to the laundry, and cleaning the shop. I had to cook the evening meal and I had to answer the telephone in the evening if the Chews went out to the pictures.”

“I wasn’t able to go out in the evenings. I lived in. I had a bedroom and I had to stop in. I was allowed some time off on Sundays after I had washed-up the dinner things. There used to be a bus from Warminster through the Wylye Valley. That was Mr. Couchman’s bus. It would leave at three o’clock. I caught that to Corton to visit my parents. The bus left Corton again at half past eight that night. I’d catch that back in. Or I could get a much later bus, the Wilts and Dorset bus, from Upton Lovell, which gave me a bit longer time at home. Or I would pushbike. If I had a gentleman friend with a car he would give me a lift.”

“I met the occasional boyfriend. I didn’t see much of what was going on in Warminster because I was always working. Sundays was my half-day off and Wednesday was another half-day. Sometimes I got Saturday evenings off. I got friendly with a Warminster chap. He was a soldier. He finished with me because he went to Italy and married an Italian girl. After I broke up with that soldier I still went out on Saturday evenings. I’d go to the Palace Cinema at the High Street or the Regal Cinema at Weymouth Street. Sometimes I’d go to the dance, the sixpenny hop as we called it, at the Town Hall on a Wednesday evening. Mrs. Silcox’s band provided the music. I did get out a bit but looking back I realised I was tied compared to some people. I was at Mrs. Chew’s beck and call.”

“After I had been there a while Mrs. Chew had another little building built for the shop staff, so rather than them come up to me in the kitchen to have their cups of tea and sandwiches, they could eat in there. That was more for me to have to look after. I was supposed to go down and collect up the cups and saucers, take them upstairs, wash them up and take them back down again. For once, I put my foot down. I said ‘The last girl down there can bring the cups and saucers up to me when they’ve finished.’ I said ‘Why should I be doing all that?’ I was getting like that after all those years of waiting on people.”

“Some days Mrs. Chew would go up to London to the warehouses, to buy clothes for the shop. I would have to get up early to get her breakfast and to see she got off on the eight o’clock train. I can always remember one day, when Mrs. Chew was away in London, one of the women who worked in the shop said ‘Evelyn, why don’t you get off early.’ I said ‘I can’t, I’ve got to wait until you all go.’ I had to lock up. This woman said ‘Go, I’ll see to it.’ So I left work early that day. I did that a couple of times. Mrs. Chew never found out. If she had she would have been furious. Oh yes, young people today have no idea what it was like to be in service. We were put upon and we had to grin and bear it.”

“Thinking back it was a hard life. I got paid under a pound a week. I was the housekeeper at Chew’s from when I was 17 until after the War when people were able to leave their jobs. I soon did that when the time came. I gave in my notice and finished the moment I got the chance. I’d had enough. Mrs. Chew thought I had got myself into trouble, so I used to go in every month afterwards to see her, just to show her I wasn’t in any trouble. Oh yes. I knew by her ways and what she said to other people. I knew what was in her mind. She never said it to me but I knew what she thought.”

“I then got a job at Corton doing housework. I was not quite 21. I should have said to mum ‘No, I don’t want this kind of life, I want to go further afield,’ but I was too frightened to say it. I worked for Mrs. Grace at Penn Cottage. If you go past what was the Church in Corton but is now a house, there are two houses on the left and then there is a house on its own also on the left. That’s Penn Cottage. It’s been altered since I worked there but that’s where Mrs. Grace lived with her two sisters. She was a retired lady. I don’t know where she came from. Mrs. Grace was the head one. One sister was blind but she could always ‘see’ if you hadn’t dusted. The other one was deaf but she could always ‘hear’ if you were talking about her.”

“Mrs. Grace sold Penn Cottage and a Mr. and Mrs. Henderson came there to live. Mr. Henderson had just retired from India. He had been involved with the tea plantations out there for about 30 years. They paid about £5,000 for Penn Cottage. That was a lot of money in those days but Mr. Henderson had plenty. They bought the house and I stopped on with them. They had no family. The Hendersons were very nice. They were church people and Mrs. Henderson used to go to meetings in the village.”

“I worked for the Hendersons for about four years. I wasn’t well. I stopped with them until I had my notice to go into hospital. I had appendicitis and I had an operation at Salisbury Hospital. Mrs. Henderson said she had another girl to help her while I was in hospital. I was engaged to be married then. She said to my mum ‘Is Evelyn getting married?’ Mum said ‘Yes, when she’s well enough, when she gets the all clear from the doctor.’ Mrs. Henderson said ‘I’ve got the chance of having this girl to help me but naturally I’ll still keep Evelyn on if she wants to come back.’ I thought ‘You’re not going to let me come back, missus.’ I put my foot down. Mum said to me ‘What are you going to do?’ I said ‘She can have that girl, I shall get another job.’

“That was the only time I was on the dole. I signed on. I got more money on the dole than what I had ever got in wages before. A lot more. I wasn’t on the dole long though. I used to sign on in Warminster. The Labour Exchange was in one of the old Army huts at the back of Prestbury House at Boreham Road. They found me a job. They said “We’ve got a job for you, Miss Carpenter.’ It was a job working for the wife of a serviceman, a brigadier or a colonel, up at the army camp in Warminster. They said ‘She’s a terrible person to work for but because we’ve offered it to you, you must take it.’ In those days you couldn’t say you didn’t want it otherwise you wouldn’t get any money. As it happened I got on alright with the woman. That was the last job I had before I got married.”

“By this time I was starting to think about things for myself. My life was changing. The change first became noticeable after I finished at Chew’s and went back to Corton. Mum and dad seemed different to me. They were Wiltshire and they spoke Wiltshire. The Chews were North Country people and I took that accent a bit more. Dad and mum had mum’s sister Edith living with them by that time. The sister had moved in when I was working in Warminster. My mum started to put her sister before me. Looking back I was maybe a bit jealous about it. I felt left out. It was always in my mind that I came from the Orphanage. Do you know what I mean? So, when I went back to Corton I didn’t feel the same. It seems a rotten thing to say but that’s how I felt.”

“Things had changed since I had left the village and gone to work in Warminster. I was more worldly wise and starting to find my own way in life. I knew I could do things on my own but I always went along with what mother wanted. I never stepped out. I used to stay as I was for the sake of peace and quietness. When I left Chew’s and went back to Corton I should have told my mother I wanted to branch out, even if it was only in service, but my parents were then elderly and they wanted me there. I had to stand by them. I would have rather gone off than stopped at home. That’s being truthful. My life would have been different.”

“I used to push-bike to the dances at Codford. They were held in the Wool Stores. This is many moons ago. I enjoyed the dances. They were about the only entertainment we had apart from the pictures in Warminster. There were also dances in Warminster but I didn’t start going to them until I had started work in Warminster. I usually went to the ones at Codford because they were closer to where I lived. Bill Stone’s band from Warminster used to provide the music. Bernie Reynolds was in it. Sometimes another band played but it was mostly Bill Stone’s. I loved dancing and it was an evening out. There’d be a gang of chaps stood at the end of the Wool Stores and when the evening was nearly over they’d come along and ask you to dance. The dances included the foxtrot, the waltz and the slow waltz. Occasionally they had some of the old dances like the lancers.”

“I learnt to dance the old dances like the lancers and the quadrilles at the Wool Stores in Codford. A family from Hanging Langford taught us how to do those dances. They organised some lessons in the evenings and quite a few went. They did run a bus for a while to pick people up and take them home but after a while they found they couldn’t really afford to run it. I suppose in those days it was expensive with petrol rationing. So we used to get on our pushbikes and go. That’s how us young people got to meet other people.”

“I had one or two boyfriends. My dad accepted I was growing up and he never said anything to me about it. I met Ronald Alford. He lived at Heytesbury. He had just come out of the Army and he worked for Butcher’s, the builders. I knew him and his sister because I used to see them at the dances at Codford. Ronald had his eye on me for a little while but he was a bit shy. One day I was walking up East Street in Warminster and there was a soldier trying to pal up with me but I didn’t want him. Ronald got off a bus. I caught up with him and I asked him if I could walk along with him. I told him what had happened. That’s how we broke the ice. We made a date and that was the start of our partnership.”

“Ronald was born at Longhedge at Tisbury but the family lived at Maiden Bradley for a while before moving to Heytesbury. On leaving school Ronald must have learned the trade of painting and decorating but who he worked for I don’t know. He couldn’t have done that for long before he was called up to join the Army when the Second World War started. He worked on searchlights during the War. He hated the Army. He didn’t like it and he never spoke much about it. He served abroad but the biggest part of the war was over by then.”

“Ronald didn’t have any brothers. He only had a sister. That was Joan. She was younger than Ronald. I got on with her alright. I always tried to fit in with family and friends. She got married to Brian when she was in the R.A.F. They divorced and then she married Wilf Reynolds but he died last year. She’s a widow now.”

“Ronald and I courted for about two years. He used to come to supper at my parents’ place and when we talked about getting engaged he asked my dad. My dad said ‘I don’t mind what you do.’ That was dad’s answer. He wasn’t bothered. His attitude was you make your bed and you lie on it. My parents were quite happy about me marrying Ronald. We bought our engagement rings and wedding rings at Samuel’s in Salisbury.”

“We got married at Boyton Church on 26th March 1951. The Reverend Pearce married us. The organist was Mrs. Pickford. As a matter of fact she also played the organ later on for my son’s christening. I had Praise My Soul The King Of Heaven and Lead Us Heavenly Father Lead Us at my wedding, and The Bridal March was played as we came out of the church. I got married in white. I had a white dress and a veil. I bought the dress in Salisbury. There used to be a shop by Salisbury Infirmary that sold brides’ and bridesmaids’ dresses. I can’t remember the name of it. The dress was under £4. I paid for it myself. I think I’ve still got that dress but I think the damp and the moths have got to it by now. I may have thrown it out. The flowers were peonies. They came from Warminster, from a shop in the Market Place, on the Salisbury side of the Old Bell.”

“Ronald’s uncle Wilf was his best man. I had two of Ronald’s nieces, Jennifer Connole (later Mrs. Dixon) and Carol Connole (later Mrs. Heavens), and my god child Monica Brownbridge (later Mrs. Coles) as my bridesmaids. My dad didn’t give me away. He had gammy legs from the First World War. My cousin’s husband, Harold Brownbridge, gave me away. That was Madeleine’s husband and Monica’s father. I’ve always regretted that my dad didn’t give me away. I never said so. I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. I wish he had walked me up the aisle and then had a chair to sit down on. In those days that sort of thing wasn’t done. If you couldn’t stand through the wedding service you couldn’t do it. Today no one would take no notice if you took your own chair in and sat on it.”

“The church was packed. I always said all those people only came to see me get married because they wanted to get rid of me. I’m joking really. Mum and I had arranged the guest list. Most of the guests came to the reception afterwards at the Fane Hall in Corton and we were given quite a few wedding presents. My mother and Ronald’s mother organised the food for the reception. We got our wedding cake from Stainer’s in Warminster. My dad paid for it. It was a good cake considering things were still rationed. It was a two-tier cake. I wouldn’t have no beer at the reception. I had an awful fear that one or two of our relations, well, one in particular, would have too much. I didn’t mind them having beer after I left but not while I was there. No way. I put my foot down. The cost of the wedding was split between my parents and Ronald’s. The cost was nothing like today’s prices. Ronald and I went to Weymouth for our honeymoon. We stayed at a bed and breakfast place near the Swannery.”

“I was happy on my wedding day but now, looking back, I think did I marry the right person? Years ago, some people might have been in love but for most people they felt, well, we’re getting on and if we want children let’s get married. To be honest I had previously had a boyfriend who I loved more than I did Ronald. This boyfriend got a girl in trouble but he never touched me at all. I liked him, I loved him but I knew there was no chance of me having him. He got this girl in trouble and afterwards he went on the rocks. It was scandalous. Of course, him giving her a child, you can imagine people wondering what he had been doing with me. He hadn’t though. He never touched me. People probably thought all sorts of things but if anyone ever mentioned it to me I gave them a mouthful. Me or my mum soon put them straight.”

“Ronald’s father worked for Farmer Bourne at Heytesbury. He was a dairyman. As far as I know he had served in the Army in India for quite a while. I’m not quite sure when that was. Afterwards he worked on the farm. I got on with my father-in-law okay. He was a quiet sort of chap. Don’t ask me about my mother-in-law though. She tried to rule with a rod of iron. She tried to rule me but it didn’t always work. The fact I had been an orphan always went against me. She used to wonder where I was from. She used to wonder whose child I was until my mum told her. My mum showed her my birth certificate which had my real parents’ names on.”

“Ronald’s mother was a shortish person and she was well built. They lived in a house, I suppose it was to do with Mr. Bourne’s farm, but I’m not sure where, but later on they lived at Newtown in Heytesbury. Mr. Alford died at Newtown and Mrs. Alford went into St John’s Hospital. She was poorly and we could see things weren’t too good. I think she was over 90 years old when she died. They are both buried at Heytesbury.”

“To begin with Ronald and I got a flat in a house on the right-hand side of East End Avenue in Warminster. I don’t remember the name of the people but they let the top part of their house to us. It was quite nice. We had a bedroom and a living room and a little kitchenette place. We were supposed to share the cooker in the kitchen but I was lucky because I had a Ripondale portable cooker. It ran on paraffin. So I didn’t have to bother about the cooker in the kitchen.”

“We paid rent, about a pound but that was a lot of money in those days, so we then moved to Bishopstrow and stayed in rooms in a house for a little while. The house was on the Sutton Veny side of the village hall. I wasn’t very happy there. Ronald and I went to see Colonel Southey. He lived at Eastleigh Court and he had one or two cottages on the Eastleigh Farm estate. We asked him if he had anywhere to rent and he was very good. He understood our predicament. Colonel Southey offered us the keeper’s cottage at Eastleigh Lane, on condition that if he wanted it back we would have to move out. If he charged us rent he couldn’t turn us out, so he didn’t charge us any rent or anything. That helped us. We were lucky because that sort of put us on our feet a little bit.”

“The cottage was very nice. Ronald did it out. He painted and papered it. We were there about three years, during which time we started a family. When I was expecting I used to take in washing for Colonel Southey’s family, as a way of earning a little something. That money was put aside to pay for things for the baby. I was a knitter so I was able to knit most of the baby clothes I needed. David was born on 25th August 1952 at Salisbury Hospital. I chose Salisbury because I was born at Salisbury and I had also had my operation for appendicitis there. If I had chosen Trowbridge or Bradford On Avon for David’s birth the authorities would have supplied transport but because I went to Salisbury I wasn’t granted any transport. I had to make my own way there.”

“I had an easy pregnancy. They told me I would have to have a caesarean but I didn’t. There were five mums waiting to give birth. I was the last one to go in and the first one to give birth. I had a painless birth. I was thrilled to bits when David was born. He was my first blood relation. The Sister said to me ‘I’ve seen lots of mums with their babies but, Mrs. Alford, there’s something about you that’s different.’ I said ‘I’ve waited 25 years to get my first blood relation.’ She said ‘Yes, that’s what it is then.’ Ronald was thrilled as well. He used to come up every evening on his motorbike to see me and baby David. I said to the Sister ‘I wish you had a camera to catch the smile on my husband’s face because I’ve never seen him before with an expression like that, not even when we got married.’

“Because I had been brought up in an orphanage I probably showed my affection towards David more than some other mothers did. I took to motherhood okay because I had dealings with babies before. When I was working at the Hendersons there was an expectant mother in Corton. She was Colonel Bond’s wife. Corton used to host social evenings and I was going round selling raffle tickets. Mrs. Bond asked me if I knew of anyone who could help look after her baby when it was born. She was going to have it at home. I said ‘I work until 12 o’clock but I could come and help you in the afternoons.’ I helped out with that baby from when it was a week old. It used to cry. I didn’t like to say much in case I got my tongue bit off but I said to Mrs. Bond one day ‘Adrian sounds like he’s hungry.’ She said ‘He’s had his feed.’ She was bringing the baby up the way she had done with her first son. She fed him by the book, six ounces of milk at a time. She said ‘If you think Adrian’s hungry, Evelyn, make up half a bottle for him.’ I thought ‘Right.’ I made up a bottle full and he drank the lot before going off to sleep. She said afterwards ‘That half a bottle of milk seems to have done the trick.’ I said ‘It wasn’t half a bottle, it was a full bottle, he was hungry.’

“I was quite happy at the cottage at Eastleigh Lane. We were grateful to Colonel Southey. He was a real gentleman. His wife was nice too. She used to come and sit in the garden. If she was out for a walk in the woods she’d come along and sit in the garden and we didn’t know she was out there half the time. I’ve got a feeling she was Colonel Southey’s second wife. It was a bit lonely at Eastleigh Lane though because the woman next door was elderly and she died. I was up there by myself with David, our son, when Ronald was at work but it didn’t worry me. We accepted the conditions and took it day by day. We put our name down for a council house and we hoped to get a house in Corton to be near my dad because my mum died just after David was born. She died, at her home, Sunnydale, on 6th January 1953. That’s 45 years ago. Mum was 72 when she died. Her funeral was held at Corton Church and she was buried at Corton Cemetery.”

“We eventually got a letter offering us a council house in Corton. Funnily enough, as we got the letter to say about Corton, Colonel Southey offered us one of the old bungalows at the corner of Eastleigh Lane and the Sutton Veny road for five shillings a week rent. We decided to accept the house at Corton because it would be more modern to the bungalow and it would be nearer to my dad. As it happened we made the right decision because those bungalows of Southey’s got very dilapidated and either fell down or had to be knocked down. They are not there now.”

“The council houses at Corton [Coomb View] are on the right as you go towards Luxford’s Nurseries. We lived at No.61. It was alright. At the cottage in Bishopstrow we had no electric and no running water. At Corton we had some modern conveniences and they were a godsend because we had baby David to bring up. There were no disposable napkins. They had to be washed, so the running water in the council came in very handy. The council house at Corton was a marvellous place for us. I think the rent was about £3. A chap came round to collect the rent every month. I can’t remember if we paid the rates separate or whether the same man collected them with the rent.”

“I found it easy to budget. I’ve always been lucky in that way. You had to make your money, what little you had, go round. We had a garden for growing vegetables and we kept some hens for eggs. There was no family allowance. I never got that. People with one child didn’t get it. They never paid it for the first child in those days. Ronald’s pay was sufficient. It had to be or we would have got into debt. In my mind to be in debt would have been a terrible thing.”

“I used to take in washing. That was to get a bit of pocket money. People used to bring their washing to the house. The higher-up people brought me washing. I was on the go all the time. I didn’t have a washing machine, only a copper. It was hard work but I managed.”

“After mum died dad was kept busy looking after his sister-in-law Edith [Watts] who was still living at my parents’ place. Dad had quite good health all through his life. He lived until he was about 72 or 73. He died on 20th June 1956. Dad went to bed and he died in his sleep. He had heart trouble but I didn’t know it was that in those days. Dr Houghton Brown told me afterwards. After dad died, aunt Edith went to live at Codford with her nephew and niece. Dad was buried in the little cemetery at Corton, where mum was buried. As you go in the gate, turn right, and you’ll see their grave. There are seven relations, brothers and sisters, all in one row, with their parents.”

“I didn’t want to stop in Corton after my dad’s death. I hated Corton after mum and dad had gone. I didn’t like it all. We had been at Corton for three or four years and we decided to move. Ronald and I started looking round for something nearer Warminster. This bungalow [No.16a Bishopstrow] came up for sale and we bought it. The Barnetts lived here before us. They built it about 1950 or 1951. Ronald had always liked this bungalow because we had watched it being built. It’s always been numbered 16a Bishopstrow and the deeds refer to the road outside as Pitmead Lane.”

“Bishopstrow was nearer Warminster which was better for Ronald to get to and from work. Ronald was a painter and decorator for Butcher’s, the builders. Did he enjoy it? Some days were better than others. You can say that for any job. Things were going okay until Ronald had an accident. He fell off a ladder when he was working for Butcher’s at the Old Ride School at Bradford On Avon.”

“When we lived at Corton David started school at Codford St Peter but when we moved to Bishopstrow he went to the Close School in Warminster. While he was at school I went out doing domestic work. I got a job at Eastleigh Court in Bishopstrow. The day Ronald had his accident I was at an inquest. The gardener at Eastleigh Court got killed on his way home. He was struck by a car. I had to go to the inquest because I had seen and spoke to him on the day he died. His wife came up to Eastleigh Court because he hadn’t arrived home. He had left work with everything neat and tidy. Afterwards a chap who lived near Robin Close in Warminster used to come and do the garden at Eastleigh Court.”

“I came home from the inquest. I said to David ‘Where’s dad?’ He said ‘He’s hurt himself mum and he’s been taken to hospital.’ They didn’t tell David exactly what had happened. Ronald had been rushed to hospital in Bath with a fractured skull. It was quite serious. It effected him for ever afterwards. I always say I never had the same husband after that and David never had the same father.”

“It was a worrying time when Ronald was in hospital. I was working and you could only go to the hospital at specific visiting times unlike today when you can go at any time. My employers at Eastleigh Court, the Ashcrofts, used to let me have my dinner and go on, to be at the hospital for two o’clock. I used to have to plan my work, get on my bike and go to the Railway Station in Warminster and get the train to Bath. It was a drag but I did it.”

“Ronald carried on working after his accident but in the end he had to give up work. His health was deteriorating. He was more or less going backwards and forwards to hospital. He had angina and he started having heart attacks. I remember when he had the first one. He said he had indigestion. I said ‘I’m going to get the doctor for you Ronald.’ He said ‘Oh, it’s only indigestion.’ We didn’t have a telephone then. I said ‘You won’t want me to have to go out at one o’clock or two o’clock in the morning if it gets worse.’ I got the doctor and Ronald was in hospital at Bath within an hour. He had suffered a heart attack. He said to me afterwards ‘How did you know I was having a heart attack?’ I said ‘You had the same symptoms as when my dad had his.’

“That’s why we had the telephone put in. The nearest public telephone box was at Boreham Crossroads. Mr. Cullen, next door, used to say I could use his telephone but I didn’t like to intrude. I hesitated about that. I didn’t want to have to get Mr. Cullen up in the middle of the night if there was an emergency. I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded but I didn’t want to bother him, so we got our own telephone in and I was glad I did because we had to use it more than once.”

“Ronald eventually had to give up work on doctor’s orders. He was about 60. What happened was, Ronald said to me he didn’t think he could carry on. I said ‘You better tell Dr Street that, love.’ He went to see Dr Street who told him ‘You must finish work.’ Ronald wasn’t 65, so, to get some dole, he had to sign on. He had to make himself available for work to get the dole. There were no jobs for him though. He was on the dole for five years until he reached retirement age.”

“Ronald had to accept the situation. He couldn’t work and if he hadn’t signed on the dole we couldn’t have lived on the couple of pounds I was earning. He had to take my wage chit with him every time he signed on to prove how little I was earning. One week, I had some back pay paid, and because of that Ronald got no dole money at all that week. My back pay, because it came in a lump sum, was over the amount allowed. So, Ronald got no money. I was annoyed about it. I didn’t pay tax because I earned so little.”

“I didn’t have far to go to work at Eastleigh Court. I went up the road a little way and through the little doorway in the wall in the corner of the garden. I worked for Mr. and Mrs. Ashcroft at Eastleigh Court. I didn’t have a lot to do with Mr. Ashcroft because he was running his own business. He was using Boreham Mill as his offices and his firm was involved with computers. I was working for Mr. Ashcroft’s wife. Mrs. Ashcroft was alright as long as you did what was wanted.”

“It was a big house. Other people came in to help out but none of them stopped long, so I had to turn my hand to anything. I did the housework and anything else that needed doing. I had to do as much as I could in the mornings, to get back to cook the dinner at home for Ronald and myself. I used to go up to Eastleigh Court about nine o’clock and leave about 12 noon. Sometimes I had to go up Eastleigh Court in the evenings to wait at table. The Ashcrofts did a bit of entertaining and I was called upon to help on those occasions. I didn’t mind but I was always a bit nervous in case I dropped something in their laps. I managed though.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Ashcroft had four children. They had three boys and a girl. I can’t remember one of the boy’s names, maybe it was Nigel, I’m not sure, but the others if I remember rightly were Bill, David and Jennifer. They were going to school. They went to the private school, the Gough-Allen’s, at Barrow House in Bishopstrow. Sometimes Mrs. Ashcroft asked me to baby sit at night times if she and her husband were going out. I never used to charge for baby sitting. I didn’t mind doing it. Looking back, I think I was glad to get out of home.”

“My next job was working in the kitchen at Kingdown School at one point and New Close School later on. There were four of us working in the kitchen including someone called Pearce from Heytesbury and one of the Stokes from Codford. Mrs. Burgess, who lived at Railway Cottages, Heytesbury, was in charge. We would prepare lunch for the school children and then wash up. We’d finish about three o’clock. After a while I gave the job up. Things were getting too much for me and I decided to leave. I had been to my doctor. He said ‘Do you want to carry on working, Mrs. Alford?’ I said ‘No.’ He gave me a certificate and I was able to leave work without any nastiness.”

“That wasn’t the end of my working life though. No, far from it, because I went to work for Mr. William Keith Neal at Bishopstrow House. I didn’t see the job advertised. Someone told me about it and I went up there and asked. I saw Mrs. [Jane] Keith Neal. She took me on straight away. I had to do all sorts there because the cook and the butler had left. It was alright. I was more or less my own boss there. As long as I did the housework and any cooking if they wanted it done, I had nothing to worry about. I sort of took the house over. Every place I went to work at I seemed to end up doing the lot.”

“I wasn’t the only one working there. There was also an elderly person at Bishopstrow House. She had been with the Keith Neals for years and years and years but she couldn’t do anything. She tried but she couldn’t do things. She would fall down and I had to finish what she had started. It was a good job I could see the funny side of things. Elizabeth Frampton, who was known as Babs and lived at Knapp Farm, used to come and do a few hours a week too. I had to do the work of two people really. I did housework and I did the cooking. There had been a cook but she had left. Another cook came but she left as well. After that I did the cooking. The Keith Neals did some entertaining but I was never asked to help with that. I don’t think they did much entertaining after the last cook left.”

“Mrs. Keith Neal was a very nice person but I don’t think her health was 100%. Mr. Keith Neal was very pleasant. He was an interesting man. He knew my dad had been a blacksmith and farrier, and he could relate to that. We used to have some very interesting conversations. Mr. Keith Neal would usually be in his office. I would see him when I took his cup of coffee in or when he came along for a chat. He would talk to me. He didn’t mind me stopping and talking, because he knew I would have to make my time up to get all the work done.”

“It was a big house. The Keith Neals had some very nice furniture. It was old but very nice. The house was full of guns because Mr. Keith Neal was a collector. I wouldn’t say there were guns in every room but there were plenty in the main rooms. There were rifles and pistols and everything you could think of. He even had some guns on his dressing table. There were two ship’s canons [18th century, muzzle loading] in the gardens down by the river Wylye. They got pinched [in February 1965] but he got them back.”

“Mr. Keith Neal was a firearms expert. You couldn’t argue with him about guns. He knew all there was to know. He had a lot of experience. He did a lot of work to do with guns. The police used to come there when there had been a shooting. They wanted his opinion on the guns used. He could give them the details. If anyone had used a gun for something he would be asked to supply information. He used to go up to London to work for Scotland Yard sometimes.”

“I got paid weekly unless Mr. Keith Neal was away and then I had to wait until he came back. I worked at Bishopstrow House for about four years. I left because I got fed up. After I gave up working for the Keith Neals I went to work at Hillside, the County Council’s children’s home opposite Boreham Post Office. I did housework, cleaning the bedrooms. I wasn’t the only one working there. We each had a department to clean and to see to. We used to chat to the children. Mr. Peck used to say ‘If the children chat to you, don’t worry about your work, because they might tell you something that’s on their minds that they won’t tell the social workers.’ We reported in to the office what any child told us. Mr. Peck was in charge. Mr. Peck and his wife were both very nice. They had a bungalow at Hillside. When they left I think they went to Westbury to live and then John Marchant took the job on. I worked at Hillside for nine years until I was made redundant.”

“I decided then I wouldn’t go out to work again but I did. Colonel Thatcher’s wife, at [195] Boreham Road, desperately needed a cleaner. The person that worked for her as a cleaner was going to have an operation and wouldn’t be back for three months. Mrs. Thatcher asked me if I could do the job temporary for the three months. I agreed but it lasted about four years, not three months. When the cleaner came back I was kept on as well. I did three mornings a week and she did the other days. I very seldom saw the other cleaner. I kept saying, jokingly, to Mrs. Thatcher ‘When are the three months going to be up?’

“I enjoyed at the Thatchers’. If I hadn’t enjoyed it I wouldn’t have stopped there. It gave me that something extra. I got on very well with Colonel Thatcher and Mrs. Thatcher. I had known the Colonel’s first wife. She died and he married her [half] sister. The Mrs. Thatcher I worked for was the Colonel’s second wife. I’m still in touch with Mrs. Thatcher’s daughter, who lives up in Yorkshire, because I look after Colonel Thatcher’s and Mrs. Thatcher’s graves at Bishopstrow Churchyard. [Colonel Gerald Brian Thatcher, born 1904, died on 15th April 1991. Elizabeth Thatcher (the Colonel’s first wife) died in 1973 and Madeline Alix Thatcher (second wife) died on 8th February 1993]. Their ashes are interred next to the wall of the church.”

“My husband Ronald died during the time I was employed by the Thatchers. He died on 26th March 1990. He was 72. A few days afterwards he would have been 73. He had a heart attack in the conservatory. We were about to have a cup of tea when he said ‘Will you get the doctor, I’m having another attack.’ I phoned for an ambulance. I went back to Ronald but he was more or less gone. When the ambulance came the ambulancemen said ‘Have you phoned for a doctor?’ I said ‘No, I’ve only just phoned for you.’ They said ‘You better ring the doctor, Mrs. Alford.’ I knew then that Ronald had gone. I guessed he had. I phoned the doctor. I spoke on the phone to the surgery just like I was making an appointment. I was calm and collected. Then I phoned Ronald’s sister Joan. I said ‘You better come over, Joan, the ambulance is here, Ronald has died.’ Dr Street was here by the time Joan arrived.”

“Ronald’s funeral was held at St. Aldhelm’s Church, Bishopstrow, and was followed by cremation at Salisbury. His ashes were buried at Corton, in the same cemetery as my mum and dad. I was on my own again but I had to cope. I coped very well really. At those sort of times you somehow find the strength to get through. I had to carry on. My son was in Stevenage. It didn’t hit me until some time afterwards. I carried on working at Colonel and Mrs. Thatcher’s because it got me out. That was the last place I worked. I decided to finish and put my feet up.”

“Some days I find it lonely but I’m lucky because I can get my moped out and go to visit friends. I can go where I want on my moped but I mainly use it for going into Warminster and back. It’s very handy for me. I’m lucky because I like my own company as well as other people’s. I’ve joined the Lakeside Club in Warminster. In recent years I had the company of my neighbour Roger Metcalfe [Rhodes Frederick Metcalfe, born 6th February 1926]. He used to come and see me and help with the garden. We used to go to places together. He took me to Cornwall to meet his family. He died earlier this year [3rd April 1998] and I miss his company very much.”

“My health is pretty good now, considering I had a major operation two years ago. It all started when I felt there was something wrong. It was breast cancer. I went to the doctor and he pooh-poohed it. I wasn’t happy about it and I thought ‘Right.’ I decided to go again when I knew he was off-duty. I went and saw another doctor. Within a week I was at the hospital in Bath having a mammogram. The specialist said if it hadn’t been for the mammogram, the x-rays, they wouldn’t have known there was any trouble.”

“I had the choice of going backwards and forwards to the hospital at Bath every day for radium treatment or having a major operation. I didn’t want to be bothered with going to Bath every day and I knew the radium treatment can be pretty grim. That’s why I didn’t want it. That’s why I decided to have the op. I had my neighbour Roger Metcalfe to talk to about it but he said, quite rightly, that he wasn’t family. He left it to me. I talked it over with my son and daughter-in-law. I knew in my own mind what I wanted to do. 99% of me was telling me to have the major operation. I knew if I got over it initially I would probably be alright later on. I had the operation pretty quick and I enjoyed my time in hospital. For once, people were waiting on me and we had some laughs. I’m one of those sort of people. I can enjoy myself wherever I go.”

“I would recommend anyone having the operation but would say they shouldn’t expect their body to be the same afterwards. You mustn’t fight your body. You must be careful. I can’t do what I used to do, so I don’t overdo things. I always say ‘Don’t fight your body, just take things carefully.’ I took things careful. I wasn’t told not to do this or that but I just took it easy. Why break your body when you can sit down and take it easy? I feel okay, touch wood. I had a bug last week but I’m better now.”

“Of course I do worry when I get a pain anywhere now. I think ‘Oh gosh, is it breaking out anywhere else now?’ I start to wonder if I’ve got to go through it all again. I’ve put it in the back of my mind. I have no idea what started it off in the first place. I’m not a smoker but I used to breathe in other people’s smoke. My husband Ronald was a big smoker until he had his heart attack. I was a passive smoker I suppose.”

“I believe in God but maybe not so fully as some people. I do believe there’s something to help you along. I think something has helped me through. If you have got a little bit of faith it can help. If you say a prayer it helps to take a problem off your mind. You can grumble. I used to help clean the church at Bishopstrow but I gave that up when I had to have my operation. There were new people coming into the village and they were quite willing to do it. Ronald and I used to go to church and he used to attend parish meetings.”

“I don’t think my son David will come back to Bishopstrow to live and at the moment I don’t want to go up to his place in Stevenage to live. I’m quite happy here. I admire what David has done. He was an only child and he’s got on. After he left school he went to work in the office at Clark’s, the shoe firm, at Fairfield Road in Warminster. He wanted to go to Trowbridge College but I couldn’t see him being able to do it because his dad had the accident and wasn’t working. So, David went to work at Clark’s and saved up his money. He came home one day and said he was going to apply for Trowbridge College. After studying there he went to Barclays Bank and then he left there and went to Manchester University. He got his BA. He went to Manchester Business School and got his MA. Then he went to a Canadian bank and worked there. He travelled and he did very well for himself. When his dad died David could have so easily have gone off the rails but he didn’t. He’s made good.”

“David met his wife Clare at the business school in Manchester. She was from Stevenage in Hertfordshire and that’s where they got married. They now live in Stevenage. I’ve been there and stayed with them a few times. David has got his own business now. He uses computers to print hotel menus and stamp catalogues. He’s always been interested in stamps. Mr. Astridge, who was a teacher at Kingdown School when David was a pupil there, was keen on stamps. Sometimes if Mr. Astridge couldn’t go to London to get stamps David used to go for him and bring the stamps back.”

“I’m sure David loves his mum. He’d better! We got on very well together and I get on well with Clare, his wife. I think I can safely say she sees me as a mum more than a mother-in-law. David told me that so I know it’s true. David and Clare have got a daughter called Heather. She has a little chat on the telephone to me when I ring David and Clare. Heather will be 10 this year.”

“My granddaughter will have to grow up in a very different world to the one I grew up in. She will have to make the best of it, same as we did. I’m concerned about drugs and things but I seldom say anything to David and Clare, my son and daughter-in-law, because I wouldn’t want them to think I was interfering. Clare did say to me once ‘What can be done, gran?’ I said ‘You can only warn the child and offer advice, that’s all you can do.’ You can’t do anything else. I think it’s up to the individual how they deal with things. If a child gets offered drugs, they should say ‘No.’ People are tempted by things today. They are encouraged by others. One pinch and it can be fatal or they are addicted.”

“We made our own entertainment when we were young. Children today want the entertainment done for them. Children now have a different attitude to what we had and, in any case, the world is not the same any more. It’s not safe for children to go out today. I used to go up on the downs at Corton, all by myself, and come back home. My mum and dad never thought anything of me doing that. These days you wouldn’t even let your grandchild go out into the road. I used to say to my granddaughter Heather ‘Stop in the garden.’ Not unless I was with her.”

“You hear a lot about child abuse today. It’s not new, it’s just that it was hushed up years ago. People didn’t talk about that sort of thing years ago. They put up with it. Today, there’s money involved. People speak out when they know they’re going to get a few pounds for saying something. It’s just the same with people chasing compensation. That’s why we hear so much about it today.”

“There’s a lot of trouble and strife in the world. When you hear of things happening in, say, London, you don’t take a lot of notice but when something bad happens in Warminster, like that girl [Zoe Evans] from the army camp who went missing [in February 1997] and was found murdered, you take more notice.”

“You hear on the television about people being found in their homes after laying dead for three or four months but that wouldn’t happen in Bishopstrow. I don’t think that would happen here for a minute. People notice curtains being drawn and things like that. It’s a good community here. There is a definitely a community in Bishopstrow. There’s bingo every other week at the village hall. There’s only about two people from Bishopstrow who go; the rest are outsiders but that doesn’t matter. They keep it going. Some people look down upon others who play bingo but I say it’s up to the individual. Same as if people want to do the National Lottery let them do it. They don’t have to do it. It’s their choice if they want to spend their money on it. If I won a load of money I would give it all to Warminster Hospital. I would say ‘Here’s the money to pay for the hospital and the nurses and everything that’s needed. Take the money and get on with it.’

“I’m against money being paid out for stupid things when hospitals are closing and nurses are being badly paid. I’m against the things Warminster Town Council are doing. Why do they do it when the Hospital needs help? They’re spending money on so called improvements to George Street. It doesn’t need improving. It’s alright as it is. They’re just spending money for the sake of it. Same as thousands of pounds were spent on a rock garden in the town park. What for? The Council went ahead with a skate park in the town park but that’s another waste of a load of money. We didn’t vote for those things. It’s an awful waste. I think that money should have gone to the hospital. The Hospital is definitely the number one priority. People need it, whether they are young or old.”

“Life is certainly better now for pensioners than years ago. You can get privileges. You can get cheaper seats at events. Things are expensive though. You’ve got to eat if you want to live. You’ve still got to pay your bills. I have to pay just as much in bills for myself as if there were three or four living here. I have to pay the same amount. It costs just the same. Fortunately I don’t have to put money aside for rent. I’m lucky that way. Years ago you got most of your food from your own garden. Now you have to shop for it. I don’t listen to what they say about food because, as I just said, you’ve got to eat, you’ve got to live. I’m quite happy about my pension but all pensioners say they could do with more. I don’t think all old age pensioners get a fair deal.”

The cost of everything has gone up. The price of the properties is terrific now. Mandalay, the red brick house next to Riverside, on the left- hand side as you come into Bishopstrow, has just been sold. It’s got a ‘Sold’ sign up. That went for more than £100,000. Roger Metcalfe’s old house [No.17 Bishopstrow] is for sale. That’s £42,500. I thought it would have been more than that but it’s only got one bedroom. It’s a double bedroom though. It will only do for a married couple or a single person but it’s quite reasonable.”

“I’ve lived here nearly 40 years but Bishopstrow has changed. I used to know everybody in the village but I don’t now. I live this end and there’s people down the other end, different people have come and gone, and the properties have changed over. I don’t know them. I asked my friend the other day who someone was and they said ‘Oh she’s lived in Bishopstrow for ages.’ I didn’t know. Don’t get me wrong, I’m friendly and sociable but there’s been so many changes lately I don’t know the peoples’ names.”

“I try to keep busy. I’ve always got my knitting. I got an order on the phone yesterday for two jumpers I’ve got to knit. I’ve got a television but I don’t watch it a lot. I usually put the news on at one o’clock. I watch Home and Away at half past one. If I’m not going out and a good film comes on I’ll sit and watch it. Otherwise I’ll put the tv on at half past five for the news and then watch Home And Away if I missed it at dinnertime. I would miss the television if I didn’t have it but I would rather have the telephone than the television. I can call for help, with the telephone, if I need it.”

“I think there’s too much reported in the papers and on the television today. There’s too much sex and violence on tv. If they don’t show the sex they indicate they are leading up to it. Like in Emmerdale, there’s a young couple on that now saying ‘Let’s go into the bedroom.’ I don’t want to watch it. I don’t think it’s necessary. I like Emmerdale and Home And Away but I don’t think they have to bring sex into it. Young people watching it think if they can do that so can we.”

“It’s no wonder children do the things they do. There should definitely be more discipline in schools. I know discipline should start at home, yes, but it should be kept going at school. It’s gone the other way too much. It’s a tricky world today. Mind, children don’t know no difference. It’s the world they are used to. We’ve got to live in today’s world and just put up with it. It’s a different world to when I was a child but let’s face it I’m a different person now, I’ve changed as I’ve got older. I never really stepped out of line. I always did what my mother wanted me to do. I held back and I was like that right up until my husband died. It’s only recently I’ve stopped toeing the line. I realise now I can do what I want. I look back now and wish I had done things differently. If I had the chance to live my life again I would definitely do things different.”