Harriott Brothers The Butcher's Shop

A Memory of Droxford.

My Father was Arthur Harriott who owned Harriott Brothers Butchers Shop (which can be seen at the bottom left-hand corner of the picture) together with his Brother, Edward. We lived in "Old Sarum" which is the white house adjoining with my Mother, Molly and my Aunt Olive and Uncle Edward. One of my first memories must have been in about the late 40's when my Dad would wrap up parcels of meat and put them in a wicker basket in the iron frame fitted to a bicycle and delivered to the householders of Droxford by "the Boy". I don't think I ever remember seeing my Father without a Craven A cigarette tucked into a corner of his lips - a sublime disregard for Health and Safety but I don't recall a single case of anyone becoming ill as a result! The shop floor was covered with a dusting of sawdust which trod into the house and drove my Mother wild but the smell of wood was wonderful.
From time to time the old World War ll air-raid siren would go - used as a fire alarm after the War, and the red engine would race down the road, bell enthusiastically ringing, stopping to pick up the part-time firemen along the way. I can vividly remember my grown up cousin, Brian, flinging down his knife in the shop, racing to the hall to shrug on his jacket and dashing outside to leap on the engine as it barely slowed on its way! Opposite "Old Sarum" was the Manor House owned by Lady Mary Taylor who graciously allowed small children to come into her garden to pick up fallen conkers. It was a brave child who would sneak in without asking to gather up the treasures dropped from the huge horse chestnut trees in her garden! Every week a mobile fish and chip van arrived and parked opposite on the Green and to this day I can remember the smell wafting across on the still air. I think I am right in remembering "Old Sarum" to have been about 500 years old when I was a child and certainly there was not one room without a step up or a step down at its door and definitely not a right angle in the whole building! Those were the days when everyone grew their own vegetables and fruit and my Mother kept a few hens. Our telephone number was Droxford 7 and the white building in the background off to the right was the telephone exchange. Those were halcyon days just after the War when children could roam for hours playing in the water meadows or on the Downs. Cars were few, adults were respected, children were protected and I remember those days with the wistful nostalgia that comes to most of us as we grow older and wish that our own grandchildren could experience those days.