c1965, Figheldean
c1965, Figheldean Ref: F95034
Memories of c1965, Figheldean
Be the first to add a memory of c1965, Figheldean
Figheldean & local memories
Read and share memories of Figheldean and Wiltshire inspired by Frith photos.
Addition to Con's Entry
Being Con's older brother, my memories go back a bit further, having started school about the day war was declared, going to the village school, with Miss Burling(?) - rumour had it that she changed the spelling of her name from Berlin (for obvious reasons). There are a lot of hazy wartime memories as well which would occupy a lot more space. I have memories of winding the church clock, back in the early 1950s, climbing that long ladder into the bell tower, knee deep in twigs left by the nesting rooks. There must also have been quite a stir in the village back in about 1937, though I obviously don't remember it, when Dad won a small fortune (in those days) on the 'Pools'. From the old photo I have we must have been living at Avondale at that time, though we later moved to 279 Ablington, just down the garden from 292 where Gran and Grandad lived, with about 60 chickens and, in the early days of... Read more
Born And Bred
Born in Ablington just after the war we moved to Avon Banks, where I lived until married in 1970. My mother's father, mother and brothers (Fenners) all lived in Figheldean. Having read other peoples memories it brought back probably the most enjoyable part of my youth.
Post Office
The post Office was run by a Mrs Titt in the 1950s and the post lady was to be, in later life, my aunty.
The Mill Pool
I lived at Netheravon from 1968 - 1972 (my father was in the RAF based at Old Sarum) and went to school at St Michaels Figheldean.
I remember we used to go swimming in the mill pool by the weir. I remember nearly drowning there, showing off in deep water under the big tree (still there) near the weir. I was saved by a girl called Sharon Parsons and probably never thanked her and certainly never told my mum when I got home. Other than that experience it was a great place to hang out in the summer and learn how to fish too - starting off on minnows by the footbridge and moving on to greyling and trout (probably illegally). A lovely village and well overdue for a visit. I live in North Oxfordshire so not too far away.
The Mill
My grandmother Minnie or Minna Shepherd, was brought up at the Mill as part of quite a large family. She married a guy who also lived there for a while, by the name of William, James Nash. Does anyone have any further knowledge? I also have an old photograph of The Post Office, Durrington which I would like to know more about.
The River
The River Avon dominated most of the kids' lives in the village! I remember swimming 'down the mill' and at Gunville where my Great Grandmother (Sarah Marks) lived. We used to scrounge used inner tyre tubes from Mr Stansfield (who owned the Tourist Coaches next door to the Workingmen's Club) and float down the river on them from the bridge. Also used to get the watercress from the bridge too! So much to do! Making carts out of old pram wheels and bit of plank! Walking miles 'up the downs' and drinking water out of the cow troughs!!! Those were the days! The 'playing field' had two swings and a roundabout - we thought that was pretty good! I remember when the 'circus' came to the village...in the hall! It had a live lion! Blimey...that was a talking point for weeks! Mushrooming and scrumping were other pastimes! Knuckle Sheppard was a genius at finding mushrooms....we tried to follow him... Read more
Figheldean Manor
In 1945, just before VJ day, I moved from Scotland with my mother, to Figheldean Manor, to join my father who was then based at RAF Netheravon. I had never seen houses with flint walls and thatched roofs before, moreover, I had never experienced the type of food that was then available. My first experience of asparagus, watercress, fresh trout and partridge, all food provided to or by residents at the Manor, to supplement the then rations that were available with coupons.
We shopped, such as was necessary, in Netheravon. I remember Sammy the barber with a lisp, who, in winter time, kept his hand held clippers beside the gas fired heater; these would burn the neck occasionally, which he said was just a part of the hair cutting experience, as he puffed away at his Woodbine, numerous of which he smoked continually and were permanently in his mouth.
I remember the breaking up of hundreds of the gliders at RAF Netheravon and the huge parachute drops on Salisbuty... Read more
