Haytor, Devon

Lemnos

I was born in Bovey Tracey in 1952, on a Wednesday afternoon, the eleventh of June. I arrived in the middle of a garden party being held at 'Grey Gables' a house owned by a Mrs Pedrick (my memory is not too clear). My parents, my older sister and I lived in a house called Lemnos. I do not remember the name of the street it was on but I do remember that from our front door if you turned right and started walking down the hill you crossed a river and the road did a sharp turn to the left. A white pub was on the outside corner of the bend. I left Bovey Tracey in 1955 and went to live in Letchworth (Herts) and then migrated to Australia in 1968.
One day, I don't know which year, I remember looking out of our front room bay window, with my sister, and watching a May Day procession.

Racing

I worked in a racing stables in Manaton, we used to exercise up on the moor. 3 other girls were there too and it was great fun. The yard moved to Somerset after and I went with it, wonderful days. Hi Sam, Hi Brian.

Sparnham house

Whether or not Sparnham House was an old coaching inn (I doubt it) or not, it is noteworthy of being the long-time residence of John Hannibal (or sometimes Henry) Foaden and his wife Elizabeth nee Husson. They were married in the summer of 1867 and moved to Sparnham House shortly after. They had at least six children; two sons and four daughters. John lived in the house till after the First World War and died in 1924 at the age of 87. John was a builder and will be remembered as the constructor of the first grandstand at Buckfastleigh (Dean Court Farm) racecourse (1883).

Sparnham House, 36 West Street

I was living in Sparnham House in 1960, but don't recall the umber mine you mention, though my father (Brian Baker) did say there had been one, once. Outside Sparnham there used to be a tap which was supplied by a natural spring and during the long winter of 1963 it was, at times, the only piece of plumbing that wasn't frozen. There was a tunnel under the garden which I was never allowed to explore; I always assumed it was something to do with this spring, but perhaps it was the umber mine? My father died when I was nine, and we moved away from Ashburton shortly afterwards, so that tunnel has always been a tantalising mystery to me.
The house had been a coaching inn many years before. When my father bought it there were evidently huge numbers of old bottles in the back garden. He levelled the heap and planted a lawn on top, so there's probably an interesting experience awaiting anyone who cares to dig a few holes!