Prestbury, My Home.

A Memory of Prestbury.

Although I moved from Prestbury to Gloucester in 1966 when I got married, then to Somerset in 1967. Prestbury has always held a special place in my heart, I always call it my home. I lived in a small cottage in Bowbridge Lane which had a stream at the bottom of the garden, with my parents, Len White and Nancy White and brother Brian. We moved to New Barn Close in 1948, when I was five. My grandparents, Matt and Eliza Hall, lived at The Vine Tree, in Mill Street, it was my favourite place. It had stables in the yard where my grandfather kept pigs, bantams, rabbits, ferrets and chickens. I remember it as a public house when I was very young. There were two summerhouses. One was wooden and at the top of the garden was another smaller one which was covered in shells inside. As a child I went with the milkman, Mr Coombes, and his horse and cart delivering milk from the churns. Home Farm was opposite the Vine Tree. I spent many happy hours there and even had rides on Ferdinand, the bull, from the farm down to his field in the Burgage, led by the farmer Jack Chamberlaine. In the Manor House, on the corner of Bowbrigde Lane lived Major and Mrs Hamilton Price, my grandmother did the cleaning for them. Two sisters, Miss Sudlows, lived on the corner cottage opposite the Manor House. Don Sumption ran the Post Office. The Bakery Stores baked beautiful bread. I remember butter being sliced and wrapped in greaseproof paper and sugar and fruit being scooped into blue bags before being sold and large tins of biscuits being sold loose. John Smith had the butchers. During the summer there were garden parties held at the Priory. There were Gymkhanas held regularly during the summer. It was a very friendly small village where it was safe to leave your door unlocked and I as a young girl would walk for miles pushing someone's baby in a pram or taking a dog for a walk with no worries about whether it was safe. The church is very beautiful. I was christened, confirmed and married in it and attended regularly as I got older. The village school was St Mary's Church of England Primary School. One of the teachers was a Miss Reeves who had a wooden pointer sharpened at one end which she would use on anyone foolish enough to misbehave.