St Mildreds Road

A Memory of Minster.

The road in the picture, St Mildred's, is where I grew up, opposite the "rec". As a young lad growing up, Minster offered all sorts of adventures; the marshes, the river Stour, Watchester Lane, the woods, fishing, catching newts & tadpoles in the local dykes and the annual flower show, is that still going? Playing in the woods around the vicarage and evading the vicar, the reverend Wagstaff! Mum had an endless supply of cooking apples from yours truly from an orchard down the road...
Looking back on my time in Minster I now realise how free we were to explore and safe! Mum & Dad never seemed to worry as long as we were home by tea. I used to visit the corner shop on a regular basis to buy sweets and of course on a Sunday run down the road to buy the ice cream and a bottle of pop. On one of the memories someone mentioned about their grandfather repairing bikes found on the Tothill tip? Yep, I made a good business doing that, find 3 or 4 bikes thrown on the tip, get some spares from the bike shop, Slaughters, and sell them. Work wise, mum worked as a nursing auxiliary at the Tothill Hospital for some years and one of her patients was a "Tiller girl" from the London Palladium and even at 99 she could still do the high kick! Dad worked all over Kent as a traveller but was also on the local council and was one of those responsible for the building of the new village hall opposite the church. Indeed it was nice to see after many years away from Minster a plaque had been erected in the hall bearing his name. My working life started in the village at Smiths the butchers, in the square opposite the New Inn pub. It was there I produced the best sausages in the village! Well, according to our customers anyway. It was also there I experimented with fireworks and didn't understand the ramifications of putting a couple of large bangers (bought from Richmonds across the road) into a porcelain jar slamming the cork in and not getting away fast enough - I have to say it was one hell of an explosion. The jar shattered, everything missed me with exception to one piece that left my finger hanging by a thread, this was not going to be easily explained to mother and never was; the excuse being I cut my finger at the shop! My next venture into the workplace was Darby's butchers opposite Turners and Young's house. (Do you remember the skeleton they found in the back yard?) Old man Darby was a man who shall we say liked to hang on to his money, but I had great fun there delivering meat on the butchers bike and later a van to Monkton in all weathers. Cleaning turkeys at Christmas, you name it I did it. If anyone remembers the Molyneux Institute opposite the church. Many a night spent there playing snooker or billiards infact when the place was demolished to make way for the new village hall my brother in law rescued the beautiful clock that stood in the institute for decades. He renovated it and you will be pleased to here it is still ticking on the wall in his front room in Lincolnshire.
I left for Sydney, Australia in 1974 and returned to visit in 1978. Of course a visit to the Bell was a must as it was the "local" and after standing in there for a few minutes the owner behind the bar (Reg Bell I think?) mentioned he hadn't seen me for a while, very observant I thought. I guess there are lots of stories in Minster but the overriding memory is one of a happy childhood, of freedom and just being a kid. I must say that my own two children that grew up in the northern suburb of Berowra in Sydney also shared that same childhood albeit somewhat different but nonetheless exploring the bush and all its adventures.