Memories of Motspur Park

How lucky I am

I moved to Motpur Park when I was 4 years old, living opposite Beverley Brook in West Barnes Lane. This was 1951. I have absolutely great memories: friends calling on your door asking your parents "Can Keith come out to play?". Think about it, a sandpit at Robin Hood Park was all that was on offer for the kids. Yeah Red School, cane across the fingers. White School, cane across your bum and with venom. We were not all perfect kids. Yup, I had two brothers and luckily enough all three of us got into enough mischief that Mum and Dad had a dream of a better place to live out their lives. Us bro's now live in New Zealand and Australia. My family left England in 1964 and we are so lucky.

The Real Winters of the 1940s

I recall, with the occasional shudder, the freezing cold winters of the 1940s. I spent Saturday evenings earning a couple of shillings (that's 10p to you youngsters!!) working from 4.30pm to 6.00pm selling newspapers in the centre part of the crossover bridge at Motspur Park railway station. I worked for Berny Bromhead, who had a newspaper kiosk that was situated in the wide pedestrian walkway that led from Claremont Avenue, through to the railway station and the bridge. I wasn't allowed to leave my 'pitch' for the duration of 4.30pm - 6.00pm. If I was getting short of papers, I would shout down to the kiosk and Berny, with his obligatory piece of chewing gum being chewed at a rather sedate pace, accompanied by the largest 'dew drop' you have ever seen hanging from the end of his nose, would bound up the bridge stairway, sniffling and puffing, at a pace that would put some youngsters to shame. Berny at this time was, I think, in his late thirties or early forties and I believe also suffered with flat feet, which made his galloping up the railway bridge even more spectacular. When asked why he ran up the stairs so quickly, his reply was that he didn't want me to run out of papers, as this would make a difference to his profits at the end of the day. After completing my Monday to Friday evening paper round, to enable me to earn a bit more pocket money, Berny asked me if I would 'man' his small kiosk at the front of the Odeon cinema at Shannon's Corner, again selling newspapers.
There used to be three papers on the stall, namely The Evening News, The Star and The Evening Standard. If takings were not to Berny's liking, he would give me a lesson in salesmanship by attending (very briefly) the stall that I manned, stand at the front of the cinema canopy where the stall was situated and bawl, at the top of his lungs: 'NEWS, STAR, STANDARD, CLASSIFIED RESULTS, EVERY ONE A WINNER'. After a couple of Saturdays I had had enough of that particular job, one of the reasons being that on the first Saturday I tried to sell a newspaper to my school headmaster, who just happened to be going to the cinema that evening with his wife (I think it was his wife!!) and who started to ask embarrassing questions regarding my ability to give people the right change, due to my being (in his opinion) a complete flop at school maths!! The second Saturday was the decider. The Shannon Corner Odeon cinema was situated on a major crossroads. One road was Burlington Road, the other was the main A3. Although there wasn't much traffic (including the once-every-quarter-of-an-hour trolley bus going to either Wimbledon Town hall, or in the other direction, to Kingston or Hampton Court), in those long-lost halcyon days of yesteryear the wind, rain and snow would drive under the canopy with a real vengeance, causing a tremendous draught, and one of the obstacles in its way was ME. After being frozen to the bone a couple of times, it was time to say good bye to the lovely old Odeon, my newspaper stand and, of course, another two shillings (10p). I still kept my paper rounds and worked for Berny untill 1950.
I often wonder if Berny (and his assistant) ever made it to the big time and left that kiosk in the pedestrian walkway and did they ever get a PROPER shop? If anybody out there knows the answer, please, let me know. Many thanks.
Neil MacGregor
                                      
                                            

    

Life in Seaforth Avenue

As a youngster I, along with two other brothers, attended the RED school in West Barnes Lane (infants and juniors) and when old enough, I moved over the sports field to the White School (seniors). My brothers moved on to the Beverley School in Blakes Lane, Motspur Park. During the mid 1940s, it was the job of us boys, on a Saturday morning, to take Mum's pram around to Champion's the timber merchants' rear entrance (that was quite near the back of the 'What Oh' transport cafe), get permission from the saw mill foreman to salvage all the off cuts of planks etc and we would then load Mum's pram to overflowing, even jamming pieces of wood down the sides to enable the pram to carry twice it's capacity. When we eventually got home, after pushing the pram and contents along Burlington Road, past Bradbury Wilkinson's printing factory, we would turn right, over the level crossing and then right again into Seaforth Avenue. When we got home, all the bits of wood were stacked away in Dad's lean-to shed, ready for chopping up for the indoors fire. When the pram was emptied, off we would go again, this time to Francis the coal merchant at the bottom of the New Malden High Street (just by the railway bridge).
At times, on the way home, with two one-hundred-weight bags of coal in the pram and being a mighty bit hungry, as we passed the hardware store just up the High Street from Francis's (the name eludes me), we would grab a dog biscuit from the top of the open sacks that were on display at the front of the shop, break it up into edible sizes then eat it on the way home!! Sometimes we were unlucky enough to grab one that was made out of a charcoal substance and it tasted awful, but we still ate it!!  .Perhaps that was our penance for stealing. My family moved away from Seaforth Avenue in 1953 after having been there since 1939. I am now married and live in Chelmsford, Essex and have done so since leaving the Merchant Navy in 1962. I often relate stories to my grandchildren of when I was a 'war baby' and what I got up to when I was younger, but at times I think they find it hard to believe what my brothers and I had to do to assist in the daily life of a family during the dark days of World War Two. Worrying days for Mum and Dad, but wonderful, happy days for us kids!!   

Home - always will be

I grew up in Motspur Park, living in Claremont Avenue from 1958 - 1980 where my mother still lives.

The swing gate railway crossing which we used to hang onto while the signal man wound them open and closed (the record for the fastest gate opening was recorded here). Sam, the Caribbean Station master who seemed to be there forever.

The railway bridge that as a child scared me as the gaps between each step seemed so big. On the south side, the flower seller Mr Mathews (1960s).
On the north side two small kiosks, one a cobblers and the second a travel agent (a new concept for the era). Where the library is now  was open ground where we picked blackberries. Further on where the office building is now, the old mansion house and woods that we were  told were haunted. It kept us out of the orchard!

The alleyway at the rear of the shops where we would put our hand through the fence and grab a Corona bottle then take it to the Off Licence at the front and retrieve 3d (enough for a day's sweets)

Pink's the butchers where we would buy sausages then go to the cow fields next to the cemetery, make a camp and cook them on our fire.

Motspur fruiterers where I had my first Saturday job at the age of 14. Coombes the bakers, the Bookies (the owner's name still tickles me) Ivor John Thomas. Romaines the chip shop who also sold wet fish at the front.
Broomheads newsagents where I had my first paper round. Wayletts newsagent where I had my second paper round. 22nd Wimbledon cubs in Arthur Road. The Earl Beatty where I had my first beer (it had five bars in those days)

Motspur Park as a child had everything, it still evokes memories each time I return to my mother's. Unfortunately the village and shops are no longer what it was, but even though I moved away in 1980, it will always be home.

growing up in motspur park

I lived in Motspur Park from 1968 till 1989, everyone I knew friendly place,the local pub was clean and friendly, used to go courting there with my late husband.
Been back a few times and have noticed a dramatic decline - the row of shops down Seaforth Ave have become dirty and an eyesore. The traffic calming measures down West Barnes Lane on the whole good measure look out of place. The corner shop on Adela Ave where as a child I use to buy penny sweets with my grandma sadly gone and replaced as a residence. When I was a child growing up Motspur Park was clean, tidy, a generally nice place to live. Don't get me wrong but since I left I would not live there or bring my children up there and that is a shame, as if it got cleaned up I'm sure it would be.
But I carry my very fond memories of that place with me, as I moved with my children round England but am now settled in Derby.
I often wonder though what happened to all the people I grew up with Victor Saul, Claire Ingram, Penny Geal, Barry Ivens,Theresa Richards, Caroline Watts etc would love to find out how they have got on in the years since I last saw them, and whether their children go to the same school as we attended, Bushey Primary and Bushey Middle before we went our separate ways at senior level.

The Beatty and Us.

Like alot of young Kiwis, my wife and I started our OE (Overseas experience) in 1986, and in January 1987 found ourselves in Motspur Park as a result of applying and getting bar jobs at the Earl Beatty pub. Graeme and Marie were the Governers, Jeff and Vicky were another Kiwi couple already working there at the time. It was an interesting time for us. At the time, the Duke of Cambridge in nearby New Malden was closed for renovations, with most of their regulars now drinking at the Beatty. They were an interesting bunch to say the least, with some rather dubious backgrounds. However, Freddy the bear, and others were friendly, and protective of us, especially when a number of younger guys tried to cause trouble. Free dumplings were often dished out as sign of appreciation, at their suggestion.
Time has dulled the memory of the names of many of the local regulars, however some good friendships were forged. Carol Keating owned the woolshop over the road, and together with her Australian Husband Brian, many a good night was had. The friendship is still intact, Carol now lives in Melbourne, Brian sadly passed away a few years ago. My wife and I had a falling out with Graeme and Marie, so we quit, and ended up living with Brain and Carol for several months. Young Richard Hare was a young guy we also got friendly with, he worked at a perspex factory somewhere, and was a medic in the TA's. We also stayed in touch for a number of years after returning to NZ. Richard married Tina, changed his Sir name to Leppard, was a Paramedic in the London Ambulance service for while, and last we heard, had his own Medical Training company. Sadly, we have lost contact with Richard and Tina.
Our stay at the Beatty was relatively short. We lived and worked there for approx 4 months before our departure. We were barred from the pub after leaving, but after we returned to Motspur Park after a few months away in Europe, there was new management in place, and we became locals. It was great drinking and socialising with locals who we has served a few months earlier.
Our memories of Motspur Park itself mostly revolve around the Beatty, the chip shop, convenience store and small supermarket over road, and of course Carols wool shop. The differences between NZ and UK english were often found, I remember asking for some lollies (sweets) at the store, and found myself being pointed to the icecream on sticks instead. The local fish and chips were great, and a fare amount of time was spent at the local curry house also.
Banking was interesting experience. We opened an account at the local Abby National Building society (I think thats what it was called). The level of service and customer focus was appalling compared to NZ's banks.
I remember one night when we were staying with Brian and Carol, sleeping on the lounge floor, as we did, there was a major storm. We werent aware of it till the next mornin when we looked out the windows and saw the level crossing barriers going up and down, and various bits of debri being blown down the street. I think we stayed home that day.
On our days off while working at the Beatty, we would catch a train into London to do tourist things. Had a great time, but a dominant memory is the inefiency of the train service, almost any extreme of weather, hot or cold, would result in the tracks being closed, and we often would find ourselves sitting on a stationary train, in the middle of the tracks, going no where.
We also stayed with a guy whose name alludes me, who had a German girlfiend, who lived in Seaforth Ave. We were staying there during the 1st Rugby world cup, and got up at 2 in the morning to Cheer on the mighty All Blacks to win the final over France.
Joanne and I would love to come back to Motspur Park one day to relive the memories, and maybe have a drink at the Beatty. However from reading the reviews on website dedicated to English pubs, it sounds like it has gone down hill considerably since 1987, to the point where it sounds downright unpleasant and rough. Who knows when we'll get back, kids, careers and mortages make Motspur Park a very long way away, but it will always be close to our hearts. Anyone remembering us, please drop us a line. Go the All Blacks.