The Old Thatch

The Square c1955
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Ah, The Old Thatch. I remember it well, for this is where I grew up from the early 1940s until 1956. By today's standards it was grim: no heating, no running water, no flush loo - nothing. Yet it was a wonderful place in which to grow up and I will never lose my love for that old cottage. I still visit Nether Wallop whenever I can.
Yes, that is indeed the Rev Hyne-Davy in the picture, as Eileen Wilmott says, but I have an idea that photo was taken by my father, who dabbled in a bit of village photography. I may be wrong: it may have been taken by Mr Hinwood.
How well I remember the Hinwoods at the Post Office and filling station opposite, and the smell of freshly-baked bread each morning. And from just down the road the not-so-pleasant memory of the squealing of the occasional pig being slaughtered at Vigors, the butchers. But that was how life was.
Immediately behind The Old Thatch was Hawkesworth's the grocers, then next to them was Boultons hardware and haberdashery etc, while right on the end was Miss Colgate's rather ramshackle fruit and veg shop. Doubt it would get past health and safety now, but we managed OK.
Another thing I'll always remember is old Jock the roadsweeper. Lovely old guy. Every Christmas morning, before dawn, he would go round the village playing carols on his trumpet. There was something so wondrous and haunting about that sound.
The Old Thatch is obviously now a very different house from how it was then - at least on the inside. Before we had mains water there was a hand-pump by the kitchen sink, and I remember now and again we used to get the odd worm or two pumped up. And when the river was high you could see the water very clearly between the floorboards in the living room. It never quite came over them, but it got very close. Moulands, the village builders, had to attend to things on more than one occasion. I remember the bedroom my parents slept in had the most incredible sloping floor - at least six inches from one end to the other - and the floorboards were from old ships, and very uneven.
My father was a frequent visitor to The Five Bells, where he would meet and drink with the likes of Bill Muspratt and Charlie Purdue - and invariably come home late for lunch, risking the wrath of my mother. That could be a tense situation...
I think the fondest memory I have of Nether Wallop is that of the actor James Roberston Justice's mother. She lived at what used to be Pyles Farm just up the hill past the Methodist Chapel, where my grandmother used to worship, and would always let me and a couple of friends have the run of her garden. She was having a lot of landscaping done at the time and we used to have a great time watching the bulldozers at work. It was there that I met a friend of hers, 'Chunky' Horne, who was a test pilot at Chilbolton for Supermarines. I was crazy about aircraft (still am), so it was very exciting to hear Chunky telling us about his flying on the prototypes of the Swift. Chunky was very handsome and drove an amazing Delage car with a long louvred bonnet. Every boy's idea of a hero.
The day before I started public school, and feeling very miserable, Mrs Justice gave me an iced chocolate sponge she made for me. That was September 1956, but to this day I can recall the taste and texure of that cake. She was a lovely lady.
Nether Wallop has changed so much - and yet so much remains the same. For me it will always be close to my heart. Halcyon days.