The Changes Over The Years.

A Memory of Netherthong.

My memories of the village are so precious that I wished it to be preserved intact with no alterations whatsoever, which of course was ridiculous. The main change is the size. When I was a child, in the '40's and 50's, the village was triangular, with the church at one end and the chapel at the other. A ten minute walk beyond the chapel led to the old workhouse, by then converted into a Geriatric hospital. Eventually that closed and the site was demolished by a developer who built a housing estate on the land, which of course already had water, gas and electricity. The next change was the building of Netherfields in fields owned by Kenyon Lockwood, who promptly escaped to Harrogate with the proceeds! Another development was the housing built from the start of Moorlane across the sloping field right down to the hospital road. Many of the incomers drove to their work so we suddenly had many cars rushing up and down Outlane. Obviously, with all those new families the school had to be enlarged, taking up most of what had been the playground. Now the children play in the field across the narrow lane linking Netherthong to Deanhouse Mill, which , of course no longer exists. In my days at the school there were just three classrooms, with the staffroom at one end and the boys lavatories in the top left corner of the playground. I got caned for going to inspect them, out of curiosity in case they differed in design from the girls' ones which were round the back of the school. It never occurred to me that my little adventure was visible to the staff ! Mr Webb, the headmaster, caned me in front of the whole school for being very rude! Another change is the difference the advent of Social Services made to the way in which the villagers looked after its odd bods. In the first cottage of three next to the War Memorial lived a lady whose name I have forgotten. She always looked dirty and used to wander around in a greasy old gaberdine with a beret on her filthy hair. Several times a week there was a dreadful smell from her chimney and we were told that she used to do her 'business' in a bucket and then throw it on the fire. Her water supply was cut off for non payment of bills; so she used to go to the church graveyard and fill two buckets at a time from the tap by the church which was there for people to water the flowers on graves. Everyone in the village accepted her eccentricities until social services interfered and sent her to Storthes Hall (a mental hospital). We never saw her again. I suppose what I miss most is the family atmosphere that pervaded Netherthong. If one was naughty, anybody could smack a bottom. I should think mine was the most smacked, together with that of my friend Glyn. In that sense we were definitely a community, popping in and out of each other's houses, a habit I never grew out of. It took me a long time living in the south East to realize that communal living is not the norm!