Love That Place!

A Memory of Rake Firs.

Born at Petersfield in 1940, my first home was Berry Cottage, down Sandy Lane, opposite Sibley's farm. Berry cottage had only 4 rooms (2 up and 2 down), no running water, only a well and later a tap down in the lane. I remember the Yew trees that grew in the garden on the bank above the lane, and the Budlia tree that grew up against the front of the house and attracted wonderfully coloured butterflys. And the air-raid shelter that was built into the bank between the 1st & 2nd garden terraces.

My first school was situated just past the Waingari (?) Fruit Farm . There were only 3 classes:Infants, Juniors & Seniors & our teacher was Mrs Weston. Her daughter used to send food parcels from Canada and Mrs W would number each item and we children would draw lots for them.

After a few years we moved to a house at the bottom of Bull Hill until in 1948 we left the district. But I returned to Rake to spend most school holidays with my grandparents. They owned Rake Garage, next to the Sun Inn, and lived in the first of 3 terraced houses just a bit further up the hill. Gran was a wonderful gardener. She lived in that house until she was well into her 90s.

Those holidays were the happiest times of my life - my cousins and I roamed the woods in the Coombe for hours each day. What a wonderous childhood. I can still see clearly the daffodils growing wild in the woods, the primroses and sweet smelling white and purple violets we'd pick from below the hedge row opposite the farm, and the magnificent carpets of bluebells that overwhelmed the senses with their beauty. We were wild children and enjoyed a freedom not possible for youngsters of today.

My grandfather, Bob Cresswell (Cressy, as he was known) was a great horseman and it was from him that I developed a lasting passion for horses. There used to be a thoroughbred mare called Mary pastured in a field behind the Flying Bull and we children would sit on the gate and commiserate with her because we felt sure she was lonely. Eventually she was taken down to the farm in the Coombe and pastured in a field at the very end of Sandy Lane. We still visited her and spent much time romancing about what we could do to'rescue' her. Such imaginations!

Sibley's Farm had been sold by then and the new owner objected to villagers using the footpath that ran through the field behind his farm buildings. He did a number of things to stop people using it, including putting a bull in there. It chased us one day and only the quick actions of a Land Army girl saved us from serious trouble.

The farm house has always fascinated me because of the weathered stone coat of arms set into the front wall of the building. I'd love to know why it has that coat of arms & wonder if perhaps it had once been a hunting lodge belonging to the manor estate situated just up past the school house on the way to Milland. That manor owned the woods that came right down behind the house we moved into at the bottom of Bull Hill so I think it's feasable that the farm house might have been part of the manor at some time in its past.

One very bad winter my mother crept out of the house in the dead of night, leaving me alone, and I got out of bed just in time to see her disappear into the woods up on the ridge behind the house. Many years later, when she was an old woman, I remembered that particular night and asked if she recalled the incident. Her memories were as clear as day - she said she'd been desperate because she'd run out of firewood and the cold was terrible, so she decided to steal some wood from the estate. The snow had been very deep but she managed to find a fairly secluded spot and commenced cutting down a tree. Suddenly she heard somebody coming and was terrified it was a game keeper so she tried to hide behind a drift. She was absolutely terrified she was going to be discovered and it was this terror that kept the memory fresh in her mind those many years later. Imagine her relief when she identified the figure battling through the snow as that of another villager also on a mission to steal firewood from the estate!

My other grandparents lived in Mint Road, Liss and I'd sometimes ride my bike from Rake to Liss to visit them. I used to love going up onto the moors with my favourite cousin ... long walks, silver sand, purple heather ... I can still smell the scent of those moors.

I came to Australia in 1959 and have never returned. For my last day in England, I hired a horse from a stable at Liphook, rode to Rake and visited all my favourite places down in the Coombe ... it was June and the woods were just glorious. Such memories. Rake was a truly beautiful place to spend one's childhood and I hope it still retains some of its magic.

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