You are here: Home > Explore your past > England > Cornwall > Downderry > Photographs > From The Sands 1930
Downderry, from the Sands 1930
Downderry, from the Sands 1930 Ref: 83310
Memories of Downderry, from the Sands
Be the first to add a memory of Downderry, from the Sands
Downderry & local memories
Read and share memories of Downderry and Cornwall inspired by Frith photos
|
Year: 1951
Hessenford
I have just read the memory of the fishing trips and the use of the jeep to tow the fishing boat down the beach to launch it into the sea at Downderry. I also remember that jeep as if it were yesterday. My Grandmother, Marjorie Buckley, was the Headmistress of Hessenford School in the 40's and 50's (maybe into the 60's before she finally retired) and I spent alot of my youth living with her and on family holidays in Hessenford. I spent 9 months with my Grandparents towards the end of the war, as my home town, Redditch, had been badly bombed by the Germans. My Grandather died, I think in 1947, and is buried in the graveyard at the Hessenford Parish Church, St. Annes. in 1953 most of the summer term and summer holidays were spent there, taking part in the festivities organised for the Coronation and celebration of the conquest of Everest. (Sir Edmund Hillary's death, ironically, was announced only 2 or 3 days ago). The Coronation events were held in the school playgoung and also in one of teh fields belonging to Farmer Lane. One of my jobs, when spending protracted periods there, was to go by bus to Downderry to change the accumulator batteries used to power the radio. From what I recall of the radio shop, it was on the main road through Downderry, somewhere near to the path that led down to the beach, but on the opposite side of the road. It was not unusual for my brother and I to walk along the beach from Seaton to Downderry, if the tide allowed, having already walked down the valley from Hessenford to Seaton. Many happy hours were spent swimming in the river, just upstream of the mill race. The village pump, sited in the lane leading up the side of the Copley Arms towards the Church, was still in use at this time. That was another duty we had, to fetch containers of water. I spent my honeymoon in Hessenford, at a guest house owned by Mary Sandys, in 1963 and met her in a chance meeting nearly 40 years later during a one hour visit to the village. She told me that she was the last remaining native resident living in the village of all those that were there in the 40's, 50's and 60's. The family names that I recall from that time were, Sandys, Stephens, Jeffries, (farmers from up the Old Valley) Kitt, Lane (the farmer), Alford (also farmers), Pote (or is it Poat?), Gwillam, Painter. What has happened to all of these people? Dave Styler. 14 January 2008. Last edited: 14/01/2008 01:24 by David Styler |
|
 Add your Memory
 Add a comment  Add to your Album
|
|
Year: 1955
Fishing With Billy
Billy was a hero to we boys. In the daytime you could go crabbing with him; at night, out drifting. He drove an old open jeep and at times you would see five, six or even seven boys clinging to parts of this ex-US vehicle as it bounced its way up the slipway, or tore through the Cornish lanes on the way to Looe, where he kept his bigger boat, the "Ella". A shake, or an alarm clock at 5.00am. Pull on my boots and a thick woollen jumper. It would be pitch dark, nothing stirred in the village. As I made my way the five hundred yards to the centre of the village, my heart would be in my mouth; every shadow a threat, every noise a danger. Then, through the night, the clumping of heavy sea boots: "That you D'Arcy?", the comforting sound of Billy. As we launched the boat, using his jeep and a clever device that lifted and lowered his open boat into the water , off the beach, the sea spray would sometimes dribble down my neck and a cold, pre-dawn wind, cut beneath the several layers of clothes to make me shiver. But we would never let Billy know we were suffering: he might not invite us again. As the little engine chugged us clear, through the rocks, dawn would be slowly lighting the eastern sky. Billy would be standing in the stern, tiller between his legs, the yellow of his oil skins, reflecting the slightest glimmer of light. Four or five hours later, loaded with crabs and an occasional lobster, we would surf up the beach to be met by boys who hadn't done that dark, pre-dawn walk and, perhaps, some curious holidaymakers. The boat would be pulled up the beach by the jeep and then we would all jump in, scrabbling to get a hand hold on the cold green, rusty metal as it swayed its way up the slip, round the corner, down past Jean Thom's shop, the boys hooting and hollering with glee and Billy shouting orders to "hang on". If we were lucky, he would take us to Looe. If not, we would buy a bottle of Corona, perhaps, and make our way down to the beach, sit by the boats and listen to the old men telling sea stories. What a wonderful childhood it was! Posted: 25/03/2007 22:29 by D'arcy Blank |
|
|
Add your Memory
Add a comment Add to your Album
|
|
Year: 1958
Farming At Hessenford A memory of Hessenford, Cornwall I moved to Hessenford in about 1958 when my father took on the tenancy of St Anne's Farm. The farm was situated up past the church on the lane that led from Hessenford to Bake. Previously we had lived at West Trenean Farm, near Widegates but, for some reason my father, Dick, and his brother Jack, had decided to take on a second farm so we moved. We often had to move sheep and bullocks from one farm to another and we did this by driving them along the 3 miles or so between the farms. There was very little traffic in those days. The biggest change for me was moving schools, always a traumatic time for a young child. Hessenford Primary School boasted just one teacher, Miss Cook, and one classroom in which sat all children from 5 to 11. It must have been a formidable task having to teach such a wide age range. The school had outside toilets and no cooking facilities at all. Instead, lunch was brought daily in insulated containers by the schools meals service. I can't say we ever felt deprived because we knew noting else. In winter the only source of heating was an old fashioned coke fired stove that sat in the classroom. I remember that, when the bottles of milk froze, we used to stand them around the stove to thaw out. There was, what seemed to me, to be a huge playground which backed onto the Seaton river which ran through the village. I used to pass a lot of my time at the local mill, which, in those days, was used as a store for animal feeds and run by a company called Bibby. The manager, and only employee, was Percy Rowe and I would go there and help out, as I thought. The mill still had the old water wheel along side and this was used to power a hoist which raised bags through a series of trapdoors to the top of the mill. At the age of 9 I was exposed to all sorts of dangers from machinery but, in those days, long before the health and safety police came along, we took such things as being normal. I rarely got killed while playing in and around the mill. The building is now a private house. Among the names I remember were the Painters, who lived just below the church, and a formidable lady called Mrs Littleton. Mrs Pote and her son, who drove a bus for Western National. lived behind the pub which was called the Copley Arms. The biggest house in the village was owned by Mr Tannock who also owned many of the surrounding farms. Just along from him George Hancock, who kept bees. The Lane's farmed at Hessenford farm while the Babbages ran the local taxi service. When Hessenford school closed down in about 1960 we had to travel by taxi to a new primary school at Downderry. The Hollands used to live in a small cottage on the lane between Hessenford and Trebrownbridge. They had two daughters, Shirley and Trenet. The house had no electricity and, when the girls called at our farm, they used to love turning the light switches on and off. We did not have a phone the whole time we lived in Hessenford and we did not leave until 1965. In later years Hessenford became a place where incomers bought houses and I doubt whether there are many, if any, names left from the time I lived in the village. Posted: 17/11/2008 20:20 by Nick Serpell |
|
|
Add your Memory
Add a comment Add to your Album
|
|
Year: 1944
Hessenford A memory of Hessenford, Cornwall I was so pleased to come across a site talking about 'my' family village of Hessenford. I was also evacauated to Hessenford with my mum and spent my 1st birthday there. This was the first of many August holidays with my Great Aunt Dorah and Great Uncle Dick (known as Farmer & Mrs Nicholls but who's surname was actually Nicholas) who were the tenant farmers of Hessenford Farm. The white porch of the farmhouse is shown on the 1st Hessenford postcard and Uncle Dick is the small figure leaning on a wall, talking I think to Mr or Mrs Pierce. Our visits to Hessenford were made in a friends car, my Dad in those days only had a van as he was a painter & decorator, and we were always greeted by Albert Morrish, sythe in hand as he cleared the hedgerow just outside the village.- he always knew when we would be arriving and was on look-out. As the school holidays didn't quite line up with Kent school holidays I always spent my first couple of days at the village school with my friends from the village. I remember Jenny Jones, Shirley Alford her cousin Jenny Alford & Margaret Cloake who I am still in contact with. I also remember a some of the boys - Dick Alford and Roger & George Alford. We rarely went anywhere during the 2 week holiday except to see more relations in Plymouth and to Liskard market on Tuesdays as my dad, Les, together with our friend Arthur Baldwin, just liked helping out on the farm. My mum Dora Noakes was the niece of Dorah Nicholls and had been coming to Hessenford to visit her Grandparents who were farmers at South Bake (or it may have been Bake) Farm for many years but I only knew my great grandmother as a formidable old lady in her nineties, always dressed in black, who thought me a 'dear little boy' - my name by the way is Judy. Great grandfather as well as being a farmer had also been the village tooth-puller and I still have the two torturous looking tooth pulling tools. Childhood was spent roaming the farms woods and lanes around Hessenford, so much freedom in those days made for very happy days. I remember that the porch of the farmhouse was filled with jugs and metal cans of milk each morning and which were collected by the village folk during the day. Mum and I were allowed to go and get the cows in each morning - apparently I showed no fear and even walked underneath them much to the horror of all. A tray of pasties were delivered once a week I think from Callington and these were also collected during the day. Sunday was Chapel for us. Uncle was the Sunday School Superintendant. Mum gave Bessie Huntley a rest sometimes by playing the organ and 'singing out of tune' - she didn't really but she always sung alto so it came as a bit of a shock to the rest of the congregation. Sunday school meant that mum and I always taught any new 'action songs' which we had learnt back at our own church in Gillinghan in Kent - Jesus wants me for a sunbeam etc. Mary Sandy Mrs Sandy Albert & Annie Morrish Bessie Bunny are also names I remember from the village and I think they were all chapel folk. Also I remember that we went I think to Granny Alfords after sunday school for hot roasted potatoes. There was also the church folk, among them Uncle Dick's sisters Mrs Elsie Kitt and Joyce ( I can't remember her surname) Uncle Ern and his son George lived at the top of the village and of course I remember Mrs Pote, who lived in the house adjoining Hessenford Farm and her son Gerald The Peters family, the Painters and the Moons.The Copley Arms was run by Mr Lightfoot who was, I believe, being in his 90's the oldest Landlord in England. Unfortunatly, being strict Methodist we weren't allowed to go in the pub. In actual fact even after I was married my husband and I can remember going out in the pitch dark at 9 0'clock in the evening, and instead of admitting that we were going to the pub to Uncle Dick, we said we were going 'for a walk'. The Chapel and the Church were always the heart of the village with social events harvest festivals with their auction of fruit and veg etc. I can remember a quarter of a pound packet of tea being sold for a very high amount to raise Chapel funds. Then there were the Sankey evenings and the monologue evenings. My Auntie Dorah used to read Jan Stewer stories -' When the parlour was papered'. 'When electricity came to the village' etc. but she used to change the names in the book to real people in the village. I still have three of these books which are written in the Cornish dialect,with the pencil changes made by Auntie in the margins. I was in my late teens when my darling Auntie Dorah died, by that time they had retired and moved from the farmhouse to Bickham Cottage which is situated at the top of Bickham Farm's yard behind the Mill. Uncle Dick & Dave Cloake had so many yarns to tell each other, they were never at a loss for words. We still came, of course each year to visit Uncle Dick, but those early years with both of them were years filled with such laughter. I hope to visit again soon, but unfortunatly my husband Malcolm died a few weeks ago so there won't be so many visits as were hoped for, but thankfully I have the memories. I don't know if anyone will read this but I must say I have enjoyed remembering so many people and events. Posted: 19/08/2008 21:57 by Judy Sharp |
|
|
Add your Memory
Add a comment Add to your Album
|
|
Year: 1953
Hessenford, The Village A memory of Hessenford, Cornwall I have just read the memory of the fishing trips and the use of the jeep to tow the fishing boat down the beach to launch it into the sea at Downderry. I also remember that jeep as if it were yesterday. My Grandmother, Marjorie Buckley, was the Headmistress of Hessenford School in the 40's and 50's (maybe into the 60's before she finally retired) and I spent alot of my youth living with her and on family holidays in Hessenford. I spent 9 months with my Grandparents towards the end of the war, as my home town, Redditch, had been badly bombed by the Germans. My Grandather died, I think in 1947, and is buried in the graveyard at the Hessenford Parish Church, St. Annes. in 1953 most of the summer term and summer holidays were spent there, taking part in the festivities organised for the Coronation and celebration of the conquest of Everest. (Sir Edmund Hillary's death, ironically, was announced only 2 or 3 days ago). The Coronation events were held in the school playgoung and also in one of teh fields belonging to Farmer Lane. One of my jobs, when spending protracted periods there, was to go by bus to Downderry to change the accumulator batteries used to power the radio. From what I recall of the radio shop, it was on the main road through Downderry, somewhere near to the path that led down to the beach, but on the opposite side of the road. It was not unusual for my brother and I to walk along the beach from Seaton to Downderry, if the tide allowed, having already walked down the valley from Hessenford to Seaton. Many happy hours were spent swimming in the river, just upstream of the mill race. The village pump, sited in the lane leading up the side of the Copley Arms towards the Church, was still in use at this time. That was another duty we had, to fetch containers of water. I spent my honeymoon in Hessenford, at a guest house owned by Mary Sandys, in 1963 and met her in a chance meeting nearly 40 years later during a one hour visit to the village. She told me that she was the last remaining native resident living in the village of all those that were there in the 40's, 50's and 60's. The family names that I recall from that time were, Sandys, Stephens, Jeffries, (farmers from up the Old Valley) Kitt, Lane (the farmer), Alford (also farmers), Pote (or is it Poat?), Gwillam, Painter. What has happened to all of these people? Dave Styler. 14 January 2008. Posted: 14/01/2008 18:44 by David Styler |
|
|
Add your Memory
Add a comment Add to your Album
|