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Ingham, St Paul's Church 1921
Ingham, St Paul's Church 1921 Ref: 69939
Memories of Ingham, St Paul's Church
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Year: 1949
Royal Air Force A memory of Huntworth, Somerset Basic training days over, my first posting "Scampton" with 230 OCU. I remember having fire duty sitting beside the control tower as fighter pilots converted to bomber, the exercise being circuits and bumps with the Lincoln bomber, some of the bumps were were heavy, good job the aircraft was well built. I am proud to have served, it was a wonderful experience. Posted: 23/07/2008 00:09 by James Clifton |
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Year: 1955
Life on the Farm at Kettlethorpe A memory of Huntworth, Somerset We moved to Park Farm Kettlethorpe when I was 7. The family at this time was reduced to Mum and Dad, Eileen, Brian, Maureen and Gillian. At first we lived in a semi detatched house at the top of the lane leading down to the Farm. Neighbours were Mr and Mrs Button with daughters Glenys and Susan and Mr and Mrs Sherbourne. Dad was promoted to Farm Forman so we moved down the the main farm house. This had a small kitchen added on to the main house. In it was a copper over a brick fireplace for washing. Mum had a mangle with large wooden rollers. The washing was washed in the boiling water and had to be lifted out with a large stick and put through the mangle to get the water out and then rinsed and then through the mange again. We had to help with turning the mangle. The clothes were then carried outside the garden and hung on a long clothes line strung between four posts. Clothes props were used to keep the line up to dry it faster. Sheets would be put through the mange again to straighten them before putting away. The hot water from the copper had to be emptied by a bucket and the mangle had to be dried and the rollers loosened and then stored with a cloth between to let them dry. The mangle was then folded down and would become a table top. We used to get the milk from the three cows that were for milking and each morning and night the milk had to be put through the seperator to extract the cream. Once a week the cream was put into a butter churn. This was a wooden barrel on a stand and it had to be turned by the handle on the side. You knew the cream had turned to butter when you heard a liquid swishing around. Mum would then weigh it into one pound lots and it would be patted into an oblong shape with wooden butter patts. We used to watch everything that happened on the farm. The milking, the shearing of sheep by hand clippers, killing of the pigs. Well not the actual killing but we were allowed to watch it being cut up by the butcher. It was first put into a large wooden tub of hot water and the hair scrapped off. Then was cut up and we had to carry the bits into the house for Mum to deal with. Washing out the intestines for sausage skins was never a favourite job. We would help with making the sausage and would help deliver the Pigs Fry. This was a plate with a bit of each part, i.e. liver, meat, sausage ect which was traditionally given to each farm worker. The plate had to be returned unwashed, not sure why but that was how it was. The cows were kept in Crewyards in the winter. Each week a new layer of straw was added to the floor so by the end of winter it was about six feet thick. This was then taken out and put into a 'Muck Heap' to be later spread over the land. Dad always used to have some to plant his potatoes on. Nothing better for vegetables. I can remember growing the following in the Park Farm Garden: Potatoes, brussel sprouts, cabbage, cauliflower, beans runner and broad, strawberries, rasberries, gooseberries, blackcurrants, onions, carrots and beetroot. We had our first telephone, number Saxilby 272. It was a black one. The living room had a large black fire place with oven. We used to toast bread using a toasting fork...it would catch fire sometimes.. The fire had to be lit each day. Using newspaper, sticks and coal. This would also heat the water. Bath night was Friday night. The three girls slept in one room and Brians room was a small one off the larger one. Eileen was by this time going out some nights. One night when she came to bed she saw what she thought was a rat running across the floor. She screamed, everyone woke up, dad searched for the rat. Brian was asleep with a smile on his face...and we later learned a Davy Crocket hat under the covers which had some string tied on it....the rat was found.... He also scared Maureen and myself with a rat story. We were playing on top of a haystack having just climbed up a ladder he told us he had seen the biggest rat in the straw. Of course we didnt believe him but right on cue our tomcat put its head out of the straw covering the stack and we couldn't get down the ladder fast enough to the peals of laughter coming from our dear brother. One thing we used to love to do was kill the mice at threashing time. Threasing was the time for the stacks to be dismantled and the straw put through the threashing machine to extract the grain. As the sheaves were lifted mice would run out and it was our job to kill them with sticks. We would put the bodies in bags in our pockets to give to the cats. We would spend time bird nesting or fishing with a stick string and bent pin and works for bait. If we used a net we would catch sticklebacks from the streams and would but they always died. I once kept a baby mouse in a small pot on my dressing table until it died...don't think mum every found it or it would have been gone. We had to walk up the lane to catch the bus to school in Newton on Trent and had to do it wether raining, snowing or cold. Last bus from Lincoln was 7.00pm except for Wednesday night and Saturday night 9.00pm. Tough life but I still consider the best way to grow up: Lots of fun and freedom but also responsibilities. Last edited: 08/09/2008 11:08 by Gillian Emerton |
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Year: 1957
Growing Up A memory of Huntworth, Somerset My father was employed as the farm foreman at Park Farm, Kettlethorpe for several years up until his death in 1960. We lived in the farmhouse down a lane about half a mile from the A57 main road. I went to school at Saxilby, my younger sisters to Newton on Trent. I must have been about 12 years old when we moved there and left at 18 when we had to leave our tied cottage on Dad's death and we moved to Fenton. Life was good on the farm for a growing lad, I had a dog and an air rifle and spent many hours "ratting" at night around the barns and stackyard. I had my cycle and used to roam for miles and frequent Newton on Trent and Kettlethorpe village. Kettlethorpe church featured quite strongly in my family's life, my older sisters were married from there, my Dad's funeral was conducted there and eventually I was married there too. This in the spring of 1963 because my future wife Nora had been to stay at our house at Fenton over the weekend and was unable to return home. Her father had a small farm down Sykes Lane at Saxilby and during the weekend it snowed so hard the lane was blocked for several weeks. So the arrangements were quickly altered and Kettlethorpe church it was. Mr. Woodford being the vicar, a man I had great respect for, a statement that may suprise some who knew me at that time, but very true. My mother used to act sometimes as cook and bottle washer for the owners of Kettlethorpe Hall, Judge Daly Lewis, another really nice gentleman. I remember the names of some of the people who lived in and around Kettlethorpe at that period, I am a little suprised that no one has so far written anything about the village and life there. I wonder if anyone remembers me. Brian Williamson. Last edited: 11/08/2008 15:16 by Brian Williamson |
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Year: 1971
The Green Dragon Inn A memory of Lincoln, Lincolnshire Memories of my husband and I as managers of The Dragon in the early70s, our staff were Mary Lambert, Val Lovely (I think she has changed her name)and Pam Verges, and the lovely football players from Lincoln City, especially the Percy Freeman one, if you're all still out there I would love to hear from any old customers and friends. Ann Browning Last edited: 21/05/2008 09:21 by Ann Browning |
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Year: 1958
Sleeping inside Lincoln Castle A memory of Lincoln, Lincolnshire My Grandfather, Harry Westwood, was custodian at the Castle for many years, retiring in 1966. He passed the position to his son Tom Westwood, my uncle. Tom retired in 1986. As a child I would sleep inside the castle gatehouse at weekends, but since Tom Westwood retired in 1986, I believe that the castle is now managed by Lincolnshire County Council without having a resident custodian living on ther premises. Tony Hill ( Ex: Sincil Bank secondary school) Last edited: 18/04/2008 09:29 by Anthony Hill |
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