Nans Shop At New Mill Bridge

A Memory of Shelsley Walsh.

The shop that was operated by my grandmother at New Mill Bridge was home to me and my family during the Second World War. It was a haven where the madness of the war seemed to be so very remote and in a way, inconsequential, particularly to us children. The warm glow of Birmingham burning could be seen in the night sky from time to time when they were being bombed, but that was 30 miles away and so remote it was almost another country. For us, deep in the country, the war was something happening somewhere else. The only time it intruded upon country life was when we woke up one morning to find the house and a large area around the valley covered with strips of silver paper. We wondered where it all came from as we gleefully wandered around picking up armfuls of it. It was only much later we learned that it was called "Window" and was dropped from aircraft in order to confuse Radar. We never knew who had dropped it, was it one of our aircraft testing its efficiency or was it from an Axis aircraft on its way to bomb one of our cities? The fact that there was a 'Blockhouse' attached to Nan's shop didn't register as anything to do with any war. Neither did the fact that the sign post at the 'T" junction had all the direction signs removed [they were not replaced until at least 2 years or more after the war ended]. We never went into is as it was pitch black inside and felt 'spooky'. We never saw it in use at all, even when our beautiful valley was used for a large scale military 'manoeuvre'.
This exercise meant that New Mill Bridge had, in theory at least, to be blown up. This was done by officers and NCO's throwing large 'crackers' onto the bridge. Even we civilians were not allowed to cross the bridge proper until the Army had left. Very quickly the army threw a 'Bailey' bridge across the river and soon troops and bren gun carriers were racing across, as well as the civilian population of the valley. But then they were checked and their 'Identity cards' had to be produced. For a few days everyone was in absolute chaos. Part of the bottom of our garden was commandeered and a machine gun post set up to guard the bridge.
Within a few days it was all over and life returned to its normal tranquil pace.The seasons came around just as before and there were Harvest Festivals to attend but prior to this we had the fruit pickers coming into the valley, mostly women and children then as the men were off in the forces 'doing their bit' as Nan used to say. There were the hop pickers too. Most of these people were from the Birmingham area and were billeted in sheds on the farms around the valley. Naturally they had to be fed and watered so we would have Stallards the bakers in Worcester bringing hundreds of loaves of bread every couple of days. The queue outside the shop sometimes stretched as far down the road as the bridge as orders were filled, coupons calculated checked and snipped from the ration books and money changed hands. Strict control over food was the orfer of the day and no one, not even us at the shop, were able to obtain more than was their due. I remember Mr Kite the local policemen being called in by Nan when she found that someone had stolen some coupons while her back was turned. The thief was eventually found but I have no idea what happened to him.

---

---