Serota House, Hutton Poplar

A Memory of Shenfield.

I remember being in a large austere Victorian mansion across the field from Serota, that was a modern building. Windermere had a large winding staircase and in the playroom there was a rocking horse. I remember playing in the garden where there was an old car, and when they were smashing down the old buildings we were surrounded by bricks. Anyway, once my mother died in 1969 I was there for a very long time, in Serota House. I remember Paul and Sheila Williams, Rosemary, and there were three brothers; David, Michael and Devon Palmer. We had to play out everyday and we were just on the edge of woodland that would be smothered with bluebells. Across the way was a beautiful swing park with a maypole surrounded by rose bushes. I went to Bishops Hill and used to roll down the hill and across the road that was surrounded by tall poplars. There were lots of cherry trees and oak trees. Our guardian at the time changed and before the change I remember Aunty Pat, Uncle bill and a German lady called Ingrid, I think. I remember the wash room for clothes next door to the kitchen and the rules of having to wash dishes and sweep the floors after dinner. At the dinner table we were made to keep our hands on the edge of the table after we had finished eating. The kitchen entry was the main entrance to the house that led into a large hallway. To the left of the hallway was the dining room and living room with a little black and white tv in the back of the room. There was a hatch to the left where we would have to push the plates through after eating. At bedtime the rule was to go to the toilet first before going up to the rooms to get ready for bath. Bedtime was at 6-7pm. The girls quarter was to the right and the boys to the left with the bathroom situated to the middle. Everyday we had to go out to play unless it rained. I used to love it when it rained cos I hated the cold and I could stay in and draw and paint and play games. I remember at dinner times the guardians would announce somebody going home or being adopted. My heart would beat to here my name being called. I spent a lot of time screaming and crying for my mother, cos at this time I had no idea where she was so would find myself looking for her whenever we went out. I remember constantly walking into lamp posts along Raleigh Road. Anyway, finally after 7 years, my name was called and I remember crying my heart out as we pulled away from the modern building Serota House to start my new life back in London. I vowed at that moment at the age of 10 that on my 18th Birthday I would go back to Serota House... I did on the exact day. The house was derelict like all the rest of the buildings surrounding it. I was just about to go up the wide stairs to where I used to sleep and heard a movement. I was with a friend at the time. We got scared and ran out with our hearts in our mouth. I never returned.

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