Memories of Stramshall

I meet a vagrant I know

September 1958 I meet a vagrant I knew. In 1957, I was appointed to be Village Constable, at Lower Penn, Wolverhampton, an upper class district of wolverhampton. My station, was in Springhill Park. The beat was divided by the A449, The SW Trunk Road, no M5 in those days. One side of the beat was Lower Penn, the other Penn Common, both different. It was my wont to be on the main road, in the mornings, as a large number of vagrants passed in both directions, some coming out of New Cross, Wolverhampton, some travelling to New Cross from Kidderminster. I noticed a man sitting on the bench on Lloyd Hill, A449, he did not quite fit the description of the average vagrant. He looked familiar. I decided to speak to him. As I approached him, he said, "Hello, Jack, how is your Dad". I was astounded. I immediately recognised him, it was 'Jim', a Second World War veteran, a hard working man. I will not go into details, but his marriage had broken down, and his established life disrupted, his sister, who we all knew, would have helped him, but he was too proud to ask. I took him to my Police Station, my wife fed him, I telephoned my father. He contacted his sister, and they asked me to get him home. I took him to Bone Mill Lane, Wolverhampton, then the Co-op dairy, with regular transport to Fole, near Uttoxeter. I got him a ride and he returned to his native heath. I saw him several times after, he was always grateful. Whether he is alive or dead I do not know. An act, which I remember. John Mellor

Aircraft crashes in the Second World War in Stramshall and Uttoxeter

I was trying to remember the number of crashed aircraft I had seen, and, in another life, dealt with. Despite the closeness of many airfields, Church Broughton being the closest if you ignore the Marchington airstrip, I could only remember one, during my schooldays. This was an Airspeed Oxford, it crashed in Hollington Lane, Stramshall, behind a house, which was lived in by the Arnolds, I vaguely remember a Wilfed Arnold being a contemporary of mine at school. I can remember the locus en quo, because my father's cousin, Albert, and his wife, Florrie, lived in Park Cottage, opposite Arnold's. Albert was killed in the 1944 Fauld Explosion. The crash virtually wrecked the aircraft, which was guarded by the local police. I cannot recall whether the crew were killed. I believe they were. Does anyone else remember this incident? I am hazy about the time, I would suggest it was about 1943.

Over Here

Over Here... The first American troops to arrive in our part of the world arrived in 1942. The came to what became know as Sudbury Camp (nearly in Marchington). A hospital was built at the present site of HMP Prison. A great marshalling yard was built outside Sudbury Railway Station. The first American troops were transportation types, not infantrymen. Firstly, they were all white, then black soldiers arrived. My First Observations.. The amount of money they had compared with our troops, the food they ate, the style of dancing, and their smoking packet after packet of cigarettes. Advantages, they had a steady supply of chewing gum, some of us managed to get into the base hospital, when Bob Hope, Bing Crosby and other Hollywood stars appeared. Exciting in the life of 1940s teenagers. Dislikes. The various obvious colour bar. White troops on one night, black on the other. All towns in reachable destinations had colour and white nights. Officers had no bounds. Black officers were a rarity. Trouble between our troops on leave (already had been at war 2 years), and mainly the white Americans. It came as a surprise to our local soldiers that Americans did not rely on fists. Our local police had problems, but mainly held their own, aided by the Snowballs, white and black, who hit hard and sometimes fatally, in any disturbances... Highlights. American armoured cars, with 20 Thompson sub machine guns, to collect the payroll from Barclays Bank. All traffic stopped, the bank ringed with guards, and the large trunks of money brought out, jut like the American films. It was exciting at first, then we grew used to it. Our young ladies and those from outlying districts all attended American sponsored dances. No alcohol, but cakes of all types. For two years, they were a permanent feature, then in 1944, they began to move. Our next interest, was the Italian Prisoners of Wa. I will tell that story later.

When the searchlights came

When the searchlights came... During the Second World War, Uttoxeter hardly knew that the war was on, although our young men and women kept leaving, and rationing was severe. One change to us all, on the park side of the town, was the opening of the bypass in 1939. The war stopped operations, and of the dual carriageway (a source of wonder to me) only one lane was open, the nearside side, facing Stoke, the remaining lane remained in its raw construction state, frequently filled with water, and was not completed for 2 years after the war. We local children noticed the arrival of large army lorries on a field abutting the unused lane of the bypass, about 1940. Nissan huts went up, concrete roads laid, and to our amazement an assault course, with death slide over the River Tean, was constructed. Various rumours circulated. It was to be a anti-aircraft battery, then a barrage balloon site, then a prisoner of war camp, but we finally had the answer, four massive searchlights and battery vehicles. Sentries were posted, the usual notices under the defence regulations that 'Loiters will be shot, if not answering the guard'. To everyone's amazement there were no fences erected, only the bypass railings as a defence perimeter, five barred with posts. Although it was an Official Secret, we all knew when the lights were to be tested. Hundreds of townspeople stood by and on the the railings. We watched with awe as the lights stabbed into the sky. Some old soldiers, asked "Where are the guns?". There were no official answers, but the soldiers talked of Coven, near Wolverhampton. Even I failed to understand the value of the lights picking up a plane, with nothing to shoot at it. Greater minds then mine had chosen the site. The lights remained in position for about 3 years, then suddenly, all disappeared. The exact spot was on a field belonging to the Povey family. I remember, an elderly lady called May Povey. There was an old mill on the farm, which abutted the River Tean. As air raid warnings waned, we lost interest in watching the lights, and few noticed, when they left. A short period from the Second World War, now remembered by few. John Mellor

Park Hill Farm, New Road, Uttoxeter (Parish of Stramshall) Staffordshire

My grandfather and grandmother built Park Hill Farm together, with hired labour for the roofing. My grandfather was a farmer, wheelwright and a skilled carpenter, his elder brother, Thomas, who lived at the original Mellor family home (called variously Hill Top Farm, Hill Top Cottages) near the bridle path which leads to the River Tean, was a master at most building trades. He was a valued help to his brother. The house was constructed about 1896. My grandfather had owned the Dowry Farm, Kingstone (he was 17 years old), then moved to Bottom House Public House and Farm, Leek, before making his final home at Park Hill. He had a multitude of children. The survivors, Mary, Maude, Muriel, Annie, Thomas, John James (my father), Harry (always called Dan) and several who did not survive childbirth. The acreage was about 100, later added to by extending to Bakers, The Hollow, Stramshall. It remained a working farm entirely under the control of my family until 1972, when it was sold. It continued for several more years until enveloped by the new Derby to Stoke arterial road. Documents regarding the construction, bills of despatch and laden were kept until some ten years ago in a large bureau. It passed to a non-Mellor relative. I believe the contents were destroyed. At the rear of the farm was a workshop, called simply The Shop, complete with forge, wheelwright tools, and coffins. The Mellor family always made coffins for its own family and most of Stramshall. Great Uncle Tom was the expert. The last cart made by my grandfather and his brother was in July 1938, a heavy draught, one horse, stone cart. Tom made up the body, my grandfather made the wheel. I witnessed the last 'hooping' (I have an oil painting of the scene). Preparation started several days before, wood was fetched from the river, trees were cut down, and a massive bonfire, was built in the lane leading to the canal banks. A sigh that will never be seen again. At a signal from my grandather, all his sons and nephews, all big men, dragged the cart body and placed it on trestles. Then my grandfather and his brother, with male and female 'hooping dog' tools, placed the iron tyres on the bonfire. The fire was started, and a lot of moving the tyres about transpired, the language was ripe, as was always the case. Finally when the iron tyres were white hot, the heat was intense, my grandfather and his brother, helped by the others, brought out the white hot tyres, and took them to the cart. Only minutes later, they had been fitted, and hammered into position and doused with water. My father controlled a carthorse, already saddled,(he was called Jack), he was brought to the front of the cart, and at a signal the cart and its new tyres were going into the River Tean, where the cart and tyres stayed 2 days. Then the operation ended. My grandather was 69 years old, and his brother 71 years. They never built or shod another cartwheel. We had two near neighbours, firstly The Parks, a fine residence, occupied by Cyril Bamford, and his wife who spoke fluent Spanish, Portuguese and French. I think her name was Dolores, she was always immaculately dressed, kind and not afraid to walk 150 yards for the milk, when the maids had a day off. Her sons I remember, Joseph (founder of JCB), Rupert, David (Tim). I am sure they had a daughter, but I cannot remember her name. Cyril Bamford was a brilliant engineer. The Mellors and the Allens, permitted(to their advantage) the various machines of Bamfords Ltd, Leighton Ironworks, to be tested on their fields. Secondly, Tollgate Farm was some 150 yards away on the Uttoxeter side of the farm. Mr and Mrs Bailey, semi retired farmer, good family. Their tenure ended with a German bomb, down their well. I have written about that. Our nearest farmer friends and neighbours, were the Allens, a straight, hard working family. I remember Grandfather Allen, his sister (whose name escapes me), and two sons, I knew them both. Walter, the farmer, father of my life-long friend Fred Allen and his wife. The other son was a police officer in West Bromwich. His son was also a police officer, known universally as 'Brummie', the hardest boxer to beat, an athlete and a good police officer. I met him in Willenhall, and went and got up to tricks, which might provide a further article. His decision to leave the police force saddened me. His father, I recall, may have been called Arthur. He returned to Uttoxeter on retirement, worked at Bamford's and I think bought property at Kiddlestitch.

Our Local Bobbies with guns.   1941/2

Our police officers, left after mobilisation and known to me, were PC Whale, Stramshall. Sergeants Anderson (Div Clerk), Sgt. Chamberlaind (Great War veteran) and PC Jack Blower, who was called the Black Abbot, I never knew why. All ARP activities were police controlled and during 1941/2 parachutes, clearly German, were found at Bramshall, Stramshall and Marchington. We were then treated to the rare sight of our police officers carrying sidearms, large revolvers from the Great War. Stop Points, I remember, were Three Tuns junction with Ashbourne Road, Hollow, Stramshall (outside my Great Uncle Tom's), Spath and Beamhurst. Sgt. Chamberlain was always on duty outside the Three Tuns. As a Great War veteran he would have no trouble using his revolver. After a few months, the police realised that the parachutes were dropped to upset and alarm the population. It did not work. The police took off their revolvers and Stop Points were abandoned.
John Mellor (John P Mellor., OBE., QSM., Ridder van den orde Orange-Nassau,  Vier Dienst Kreuz mit bande, now living in Wolverhampton.)

AWalk with Grandfather

A walk with grandfather
« Thread Started Yesterday at 2:03pm »   

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A Walk with Grandfather.

I was about 11 years old, one summer's day, when I noticed my grandfather, who lived at Park Hill Farm, New Road, Uttoxeter (Parish of Stramshall) was preparing to go out. He had his walking stick, that meant no horse and trap. His name was Percival Jackson Mellor, and he lived with his family, and my paternal grandmother, Mary Ellen (nee Leedham). He said, to me, “Come for a walk”. We walked across the fields, to Campbell’s, and then to Titleys Mill. We gained the Ashbourne-Uttoxeter Road, turned left over the River Tean bridge, and then into Leasons Farm. My grandfather went and spoke to Mr Leason, senior, we then departed, turning left, and carried on until we reached Stevenson Bus Depot, the Yellow Bus service.

We then got onto the footpath immediately opposite the Depot. Grandfather then explained that the large grass mounds were the remnants of the Spath Quay, laughingly called Spath Ocean, by residents, who had not studied their local history. This was the size of four football pitches. Grandfather explained that this had been an inland port, with large barges moving loads across the country. These mounds then became clear canal banks, and we walked on the left-hand side, the field on the left being ours. The right-hand side was a public footpath, little used by anyone. We then took a left bend in the banks, until we reached the River Tean. I asked my grandfather what the large stones were in the river. He said that they had held an iron aqueduct, which used to cross the river. He explained that in 1914, to assist the war effort, he had detonated explosives and blew the aqueduct up. The scrap iron was purchased by Mr Cyril Bamford, from The Parks opposite us. This was taken to Leighton Iron Works. We then entered the rear gates of the farm. The canal banks were levelled out in 1973. Whilst at the river, Grandfather pointed out, on the left-hand side of the canal, the remains of a house. He said, "Your Great Uncle John(Jack) lived there with his wife, Dolly". She was an amusing character, called Dolly Duck Egg for her love of the fruit of ducks. It was an isolated spot, and Great Aunt Dolly did not like it. She moved to Stone Road, Uttoxeter, living in a row of cottages which she owned. Into the front of the farm, which was built on the canal site, the ground had been levelled. Until the bypass was started in 1936, it was possible to walk along the old canal banks, till you reached Beesons slaughterhouse (later Keelings Yard), and until you reached Ashboutne Road. Park Avenue, Slade Fields, was built on the site of the canal.

John P Mellor, then living at 57 Park Avenue, Uttoxeter.
Now living in wolverhampton John P Mellor. OBE., QSM., Ridder van den orde orange-nassau. Vierdeient Kreuz mit bande, Polonia Restituta-Commandatore; Grosse Goldene Ehrenzeichen

Bombs during the war

Uttoxeter did not suffer much during the war. The first stick of bombs fell in a field at Loxley, and a further stick followed later. The only 'blitz' was on the Bailey and Mellor families, in New Road (parish of Stramshall) - exact date forgotten, 1941/2. I was at home at 57 Park Avenue. My father was on Home Guard duties (he was too old for military service) at Bamfords Ltd, not JCB.

I usually got up early in the summer, walked along the unfinished by-pass and down to Park Hill Farm, breakfasted with my uncles and cousins. Then to school, or I went off scouring the fields. On this day, I met a neighbour, Tom Simpson, veteran of the First World War. He had a strange stacatto speech. He said, "The Germans hit your grandma's". I told my mother and went to the farm. Some rescue and firemen were about, but no police. I saw a large crater in the front garden, some 30 feet across, and about 20 feet deep. It was filling with water (this was the site of the old canal). Park Cottage or farm, our neighbour, had received a direct hit, and a bomb went down the well. The whole building had collapsed. I was told that Bill, Aunty Maud and Annie had taken ladders to get Mr and Mrs Bailey out. They stopped with us, until relatives collected them. No one in our farm noticed the crater, in the front garden, until the following morning. The only damage we sustained was a cracked pane in the kitchen window, the soft soil had absorbed the blast. Over the next hour, people were coming to gaze at the bomb craters. My cousin, Teddy and I, being enterpreneurial, charged sixpence to go and look at our crater, we had made three shillings each when PWR Arthur Mellor, my father's cousin, came and stopped anyone from entering; this was not his fault, the Superintendent had instructed him.

My cousin and I, with my Uncle Dan, then went to look at the other bombs. There was an oil bomb, not detonated, blue and white and metallic. No cordon, my uncle actually touched it. I dared not. It was by the basin, where we swam. There was a oil-like substance all around it. There was an unexploded bomb about 150 yards from the oil bomb, on land belonging to Websters. The cordon remained for weeks. Everyone forgot it. I consider it is still there. Months later my uncle sawed off the fins of the oil bomb, which he gave to my father - it was at our home, until father died in 1981, and it then disappeared.
John Mellor(John P Mellor. OBE., QSM., Ridder van den orde orange nassau, Vierdienst Kreeuz mit bande. Commandatore Polnia Restotuta.Grosse goldene Ehrenzeichen. nowliving in wolverhampton. 01902338904

Park Hill Farm, Stramshall Parish

My grandfather was enlightened in many ways. He permitted the children from the western side of the town, to bathe and swim, at The Pipe, boundary with campbells, The Basin, near to stramshall footpath, subject to no litter, and interference with animals. This was permitted long after his death by my family, until 1972, when the farm was sold, due to the deaths of my aunts.

Growing up with all my relatives living in Stramshall Parish

I was born in 1928, to John James and Olive Mellor, my grandfather was Percival Jackson Mellor, my grandmother Mary Ellen Mellor. They built with help Park Hill Farm, New Road, Uttoxeter, paying tithes to Stramshall Parish. All the family went to Stramshall Church, all my parents, uncles, and grandparents are buried in Stramshall Church. The first Vicar I remember was the Rev Charlon, an Anglican churchman of the old school. My great uncle, Thomas, lives with his wife Selina at Hill top Farm(Cottages). I spent my youth between the two farms and the surrounding fields. With the River Tean running between, it was an exciting place to grow up.