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.