The War Years

A Memory of Chalfont St Peter.

Hi I'm Mike Foster and I was born in Chalfont St Peter in Feb 1936. My mother who had two children; me and my sister, had no where to live. She was offered by some charitable source a two up two down home on the main road between Hamiltons the chip shop and the Rose and Crown pub. It was part of a block of 4 terraced cottages with a communal back yard. The house was wet, cold and infested with every living nasty. One gas light downstairs, oil and candles upstairs. The bucket toilets were at the bottom of the garden which had to be emptied into a cesspit which was in the middle of the yard. My mother worked all hours but we never had enough of anything. When she went out at night we were locked in and slept under the table on a mattress. Holes in shoes were common place as were fleas, nits and night-mares. I hated school, I thought that most of the teachers were so unkind, except for one, Mrs Greeves, I think her name was. The stables behind the Rose and Crown belonged to Grange Farm Dairies whose shop and bottling operation was about 4 shops up Gold Hill. At weekends and school holidays I used to help the milkmen with their deliveries and in looking after the 4 horses which pulled the milk carts. There was at that time only one van, an old blue Morris with a water gauge on top of the radiator. Yes, I remember the old lady who used to give piano lessons, there was a Smithy behind her cottage. The bakers almost opposite the Greyhound, and old Honeyballs the grocer in the corner and then George the green grocer just over the bridge. The 30's and 40's were not easy years but there were small good moments. Like the annual fair on Gold Hill common, walking up Chalfont Heights and along Denham Lane collecting flowers, wild strawberries and chestnuts and thinking of the girl I loved; Pat Cross. We were only about 8 at the time so I hadn't yet proposed, in fact I don't think she new anything about it. And riding the horses through the village at the end of their working day and sometimes on a Sunday afternoon on the bit of ground between the playing field and the tip.
We left Chalfont when the war ended. I've made two brief visits since. Oh what noises and voices one hears when the world seems to stop for a few moments. I'd always welcome any contact concerning Chalfont. skipper@mikefossy.plus.com