Woolavington, view from the Prince of Wales c1960

Memories of Stockland, Bristol

My mother's father and mother Mr & Mrs Tom Dibble lived in the Cooperage, Stockland. Thomas's parents Thomas snr and Jane (nee) Palmer had children
Sam, George from the Old Oak pub on the Cornhill, Mary + Mrs Hunt previous Larson, others I can't remember names.
 
I remember sleeping in the Cooperage in a four poster bed, when Mary lived there, going across the road to fetch water from a pump, her store of milk, cream, eggs, ham and pork, jams and pickles. Having to curtsey to Miss Daniels as she rode by.

All Thomas's brothers and sisters worked at the Manor House, which I loved to go and see, sitting in the kitcen while Mary prepared the food for the manor. My grandfather was the carpenter, Sam worked in the forge, Mary as the cook, another as the housemaid.
 
I remember the farm next to the Cooperage, Daniels.

Most of the family are buried in Stogursey church, Sam lived opposite with his daughter Audrey.

My mother spoke of an aunt. Mrs Watts, who went to Wales to live. I was bridesmaid to their son. Mother and her parents and siblings moved to  Bridgwater, Gordon Terrace. Norman Sellick Dibble, Violet and Victoria (my mother). Their mother was a tailoress with a brass plate over the door, she was a Hole from Williton, her father was the station master in Williton. Her sister was the headmistress at St Audries School.

There was only one bus a week into Bridgwater, we caught it by the side of the river. Always went back to Stockland on Fair days but on Carnival Day we sat in the Old Oak with George and his wife. Many a time we missed the bus and mother made us walk to Stockland.

The Dibble boys went to South Africa I was told, for the gold rush, came home with parrots, and with cash bought pubs in Glastonbury and Bridgwater.

I have photos of weddings taken out side the Cooperage. Mother always told of the Christmases spent at the Cooperage when Thomas snr and his wife lived there. Her father hired a pony and trap, the pony was called Dolly, and in the freezing weather the family sat with blankets around their knees to go from Bridgwater to Stockland. She often talked how Dolly would go home quicker than she came.

Norman once fell in the River Parrett and was saved by a friend, Baker, to whom he was forever appreciative.

Bridgwater Fair to us children was so exciting, all the stalls were lit by oil lamps, and the smell of chips cooked in dripping will stay with me for many a year to come. I loved to see them make rock, how it was pulled and twisted then cut up and sold. The crockery men calling their wares, mother always chose the tea service and would stand there waiting for the guy to decide to auction it, she always got her way eventually. Then after that long walk we arrived at the fair ground, oh the excitment. We paid a penny to see the two headed pig, the smallest lady that sat there knitting while we gazed at her size with admiration, the boxing booths we were forbidden to enter, the magical roundabouts, the prancing horses and so many wonderful exicting things to spend our pennies on.

Evacuation to Woolavington

My family (name of Marsh) evacuated to Woolavington to escape the continual bombing of London.  We lived in 2, Church Street and my aunt and her family lived in No 1.  At the vicarage, which I believe was just over the road from our house, there were two young boys whom my parents spoke of as 'the evacuees' which seemed strange to me as they looked like ordinary boys - I was three years old at the time.  The vicarage also had apple trees in its garden and my brother Ray would pinch as many apples as he could reach.

The photo of Woolavington, the village, looks like the stores at the crossroads where Church Street met another more important road.  If I'm correct then this is where Ray, aged five was knocked down by a car and injured his ankle, the scar of which he still carries today.

Ray was enrolled at the village school until we returned home in 1943.

happy holidays

My husband and I had many a happy day fishing in Merry Lane. Well, he fished and I read a book! We stayed in a caravan in the field at the last farm down the end of Merry Lane. One holiday we arrived early and parked our caravan and had a sleep. We awoke to the caravan wobbling about. On looking outside we saw a herd of cows pushing the caravan. We had parked on their accustomed route to be milked. They didn't know they could walk round the caravan until the farmer shouted at them. Another time we parked in the apple orchard and through the week we watched cows eating fallen apples. Wonder what the milk tasted like?
We also had the experience of being parked in the field and there was a thunder storm. The panels of the caravan banged with the wind and we decided not to go back on the motorway until the winds died down. When we first went to Somerset there was no connection to the M5 and we had to go right into Bristol and take the old road to Bridgwater where we were staying on another farm.
We had lovely holidays in the Bridgwater area with my parents and our alsation dog.
Years later when I was doing our family trees, I found out that my husband's maternal line started in Somerset and I have often wondered if that is why he loved Somerset so much

holidays

We used to park our caravan in the last field along the lane, near the River Brue. One holiday we arrived in the early morning and just parked up in the field. We were awakened by our caravan rocking and looked out to see the cows coming in for their milking. We had parked where they usually walked 'home' and couldn't understand why we were in the way. We had to go out and shoo them round the caravan. We had lovely fishing in the River Brue and some lovely holidays.
Another year we arrived to find the cows had been eating the fallen apples in the orchard and were a bit tipsy!