Growing Up In Foxton Cambridgeshire

A Memory of Barrington.

How a Family that came to south Cambridgeshire




Clifford John Masters,
My Story
I was born in 4 Chaucer Cottages Foxton on the 9th February 1940
The houses backed onto the “park” all it was a field for the cows but had been the grazing land for 400 years, part of the grounds of Foxton Hall.
A lane ran from the press to the last press houses, My great aunt lived at no.2 Chaucer Cottages almost at the end of the row of houses.
Dr Young attended the birth. Born a blue baby and told by the doctor I would probable die. Emma Conder and my grandmother spent time rubbing oil into me and fed me brandy, and always said, “That's how I got the taste for brandy“, but no sound came from me. I am told the doctor told my grandmother “The mother was his priority". Not until after that the doctor had a look at me, noticed I was tongue-tied.
He could see I had turned pink and then had a look at me and then took a pair of scissors from his pocket and cut my tongue, this made me cry within ten days I had a very large abscess that had to be cut and I still have the scar today. This story was told to me many times when the family got together or friends came from London. No one at that time would think of suing the doctor not like today. My family was just pleased I was alive. Come to think of it so am I.



Growing up in wartime in Foxton was not ideal but we were all poor and looking back I had a happy childhood, It is true when they say “home is where the heart is.” Foxton even though I have not been for many years I have always think of it as Home.

My Earliest memories
The sky was full of aircraft or seem to be, perhaps they woke me up in the afternoon nap, but that seems to be what I remember first.
I remember the milkman filling up mum’s jug every morning, he may have been the local farmer, I remember mum on her hands and knees with black polish cleaning the oven/fire. In the kitchen we had a copper with a wood burner, and heated the water to fill baths as well as a boiler to boil the clothes.
We lived in a lane that went to the next village called Fowlmere, people on horses, farmers with shire horses men going to their allotments. Our back garden had chickens ducks and rabbit hutches. The wooded privet was down the bottom and over the fence the farm, Mr Stock’s lane. So during those war years and after, we always had fresh eggs and Christmas poultry. The rabbits and chickens my mum could not bring herself to kill them, so when uncle Alf was home, he would be the one to kill the rabbits skin them, and made a stew as well, he also killed Pidgeon and made pigeon pie. Mum did not want us to eat that.
If I was in the garden Walter Stock the farmer would give a loud wo-oop as he passed, often with a herd of cows.
Father up the lane was a large allotment and at the edge some trees and the farmers fields, It was in these trees we woke up one morning to find a German plane had crashed right among the trees, This became our playground for a long time after.
Christmas
Although father Christmas came we did not have much ,in our stocking we would have an orange some walnuts, a sugar mouse, socks handkerchiefs, one year I had a wooden flying bomb, my grandfather had made, It was never out of my hands for weeks and weeks. After the war we both my brother had I had a meccano set, and later a train set, nothing fancy but those tin trains are now very pricey.
Bath Night
The bath was hanging in the back porch next to the coal bunker. Friday night was bath night, around 7 O’clock I would have my bath in front of the fire in the living room, and my brother would follow, My baby sister (born 1946) had her own little bath so it was not until she was 18months to Two years, then she had the bath first.
If I stayed with my Nan and Granddad they had a bath under the work surface in the kitchen, So did Uncle Alf and Auntie Emma. The new council houses had bathrooms ,Wow. I remember going to Barrington and Mum & Dads friends had a bath room, and it was a treat for us to have a bath when visiting.
Burlington Cottage
My grandparents lived within the press grounds in a 400 year old cottage, it had a pond and a mulberry tree and I think the “Garage “where grandad had a 1936 Rover up on blocks. was once a farm building..
He had dug a pit so he could look underneath, I remember him driving my be once or twice, and he sold it when petrol went up during the Suez crisis.
Many of the people she knew in Hackney and Romford area, came to visit I never knew who were family or who were friends, Grandad came from a large Irish family.
Soon after joining the navy in 1956, I would stay at Burlington cottage at weekends , it was like home.
The last time I stayed at Burlington cottage , was the last time I stayed overnight in the village , was March 1963 when we were Married, in St. Lawrence church, with the reception at the White Horse..
The post office on the left and Burlington Cottage behind the war memorial
Almost opposite my grand parents cottage was the post Office run from a thatched cottage called ivy cottage, The post mistress was Ivy Coles and had a daughter Eileen. It was the main shop our end of the village but did not have any sweets even if we had ration book coupons I cannot remember seeing sweets, John and I would call in a buy two Oxo’s for half a penny. The box was a box of six, but Ivy would let us buy even one for a farthing. It was a short walk to dark lane and we would stop off watching the blacksmith at work, making things or just shoeing horses. Just passed there was the Black Boy Pub. John ’s house was behind the pub run by Mr & Mrs Kefford . One year after a storm a tree fell landing on the Black Boy’s wall so we would climb up the tree walk along the wall and drop down close to john’s house in dark lane.
On the 10th of February 1949 the day after my ninth birthday a young boy had seen us climb up the tree and he had done the same, but sadly the tree rolled and crushed him, he was only about five years old, His name was Raymond Haynes, I can see the grave every time I walk into St. Lawrence church, it is on the right just a few yards inside the cemetery
Raymond Haynes will be forever etched in my memory, a sad part of was a very happy childhood.
1948
The year 1948 the Olympic games was going to be in London, Dad was not happy because he was too old to compete and had not reached the required standard in 1936. In our house we had lots of cups Dad had won for walking, and often went to Fenner’s to watch him walk. Well the cinder track outside our house became a race track on many times after school, We would race from one end of the row of cottages to the other ,about 30yrds,and a long run would be to the other end of the allotments and back. Long sticks became javelins ,large stones shot put. All in all those were good times.
1948 was a good year for sport it was when the Australian cricket team came to England the first time since before the war.

Test matches,
The last year Don Bradman played. The end of an era , My hero’s Dennis Compton, Bill Edrich, Len Hutton Bowlers like Lock, Laker, Linwall, and Miller. They played long matches and the game went on for days and days, In those days the game was played until somebody won ,but they would not play on a Sunday.
It was one such afternoon I was staying at Burlington cottage, and would run up the lane o the press to tell them the score, no sooner I got back to listen to the radio, another wicket was lost and off I would go to tell my granddad or Len Cambridge who worked with him. After seven wickets in about half an hour, Not only was I pleased England were winning but happy to be able to keep the press informed .
Mum, Dad & Politics & things
My mum was elected onto the council in 1949,
And would be pleased she managed to get some new council Houses in Station Road, and the Street lighting, and a Dustbin collection.
All houses burnt coal and wood, which left a lot of ash, this would be thrown into the road and spread over to cover pot holes. Once the village had tarmac getting rid of the ash was a problem, So this was why a ash bin collection was needed, also a rubbish collection. Most people took there rubbish to the clunch pit at the top of the village.
She was so pleased with the street lighting, making it much safer at night.
Dad was the secretary of the Cambridgeshire Labour Party, and with meetings and going out with the “Foxton Yokels” we did not see a great deal of him.

The Post office
Almost opposite my grand parents cottage was the post Office run from a thatched cottage called ivy cottage, The post mistress was Ivy Coles and had a daughter Eileen. It was the main shop our end of the village but did not have any sweets even if we had ration book coupons I cannot remember seeing sweets,
John and I would call in a buy two Oxo’s for half a penny. The box was a box of six, but Ivy would let us buy even one for a farthing. It was a short walk to dark lane and we would stop off watching the blacksmith at work, making things or just shoeing horses. Just passed there was the Black Boy Pub. John ’s house was behind the pub run by Mr & Mrs Kefford .
One year after a storm a tree fell landing on the Black Boy’s wall so we would climb up the tree walk along the wall and drop down close to John’s house in dark lane.
On the 10th of February 1949 the day after my ninth birthday a young boy had seen us climb up the tree and he had done the same, but sadly the tree rolled and crushed him, he was only about five years old, His name was Raymond Haynes, I can see the grave every time I walk into St. Lawrence church, it is on the right just a few yards inside the cemetery. Raymond Haynes will be forever etched in my memory, a sad part of was a very happy childhood.
Sunday School
I enjoyed Sunday school, and I loved sing in the church choir, although I did not have the best voice I did go often, sometimes we sung at a wedding, which was very special. Every now and again we would be allowed a view from the church bell tower, I will remember how we looked over the village pointing out our houses.
My mother would give my brother and I a penny for the collection, somehow we came back with a penny, or put a half penny in the plate.
Some Sundays I would go to Methodist chapel next to the school,( I was christened in the chapel) The reason we went was we needed a number of attendance, and then we would be allowed to go to chapel outing , often going to Clacton or Hunstanton. If possible we would go on the Church outing and the chapel outing and sometimes on the Press outing. The coaches would leave early in the morning and not get back until ten at night very late when you are nine or ten.
The church choir at harvest festival would lead everyone around the church singing “we plough the fields a scatter “ sometimes the vicar would go through the recreation ground to stand next to a field to pray for the crops. During harvest festival the church would be full of all sorts of fruit vegetables. And sold off in the village hall for charities.

Rationing
Rationing was brought in during the war, as a child it did not effect me . Having found two books to show the family what a ration book looked like. It had coupons in and the shop keeper would take out according to the rationing at that time.
We always referred to the clothing books as Clothing coupon books and not ration books, for some reason,. As an example 24 coupons to last six months, A dress 7, and 8 for a coat, shoes 7, Undies 8, Pyjamas, 8, Blouse 4, and stocking 3,
A ration book for food would have Meat, coupons, Butter coupons, Sugar coupons etc.
For one person each week it’s 2oz of butter,2oz lard, 3oz cheese, quarter pound of bacon, quarter pound of margarine, 2oz tea, meat half a pound each week, but steak is 2s 6d pound, so 1s 2d would not buy Half a pound. We get 1 pound of Jam a month, Veg not rationed, Living in a village with everyone growing veg and we lived near to the allotments, so we always had plenty of fresh veg in the summer. If we had a long period of frost veg became impossible and had to have tinned veg, normally peas.

The 108 Bus to Royston
The bus ran from Cambridge to Royston on the main A10 road. It would be on a Saturday morning we would go to Royston, The bus a double decker and we always rushed upstairs to sit at the front.
It was Saturday morning pictures for children, nearly all the picture places had them . They would show a cowboy film, Laurel & Hardy ,and cartoons.
Before pictures we went to a private house to buy toffee pieces, thin home made with icing sugar, sweets were on ration and still very expensive, so this toffee was a real treat.
With the exception of going through the cattle market on the way back to get the 108 home I do not remember much of the town.
The 108 to Cambridge
Saturday afternoon would be a day that mum would take us to Cambridge on the 108,
The bus left from out the “Railway” Tavern. The bench under a window was used for the number 108 bus. Mr Bradbeer would not mind people using his bench unless he was really busy.
About halfway the bus would stop at the Fisons factory and the smell was often so bad it was a job to breath. Sometimes when I open some weed killer it reminds me of stopping outside the factory. Then on to Trumpington and on to Drummer Street, My mum always shopped at the co-op it seemed a long walk.
“Lost”. Yes somehow I found myself alone in Cambridge, I was not very old but found myself to Drummer street and the 108 bus, and travelled back to Foxton, and going to my Grandmothers house. Of course Mum was frantic and called the policeman to help find me. Much relieved when she got home but the story was told many times.
Another story was when Terry Cooper was running pass the press when Me Lyon stopped and offered us a lift , Terry said “no thanks we are in a hurry” and we carried on running.
Saturday Coach to Spurs
Often the coach would stop outside Ivy Cottage, I used to watch the men going to white hart lane .just wishing to go, my Dad supported West ham and never had time to watch football, “Uncle Daug.” (Douglas Cheshire) was a regular, and was a very passionate supporter, and sometimes told me all about the game..

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