Chime Cottage

A Memory of Hildersham.

We bought an old cottage, a semi-detached one, in Hildersham, then named Bermuda Cottage. We were not aware of the origins of the name, but the owner, an elderly lady owned a bald parrot, probably bald due to boredom as parrots are very sociable birds and need human interaction. We re-named Bermuda Cottage to the now (I believe still exists), Chime Cottage as we owned several striking clocks a passionate hobby. When we bought the cottage we reckon we must have told a lot of fibs tothe mortgage lender as the walls were lath and plaster with absolutely no insulation against the cold. The roof was tiled and a wash house lean to on the back. This had a large stone bowl heated from below by a fire behind a cast iron fire door. We knocked this lean to down accidently, when guiding the local farmer who kindly levelled our overgrown back garden.

I recall a couple of eerie stories there. When we were busy renovating the cottage we knocked down a wall which we couldn't quite figure out why it was there as it made the back room smaller than it should have been. From the outside the room looked like it should have been larger. When we knocked through, the sight inside was surprising as there was an old bread oven again with a cast iron door, and also a tiled fireplace with a shelf and over mantle shelved mirror. On the mantle piece were framed and unframed photo's, sepia toned. I still have one of them of a family group either farmers or dressed up as farmers. One snowy, old winters night (early 1970's) Alan watched television and was half asleep when the door of the bread oven creaked open and a white gloved hand was visible inside!! He swears to this day it was real, but maybe tiredness overcame him and it was a dream. However we went to the front door as there was a rustling noise like crisp dead leaves been trodden on. No one was there and there had been a fresh fall of snow, there were footprints leading up the path to the door, but none going away!!

Our neighbour was a lovely chap named Fred who's dad was the local mole catcher.

There never was an explanation to this nor a repetition.

Penny would often take our children, babies then over the ford, a trout stream, down past the farmers field and they often saw a large black bird, a crow, rook or similar riding on the back of a black sheep.

Alan & Penny Hickman, children, Toni & Allen

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