Memories Of Visiting Rippingale

A Memory of Rippingale.

My mother, grandmother, great grandmother and g.g.grandfather, and so on were born in Rippingale. As a child in the 1950's we spent every holiday there. We had lots of relatives living there and still do have one or two. I remember going to the midnight service on Christmas Eve with my aunt. No street lights, pitch dark.. you always took a torch with you, magical but a bit scary. Earlier in the evening the carol singers came around to every house - it was lovely. In the summer we played with the village children, sometimes playing in the dyke and even on one occasion crawling through the tunnel under the road at the junction of Station Street and Middle Street. The dykes are filled in now but in the spring they were full of violets and in the little bit of grass by White Rose Farm we used to search for 3 leaf clovers. My aunt used to run the local Brownie Pack and we joined in with them whilst we were there, they used to meet in a room in the Rectory. I remember 4 shops there, two in what is now called Middle Street: The Post Office, which moved a few years ago to the other shop in Middle Street, both now closed. Where The Willows Retirement Home now is, was a farm and we walked down a dirt track from the road. There was a duck pond on the right hand side, to where they had a farm shop attached to the house. If you ran out of bread, eggs, bacon or ice cream etc on a Sunday we were sent round to the back door where we could get most of what we wanted. Directly opposite the school, in one of the small terraced houses was a sweet shop. It was run by a tiny little lady from her front room, which had been set out with a counter and shelves of sweets. I recall us going and spending our 3d pocket money there. What to buy, was it to be a 3d bag or a sherbet dab and some flying saucers? Our milk was obtained from a local farm hard by and set slightly back from The Bull. We were given a milk can each by our grandmother and sent up the road to fetch milk which was put into the can from a bucket, and we walked home swinging the can without spilling a drop. I used to like to walk along the wall by the church doing this. The local postman was George Beever, a great friend of my grandparents and a lovely man, he knew everyone by name. No street names or house numbers in those days. When he called with the post he always stayed for a cup of tea and a chat. George and his wife also ran the Bull Hotel, which is still there. When I was 18 I recall going with my dad for a drink. When dad went alone he would go into the bar, which in those days had hard wooden benches and a long table in the middle, but with me he went into the lounge bar which was slightly more comfortable - no food served then of course. George Beever was also the local taxi - the only one as I don't remember anyone having a car except my grandfather. He used to come and fetch us from the Robin Hood at Aslackby, if grandad was working. We had to come by bus from Leicester after Dr Beeching closed Bourne Railway Station. Although when I was 17 I remember walking the 2 miles from Aslackby to Rippingale, with a small suitcase, one Easter, along what is now a very busy A15 but then had hardly any traffic. Rippingale Feast was fun, usually in July. My grandparents used to loan out the 9 pins and various other games long since donated to the village. There was always a fancy dress parade and I recall being very self conscious and rather embarrassed when dressed as a violet age about 7. I have a photograph of my grandmother aged about 18 dressed as brown paper parcel, must be about 1908. Memories of walks up The Rids as Aunty Tina used to call it. I found a gold half sovereign in 1958 in a ditch beside the dirt track - I still have it. The cows used to be driven down through the village for milking, sometimes they were in a field by the corner of the A15 and as children we were allowed to herd the cows down to the White Rose Farm milking sheds, we loved it. Lots of very happy memories.

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