Wilton Lodge,Rydon Road

A Memory of Walton-on-Thames.

I lived in Wilton Lodge as a child with my family from 1960 to March in 1962. The year of the fantastically cold and snowy winter. The house was still in one piece although inside it had been turned into a few flats. Our flat was up one flight of stairs and the sitting room windows faced the enormous back garden. While another large room,my bedroom,had a small window that overlooked the front/side and I used to sit there and look at the people when they moved into that little flat. The front and rear gardens were huge and had marvelous huge fruit and nut trees. A child's dream playground! I was 8 years old when we moved to Walton and my brother 3 years older so we were at a perfect age to be climbing those trees. The gardens were communal and the tenants just tied a length of washing line to the various trees and some small outbuildings. I expect they were sheds. There wasn't anyone who did the garden but I do remember that garden lovers had made little flower beds and we children respected this and didn't pick the flowers. Our mother was a teacher in inner London so we weren't on our own during school holidays and those were times when we explored Walton on our bikes.
The front garden had a huge 'roundabout'. It was just covered in long grass while the rest of the garden was stone chips. It wasn't a fun place to play though. No trees to climb. As one looked at the house from the front garden,to the right there was the haunted house next door! It was empty and so it was a magnet to us kids. Only to explore the garden though. We weren't hooligans and we would never has tried to get in the house. And any way,it was haunted! It was definitely very creepy and one winter's night I was building a snowman in the rear garden (1962. That terrible winter) and something white came floating out of that house and down towards the end of their garden. I was not frozen to the spot,that's for sure! I raced back into our flat absolutely terrified! My brother wanted me to show him but no amount of begging would get me back out in the dark. I have a little laugh about it now but also think WHAT ON EARTH COULD IT HAVE BEEN??
While we were living there the 'new' Bird's Eye factory or offices building was being built. I vaguely recall it being next to the train station. Remember my mother taught in inner London? I used to walk to the station after school to meet her and we'd walk home together. I helped carry some shopping because I have a very clear memory of the shopping bags leaving red marks on her hands so I would put a few things in my school bag. It was actually a very long walk from,first, my school to the station going past the Bird's Eye building that now had decorative concrete tennis balls in the paving outside. I loved walking on that! Just like the seaside. Brighton beach! And then walking back with my mother from the station,across that busy road where my school was (why can't I remember its name?) and a long walk along Rydon road to Wilton Lodge and home. We had always lived in Surrey. In different towns,Wimbledon,Epsom,Croydon,Weybridge,Walton on Thames. My father was the deputy editor of The Daily Worker and we didn't see much of him during the week but weekends were splendid because he had a company car and we always made the most of dad and the car. Somewhere along Rydon road there was a Zebra crossing. My father drove across it without noticing a gentleman was on it. Said gentleman had the typical uniform of that time. Bowler hat,black overcoat and black rolled up umbrella which he furiously waved at dad whilst shouting "Stop you blighter!". My brother and I were hysterical with giggles and when we managed to tell dad what we were laughing about he was stunned. He wanted to turn back,find the gentleman and apologise. Our mother wouldn't let him. She was probably right. We children would undoubtedly have got hysterical giggles again. Oh dear. Still makes me giggle now 55 years later! In the March of 1962 we moved to Hertfordshire where my mother had landed the job of starting a class for 'mentally sub-normal children'. It was a huge step up the teaching ladder and so we moved to Stevenage new town and we children hated it. The houses were all the same. They were tiny to whatvwe were used to. The gardens were tiny and the children were rough. We must have been such snooty little horrors. And that's the end of some of my memories of Walton on Thames.