My Early life in Pirton

I was born in mid 1947 and during my first years of life the family, which consisted of mother & father (Ruth & Bill) together with my maternal grandfather Frank Olney (commonly known as “Nack”) and my mother’s younger sister Joyce, lived at Andrews Cottages, West Lane. The house was a two-bedroom mid terrace cottage, and although I have very few memories of living there it must have been cramped.

Unfortunately, my maternal grandmother Alice Kate (nee Head) had died shortly after giving birth to Joyce which meant my mother was thrust into the roles of housekeeper and surrogate mother in her very early teens. Our neighbours in the row were Mrs Jarvis and her adult son who was known to everyone as “Sambo” (this was long before racism reared its ugly head), Dolly Bunyan who in later life was to be one of my Sunday School teachers and John South & his wife. At the end of the row were my great Uncle and Aunt Sid and Gladys Head together with their two sons Roy & Peter. Two things that I can remember were baths in the tin tub in front of the fire, there was no bathroom, and the toilet facilities. The toilets were a row of wooden cubicles, one for each cottage, set across the other side of the yard (known as Pudding Bag Alley) to the houses. Their unique feature was that each cubicle had two seats. I think the local term for this was “two holer” or “double drop”

Early in the 1950’s we moved into 24 Crabtree Lane, a brand new council house. It had a large kitchen, a huge lounge/dining room, 3 bedrooms a bathroom and luxury of luxuries not one but two WCs. I can still remember the broad smile on my grandfather’s face when for the first time in his near 60 years he used a flush toilet for the very first time. Although new there was no central heating as such. The kitchen had a coke fired stove and there was a large open fireplace for the lounge/diner. There was no heating at all on the first floor. Many was the winters morning when I woke to beautiful frost patterns on the inside of the single glazed bedroom window. Dressing gown and slippers on quickly and sprint down to the kitchen stove.

Although TV was available, we could not afford to buy a set. The radio, in particular the “Home Service” – the equivalent of what we know as Radio Two, was our entertainment. On Sunday lunchtimes it was obligatory to listen to “Family Favourites” where young men who were serving abroad in the forces on National Service would have their requests read out live on air and records played for their families. My first memory of watching TV was for the late Queen’s Coronation Service in 1953. I can’t remember where, but there were quite a few people crammed in front of a 9” black and white set which has a plastic bubble on the front in an attempt to make the picture larger. After the ceremony all us children went down to the village hall where we dressed up in various costumes, I was a Dutchman, and we were driven around the village on a fleet of tractors and trailers. After which we all had high tea in the village hall and we were all presented with a Coronation mug.

At this time my father was a milk roundsman and every Saturday my mother would take me on the bus to Hitchin where we would meet dad after work and do the large weekly shop at International Stores in Bucklersbury. To the best of my memory there were several shops in the village. Tomlins on the corner of West Lane and High Street, Lil Gazely had a small shop on the end of Cromwell Terrace where Little Lane meets the High Street, and there was another grocery shop at the very start of Crabtree Lane next to what had been the Red Lion, which I think was Reynold’s. Milner Davis had his butchers shop near Blacksmiths Pond. Fresh milk was delivered daily and fresh bread could be purchased from or delivered by either Frank Ashton or “Bertie Bob the midnight baker”. In later years Allingham Brothers of Shillington had a butchers delivery van service around the village, Dennis Males being the driver, and Albert Wren of Biggleswade delivered fresh wet fish once a week.

Walkers Bakery Holwell Rd where Bertie Bob the midnight baker lived and worked.

In common with most families in the village, we grew our own vegetables. I am not sure if it was policy, but all council houses appeared to have large gardens. My father and grandfather spent countless hours in the garden; indeed they even rented a plot, an allotment, along Shillington Road. They grew enough potatoes to last a whole year, together with the likes of cabbages, runner beans, parsnips and carrots, the obligatory rhubarb and lettuces. Brussel Sprouts and peas were “acquired” direct from the fields at the appropriate times of the year. I still have fond memories of Sunday lunches in early June and July with new potatoes, young carrots and fresh peas.

 

 

Memories of Pirton Primary School

My first day at Primary school was in early September 1952. Dressed from top to toe in brand new school uniform I was walked to school with my mother. I am reliably informed, by my late mother, that this was the one and only day that I ever wore my school cap. Yes, we walked to school in all weathers, come rain, gales or snow. Although we had snow during several of the winters, I cannot remember one day during my 6 years there that the school was closed because of bad weather.

In terms of the teachers sadly I can only remember two. This was the headteacher, Miss Farris and Mrs Holliday, a formidable lady in all sense of the word. Mrs Holliday lived in the schoolhouse, and Miss Farris drove to Pirton every day from her home in Stevenage. I can recall her driving into the playground in a large black car which I think was a Rover. I don’t know who was involved but one day a couple of the boys tried to sabotage her car by forcing raw potatoes up its exhaust pipe. In the senior class, and I think it was on a Friday, we had a wonderful old chap by the name of Mr Wilcocks come into the school to try to teach us handicrafts. My mother treasured a wicker basket that I made with his help.

Pupils were split into three age group classes. Teaching and learning was very much based around the three “R’s” and was blackboard and book orientated. Times tables were learnt by rote, endless hours of reciting the tables out loud.

At the centre of the school was the hall. Collective assembly and prayers were held there first thing, and school dinners were served there at lunchtime. I have very fond memories of these dinners which were lovingly prepared by “Aunt” Ethel and Mrs Males. There was always a queue for “seconds”. In the centre of the hall was a large coke fired boiler for the central heating system. In the winter months the senior boys were charged with stoking it with fresh coke on a regular basis and raking out the clinkers. On the very coldest days our school milk bottles were arranged around the boiler to take the edge off the cold. The school bell hung in the centre of the hall. I think it was Roger Clarke who tried to imitate Tarzan by swinging on the bell rope one day. Unfortunately, he came crashing down to the floor together with the bell rope and the clapper. There were two bookcases in the hall, each surmounted by a large glass case containing stuffed birds. How on earth they survived from being knocked off I will never know.

In general, I really enjoyed my days at primary school, but there were three negatives that always stuck in mind. Firstly, there was the outside toilets. In my days these were situated in the top playground and if it was cold and/or they were not the most pleasant of places to have to visit. The other two were practicing Maypole dancing and the annual Christmas school play. When it comes to dancing of any sort I have two left feet, and I just hated having to go onto the stage in the Village Hall in front of all the parents for the play.

Although I passed the 11 plus exam I failed the subsequent interview, so I left Pirton Primary in July 1958 bound for Bessemer School. 5 years later I emerged from there with half a dozen “O” levels bound for a 35 year career in Barclays Bank. But that’s another story.