- Contributed by听
- martha_evans
- People in story:听
- Pearl Stretton and the Langridge Family
- Location of story:听
- Draycott in the Clay and Tutbury School
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A2859050
- Contributed on:听
- 22 July 2004
Just after Christmas, 1940, I was put on a train at Chesterfield, my Mother instruting the guard to make sure I changed trains at Derby. I then had to take the Crewe train which stopped at Sudbury. From Sudbury station I had to find my way to 'Hitchett Hill', my sister's home in Draycott-in-the-Clay, all of two miles or more away. I'd been instructed to walk from the station until I got to the 'Roebuck Inn, there I must ask Mr or Mrs Groome, who kept the pub,for directions to 'Hitchett Hill'. They said I must go up the narrow lane until I came to a farm with a big gate leading into a field. I was to go through this gate and cross two fields and I would find 'Hitchett Hill'. This was the cottage that belonged to the farm owned by my Brother-in-law's family.
It was a bitterly cold day and I was carrying a cardboard, imitation leather suitcase which contained very little, but had nevertheless begun to hang heavy. I wasn't the bravest person when it came to crossing fields full of animals, but fortunately at that time of year the sheep'which belonged to the Harrisons, whose fields I must cross, were all in the farmyard as it was near to lambing time, and the cows were not turned into these fields, so I arrived at 'Hitchett Hill' unscathed. My sister was so pleased to welcome me there. She had three small sons, John, Stephen and Fred, and they were the only company she had when her husband, Jack, was down at the farm, which was across three fields. The cottage was very isolated and surrounded by fields in every direction. The only vehicle able to reach it was the farm tractor. Even that could find it difficult in deep snow.
I loved it there, and soon settled in, though it was all very different from my home in Clowne where we had a bathroom and constant hot water, electricity and gas. All the water at 'Hitchett Hill' had to be pumped from a large iron pump which stood
in the garden. There was a side boiler in the black-leaded range which heated the water for washing up, and for our own ablutions. A wash-house in the yard held a copper for boiling water for laundry and any jobs that needed quantities of hot water. Baths were taken in a large tin bath on the hearth. Pat and I had ours when Jack was out on Home Guard duty.
The only lighting was provided by candles and oil lamps.
The lavatory was reached by a path that went round two sides of the house and along by the vegetable garden. An earth closet with three 'holes' in a long wooden seat, and a small 'hole' at a much lowere height for small members of the family, this was not my favourite place. It was not a place to linger.
The ancient wireless set with fretwork front with a kind of canvas backing, was worked with the aid of a large accumulator which we had to carry to Jimmy Allen's shop and garage up at the top of Draycott village to get it charged at sixpence a time -two and a half pence in today's money. It was necessary to have two accumulators - or batteries, as Jack called them - so one could be taken to be charged and the re-charged one collected.
Food never seemed to be in short supply. Jack's mother made farm butter with cream skimmed from the milk before it was collected by the lorry that took it to the dairy in large churns. I think it went to Nestles' Dairy at Tutbury. Express Dairies also had a depot at Uttoxeter.
This cream was churned in a large wooden barrel which was mounted on a metal stand. The handle was turned and the barrel revolved over and over until the butter could be heard thumping on the sides. There was a small glass peep-hole which Grandma Langridge would peer through every now and then to check the progress of the operation. When she judged the butter had reached the correct state a bung was pulled out of the bottom of the barrel and the buttermilk, the liquid expelled from the cream, would drain out into a large milk bucket. This could be used for making scones and had various other cullinary uses. The heavy wooden lid was unclamped, and Grandma would pour a quantity of cold water into the barrel to wash the butter. This water was also let out through the bunghole. Salt was added and worked in by hand. Finally the butter was lifted out and weighed into half-pound pieces which were wrapped in greaseproof paper and put into the cold larder. Jack would bring packets up to the cottage as and when it was needed. It took me a while to get used to the taste as it had a sour milk flavour to it. I'm sure all this was against wartime regulations as any spare butter was sold to 'special customers' who came to buy eggs and milk.
Jack kept a well planted vegetable garden which grew giant parsnips, carrots, peas and runner beans; all of which could have won prizes at village shows. Of course, all the fertilizer needed was on hand at the farm. Potatoes and swedes were grown in the ploughfield, although 'early' new potatoes were grown in the garden. He grew many different herbs including camomile from which Pat made camomile tea, her cure-all for minor illnesses and tummy ache.
A greengage tree grew up the side of the house, and the orchard was only yards away. This was surrounded by damson trees and plum and apple trees flourished there. There was another orchard below the cottage which grew apples of every variety, and pears too.
Groceries had to be fetched from Allen's shop in Draycott village. John, aged six, and I would take the wooden box on wheels, which was euphemistcally called 'the wheelbarrow', and trek over the fields to the 'Roebuck' then up the road to Draycott, passing the 'White Swan'pub. On the way there I would put John in the barrow. We would hand over the grocery order and the ration books and Mr Allen would sometimes add a packet of McVities chocolate digestive biscuits. Candles were another under the counter commodity, so these would be wrapped in old newspaper and added to the pile of groceries building up on the counter. He would tell us to bring a 2lb jam jar next week because he had golden syrup which was in a large drum. He would help us to load the barrow and then go through to the garage where we would get the gallon drum filled with paraffin for the oil lamps. He was always careful to put the tin between the tins and jars, away from the dry goods. Thus loaded we would would make our way back. Fortunately the hill sloped in our favour on the way home, but John had to walk. It was a hard climb over the fields, with me pulling and John pushing. We'd be rewarded with a glass of milk and a chocolate digestive when safely home; sometimes it was a custard cream. More to follow
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