Born in 1824, Doris spent most of her life in and around Postwick. She was a staunch member of All Saints Church and for many years she was the secretary of the parochial church. This is her story and thanks to her a whole new image of Postwick emerges, when children would be laughing through the village. Doris was writing the second part of her story when she departed on the 25th March 2006.
CHILDHOOD MEMORIES OF POSTWICK
School
My earliest memory is when I started school and we had a day at Gorleston. One of the oldest girls at school was told to look after me for the day. Her name was Emma Jacob and she kept with me all the time. We got on a charabanc for the journey and we had streamers to fly from the windows. The men that were working in the fields stopped work to watch us go by and waved to us. We had sandwiches for lunch but before we left for home we went to a hotel for tea. This trip was made every year until I was one of the oldest girls looking after a young one. At Christmas we had a party for all the children of the village. Father Christmas came and gave each one a present after we had eaten our tea. There was a cake on each long table to be cut up. They always had tiny little crackers on them for decoration and year after year I always longed for one of them on my piece of cake but I never got one.
Valentine’s Day
At Valentine’s Day we always had some visits from Jack Valentine, who would knock on the door but was never to be seen when we opened it. There were always presents left on the mat for us to share. Each child always had a sticky bun, an orange and a bright shiny penny. There would always be such things as balls and skipping ropes and games such as Lexicon and five stones or jig saws we could play with if it was too wet to play outside. Each Autumn we would have a visit at school of a Mr Bambridge who had some woods with chestnut trees in them. He would tell us he had left one gap in the hedge so we could go in and get the chestnuts. He threatened to stop us if we made any more gaps so we never did.
Living in the village was a Mr and Mrs Turner but sometimes they would go away for several weeks. This was because Mr Turner was an equerry to King George V. In the churchyard next to my brother’s grave is the grave of the tutor of the princes of George V.
There was no health Service in those days and the villages used to organize egg weeks or fruit and vegetable weeks to keep the hospitals supplied. When an extension was needed at the Norfolk and Norwich (Hospital) the villages set to, raising money for it with whist drives, plays and concerts etc. Queen Mary was going to open it so each village sent a child with a silk purse with a card saying how much money the village had sent. At Postwick all the names of the children of school age went into a hat and one name was drawn out. It was my name that came out and my mother set to, making me new clothes to wear for the occasion. She made a while dress sprinkled with blue forget-me-nots and a blue coat with a white fluffy collar, white socks and black shoes. I had to practise how to curtsy at school and Mrs Woodrow the head teacher agreed to take me to meet Queen Mary. I was a bit frightened of her as she looked so severe but the best part was yet to come for me. After the ceremony was over, Mrs Woodrow took me to a CAFÉ and I had a CREAM HORN and a cup of tea. I am afraid I did not appreciate the honour of meeting the Queen when I had had such a treat afterwards.
The school did a good job of teaching us the skills which would be a lifetime help. We started every day with a short service and if it was somebody’s birthday, we could choose a hymn to sing. The Rev. Beard visited us regularly and he gave us a talk on how to live our lives and every Friday we had one whole period of hymn singing. We were taught to sew and knit on two needles and on four, we were shown how to turn sheets, sides to middle, how to darn and make clothes for ourselves. We were sent to Blofield to learn how to cook good nourishing meals and make jam, marmalade and pickles.
We also did a lot of mental arithmetic (to help us with shopping). On 24th May (Empire Day) we had a day off from school, but were expected to be at the fete to dance round the maypole and do some traditional country dancing to entertain the adults. The 29th May was Oak Apple Day and we had to find an oak apple to wear to show our allegiance to the royal family I think that stemmed from when King Charles hid in an oak tree to escape (from) Cromwell.
Each year we studied one particular tree and bird each and kept a record of each stage of development. We also went to St Andrews Hall to compete with other schools for our dancing and to Blofield to compete in sports.
On Sundays we went to school an hour later, at 10 o’clock. We learned the 10 commandments, the catechism and passages from the bible by heart as well as being told some of the stories of the bible. At 11 am we went 2 by 2 up to the church for the service, if our parents were there we could join them but if they weren’t there, we had to stay with the teachers. MY parents were always there and they never did any work on a Sunday except looking after the animals so we always had a cold meal on Sundays. In the afternoon we all went on a nature walk as we needed some fresh air in our lungs. Then we went to the evening service in church. When we were back home we read the bible and sang hymns until bed time. I can remember the missionaries coming for two weeks and then we went to church in the evenings to watch lantern slides or being told about their time abroad to bring the heathens to Christianity. They taught us some jingles, one to the Westminster chimes;
All through this hour
Be thou my guide
Kept by thy power
No foot shall slide
I can also remember several others but I won’t bore you with them.
I shall always remember when Mr Langridge from Hall Farm had an outbreak of foot and mouth disease. The stench of the bodies being burnt hung all over the village and everyone was afraid of it spreading to the other farms.
I was friends with Dorothy Appleton and her granddad, Mr William Appleton often told us of when he had to carry his wife through the floods in 1912. They lived on the marshes then and had to leave all their home behind them.
When King George and Queen Mary celebrated their jubilee on the throne, all the children were given a commemorative mug. The daughter of the Hon. Neil Primrose (who was killed during the First World War) was by this time the owner of Postwick and she gave the villagers a piece of land in Ferry Lane to be used for sport. It was only two years later that George V was dead, Edward VIII had abdicated and we were celebrating the coronation of George VI.
My last days as a teenager and up to getting married.
After the Jubilee of George V we had a very traumatic time as a family. My brother was taken ill one day, sent to hospital the next day and died a day later. He was the victim of meningitis and it is still claiming lives all these years later. Very shortly afterwards, the farmer of Hall farm, Mr Langridge, also lost his son very suddenly. He was at boarding school, got peritonitis and died before they could contact his parents for permission to operate. He was buried next to my brother. In June the next year the Education Committee arranged for us and all the surrounding schools to go to London on a special train and were met by five coaches to drive us round. I remember going to a museum and as I loved history, I was in a world of my own looking around. I didn’t notice all the others leaving to go to the zoo for tea and it wasn’t until Mrs Woodrow came back looking for me that I realized I was on my own. Even then it didn’t upset me at all but I was sorry that I had worried my teacher. About a month later my sister was born and about the same time, Dr Cockin took over as rector. He was very musical and his daughter was an opera singer. He built up a choir, ladies, gents, girls and boys and we went to his house for choir practice twice a week. My sister was only a few weeks old when I was very ill with rheumatic fever. The doctor came to see me three times a day for 4 or 5 days, my heart was damaged and I was in bed for 3 or 4 months and lived on milk only. When I was eventually let up, and to have light meals, my uncle came to see me. He was a fisherman and had got back to port that morning, he brought me the best piece of fish I had ever tasted and insisted on cooking it for me himself.
We hadn’t got a wireless in those days so we went to a neighbour’s to listen to Edward VIII’s abdication speech. We were all very sad.
On the whole I had a happy childhood especially with the family who often got together for parties or outings. In those days there were no carpets on the floors, just lino and piece rugs. (They were rugs made from old clothing cut into strips). Anyway my granddad and uncle played accordions, others played the mouth organ and my youngest uncle had a Hawaian guitar. The rest of us either danced, sang or played the comb and paper. Sometimes my uncles would see who could eat a dish of hot tapioca the quickest, or see who could step dance for the longest time, all good fun. These parties always ended with hymn singing and a prayer. There were no paid holidays in those days but on August Bank Holiday we all got on the train and went to Yarmouth. The children made a chair out of sand for granny and granddad while my mum and aunts went to buy bread and butter and fresh fruit. A man always walked along the beach selling shrimps and we all shared these for our lunch. When we had eaten, grandad would take us children under the pier and feed the laughing sailor with pennies. Then he would pay for us to have a ride on the roundabout and then get us an ice-cream cornet each. The rest of the day we spent on the beach or in the sea. If it had been a good harvest, the men would pay somebody to look after the animals for them, but if not they would bike to Yarmouth and bike back to feed them themselves. Some things I still think were rather harsh and unnecessary. One year my birthday was on a Sunday and I had a work box with cottons and material, needles, scissors etc. I was longing to make my doll a new dress but I wasn’t allowed to as it was Sunday and you did not do such things on that day. There were people loving in the village who demanded respect at all times. The boys were expected to raise their caps and the girls were spared having to curtsey but had to give a pleasant smile as they passed. When it was near our summer outing or Christmas party, we would have a lecture at school that unless we showed more respect we would not have our treat. Every Monday at school we collected for the waifs and strays and if we hadn’t got a coin to put in the box, we would be taken on one side and told we were being selfish.
My parents always told us if we were anywhere when they were having a meal, we had to come home and never to say anything about what they had to eat. Miss Ada Waters used to come round in her pony and trap to deliver the church magazine and always came to us at tea time. She would tell us what lucky children we were to have an egg for our tea (or whatever else we were having). One day she was saying that and my brother said, “ you are very rude talking about what we are having for tea and always coming at tea time to see what we are having”. My mother sent him to bed and then I said he was only saying what you tell us and it wasn’t fair. I got sent to bed as well. Surely if children were taught to be polite to adults, adults should be polite to children. When Miss Waters had gone, my mother told us we should have waited until she had gone before we said anything.
How things have changed over the years, a lot of children these days have no respect for anyone or their property. I know it is probably the few but they are the ones we hear about. Nobody seems to tell of the many good things children do.
I left school on the day I was 14, I had 2 days at home and started work on a Saturday. I had to bike into Norwich and be there by 8.15 am to be ready to start work at 8.30. I had a job in a men’s outfitters and I was the only girl except for the boss’s wife and a cleaning lady. We were given a cooked lunch and tea on a Staurday because we had to stay on the premises so we could be called down to serve as we were not supposed to keep any shopper waiting. That first day I had to work until 9 pm and then bike home to Heath Farm. We started at 8.30 am every day and finished at 6.30 pm. On Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays we left at 7 pm, Thursday at 1 o’clock (a whole afternoon off) and 8 pm on Fridays.
That was when I first saw anyone the worse for drink. The shop was in Ber Street and is now Bonds and the cattle used to come down there to the cattle market. Ber Street had many pubs in it and some men would call at every one on the way down.
When the War had been on for a while, I wanted to help the war effort so I left the shop and got a job in a factory making uniforms for our forces. Of course, that was a huge mistake, I could not cope with the noise, the conveyer belt always coming at me and the crudeness of the girls and women. I left and went to work for Frank Price, a department store in Magdalen Street. I got on well there but I still felt I wanted to do my bit for the war, so I went and joined the ATS. I had never been out of Norfolk before and I had to make my way to Leicester where I would be picked up and taken to barracks for training. I must tell you of my first night. I had never seen bunk beds and those sharper than me grabbed the bottom half so I had to climb up to the top. At bedtime most of the girls were crying but I started to giggle. When they asked me what was so funny, I said I had often gone to bed with the hens but I had never gone up to perch before! That was just what it reminded me of and some them saw the funny side and stopped crying. I met my husband in the army and we decided to get married. When the people of Postwick heard this, many of them offered my parents some of their rations to help get a special meal together. Mr Tann who my father worked for, killed one of two pigs he was allowed in a year and we had a lovely joint of pork. Somebody else gave them a bottle of whisky and the local baker made us a proper wedding cake.
Perhaps you can now see why I love Postwick and the church so much – they are all my family to me.
Doris Cassidy 2001
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