Ancestral Trails 2016 » Daisy Miriam SHEPHERD (1911-2005)

Persoonlijke gegevens Daisy Miriam SHEPHERD 

• Zij is geboren op 27 februari 1911 in Hatfield, Hertfordshire.
• Zij is overleden op 25 juli 2005 in Hatfield, Hertfordshire, zij was toen 94 jaar oud.
• Een kind van John Uriah SHEPHERD en Amelia Isabel BATEMAN

Gezin van Daisy Miriam SHEPHERD

Notities over Daisy Miriam SHEPHERD

From notes written by Daisy Sheppard, '....there was some controversy over the spelling of the name "Sheppard": Half of the family spell the name as "Shepherd". My father's cousin George, who was a Schoolmaster at Haileybury College told John that "Sheppard" was the correct spelling of the name. So when my parents were married they checked the spelling of the name at Pirton where the family record can be found....Ralph's family were mostly "Shepherds" except for Leonard...."

NOTES WRITTEN BY DAISY MIRIAM SHEPPARD [1911 - 2005] [Please note that there are a few amendments to be made from the notes on a proof copy my Aunt was given] The first memory I have is of sitting on the floor in a warm kitchen in front of the fireplace. The steel work of the fender shone, as also did the oven plate and fireguard. The hearth was very white, I sat against an old wicker chair which contained a velvet patchwork cushion with yellow feather stitching. I loved to stroke the soft velvet and never tired of looking at the pretty colours. I must have been about four years old when my younger sister squeezed herself through a space where one steel rod was missing from the fireguard and sat on the over plate which fortunately was just warm. I remember shouting “Mamma” as I was unable to prevent her. Fortunately mother was close at hand in the scullery and came running. Our Aunt Alice was married when I was two years of age. I remember being in a baby chair with a table attached. I seemed to have been alone for a long time before Dad picked me up. The wedding reception was held at the home of the Lady Gwendoline Ceal, usually known as ‘Lady Gwen’. There were steps into the garden as I remember rather like the Chancel Steps in the Parish Church of Saint Etheldreda. Next I seem to remember learning to turn the handles of the doors at our home in the kitchen of 25 Glebeland where I was born. They were round brass handles whichshone. I was triumphant when I could open the stairs door. I had to stand on tiptoe to do this. The stairs twisted around a little at the bottom and I was not very old when little sister Maysie fell down them, but I think she was more frightened than hurt. When I was two I had my photograph taken by a sixteen year old neighbour Edgar Cull. First I stood in our kitchen being coaxed to have my photograph taken in his garden and the family laughed at the way I said “photegraph”. I was so overcome by Edgar’s charm that I decided to marry him ‘when I grew up’. The Culls lived at the end house No. 23. Mr. Fred Cull was my father’s great friend. He had four sons, Edgar, Victor, Leonard and Sidney. There were no daughters, but Mrs. Cull taught the boys to do household chores which in those days were usually undertaken by the women. I often saw Leonard and Sidney in their back yard washing overalls in a huge bath; the two younger boys went to work on the railways whilst we were still at school. Mr. Cull grew sweet peas in his garden and he invited Maisie and me to pick them, as the more they are picked the better they grow. It was one of our greatest pleasures to do this an arrange them afterwards; they were probably rearranged after! Leonard and Sidney were very good about retrieving our balls when we were playing at the corner just outside their garden; they were almost like elder brothers and never teased us as did our own brothers. We fought shy of Edgard who was more concered about the damage we might do to the flowers. Edgar was studious, forever with his head in a book. He eventually became chief clerk to the Council. Victor assisted him with his office work. With the selfishness of the young we did not think of garden damage, or that we could have played away from gardens. There were plenty of green fields. We were surrounded with them, notthat we did not make good use ofthem for the wild flowers were our great love. First came the celandines - they were rejected when the buttercups came along. Daisychains became fashionable when the fields became dotted with these dainty little flowers; the blue of the speedwell reminded me of the blue eyes of our darling baby brother Ben. I was ----- when he was born. Before that though there was little sister Maysie. She was the baby of the family for six years, although there were one or two siblings in between who were too weak to survive. The soldier boys, sixteen and eighteen year olds, took her and taught her to walk. I was left behind with the unwanted feeling of a toddler when the new baby’s appear demands all of the attention. She was a very pretty child taught to say “I’m not pretty buy I’m good”. She had beautiful golden brown eyes, chestnut hair, a pale transparent skin and prettily clumped wrists. I was fair, blue eyed with freckles across my nose and thin and pale, dreamy and hypersensitive, and not exactly equable in temperament. I did adore the baby brother and throughout his young life I glossed over his faults and never once had a cross word with him. The horrors of the 1914-1918 war were kept away from us, although once we children became excited about seeing a Zeppelin flying low. I have a fleeting recollection of the horrified expression on a neighbour’s face which reminds me of El Greco’s painting of Christ in the Agony in the Garden,which had a sobering effect on me. I was three when war started in 1914 and I think this episode must have been about the time of the German air raid when lives were lost at Cuffley ? 1917. I do remember soldiers marching along French Horn Lane at the bottom of Glebelands. No. 25 was the house where I was born, being one of the back row nearest the spinney which separated our cottage row from the Old Rectory inmates view. On this particular day the soldiers were in charge of a very young officer. They were singing the verse of a hymn beginning “And a little child shall lead them”. We had soldiers billeted with us. For a short period Mr. Reid-Duck the sculptor and his wife occupied the front bedroom. We had a small model of a Mercury in terra-cotta from which Mr. Reid took a cast. In the downstairs front room we had an old lady to stay with us as a paying guest. Her name was Hannah Hickson and she was unmarried. She kept canaries and we were told the story of how she came by them. She had looked after a doctor and one day a canary flew into the doctor’s study and made himself at home. The doctor had an aviary built after making a great pet of him and called him Mr. Wackoose. The bird seemed happy and was allowed plenty of freedom. One day he flew away and it was thought he had gone for ever. The doctor was sad about losing his pet. Three months later Mr. Wackoose returned bringing withhim a little lady bird (bird, not beetle) so the pair became Mr. and Mrs. Wackoose. So from these two Hannah Hickson finally started her canary family. Even in her old age Hannah’s hair was pretty. It was long and she wore it piled up on the top of her head fastened with pretty combs. Miss Hannah told my mother many stories of Hatfield as it was when she was a child. She must have been born in 1830 for my mother was given a letter written by her when she was said to have been ten years old in 1840. It starts off “Honoured Parent” and ends “from your dutiful daughter”. There was a market building which was next door to the churchyard at the top of Fore Street at some period of her childhood. Hannah said how worried she was when one of the pegs from the covered market went into her father’s grave. I think the market was moved to Park Street. Thelast time I visited St. Etheldreda’s Church I walked around the burial ground and saw Hannah’s father’s wooden erection lygin flat on the ground. Only those who could have known about it could have deciphered the very faintly discernible print, almost blotted out from the effects of wind and rain. Fores Street always intrigued me with its old fashioned buildings and the beautiful doorways of Morton and Goodrich houses. I liked especially the chemist’s shop where there was always a pleasant aroma of Cholrodyne lozenges. I also liked their taste. Old white haired Mr. Cox had a whistle which was unique, never a proper tune but a series of short whispery notes. His nephew “Doctor” as he was always called was dark, very kind, and he addressed me as “my dear”. Whenever I have had occasion to walk up the steep forest hill I recollect them. The two Misses Thomas who served in their father’s shop were rosy-faced and smiling. Their bakers shop was at the corner with one side facing Bird Cage Walk. It was a great treat to have hot rolls for breakfast from their shop occasionally. We had to get up early to buy them. Across the raod was Mr. Stan Hankins’ shop where in a little room away from the gentlemen’s side he fitted our children’s shoes. Mrs. Fuller, I think previous to her marriage had been Miss Ethel Hankin, kept a drapers shop on the opposite corner at the top of Park Street. Here I am a little confused as I thought she was a sister of Mrs. Walby who, with Mr. Walby her husband, kept the butchers shop at the bottom of Arm-and-Sword yard facing Park Street. It has been said that Arm Sword yard derived its name from having been infested by the plague which broke out after the Great Fire of London. Originally it was so narrow a street that the residents on each side could almost shake hands across it from their windows. I once had to take a message to Mrs. Speight, who lived with her antique dealer husband in Goodrich House. I was not very happy that morning; it seemed that I was always the one chosen to do the errands. Mr. Speight found me in tears going up the stairs and tried to comfort me. It did not occur to me until years later that I was chosen because I was reliable. I used to worry about forgetting and would repeat shopping requests over to myself and one day I arrived at the grocers asking for “six yards of emerald green treacle please”! Treacle in those days was sold loose in glass jars from a large container. This little incident caused great merriment and on my part must have relieved some tension. How thankful I am for this gift of laughter when so many do not see the funny side of a situation. I will not continue with a sketch of the members of my family as I remember each in turn. My father - he was a slightly built man and took a boys size in caps. His hair was slightly gingerish and he had very blue eyes. He was a very quiet walker. In a school composition, my eldest sister wrote “my father is not what you would call a bull-dog type of man, being more like a fox terrier” - as regards size, this was amusingly applicable, but my father seldom barked! My father did not seem to think this was amusing. In fact he was annoyed, although he usually saw the funny side of things. He was a very quiet man who enjoyed reading. At the same time he had an ear for what was happening around him. He it was from whom we had that tendency towards book learning, although I will admit I have read a lot of rubbish in my time. He never displayed an open show of affection towards his children but I knew the love was there. I inherited painful shyness from him. He was very understanding and once when I had a childish display of temper towards my mother he said in fron of me “you do rub her up the wrong way”. As a teenager he had been very good at, presumably, roller ice skating and so enthusiastic, that after a thorough soaking from falling through thin ice, he changed his clothes and went off to skate again. His mother found his wet clothes after interested onlookers enquired for him. I di not know how his mother reacted to this but on one occasion she threw a basin at him. Father was interested in electricity, but owing to the early death of his father, he was forced into other work and became a journey-may plumber. After leaving the employment of Mr. Fred Hunham at Hatfield he worked at Napsbury Mental Hospital which during the first world war housed wounded soldiers. He worked there until he retired, cycling forth and back, a journey of seven miles each way, probably a little less when we moved to Chantry House. He died at the age of 68 after two years of painful illness. My mother nursed him at home throughout. My mother was of an average build. She said she was 5’5” in height. Her hair was glossy when younger and of a chestnut hue. Her eyes were a slightly lighter brown with well marked eyebrows. She had a clear pale skin inclined to be sallow. I as a child thought her the most beautiful woman in Hatfield. She had a straight nose. Her personality was outgoing as opposed to my father’s introverted nature. She said her first quarrel after they married was about father’s love of reading. He would read when she wanted to talk. It was not until she was getting on in years that I remember her reading a book for her own pleasure, when she actually read “John Halifax, Gentleman” and really enjoyed it. I do remember she did find time to read to Maysie and me. I had developed one of my bad colds. I think looking back that she was expecting the arrival of Ben so not too much notice was taken, and I suppose I continued going to school until one morning there I was covered in a rash. It was pronounced to be rubella or german measles by the doctor. Maysie was kept in contact with me so that it could be “got over” and of course she did develop it. This was at a time when, as measles affects the eyes, we could not read ourselves. I suppose this was also when ourmother had to rest herself as much as she could. She read to us some of the poems of Eugenie Field. Her solft voice was very soothing as she read “Winken, Blinken and Nod??, and we were lulled to sleep. She also sang “the Sandman” to us. I remember Nurse standing for a brief moment in the doorway. Mother could have sent us to the home. Although she did not read books for herself she used to sing when she was busy about the house and would encourage us, especially on Sundays to sing to her. Maysie and I used to sing in bed at night. I was only tired when it was time to get up in the morning. The stairs door was opened sometimes so that our singing could be heard. Her eyesight failed her before she was forty and baby Ben was bewildered and a little frightened when she returned from the opticians wearing spectacles. She tended to favour the boys more than the girls. Florence, the eldest daughter, declared even to her grown up years, that Douglas was always given the pudding piece with the most currants in it. The boys were in the church choir so that they had to have this, that and the other. My father’s collars and front were always beautifully starched, as were the boys choir collars. With Maysie and myself she was always fair and with what clothes she could afford we were both treated alike. We being the younger ones did have clothes handed down to us, which is common in large families. She was an excellent needlewoman and before her marriage was employed as a sewing maid. Being yound and inexperienced at 17, she was put upon to do such menial work as scrubbing floors. She at the time she first met my father was employed by a wealthy family called Ashton. They lived at Northcottes House near Hatfield station. Ashtons kepta very good table and we were entertained hearing about all the mouth watering food available. Once she was out with one of the girls employed there and they received a severe reprimand from the cook for buying bread pudding cake (this was a mixture of breadcrumbs, apples and dried fruits sandwiched between sugary pastry) from the Miss Thomas’ shop in Fore Street when they were so well fed at Northcotts. I am pleased to remember that it was on a Sunday, the 27th of February, about eleven years before I was born that my father asked her hand in marriage. My mother had a good deal of family pride. Her mother had been a well educated woman who had run away from home to become a nurse. She was a member of the same Quinney family that William Shakespeare married into. Shakespeare left no heirs, but into that family went the silver cup that had been given to Shakespeare by Queen Elizabeth. Unfortunately this family fell upon hard times and the cup was melted down and sold. Alas. My mother’s father came from Somerset where the Bateman family had lived for generations. There are said to be writings in the British Museum of one Stephen Batekan. John Bateman was a strict teetolaer, whereas my father’s family were beer drinkers. My mother disapproved of public houses and thought they were places of iniquity. Grandfather Bateman’s brother Henry met with a fatal accident when a horse bolted and the carriage overturned. Granddad promised his dying brother he would look after his wife and family, which he did; this may explain the fact that our mother had to leave home so early to earn her own living. Florence, the eldest child, a bonny bady who developed into a very pretty girl. True, she had a snub nose, which suited her, but she had a pretty mouth, white even teeth, fresh complexion and golden hair which curled around her ears. She was not a doll loving female. She was more interested in the natural living world. My mother told how one day she went out in a spotless white dress and returned with a kitten which had misbehaved all down the nice white dress, saying “bart it”. She was two. Later on she was in trouble at school for carrying a mouse. At the early age of two and a half, there is an appealing photograph of Flo-Flo holding the hand of brother Douglas (15 months) to whom she was very protective. She was a bright child, quick at calculating and became a good bookkeeper. She left home at 17 to work in Somerset. Florence liked to read in bed at night. On one occasion she fell asleep and the lighted candle overturned and set alight to the bed. At 18 she should have had more thought. After that her employer refused to let her sleep in his house, and she would have lost her employment had she not been a good bookkeeper. So Flo went to sleep at night in her aunt’s house in the little village of Cucklington, where also lived our grandparents. Thereafter she had a three mile cycle ride forth and back from work. It seems that most of us suffer from our own inability and have to lear life’s lessons the hard way. This leads me to think about destiny. No doubt the cycle ride was good exercise as Flow had to sit at work. It was when she was cycling from work that she met her husband. She told how actually she was picking primroses which grew in such profusion along the country lane when she heard a void say “may I help you”. Looking up she beheld this young man who had an eye for a pretty girl, and no doubt the attraction was mutual. She was married at the age of 19. They, too, ended their days near the farm they both managed at Battle in Sussex. Flo had a great love of wild flowers and she it was sho showed me where they grew. There was a period during springtime when all the prettiest flowers in the wood nearby their little house blossomed together; anemones, primroses, bluebells, early purple orchids and overhead cherry blossom formed patches of colour no human hands could have arranged so pleasingly. Flo always had a bunch arranged to stand on a bureau or window-sill even if it was just butter-bur or catmint, the latter not very popular with her husband on account of its strong unpleasant aromatic odour. Her early love of living things continued throughout her life. She had a little pet hen which would perch on her shoulder. Judy the mongrel dog deserted her babies during an air raid, although she had trotted back and forth to them, to stay with family in Anderson Shelter, this was at Cheshunt. The dog, although it had an alsastion streak inherited was very gentle. She travelled with the family and was especially attached to Florence and finally managed to crawl onto her bed to die. Douglas - a handsome lad with a natural wave in his thick dark glossy hair. Very ambitious education wise. It must have been a great disappointment for him to have to leave school early to assist with the meagre family income. He had a postal course with the Bennet College but I do not know how much help this was to him. He was apprenticed as a cabinet maker to Mr. F.W. Speight under the direction of Mr. Humpreys. Mr. Humphreys had several daughters, but it was Dorice who charmed Douglas. At 16/14 he fell in love with her. She was a very attractive redhead with a peach like complexion. This affair had to be broken off by my parents, as Dorice was also receiving the attentions of a married man. From a bright sunny good natured lad, Douglas changed for a period and became irritable and morose. He gradually accepted the sitatuion and consoled himself with another girl. After leaving Mr. Speight’s employment he worked at Luton, returning home at weekends. Maysie and I were allowed to feel in his pockets for the creamy toffees he brought home as a treat for us. There was chocolate for ourmother. He was generous with money and gave us always twopence for errands done on his behalf. He finally married Nora Kathleen King from Essex. Nora was born in the pretty village of Marks Tey, where they had a pretty wedding in the village church. We all travelled by road to her parent’s home. After the church ceremony there was a feast afterwards at the village hall. I chiefly remember sitting opposite to the Rector, Mr. Saint, and his wife, and enjoying generous helpings especially of fruit and cream. The date was September 15th and was my nephew Peter’s third birthday. Nora’s sister Edith took charge of the younger members of the family at tea-time, ensuring that we were again well fed. Sadly Edith had suffered an amputation of leg for sarcoma at the early age of 13, but at this time I was quite ignorant of this fact and nothing marred the serenity of that sunny September day. Maysie and I were bridesmaids and wore pale blue dresses which Nora had made; these were our ‘best’ dressed for years, or for a very long time. During their early married life at the aftermath of the 1914-1918 war there was much unemployment, and Douglas was one of the unfortunately ones to be out of work. My father introduced him to Napsbury Hospital as a carpenter joiner where he remained until he retired at 65. Douglas cycled and played tennis at Welham Green before marriage but had to concentrate on making ends meet after he took on half the garden at Chantry House where we were then living. Nora made him a very good wife and they were a very devoted couple. Kitty - she reminds me of ‘Beth’ from ‘Little Women’ having the same quiet shy personality. A born home-maker she had responsibilities thrust upon her too early in life. Instead of taking part in, and enjoying childish games, she was often called upon to take my mother’s place in caring for the younger ones. My mother’s health was such that she frequently had to spend days resting. Kitty took after my mother’s side of the family, although in appearance there was something of the Sheppard family about her. She had big soulful brown eyes which should not have been allowed to have been covered by hideous spectacles (her first pair had metal frames). She had whooping cough in infancy and developed a squint which could have been corrected otherwise. Her greatest joy was in the garden and she was almost heartbroken when in later life her health failed and she was unable to dig our heavy clay soil. She had a great deal of musical appreciation preferring plaintive airs in minor keys. She did enjoy the music of Mozart. Everything about her was neat, tidy and ladylike. She adopted my mother’s style of housekeeping and was her right hand throughout the life they spent so much together. She was named after mother’s sister Kitty who died of diphtheria at the age of 14. Winifred was another family name, and Rosalie after Lady Neigh who was some relation of the lat John Galsworth. At some time my mother had been employed by this lady who lived in that part of London where the Natural History, and Victoria and Albert Museums are situation and were later some of my favourite haunts. William - I believe he was bonny at birth. He developed phneumonia in early childhood and nearly died at the age of eight, and was thereafter delicate. He had a peach like complexion and looked angelic. He was my mother’s pet. She seemed blind to his failings. I did not realise until I became an adust that he had any failings - I too worshipped him. He had a sweet singing voice, and one Christmas time carol service at St. Etheldredas Parish Church took the part of the page from “Good King Wenceslas”, which suited his voice admirably. He was a clever studious boy and won a scholarship to Hertford Grammar School at the age of ten or eleven. He must have sat upon his laurels as he did not do very weel at the grammar school. He was hopeless at games and could not run. The headmaster, Major Kinman, was a military minded gentleman I gather who encouraged sporting activities. William left school at the age of 16 to work in a surveyors office and studied to become an architect. He was an extremely delicate water colourist. His skys and backgrounds were a joy to behold, while the foregrounds showed a delicate strength of line (there are somewhere a number of his pen and wash pictures). His line drawings to me were sometimes a little too hard perhaps the result of so much precision drawing. His first marriage ended in divorce. After remarrying he died at the age of 52. The whereabouts of Robin, his daughter, and son Giles, by his first wife Nina, to date October 1992 are unknown. Lesley Gillian, daughter by his second wife Joan nee Milner, is married to Robert Gardner. They have two children David William and Victoria Robin. This family are living in Canada. William during the war years assessed the damage to buildings due to enemy action. He also worked at hospitals and is said to have designed the Cottage Hospital at Potters Bar. Maysie ?? my earliest memory of her was after being taken upstairs by Kitty. We went into the front bedroom. Our mother was sitting in a chair breast feeding baby Maysie. My mother looked up and said “this is what you used to have “. Maysie, although I do not remember exactly what she looked like at that moment of time, had chestnut coloured hair, golden brown eyes, and a pale complexion. She also inherited the uneven family teeth, but they were not noticeable as she had a pretty mouth. As a baby she had pretty dimpled hands, the chubbiness forming a “bracelet” on her wrists. For six years she was the baby of the family and very much petted. In the summer of 1915 we had soldier boys living around. There were always two billetted with us. I remember how they used to coax my mother to let them take the baby out, and between them they taught her how to walk. I remember as a four year old so well that “left out” sort of feeling of the toddler when the baby is the centre of attention. I accepted it because she was the baby. [this last part has already been mentioned at the beginning]. Benjamin - named after our mother’s brother Ben. As he was the last survivor of a large family, the Rector teased our Ben by saying it was a case of Ben-Jam-In! Ben had a Jewish shaped nose, and I do wonder if it could have been a legacy from the Quinney family who were Jews. A delicate jaundiced baby, copper colour at birth. He outgrew his physical inability and became a well set up young man. Joining the scout movement helped a great deal towards improving his physique. He went camping frequently at weekends, little boys became attached to him and there constantly seemed a knocking on the door “is Ben in”, and much disappointment if he was not to hand. He went to work as a clerk in the Gascoyne Cecil Estate where according to Uncle Arthur teasingly “managed the estate for Lord Salisbury”. Life thee was not too easy as he was an underling answering to the old fashioned whims of older men. Here I must say I was charmed with the Estate Agent Mr. McOwen. I was only a small seven year old collectin pensions for old ladies when I dropped a book. Big, portly, red faced man with many chins that he was with great effort he bent down to pick it up for me. I really appreciated being treated like a grown up lady. One of my pleasant memories was going to meet Ben from the office. His face would be wreathed in smiles. He was a good companion. I have memories of singing the dear old fashioned songs together such as “On Wings of Son”, ???Juanita” and “The Sundial here in my Garden”. I did not see him after he was 18. As I was born in 1911 it was usual for girls born in that year to be given the name of Mary for Coronation year. This name my mother disliked. So Mrs. Ellingham, the wife of Mr Ellingham who rang bells alongside of my father, suggested the name of ‘Miriam’, as it is the Hebrew version of ‘Mary’; this was also her daughter’s name. I received a silver coin from the daughter of Miriam for being thus named. My first name was meant to have been Margaret but relations started to call me Daisy and so I was named. Arthur Emerton, a neighbour, gave me a silver spoon which I kept for many years until it was stolen from me during my early working life by a sick person. Arthur Emerton was also a sick man but he was a good cook; once when my mother was ill he made a very nice cade which we children had all to ourselves. Those were the days when doors were not needed to be locked except at night. It was a small community. We knew our neighbours and we helped one another. Talking of helping, I remember helping myself to an occasional yellow raspberry from the bushes at the end of the garden which we had to pass in order to get to our own plot at the bottom of the railway lines and also helping myself to a fallen apple which was not of our own growing. I think my mother made up for this when I think of the amount of fruit she gave away later on when we moved house. Of course, she had not been made aware of my previous misdeamenours. At any rate I had not thought it necessary to tell her, as we were constantly lectured on the importance of being honest. My mother was a very generous woman who would go without herself in order to give to others. There was a great ado one summer when Mr. Wilkins, another neighbour, missed strawberries from his garden patch. He had an idea that our William knew something about them. But our William like the proverbial fox laid low and said nothing as did all the other boys. I can truthfully say I never tasted any of these. The little girl from next door used to take me along to her father’s farden to admire the strawberries, which were probably all counted. Our father, when he was gardening, liked us to play near his red and blackcurrant bushes and the gooseberries, so as to keep the greedy starlings away. He was very partial to blackcurrants in a pudding. He showed us how to pick beans without disturbing th pretty red blossom. He would peel a carrot for us to eat there “but not to tell your mother”; it was then that I felt really like a conspirator in league. How he managed to keep us in vegetables on the worst bit of earth that ever was I shall never know. The garden was alongside the ditch that ran along the bottom of the railway embankment; the ditch never seemed to dry out. Later on he rented another bit of ground as well that was situated in front of our house on the spinney side, which was dug from a field. It must have been terribly hard work. I never did appreciate father nearly enough. I only wish I could tell him so now. But “the stateley ships go on .. to their haven under the hill. But oh for the touch of a vanished land and the sound of a voice which is still…”. As a little change from writing, I picked up a library book by Howard Spring called “All the Day Long”. I am reminded in the first chapter where the author describes the reaction to the death and burail of “her doll”, of my own first doll. She was a flat headed, flat faced rag doll with enormous heavily fringed blue eyes. I called her “starry eyes” (I think I said “Starly”). I could not say starry. I adored her. Like children, dolls grow grubby and it was suggested we had a funeral. I was very young. It was before Maysie was born. We had a nice cardboard box and a grand procession to Kitty’s own little flower garden. I thoroughly enjoyed the funeral but after it was all over I cried and wanted her dug up again. Here I must say how well I remember the pretty polyanthas in Kitty’s garden, they were beautiful velvety brown colour, and I do not remember since ever seeing that particular shade of colour. Unfortunately, I am allergic to the primula family and although I admire so much the brilliant colours, I cannot handle them as they give me itchy fingers. Sometime after the episode of “starry eyes”, I think it may have been at Christmas time, I was given another doll. It had a kid body, but the head was too tiny; I suspect that the original head had been broken. It was too tiny. Child that I was, I realised it was out of proportion. I could not love it, as I had Starry Eyes. The third and last doll that I had was given to me by Great Aunt Amelia. She gave Maysie and I exactly the same. Maysie was six and I was nine. These dolls were dressed as fairies in white with spangles. The shoes were painted on the feet. It was very kind of Auntie Mil. This lady was quite a character. Well into her eighties she had a powerful singing voice, and was said to have taken third place in a competition with Dama Clara Butt. Antie Mel has been the first woman teacher to go teaching in Australia. She made herself known to all the VIPs of Hatfield. I remember her singing Gounods Ave Maria. She had one son and two daughters after marrying a Dr. Crowley. One of her daughters was dismissed from her secretarial post in the House of Commons for being caught climbing a drainpipe which ended in a gargoyle and was in a prominent place. I suppose my mother was named “Amelia” after my great aunt. Mother’s second name was Isabelle; it seemed a little strange that my mother’s own family called her Belle, whilst Dad’s family called her Milly. I did not like, and still do not like, the shortening to Milly, nor do I care for the name “Amelia”. It has an imperious sound, as that of a servant being called. Class distinction was much more pronounced in my younger days. When I finally became a nurse I was amused to find myself sometimes addressed as “Sistah”, a pronounciation which a young English mistress in a school for society young ladies tried to correct. Today it is cod and miserable. Somehow the seasons seem to merge into one another so that we do not have those very warm summers and cold, cold winters of my childhood days. As small children this is the sort of weather that the toy box would be brought out. We would build houses with a fascinating assortment of very much worn bricks and then the youngest would play ‘wolf’ to tumble them down again. There was a pink enamelled tea set with which we played tea parties, occasionally with a few currants thrown in. Books would keep us quiet for hours. Occasionally we were allowed to look at the scrap book of cutout pictures. This had to be handled with great caare. We hated bedtimes when the contents of the toy box had to be put tidily away and the buttons picked up if we had been allowed to play with them. My mother had a collection of Parish magazines which used to serialise love stories. I was an avid ready of those. I had opportunities for reading as regularly every winter I was away from school with bad colds and these books were kept within my reach in the bedroom. “The Lantern of Love” rings a bell although I have no recollection of the story and probably the deeper meaning would have been above my head. “Peg’s Papers” beloved of my eldest sister were confiscated by our mother as “rubbish”. Really they were harmless enough compared with some of today’s pornographic portrayals. But these cheap light love stories read by young girls tend to give a false idea of life especially of that after marriage. We used to be given old copies of the “Schoolgirls Own” paper books but these were frowned upon by our headmistress, Miss Ellen Carter. I have great respect and admiration for her. She really loved her girls. There were tears in her eyes when she had to part from us at her premature retirment. She used to cycle to school from the house she lived in by the duck pond made famous by Dickens in which Bill Sykes was said to have drowned his dog. She used to wheel her bicycle up the Brewery Hill, but looked as if she thoroughly enjoyed cycling down it. She was quite a well built lady, markedly corsetted, with dark brown hair and eyes and a fresh complexion. She wore a high necked blouse and a long full skirt. As if teaching daily was not enough, she also took Sunday School which I think was noble of her. I only attended her class once. One of the younger teachers used to take me to morning church services. I was very conscious of having to wear my brother’s old socks, the heels of which came well above my ankles; also the embroidered coat I wore which had been remodelled I think from a Christening robe. The service of Holy Communion was very tiring, as we children were expected to kneel. Sunday afternoons we attended the children’s services at Saint Etheldredas. We were assembled in twos outside the Countess Anne School, which was then opposite the church yard, by the two Miss Caesars. They were devoted church ladies. They also taught a few children, as private pupils in their own home. This house was called Galleycroft. Not far from this was a house of a smaller type called ‘The Odd Cottage’. This was because the Parish boundary was marked so that one half of the house was in the Parish of St. Albans. The Countess Anne School may have changed its name, or its name given to another building, but the original, as I remember it, stood on the south side of the church yard near the top of Back Street or ChurchStreet as it now seems to be called, the very top house on this side was occupied by Lord Salisbury’s butler and family; a lodge that I do not remember seeing often opened. Next door to the school still stands the house where my parents started their married life. I used to admire the diamond paned windowns nestling in the sturdily built walls. Perhaps it was because we regularly attended the children’s service on Sunday afternoons that we had invitations for the annual Sunday School treats. Usually we went to Bricket Wood. In those days the railway line from Hatfield to St. Albans existed and it a very pleasant journey by train to St. Albans and then on to Bricket Wood. As I may have mentioned, scores of people especially railway workers wives took advantage of this mode of travel especially on Saturdays when there was such a good market in St. Albans. It was a shame to have closed this railway line. Bricket Wood contained a funfair which I did not overmuch enjoy; the swings made me feel rather sick and the helter skelter, besides giving me “butterflies” when I reached the top, I also grazed my forearms in my efforts of holding on to the sides of the chute. I did enjoy a double amount of corned beef sandwiches because brother William had no appetite and we also had the nice large thick arrowroot biscuits which I have not seen since childhood days. There was an area outside of the funfair which I would have liked to explore, but we were expected to keep within bounds. One year our treat was to Southend on Sea. I remember Maysie and I both had new cotton dressed for the occasion and I sat down and muddied my new dress. I remember it was like a sheet of silver grey and as smooth looking as a pond. I enjoyed the tang of the salt air and also seeing shellfish displayed, of buying pineapple flavoured rock. It was a very exciting, never to be forgotten day. When we went to Sunday afternoon church, we went out of our Glebeland front door wearing gloves; these we removed when out of sight of mother. We walked down the road which continued where the front ways joined the back ways which inclined into Frenchorn Lane. We passed the gasworks under the railway bridge, bearing right where the road forked at the triangle containing the doctors surgey. We passed Ketton House which was the Wesleyan Chapel, afterwards becoming a storehouse for Tingeys furniture. The end house (was there) of Spring Villas, they came next, was then occupied by the Misses Rowlatts; they were a sedate pair of old ladies who continually complained of the noise we made during our playtime at the school next door to them. The domestic science school occupied the very end at the corner, continuing with the main school which was in the London Road, better known now as the Great North Road. At this corner we crossed over where there was a sweet shop, which stood nearly next door to the old post office. Between the two buildings was the entrance to the backways of one row of the Salisbury Square Cottages. These were the property of (Lord Salisbury) The Marquis of Salisbury. At that time he was the owner of much property, and later formed the Gascoyne Cecil Estate Company. The sweet shop was the end house of the row of cottages, and was managed by Mrs. Wrigley and afterwards by her niece know as ‘Topsy’. Topsy later on became Mrs. Leonard Cull. Joined in matrimony to one of our very much liked neighbours. I fear that more than one penny meant for the Church Collection found its way into Topsy’s till. Of course we was not to know. We had lectures from school about this. We continued our walk through the two rows of Salisbury Square houses and up the flight of steps known as Jacobs Ladder and into Bach Street. All of the cottages had pretty little well kept gardens. Nobody bothered about the grassy banks on either side of the steps. I note now that those have been cultivated since the old cottages were demolished under the new planning scheme. As we crossed the road at the top of the steps “The Bakers Arms” was opposite and nearby next door to the churchyard gate. There were workshop garages on the side of the other row of Salisbury Square. All of these houses had been well and solidy built and had been formerly occupied by Lord Salisbury’s militia. To me the highlight of the church year was flower Sunday. If there were not enough flowers in our garden a few would be purchased from the neighbours. Old Mrs. Roberts at the bttom end of our row, whose son was a gardener, always had a fine display of summer flowers. Some of her bright blue delphiniums both light and dar blue prvided a brilliant background for each bunch; then there were our own Mrs. Sinkins pinks, and the pink roses which grew in the centre of our front garden. Old Mr. Larkin at the top end corner house had a hedge of sweetly scented cream coloured roses; there would be one or two of these plus sweet williams. Old Miss Hickson who lived with us until I was nine, said no bunch of flowers was complete without a bit of yellow in it, so in went a few yellow antirhinums which grew under her window, and there may have been a marigold or two; the pale ones also grew under her window. We walked along proudly displaying our bunches with never a care in the world on those special Sunday afternoons. We each laid our bunch near the Chancel Steps and enjoyed taking a peep at the massed display after the service. We sang “All things bright and beautiful” which has always been one of my favourites. The flowers were taken to one of the poor parishes in London. I hope they did not lose too much of their freshness after being held in our hot little hands. The weather was always warm. I only remember one wet flower Sunday. How inocent we were in those far off days. I remember standing in a shop waiting to be served when I feld a hand down my neck at the back, and a handful of pennies fell through my dress on to the floor. “Are these for me” I said, turning to a man who had been responsible. Being assured that they were, I took them home to my mother. “You must never talk to strangers, let along accept money from them” she said. So brother William who recognised the man from my description and had seen him about had to escort me to find this stranger and return the money, which we very soon were able to do as he was in the centre of the town near The Salisbury Arms, then known as ‘the Coffee Tavern’. I remember being very upset at the time; pennies were hard to come by and I was only seven. I did not understand why I could not have the money, but soon forgot the incident. It is only of latter years that I have recalled it to mind. On my first day at the Countess Anne School which at that time housed the infants, I wore a green velvet dress with a greek key embroidered fastening. I liked this dress although I have since thought it was a small boys tunic being fastened on the right hand side. I wore brown button short length boots. I did not like these as I knew they had been boys boots. I soon forgot the boots when I became absorbed in the teacher and the classroom. My favourite teacher in that first class was Miss Tingey. Beforehand she had me out in front of the (class) other children to tell about how my grandma had travelled “all the way from Somerset to see me”. The bright strung coloured counters which I watched whilst learning to count up to ten, also helped by teacher’s fingers really intrigued me. I was fascinated by colour and would pour over every detail in a picture book. I was disappointed at the end of my first day in the classroom because I was not given a nursery rhyme card, no provision having been made for newcomers. Next Friday the week after I started school I was very pleased with “the three little kittens who lost their mittens” card which was given to me to take home. Disappointed again I was when sections of apples were passed to show us the pips, and we were not allowed to eat the fruit. They were green apples. This was my first lesson in biology, but I do not think it was fully comprehended in regard to wider issues until later. The Misses Houghtons were the Senior School mistresses at my time as an infant. Betty, who later became Mrs. Bertie Bottomley, was the senior f the two. I adored her sister, who also married and became Mrs. Charlie Harbour. Both husbands were school teachers. Mrs. Harbour taught me my first pothooks which I so enjoyed writing with a proper pencil and paper. I did not like the squeaky sound of the pencils on the slates which were given for use in the babies class. I ‘skipped’ Mrs. Bottomley’s and was transferred to the Girls School when I was six. I had so much wanted to sit in the next classroom which I think was divided by a screen, as Mrs. Bottomley’s classroom walls were adorned with attractive pictures. Once when Mrs Harbour was away, she showed us how to draw a tree, and we sang little songs and had little marches to music. I also remember that she talked about food swallowed as going down ‘red land’, which to me had the same interestin sound as Alice from Wonderland going down the rabbit hole. Mr. Antrobus was Rector at that time. He used to stopand chat to the teachers on his way to Hatfield House. There was a footpath from his house at St. Audreys Road which passed the back of the school, and entered the Dairy Road. It has been said of him that when his hair was first cut, a pudding basin had been held over his head. Be that as it may, he was handsome in both looks and bearing, but he seemed to twoer above us, or myself, as if he lived in a different world. We stood in awe of him. Yet he was a very kindly soul. Later on he bridged the gap a little by lending a picture of Venice by Mr. De Wint to the senior mixed school for me to paint a copy. He also took me to Northcottes House which had become then, or pertained to be a medical centre for physiotherapy, Mrs. Antrobus accompanying him. His name was Josclyn and hers was Justine. This occasion was later one when I was twenty and had suffered a broken leg, which had been in plaster for six weeks. Mr. Antrobus’s predecessor had been the Lord William Cecil whose departure from Hatfield to become Bishop of Exeter, had been a mixed blessing to his Hatfield parishioners. he and his wife, the Lady Florence nee Wilbraham, had been great favourites. The Cecils lived simply, and were not averse to sharing with what was to be had foordwise during their visits to people’s homes. At the same time, they kept open house to “the gentlemen of the road” (tramps) and the needy. When my father had rheumatic fever as a young man, prior to his marriage, Lord William and Lady Florence were frequent visitors. Mother’s eldest and dearest friend was an old lady called Mrs. Smith. She lived in the end cottage of Beaconsfield Terrace. This adjoined Beaconfield Road wherein at the end neared the old police station was the Hatfield School St. Audreys. I can see old Mrs. Smith now holding out a rosy apple for me, with a wrinkled round face not unlike an apple itself, with a beaming smile for me as well. She knew I would pass that way from school. Her youngest daughter was a bookkeeper who worked for Mr. F.J. Hollier at Goldings Dairy in French Horn Lane. Mr. Hollier had some of the finest horses in the country. It is sad to think hishorses and carts will be seen no more. I understand that his sons did not take to the business. He used to rent the field behind the spinney at Glebeland after Archdeacon Gibbs and his family moved away. No milk to me has tasted as good as that from his cows. I think they were Alderneys. I believe a certain Mr. Borthwick took on this estate and left the land for educational purposes, so that the new school was built with ample playgrounds. Tingeys had a corner shop at the end of French Horn Lane where the road crossed over the St. Albans road tobecome the Union Lane. There they sold furniture and second hand goods, including books. Many of our favourite books came from this store. Maysie had to read from the classics during the Ware Grammar School holidays, books which eventually I was able to read as well. There were two other Tingey shops, the last occupied one being situated near Gracemead Cottages. These cottages housed railway people and were demolished under the Newtown Planning Scheme, as indeed practically the whole of that area was pulled down and rebuilt. There are a few of the original houses left on the right hand turning of St. Albans Road East towards the council offices, and are on both sides of the road. Tingeys were very good about delivering groceries and their bacon was the best in town. Sometimes I have a craving for a bit of their bacon with a few of the mushrooms which grew around the farmland which is now McDonalds Community Centre. Alas, I should suffer now if I partook of such mouthwatering fare. I just remember the days. Eric Tingey one of the ‘boys’ long since retired, married Mary Richardson, the middle daughter of which family lived in Spring Villas. After the Misses Rowlatts departed from their house at the end of the Villas to live in the new church flats in Back Street, the Gray family lived there. Old Mrs. Gray lived to be well over ninety. Her daughter, Daisy, was often to be seen about Hatfield on a bicycle. In latter years she took to a car. Mr. Gray owned the garages near the girls school. Daisy’s niece, Brenda, was one of Ben’s school friends. So well I remember Brenda aged 14 at her first dance in a pretty blue and white fine cotton dress. She was an attractive girl and there is a photograph of Ben and Brenda hand in hand. Daisy Gray had, for a period, a toy shop on the corner of Bird Case Walk near the bottom of Back Street behind this was an abbatoir wherefrom I have heard many a pig squeak. Whenever I had occasion to pass this shop, I stopped for a minute just to look at the pretty dolls, and choose which one I would have liked. I remember especially one priced 10 shillings and 11 pence, a vast sum in those days. Next door to Daisy’s possibly before she took the toy shop, Mr. Chapman sold books and shoes. His son Derrick went to Hertford Grammar School on scholarship the year before our William went. At the bottom of Back Street, left side facing, Mrs. Palmer had a sweet shop. She warned us about buying our mother a half crown box of chocolates for her birthday anniversary. Sure enough instead of being pleased, our mother said we had been very extravagant. On the other side at the bottom of Back Street, where now stands a craft shop, Mr. Taylor had a gentlemen’s hairdressing saloon. He cut my hair for me on several occasions, but always when there were no gentlemen about. The Salisbury Arms, previously known as the Coffee Tavern ahs been there ever since I can remember; the window boxes were an attractive addition. The old post office on the same side was opposite to No. 5, later No. 12 when it was renumbered. This was where we lived after we left Chantry House. The large house at the end was owned by Daisy Gray’s family. Next door to us in Pond Hill or Batterdale, the firemen had their quarters. This adjoined the bottom of our garden. During the second world war the warning sirens went off from there, as did the "all clear”. In the row where we lived, Mr. & Mrs. Bishop were our next door neighbours. He was an expert at animal welfare and there were many calls on him to treat sick ones. Mr. & Mrs. Pearman came next. Their son worked in the new town post office after I had left hom. Mrs. Baker and Miss Apps, her sister, came next. Then Miss Boratius, the Frauline had her shop ‘Bon Marche’ at the end. She had been a German governess to the Cecil family. We could see Batterdale House if we could stand high enough to look over the wall at the bottom of our garden. The Colonel of the Militia had lived there and there was a very much admired staircase which went up from the front hall. When I was ten years old Mrs. Barber lived there with her niece Ada Winderbank. Miss Winderbank taught me at school, but left to get married soon after and went to live in Southampton. Mrs. Barber was one of the older ladies for whom we took it in turns to collect the pension frm the estate office. Each time I left she would say “you will come again next week won’t you my dear”. In retrospect there must have been a certain anxiety on the part of one who was most probably housebound. Mrs. Bishop was strikingly gentlemanly. He always made me feel like a lady. Mrs. Baker was very thin and upright. If there was nobody in thehouse when I came home unexpectedly, she would make a tray of tea and bring it around. She was a dear soul. Her sister Jessie was delightful to talk to and was well ready. She wrote a little herself. She belonged to the Dickensian Society. I did not see any of her writings, except a quotation from Colendge about “friendship being a flowering tree”. This was in a book which she gave to Kitty about wild flowers. Kitty was the one who found her when she departed this life. It was early in the morning and death must have been sudden. She had led a good life and it was an end many would have chosen. I must have been in my early twenties when Mrs. Dunham had her woolship across the raod from where we lived. Nothing was ever too much trouble to do for people. She must have been eighty or thereabouts, mounting steps to reach the top shelf for balls of wool. She would let us take samples to our mother. Mother knitted when she was almost blind and kept the menfolk in socks. She once knitted me a pair of blue stockings which Ihad not appreciated nearly enough for the time and effort required. I thought they exaggerated the thickness of my ankles. Vain youth would have preferred the rayon type of stockings which were then fashionable. Dr. Brittain. It is time I mentioned the family doctor. He who helped bring all we children into the world. It was said that no mother he attended at childbirth ever lost her life. His bedside manner was such that one felt better as soon as he put his head around the door. He made funny faces and called me “Matilda” because he said when I asked the everlasting “why?”, “it is a nasty name and nobody likes it”. I do not think I ever saw him in other than a very old coat, frayed at the cuffs. He had domestic problems and was kept so busy he did not have time to send out his bills. Some poor people must have owed him a lot of money. When I had diptheria and he was called in late on a Saturday night, I was in hopsital early Sunday morning. I was a maemornhagic case and was very ill. I was the first of three girls in our family to sicken. It must have been a very anxious time for parents. I remember my mother saying afterwards her three girls were away, the last one Kitty just having gone. She say in the hall oversome with grief, when the doctore return “they’ve all gone” she said and doctor replied “yes, but they will all come back”. Simple words, but so comforting. Dr. Brittain had a far sized house in the St. Albans Road in that region where the Comet now stands. His surgey was at Triangle House. This house was built in that area where Batterdale or Pond Hill merges into French Horn Lane. It was near where Mr. Burgess had his funeral directors place, with the road past Spring Villas on the other side forming a triangle together. Joining just before the raod went under the railway bridge with the gasworks on the Glebeland side. Dr. Brittain made up his own medicines, the dispensary adjoining the consulting room. The seating accommodation for waiting patients was a form in the passageway. There was a patterned pink and grey tiled floor. It was all quite comfortless, although I did not think much about it at the time, except that it was cold. I once remember having a difference of opinion with him on the subject of fox hunting. I had seen a poor young frightened looking fox with its face against the school classroom window seeking shelter from the pursuing hounds. Doctor declared that an old fox enjoys the chase. I admit that it is a pretty sight to watch the galloping horses bearing the huntsmen in their pink coats. In the early evening in Hatfield Park there would be scores of rabbits having supper before bedtime. They were very still until we clapped our hands to make them tun whichshowed off their fluffy coats. Perhaps that was cruel as it must have frightened them.

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