Random Reminiscences of Early Days at
Arundel before the First World War - without any attempt at chronological order
By Alfred Peckham – 1905 – 1989
For several years during
the summer a great bell-tent camp was pitched in Arundel Park, Covering the
whole area where is now situated the home and grounds of Lavinia, Dowager
Duchess of Norfolk. Successive trains to Arundel station brought in hundreds of
Territorials on summer camp who marched with bands and full kit all the way up
from the Station, up the hill (High Street) and up into' the" Park. They
all seemed very cheerful but must have been very tired when they got to camp. I
and many other children stood at the top of King Street, by the Roman Catholic
Church and watched them go past in what seemed a never-ending stream. We did
not know , and luckily for them, they did not either , that they would all be
called up in August 1914 and would probably be amongst the first to go to
France with the British Expeditionary Force to face the whole might of the
German Army .I wonder how many, of these chaps survived? I wonder how many
still live who took part in that camp just before the war. They were the young flower of British
manhood.
.
But
I also remember, on a happier note, that there was much about the same time, an
annual camp for what we used to know as the Pill-box boys. ( They were
so-called because of the uniform -
small round cap, pill-box shaped, worn on the side of the head at a rakish
angle, held on by a chin strap and I think they were London Messenger boys. I
might be mistaken. They could have been Boys Life Brigade, but mostly they had
no uniform, just ordinary clothes, but with a white belt and a diagonal white
strap across the back and chest with a small white pouch on the back strap.
They
had a week or so up there and were marched with a drum and fife band. We
children all longed to belong of course. I do not know if this sort of thing
still goes on. Probably not in Arundel Park anyhow.
The
Injun Bull
While
on the subject of the park, I Should mention a strange beast referred to by our
elders as the Injun Bull which roamed the park usually keeping to the left of
the road which runs through the Park and in the woods beyond the camp site
referred to previously. This was a white animal with a hump on its back,
regarded by we children with a great deal of awe and some fear and we gave it a
wide birth. Of course, I know now and have for some time that it was an Indian
Ox or zebu, which somebody had imported for some reason, from the Orient and
let loose in the Park. At least I can only surmise that to be the reason why it
was there. I must say now I think it rather unkind to it not to have supplied
it .with a mate to keep it company, but in my recollection it was a very
peaceable sort of animal and grazed around very contentedly on the Park grass,
much better probably than what it would have got in India. I wonder what
eventually became of it and how many of my contemporaries remember it.
Still
in the park: It was the natural playground for me and the other children of the
family. We used to troop up from King Street up the winding road past the Hone
Farm and Saw-Mill buildings, through the beautiful heavy red-painted wooden
gates, always kept shut in those days and opened by the keeper from the
adjacent lodge when the Duke or visitors drove in their.. carriages to or from
the Park into the Home Park grounds .The latter is the place where for many
years visiting touring cricket teams played their first match (friendly, I
think) , on arrival in this country. We used to roam all over the lower part of
the park, over past the Hiorn Tower , which, of course, is still there and used
to fly a red warning flag for people to keep away when firing was taking place
at the nearby firing ranges.
In
reference to the Saw-mill wildings, I think it must have been my Grandfather (I
can not think who else it could have been) who took me up to see the Saw-Mill.
I am not even sure where it was but assume it was in the buildings near the
entrance to the Park. I really think my recollection of the procedure could not
be shared by many. The sawing into planks of huge tree trunks was being done
then by 'hand! There was a deep saw-pit with a man standing' in it ankle-deep'
in sawdust and another man at ground level and the tree trunk supported in some
way and they armed with a long
cross-cut saw and sawed up and down
till they sawed right along the trunk
and continued until:-all the tree was used up. It must have been backbreaking
work. I suppose they changed places now and again .Haw much saw-dust they
inhaled I do not know. I suppose all through the ages, till circular saws were
invented, this was how planks were made from tree trunks.
Beyond
the tower, the land falls away very sharply in steep slopes to the valley where
lies the Swanbourne Lake and this was a favourite rolling place for we children
.Once started rolling you could have a lovely roll all the way down a 100 yards
or more in perfect safety. All this area was pasture for the deer in the Park
and was the only place where I have ever seen the pretty tall slender grass
each stem with a little rod or knob on top which we called totty-grass. Doris
knew it and when I said I had not found it on subsequent adult visits to the
Park, she pointed out that it was obviously seasonal and I had not been there
at the right time.
One
year in the seventies when my sister Lilly and her husband Clarence were with
us, I had the idea of retracing old steps past, the Tower, down the slopes (but
by a path and not rolling!) down to and around the Lake and back home by the
Mill Road, and across the bridge to the Bridge Hotel where we were staying. We
were stopped, however, by a wire fence
which
had been put up all the way along the brow of the hill, beyond the tower, and
we could see the slopes very much overgrown with weeds and bushes and we could
see no way to get down through to the lake.
No
more rolling down there! Perhaps it was just as well as, in retrospect; I do
not think Lilly and Clarence would have been equal to the walk. All that part
of the Park seemed to have been given over to horse riding or training by,
presumably, the Family, and there were obstacles and what looked like stables
and feeding places there. It was not the park as I remembered it and we were
all (except Lilly I think) very unreasonably disappointed' at the changes from
our young days. Signs of the times were also the fact that the great Park Gates
stood permanently open so that cars could drive up unimpeded to the Dowager's
house, rendering the lodge keeper redundant. At least I suppose he could not
have been required anymore as also a t the deserted and closed lodge the top of
the Park, called Whiteways Lodge where I once saw on the green outside, a full
meet of fox hunters with hounds etc.
For
some years before they got too old to do the walk, my Grandfather and
Grandmother used to walk with my sister and me on summer Sunday evenings right
up over the walk I have described above, round the Lake and along a mile long
road to the pub called the Black Rabbit. We were given a penny each to get a
bar of chocolate each from the vending machine outside the Pub {machines'
always worked in those days) and while the old folk rested and refreshed
themselves in the pub , we two amused ourselves on the see-saw nearby which was
still there to my certain knowledge many years later.
On
the way along this road there is a chalk quarry' on 'the left just before one
gets to the Pub. It had been long abandoned even when I knew it and I only
mention it because of a story, almost certainly apocryphal, that an Uncle
Arthur of mine once fell down it, about 100 feet and his life was saved by his
landing on a haystack: I must perpetuate this yarn as I am almost certainly, or
very probably, the only person living who remembers it. Perhaps Lilly might?
Along
this road, on the right, and opposite Swanbourne Lake is the new nature wild
fowl reserve, enclosing part of the water meadows by the river Arun.
Miss
Watkins' Grocery Shop.
All
the time I was at Arundel {up to the age of 10) there was a wonderful old world
grocery at the corner of Tarrant Street, opposite now what is a cafe, and/or
dining room. It eventually closed, I suppose, when Miss Watkins died or
retired, which I think was a minor tragedy. It should have been preserved as a
national monument. It was exactly like those old stores which one sees on films
in the old world United States, with sacks of grain, corn and such like on the
ground around the counter, numberless hams, strings of onions and other produce
hanging from the rafters, huge decorated metal containers for tea and so on on
the counters (whatever would they be worth now?) huge cheeses and mounds of butter
and an all pervading lovely smell, I fear has gone forever from grocery
establishments now. Even as children we were sometimes despatched with a few
coppers ' to walk all the way down to the shop from the top of King Street to
make small purchases for Grandmother {although more frequently we were sent to
the Co-op in Tarrant Street, now" sadly departed) .
Sweet
Shops
Our
favourite was Mrs Bennett's although Miss Budd ran it close. Mrs .Bennett's was
the end one of a little row of shops at the extreme end of Tarrant Street
adjacent to the Slype (more of this later). Here we spent our weekly penny and
huge supplies of sweets could be got for this. Liquorice strips were perhaps
the favourite as they came like a sort of ribbed strap and with care each rib
could be torn along the length of the strap like a thick thread and eaten
separately. Placed end to end it might have made four or five feet of
succulence. There was also brandy balls -why they were called this I do not
know but a small handful cost a penny and each one changed colour as you sucked
it and it got smaller until it disappeared, about the size of marbles and brown
at the outset. Sherbet dabs were lovely. A round flat sweet on a stick and a
tube full of sherbet powder and you dipped the stick in and sucked until the
sherbet was gone and then you ate the sweet. The only thing we did not eat,
despite our good teeth, was the stick.
Miss
Budd's shop was about half way up on the right of an extremely steep hill
starting at the bottom of Maltravers Street and going straight up joining the
London Road between the St.Mary's Gate Inn and the Roman Catholic schools. This
hill, the lower end of which is called Park Place, in my day was known as
Poorhouse Hill, and a rather grim looking building near the bottom was
obviously the reason for its name. Whether it was used for such in my time I do
not know but later it was renamed Mount Pleasant, which was a very much nicer
name, especially, for the residents. Anyhow Miss Budd (an elderly widow) kept
this little shop in what was probably her front parlour and it was reached by
three stone steps and had a little counter over which she presided and which
contained trays of various sweets. I'm afraid even in those days a certain
amount of quiet stealing of odd sweets went on when several children were
together in the shop, but either her eyesight was not very good or she was an
understanding old soul and never found it out or mentioned it anyway. I hope so
anyway. She lived to a great age so she obviously made a living out of it, plus
I suppose her ten shillings a week pension.
The
area down by the school round the end of Tarrant Street was full of interest.
First there' was the Slype, which I think is a variation of the word slip, or
slipway and means a slipway or passage down to the river. This led straight
down to the path along the Arun and was a most dangerous place for youngsters.
I seen to have a recollection of one boy being drowned there by falling into
the very fast flowing river and we children were strictly forbidden to go down
this Slype. I must say now and again we did and there was' terrible trouble if
we were found out. A short distance away from this on the right was a
wheelwright’s workshop, in Surrey Street, and often we used to stand and watch
him shape the long slim spikes with a spokeshave (hence the name) .Those were
the days of carriages with their big dainty and seemingly fragile wheels,
beautifully made and painted and lined with red, black and gold.
Incidentally,
the coach painting was done, as far as I remember, in a painter's workshop
somewhere near the Square, and my step-brother's father, Mr. Simmons worked
there. I have a belief, which of course I cannot substantiate, that my father
had an apprenticeship there. He must have learned the trade somewhere as in
later years he was employed by the then London General Omnibus Company
(L.G.O.C.) to do the fine painting and ornamental lining on their roses. Also,
just past the little row of shops I previously mentioned on, Tarrant Street, is
the opening of a little road called, I think, River Road, which goes down to
and along the Arun and comes out at Bridge Street near what is now the Bus
Station. There were various warehouses and workshops along it by the river
bank, also the office occupied by Doris's father in his capacity as the
Official Water Bailiff of the Arun. On the corner of River Road opposite the
shops was an old, but fully working, smithy where we could stand just inside
the door in the warm and watch the smithy making horseshoes, and I suppose the
iron hoops which were required by the wheelwright to go round the wood rims of
the wheels and hold them together, apart from all other sorts of metal tools.
Traffic
I am
anxious to get on to this subject as I think, as much as anything, what I
remember constitutes the greatest difference between conditions regarding
traffic then and now. Let me say straight away that except, as I shall mention
shortly, I cannot remember seeing any motor vehicle of any type till I left
Arundel and came to live in Fulham. Obviously there must have been some, but
very few indeed, so few in fact that I just cannot remember any. It was all
horse drawn traffic, carts and timber wagons. These last were a wonderful
sight. We saw them sometimes coming down from logging down the upper London
Road or the Chichester Road. They had a pair of great draught horses, pulling a
kind of two wheeled pivoted platform with the driver sitting on it, or more
usually on one of the shafts attached to the horses. This platform or buggy was
connected to a pair of heavy wheels, with a platform, about 15 or 20 feet
behind by a great axle, like a telegraph pole and four, five or six huge tree
trunks were laid on the front buggy and the platform between .the rear wheels.
Apart from these vehicles and traps and carriages of course, the only other
horse vehicle I can remember were Sparks and sons furniture wagons. These were
the usual large heavy pantechnicons and delivered to and from Sparks Auction Rooms in Tarrant Street usually
occupying a good half of the width of the street. The premises are still there
although I think that Sparks and sons have long since joined the great
majority.
The
motor vehicles I saw were seen under circumstances that make me wonder even now
why we did not finish up under the wheels of these vehicles. These were the
charabancs (pronounced charabancs) which care down from London or from that
direction, for firms' or clubs' outings to the seaside on what we knew as
bean-feasts .The dictionary describes char-a-bancs as a long brake or car
provided with transverse benches for outings and their distinguishing feature
was that each row from the front to the back was raised somewhat so that the
back row had a view all down the front. These ,crazy vehicles with probably very
inadequate brakes were full of hearties w1th crates of beer, and we urchins
used to run along with them, as they slowed up to go down the hill, yelling
"chuck out yer mouldy coppers" , and they used ' to throw out their
old coppers and pennies and we scrambled for them. As I said I do not know why
some of us were not run over but I never heard of any, and the practice came to
an end I suppose, at the end of the summer of 1914 when the start of the Great
War took place. I do not remember seeing any other vehicles and therefore never
heard such words as "mind how you cross the road" and so on .The idea
of there being any danger never entered
our heads as there was no danger in slow moving horse-drawn traffic.
Religion
I
wonder whether this subject loomed larger anywhere in the British Isles (except
of course in Northern Ireland) as it did at Arundel. This, it must be
remembered, was the site of the chief residence of the Premier Duke of the
United Kingdom, The Duke of Norfolk, and the leading Roman Catholic in this
country. The Duke, who built a huge Roman Catholic Church at the top of King
Street, now elevated to the rank of Cathedral, was still living when I was a
child, and I remember the Christmas parties he gave, in the Castle, for the
Arundel children. On one night the Roman Catholic children had their party and
the Protestants {and I presume other none:-catholic children) on the following
night. There was a great spread in the Great Hall with a big Christmas tree and
roaring log fires in the great fire places. The Duke presided and I remember
him as an imposing bearded figure .We all had wonderful presents .Mine on one
occasion was a clockwork motor cycle and rider which ran in circles when wound
up. Regrettably I changed it with another boy, who had an illustrated copy of
Robinson Crusoe, which many years later I lost as I lent it to somebody who
never gave it back. The parties had to be given on separate nights, due perhaps
to lack of room for all the Arundel children, also possibly to avoid possible
battles between the various creeds. There was a complete division between
protestant and Catholics. Each had their own churches and schools. We
Protestant children attended our ordinary day school on Sunday mornings .The
two big classrooms were turned into one very large one, when partitions were
drawn back and after a service we all marched up in a long crocodile up
Maltravers Street, up a very steep hill, called Parson's Hill, to the London
Road by the Roman Catholic Church and turning right went into the old St.
Nicholas Church. This is the old Parish Church, I think it is 14th Century .We
always sat in several rows of pews to the right and by the side of the choir
and in winter our feet dangled over the stone flagged floor and we suffered
.agonies from chilblains, very prevalent in those days. The only thing I
remember about the lessons in the Sunday morning school was one by a lady, who
preached about not buying things on Sunday as it kept shops open and made
people work. At the end we were asked what we were not to do and we all
chorused “not to buy sweets on Sunday”. This was of no great interest to us as
few of us on Sundays had any money to spend anyhow.
Sunday
school Afternoon
Each
Sunday afternoon we went to the church at 3 p.m. probably to get us out of the
way so that the old folks could have a well earned snooze. I can remember the
hymns, the favourite was There is a Green Hill" and I remember so well the
talks given to us by the curate, Mr. Jones, a Welshman (of course) with black curly
hair .In the afternoons we sat in the main body of the church on each side of
the central aisle and my chief memory of Mr .Jones (old Jonesy to us) was
walking up and
down
the aisle and snapping his fingers like pistol shots .I have never heard finger
snapping like it since. He was a popular figure, even with me, in spite of the
fact that he turned me down for the choir.
He
said, when I was tested with two other hopefuls, that my voice was forced. I'm
sure he was right, although I got into two church choirs in London, St. Oswalds
in Fulham and St. Lukes, Redcliffe Gardens (the latter because my particular
friend, Harry Ryder, left St. Oswalds and went to St. Lukes, so I went there
too) .Harry (my brother) knew Mr. Jones well and talked about him when we were
in the U.S.A. many years after.
One
of our diversions on Sunday afternoons, after church, in the summer was to walk
right round the back of the church as far as the wall separating the church and
its yard from the Castle grounds. We would climb up the old wall and look down
a quite high drop to the other side and dare each other to go over. Nobody ever
did as we had no idea how to get back. It was a very neglected and over- grown
church yard, and there were lurid stories of the snakes to be found there in
the long grass and old tombs, but we never ventured to find out. Opposite the
church gates is a very large imposing residence which was occupied by the
Duke's estate manager, a Mr. Mostyn, who we thought had almost semi-regal
status in the town. To the left of the church gates was a nunnery or it might
have been a monastery, I suppose it still is, but there was "always a very
strong aura of Holiness around that particular part of the town. A little
further on, slightly down the hill and at an angle with the High Street, was
the main gate house to the Castle grounds.
Corpus
Christi Day
This
festival was held by the Roman Catholics on the Thursday after Trinity Sunday
and we children lined the roads all along from the school where I think the
procession was marshalled, up Maltravers Street and turning left up a very
steep hill (Parson's Hill) to the Roman Catholic church .There were banners and
images and all the girls were dressed in white with veils like angels and
carrying small posies. We knew some of them and we knew they certainly were not
angels.
Fairs
At
least once a year a grand circus came to town and pitched in ' a field which is
now totally occupied by the roundabout forming part of the fine new by-pass
which now avoids going through Arundel. I think it was rather a wet field and a
stream ran through it which came from the water cress beds on the other side of
the stone walled causeway which divided Arundel into two parts, the old part
and the new part where is the cemetery and houses down the Ford road.
Consequently the fair ground got very muddy in wet weather. We were allowed to
go and have rides on the round-about and I remember so vividly the magnificent
mechanical bands on the inside with figures playing instruments and banging
drums, all driven by the electricity generated by the great steam driven
traction engines which pulled the circus wagons from place to place. We, even
at the top of King Street, could hear it playing down in the field and the one
tune I remember it playing (although I do not suppose I knew the words then)
was "How yer gonna keep them down on the farm" .This was a real
favourite.
.
The
German Band
Every
year till the war broke out in 1914, we were visited by a German Band which
travelled up and down the South Coast in the summer giving street band concerts
(something after the style of the Salvation Army, although with different music
of course) .The favourite spot with us was when they played in a semi-circle in
the road (there must have been upwards of a dozen of them) outside the Old Ship
Inn halfway up King Street. Some of the tunes stuck in my mind and many years
later I came to recognise them 'as excerpts from Wagner's Operas. People used
to come out and stand at their doors listening (we children...close up with our
mouths agape) and one or two went up and down the street with a collecting box.
People gave willingly enough, I think, for there was .very good value in the
band and there was 'precious little other entertainment or interest on offer at
that time.
I heard
somehow or somewhere that when war was imminent they had to go home and
apparently they were so attached to the places where they had played for so
long that there were tearful scenes when they left. Needless to say there were
fools who talked about German spies but a more harmless lot never existed I
should think. Unfortunately they have never been able to return.
Outings
There
were not many of these. Each summer the Sunday school provided an outing to
Littlehampton and in the family album will be found a photograph of me and some
of the boys there. We marched down to the station and at Littlehampton walked
round to the sea-front past the windmill and usually spent the day on the beach
near and sometimes under the short Pier. There were a few interesting
gaps one could get through and look out on the other side of the pier to the
very dangerous river Arun.
Also
at low tide you could walk out a very long way to the winkle beds and collect
some up. Somehow they got lost on the way home. I never remember getting any at
home except some which Mr. Fletcher brought us. Mr .Fletcher was a lodger
although I have no recollection now where he slept but I suppose it must have
been in the back room when Harry left to join Dad in London. He earned a living
buying fish from somewhere and hawking it round the town in what I suppose was
a trug basket. It must have been a scanty living but I remember the sprats and
herrings he brought. I recollect Grandfather trying to smoke some sprats by
rigging up a contraption in front of the kitchen stove. He threaded the sprats
on metal rods through their eyes and surrounded it all with sacks to keep the
smoke in .I cannot remember how it worked or whether it did work. We always
seemed to have a lot of flour sacks. I do not know where they came from but one
of my tasks , on a Saturday, was to open these down the sides by cutting the
threads with a knife and then they were washed and used for various purposes ,
I do not know what for. Also my Saturday morning task was chopping wood. We
used to have logs delivered and as young as I was I had to split them with iron
wedges and then chop them up into kindling. This I did in the outhouse next to
the house. I suppose I earned my Saturday penny like this.
The
only other outing I can remember was a very rare and memorable visit to the
pictures at Littlehampton. This was in a small hall on the right on the way
from the station and the films (silent, of course) were accompanied on the
piano by a lady who played all through the whole time various suitable pieces
for the films I cannot remember what they were except that they were mainly
cowboy pictures, and were very popular.
The
King Street House
In
my days I think it was No. 157. It was towards the top on the right and has now
been restored and no doubt gutted and rebuilt and turned into a very desirable
and expensive small town residence. It was the last but one of a small row , a
small flight of steps leading up to the front door and the back door was
approached via an entry which I noticed , when I was there last, had been
closed by gates. The rooms were, of course, quite small and the bedrooms were
reached by a wooden staircase in the front room down-stairs hidden by a door.
The kitchen at the back, usually the domain of us children, was brick paved and
there was an outhouse for coal, wood etc and general storage standing out at
right-angles to the house, thus forming a small two sided paved court. The
toilet was outside up a little lane and was extremely cold, believe me, during the
winter. The garden was quite big and quite long and went up to a stone wall at
the end, which I cannot remember ever having been able to look over , but on
the left side it was separated by a low stone wall from the next house’s
garden. This garden had some nice apple trees (the house belonged to our Great
Aunt Elizabeth) and we were not above scrumping now and again, but not often as
her old eyes were usually on the watch for us. As I said this house was
occupied by Doris’s Grandmother Elizabeth Sturt, who was the wife of my
Grandfather's elder brother and thus my Great-aunt. She was a mysterious
figure, very rarely seen by us although access could be had by a door between
the kitchens of the two houses. I hardly ever saw this door open -but on one
never-to-be-forgotten day, the door opened and Great-aunt Elizabeth appeared
with, a dish of custard for us children. Quite what this unexpected deed of
generosity was about I do not know but I had never tasted custard before (I
think I will. Always remember the taste of it to this day) and I never tasted it
again till Fulham days when our Step-mother used to make it during the war
.Ours was' a long garden. There were rabbit hutches at the end whose occupants
we had to feed and then clean out. I suppose we ate them and I remember
watching my Grandfather clean and gut a rabbit fixed to the shed door with a
bucket underneath and so was quite familiar with the operation .I have done it
myself.
On
stepping out of the kitchen and looking to the right we had a clear view right
down over the town to the railway station, clear over Littlehampton to the sea
and I grew up seeing the light glinting on the sea, the little steam trains
down in the valley with their trails of smoke arrive at Arundel station looking
just like toy trains. Over to the left we were almost under the shadow of the
Roman Catholic Church and in bed at night I could see the lights in the windows
and hear the chants of the services and choir practices. They seemed to be all
of what I think is the rather miserable type, called plainsong or based on it
and I have disliked this type of music ever since.
The
Coal Cart Accident
I
wonder how many Arundel people remember this event. A coal cart used to deliver
cool starting from the top of King Street as the hill being so steep, it wou1d
have been virtually impossible for a horse or horses to pull a coal cart up it.
The coalman had to fix brake shoes or skids under the back wheels to help the
horse hold the cart while the coalman was delivering coal. These skids were
sort of iron shoes attached to the cart by iron chains and were slipped under
the front of the back wheels and thus the back wheels were blocked and the cart
went down the hill sliding on the skids. One day, it must have been a Saturday,
we heard a great shouting and clattering out in the front but before we could
run down into the street to see what was happening we were too late, and we
could only afterwards hear what had happened. It seemed that the horse was
frightened by something before the skids were fixed and bolted down the hill.
At the bottom the hill is about one in six with a sharp bend and leading to the
T- junction of Maltravers Street, with a high solid stone terrace on the other
side. The poor horse could not have had a hope in heaven of pulling up and so,
ran full tilt into this wall with all the weight of the loaded coal cart behind
it. The mess is best 1eft to the imagination. We, needless to say, were not
allowed out and the tragedy was the talking point for days. It have been a black
day for the coalman to lose his horse, his cart smashed to pieces and no doubt
a lot of the coal was scattered broadside.
A little crossroad,
almost opposite the back entry to our house connected King Street and Poorhouse
Hill, now Mount Pleasant. This was a very quite little road called, of all
things, Bond Street and was occupied by small cottages and residences, which I
have no doubt now would cost the earth.On the corner opposite our house was a
small grocery and in the side window there was as long as I remember (I believe
I actually saw it not too many years ago) a bottle of Camp coffee complete with
the soldier in kilts. We kids used to admire this very much .Further up King
Street on the opposite side to us, was a very attractive looking building,
still there when I was last in Arundel, which was the town's Cottage Hospital.
It was practically opposite the main entrance to the Roman Catholic Church.
Altogether the top end of King Street was a very quiet select area.
On
Sundays at that time it was always very sleepy and quiet, scarcely any traffic
of any description. It has to some extent, at any rate, become not, unlike
those days now, due to the building of the excellent by-pass which has taken
most of the traffic out of Arundel, and it rejoins the main South Coast road
near the station.
School
Days
I do
not have a lot to say about this. I have forgotten most of it, but I know we
learned our multiplication tables by chanting them over and over again,
"twice one are two, twice two are four" and so on, but it was a fine
way of making them stick in our memories and I have never since really had any
bother with tables. One or two of the more difficult ones like the nines or the
sevens not so good, but yielding to a little thought. The head was a Mr. Wickham
and the only teacher I remember was a woman, who even we lads of tender years,
could recognise as very pretty named Miss Hammond.
I do not remember the
process of learning to read. Suddenly most of us could and painlessly at that.
At 7 and 8 I could read quite advanced books and comics, especially the ones
with detective stories on the back of the pictures. There is a photograph of
the school in the family a1bum with all five of the family present. There was
not in my memory much fighting or quarrelling. We seemed a peaceable crowd.
I
remember a boy named Butcher, also a little fella, named Martin who had to wear
irons on both legs, also a Dick Haggett whose father had a builders' business
down the Slype, also an urchin named Roy Hart with whom I had an occasional
battle as he lived up a little turning off King Street called Orchard Close.
The
Family
Perhaps
a very brief history at this stage. It would not be out of place to enlighten
you as to exactly why we children were living with our Grandparents at Arundel.
Their photographs are in the album. Our mother died when we were all living at
Old Woking where my Father was the land- lord of a little country pub called
the Queen's Head, where at least Margaret and I were born. I was nearly three
and Margaret something like 9 months old. The precise cause of death I do not
know but I think it was almost certainly what we would now know as inflammation
of the brain or cerebral haemorrhage. So Dad was left with five young children,
Harry the eldest, being then about nine, that is six years older than I. I
suppose in desperation, the lot of us were transported to Arundel and dumped on
the Grandparents then in their sixties. One must sympathise with them. Dad
apparently realised it would be impossible to get a house keeper to look after
all us young children and in any case he could probably not have afforded it.
So he apparently gave up the Inn and went to live at Fulham and worked for the
London General Omnibus Company as a coach painter, which I believe, was
actually his trade. Harry, when old enough went to live with him, but the rest
of us stayed with the old folk until they died during the early years of the
war, then we also went to live in Fulham, with our step-mother Clara Simmons, who
my Father married as his second wife. She brought the rest of us up.
Father
had been in the Territorial Army and was called up to the services when war
broke out and was killed in France in 1917. So you will see we younger children
hardly knew our parents and I have no recollection whatever of Woking days, my
first memories being of and at Arundel. Strangely I have also no recollection
of the journey to Arundel, which must have been something of a nightmare to all
concerned, and I have no memory at all of the journey to London with our
Step-mother, although I was then 10. These brief notes will, I hope shed all
the light you may, wish for on our presence in Arundel.
I do
remember vividly my Father cycling down the old Arundel Road on Saturdays
during the summer, staying overnight and cycling back on Sundays. He always
came down through the Park from Whiteways Lodge and we used sometimes to be on
the lookout for him at the top of King Street. I wish I had a record of the
number of times I have since cycled to and from Arundel by the same route, Bury
Hill and all. I can remember the Policeman very well. We were threatened with
his attentions if committed any serious misdemeanours. He was a very upright
and military man named Mr. Hyde and owned or was connected with a grocery shop
down the Ford Road. I never heard of any serious crime in Arundel, but then I
suppose as a very young child I would not hear of any. But my memory is of a
very quiet sleepy town where nothing very much ever happened.
At
sometime or other a small cinema was started up in a small hall on the left
hand side across the river next to a pub and opposite what used to be a
Constable's Brewery, now I think used as a woodworking factory making doors and
windows .It cost a penny to go in and I do not remember much about it except
that in a film I first saw an aeroplane take off and disappear in the distance
in the sky .It was a great sensation to us all and I have never really
forgotten it. I do not remember clearly what the plane was like, whether it was
a mono or biplane, but how often have I seen planes take off just like that in
films, and it puts me in mind of those early scenes. The films were, of course,
cowboys and Indians and there was always very loud cheering from us when the
baddies were caught up with. I really suppose many of us thought it was the
real thing.
Of
necessity these reminiscences are of a rather rambling and scrappy kind, but
they may perhaps help to recreate the infinitely leisurely atmosphere of the
place in those days. It was a good thing when the new by-pass was built. It was
rather like Bedlam let loose in the town with all the hordes of cars passing
through and huge lorries roaring either up to London up the High Street or to
Chichester and further west via Tarrant
Street and from Chichester up Maltravers Street and around the sharp bend to
the left into the London Road. There are plenty of cars now of course but
mostly only resident’s cars and a few visitors.
Swanbourne
Lake
This
and its adjacent grounds, through the gate from the Mill Road and past the
Keeper's lodge, was one of our favourite places. Grandma now and again took us
there as it was quite safe and we could chase the peacocks and try to find
their feathers, but I do not think we ever found one. We sometimes had a bottle
of lemonade and a sandwich and a piece of cake and picnicked there. It was an
idyllic place in those days but popularity and motor coaches have done their
worst now. The Mill road is lined with cars down its full length, down to and past
the bridge where previously there was nothing but peace and quiet. To the left
of the bridge was the Estate Farm, where skimmed milk could be had for a penny
a pint, but I do not remember ever having to get some. It would have been a
long walk back home with it anyway. Milk was brought round in one of those open
backed carts with a big urn and fascinating little ladles with a hooked handle
which were suspended round the rim. These little carts were not unlike those
which you see as the Roman war chariots. The driver just walked on to the back
and stood behind the urn driving the cart and could step off to stop. It was
all rather unhygienic I suppose. There were little milk cans with hinged tops
in which the milk was put. I wish I knew where they eventually all went. They
must be very valuable antiques now.
Christmas
We
enjoyed this festival when we very small and while the Grand- parents were
still able to do much about it. Their resources were, of course, limited.
However we were quite well done by for Christmas. Our stockings were duly hung
up and retrieved by us in the small hours as soon as we thought the old folks
were asleep. The toes were always occupied by an orange and apple and a handful
of hazelnuts and all sorts c of oddments including the usual ready-made toy
stockings made of net and containing tin whistles, toy trumpets (not to be
tooted at four a.m. in the morning) sheets of butterfly transfers and so on. Of
course we had other presents as well. I remember toy soldiers, my treasured
collection of which mysteriously disappeared when' the home was broken up and
we came to London. All the sons came down to the Grandparents for the occasion
I suppose wives too (where there were any). I have no idea where they slept
during their stay. Perhaps with friends and neighbours round about. The eldest
was Aunt Patricia from Worthing with her husband Ted Locke, then there was
Uncle George; then there was my Father: then Uncle Bill, a tailor from Hove and
finally Uncle Lou (the youngest Uncle) from Brighton. Grandma had all the
cooking to do for the tribe (I hope Auntie Pat helped). I remember being out in
the courtyard one Christmas Day before dinner, the men folk being outside
having a smoke when Grandma came out for a breath of fresh air and suddenly began
to pitch forward in a faint. Luckily she was caught before hitting the ground
and borne in with loud 1amentations from all. She soon recovered however, and
the dinner was a great success as usual.
I remember I was given, by one Uncle, a golden (real
gold) half sovereign, but I was speedily and secretly relieved of it by another
Uncle in exchange for a lot of lovely silver coins, which looked a lot more
although they were really worth the same. I suppose it is no use repining
however, I should most certainly have lost it or spent it long since, but still
it would have teen a real trophy by now and worth quite a lot. Also Dad gave me
a real cornet which he hoped Grandfather would teach me to play. Grandfather
(as his photograph in the album will show) played in the regimental band (I am
afraid I do not know which) on the euphonium, but he was really too old and
beyond it and could not be bothered I walked around with it tied on me with
string until it got banged and dented once or twice when it was removed from my
person with promises that I could have it when I was older. Rather a white
elephant really. I sold it many years afterwards to a hock shop but I did not
get much for it as the man said it was then in the wrong key and out of date.
It was an instrument I never liked anyway.
There
were sing-songs and general jollity and I remember my Father, who had rather a
fine voice I think, bringing tears to all eyes with his rendering of “The Anchor's Weighed, Farewell, Farewell
remember me”. I hope it was not too prophetic as things turned out. Of them
all, I liked Uncle Bill the best. He was .a happy go lucky soul and used to
spend a good deal of summer leisure days on the Trundle Hill (his favourite
sport) at Goodwood watching the races. I do not remember that the children from
Brighton came. There were probably too many to cope with and they stayed at
Brighton with Aunt Kate. I do remember Godfrey though as a very small boy. On
the whole they were not bad times.
I
think bread and beef dripping (with a little salt sprinkled on it) was a staple
food but it was wholesome and, at any rate, the budget for house keeping must
have been a bit tight, especially when war started. Grandfather died in 1914
some months before the Great War and Grandma followed in the next year and
there was not much fun in those days at that time. I do not propose to record
the times at Fulham except to mention that I so well remember the sirens
announcing air raids and the Boy Scouts cycling round the streets afterwards
sounding the all clear on their bugles. I also remember the daylight raids on
London by the Gotha bombers and how upset Harry was (he being on leave from the
front at that time) as people were too interested to realise the danger and
stood outside watching fascinated.
I
think really this is just about all I can really remember. I hope you will find
this of interest.
Written
by Alfred Peckham – March 1985.