Home deliveries

Cherry Rogers remembers a time when deliveries to your door were common place. For our grandparents and parents, ordering your shopping and having it delivered was quite normal.  The internet…

An insight of the shopping habits of Cherry Rogers and her late father. Shopping when I was growing up was quite a social activity.  You went shopping with your list, to the market or to a shop, and sat down while the shopkeeper assembled your order.  Sometimes there was a discussion about your purchase with the shopkeeper and it sometimes included the other customers. [caption id="attachment_489" align="alignleft" width="440"] Dad with his first van[/caption] My dad wasn’t much of shopper and he sent me and mum to get all his stuff - underwear, shirts, trousers; we had to get them and bring them back for approval.  If asked what colour he wanted, he always said he thought black was a nice colour.  He didn’t get it though, he got what we brought.  When he wanted work boots or wellies, he took me down to Goodalls in the van.  I went in and told them what he wanted and brought out the boots for him to try in the van,.  I went in and out as many times as was needed for a good fit and then back with the money. On a Saturday, in the Daily Mirror, there were pages of small advertisements for things - Doans Liver Pills, Elastic bandages, fence posts, sheds, tins of paint, ladies interlock knickers; you name it.  My dad loved those pages and bought loads of stuff with varying degrees of success.  He would scour the pages and say to me, “Look at this Flo’ee, that is good idea.”  He got hair clippers because he thought mum could cut his hair and it would save him going down to Caban’s.  She was a master with them.  He always had circles the size of a shilling which were bald because she got the clippers caught up in his hair.  He only had a bit round the edges anyway and when he hollered, she laughed and said, “Don’t make so much fuss Jack.  You shout before you are hurt”. Dad said to me one day, "Go down and get me a postal order.  There is a good pair of gauntlets in the paper today.  They are heated.  Be lovely on the old motor bike."  So I went and got the postal order and posted the letter.  When the parcel arrived, we gathered round the table and dad undid the box, quite a big box.  He opened the lid carefully and looked into the box and we all peered in, looking at each other too.  He took one glove out and put it on his hand.  The big cuff was leather, the hand and fingers were canvas, they all had bits of wire in them and stood up as if someone’s hand was already in them.  Mum and I started to grin, then my dad looked at us and said very quietly, "CO' 'TER HULL", which translates to, "Go to hell".  Mum and I laughed until we couldn’t stand.  My Dad would have loved internet shopping. PS - for anyone who isn't local "Go to hell" in this instance didn't mean mum and I should, it was a comment at the gloves which really meant, "Well I'll go to hell", and an expression of surprise or shock.

Dad and his shopping habits

Leon Rings recalls adventures in Brandon Scouts during the 1950-60s. We had a scout leader in Brandon late fifties to early sixties, who was an American by the name of Joe Janacek.  Joe would spend hours with us teaching rope tying, fire lighting and we experienced sleeping in our tents in the wild.  He taught us how to cook on an open fire using spits to roast our food, which would consist of sausages, tomatoes, mushroom, bacon, carrots and just about anything you could get on the stick.  We'd boil water in our billy cans for cups of tea and heat our can of beans to compliment the food on the spits.  Food never tasted so good! Other camping experiences were held in November at the Santon Downham campsite as it was in those days.  About eight of us with just a tarpaulin on the ground, which was pulled over and up to our chins.  No sleep that night as it froze sharp and we were all too cold to sleep.  When daylight came we all had white hair and eyebrows. [caption id="attachment_468" align="aligncenter" width="960"] David Deacon,Joe Janacek,Roger Whilmot,myself, Helen,Stephan Krafakorbut,Richard Norton, David Philpott and Malcolm Smith.
Picture taken at Castle Hill, Thetford, by local press.[/caption] We progressed from scouts and Joe took us on another journey and that was youth hosteling.  We had many weekends away cycling around East Anglia to our destination.  Our age at that time varied from 13 to 16 years old.  We'd leave Brandon approx 9-30 am on a Saturday morning and arrive at the destination around 6pm just in time to sign in for the night at the hostel.  Our return journeys again started at 9-30am, returning back in Brandon around teatime from the more distant travels.  Our journeys took us to Yarmouth, Sheringham, Lowestoft, Blaxhall (near Dunwich), Saffron Walden and more local areas like Finningham, Newmarket, Cambridge, Norton Mill, Houghton Mill and Flatford Mill.  Joe and Helen taught us map reading with a compass and how to pace our journey - when to rest and when not too.  At each destination a badge was purchased which we fitted to our bobble hats indicating the journeys we had undertaken.  No modern cycles, just our everyday bikes we'd use for paper delivery and school.  In all those trips I remember only one person having a puncture.  We could travel from Brandon to Norwich having about a half a dozen cars pass us during the whole trip. A valuable lesson was learned which I imagine stuck with all of us and that was resilience.  Be it scorching hot, raining hard or sleeting, we were relentless in getting to the destination before doors closed for the night at the hostel.  To boost our energy and quench our thirst we carried neat orange squash in our bottles, take in half a mouthful and leave it there in our mouths whilst cycling along.  When one of us felt like giving in others would back up the person and encourage him to carry on and they did, we all succeeded and no one gave up.  Joe, and his wife Helen who also supported us on trips, were experienced cyclists and camping enthusiasts who taught us much about survival and how to cook hedgehog on an open fire, amongst other foods like grass snakes etc.  Great days and great times.

1950-60s Scouts

Dorothy Hagarty shares a photo of a reunion between her family and wartime evacuees who stayed with them on George Street. [caption id="attachment_465" align="alignleft" width="480"] Dorothy Hagarty, family and evacuees[/caption] This is a photo taken at the back of my grandmother's home at 30 George Street in Brandon.  I am the one back row right.  Next to me is my 'aunt' Connie, who was my grandmother s evacuee, who along with her sister came from London to be safe from the bombing.  Her three daughters are also in the photo.  Left back row, my cousin Neville and his mother and father who also lived at 30 George Street. My mother also had three girls from London and another from the North of England who lived nearby.  I wasn't born until the war ended but all these children and their parents kept in touch with my family as they were very grateful to be taken in and loved by our family.  We always saw them as family.  I am so proud of my mum and my nan to give so much love to children in this way.  That was not easy as there were many hardships - rationing etc.  I know some evacuees had a harder struggle and were not given kindness.  The girls my family took in never forgot and visited regularly.  Sadly all but one passed away before my mum and the last one attended my mum's funeral 3 yrs ago.  She said she counted herself so very lucky to have such a lovely aunt Beat (my mum).

Evacuees reunion

Cherry Rogers reflects upon her youth - buying a book from the railway station bookstall ... I was just thinking how times have changed, when I was listening to two young children chatting while I was out shopping.  Talk about being grown up! [caption id="attachment_461" align="alignleft" width="480"] Colin and Alan. They look the sort to tie a lady to a tree![/caption] It got me thinking about my childhood and growing up.  Playing down the 'Rec' and in the woods at the back of Greens, having dens among the logs.  It wouldn’t be allowed now and if those logs had slipped, doesn’t even bear thinking about, but we all did it.  Colin Rogers, now my husband, tied me to a tree and set fire to the grass round the bottom of it!  I think I was a human sacrifice or it might have been Indians setting fire to white man.  Nothing changes!  I remember my friend, Joan Norton, hitting him with a pink handbag. Everyone played out and lots of people went on to do a paper round for a bit of pocket money before they were old enough to start work.  I didn’t do one as I wasn’t allowed to, but my husband Colin did one and so did his Brother Alan.  Colin delivered for W.H Smith, of the Railway Station bookstall, delivering the Polish newspapers to the London Road camp.  Lots of my friends delivered for Mrs. Green on the High Street. These children chatting led my thoughts on, from paper rounds to starting work.  I hadn’t been at work for much more than a week when I was sent over to the Pine Vista, which was out of bounds for me.  Happy days, I got in there at last!  I wonder what my Mum would have said if she knew that after a few months working, I started in July 1959, I was sent over to the Railway Station bookstall to order three copies of Lady Chatterley’s Lover.  This was about 1960 I should think, when it could be published in the unexpurgated version.  I as the office junior was sent to order the books.  I thought as I was going I might as well have one as well and keep it in my desk drawer for lunchtime reading. I dreaded going to order them because Bert Kidd knew my Mum and Aunty Crystal worked in the goods office at Thetford.  So I sort of rehearsed what to say on the way over and hoped he wasn’t wearing his leather flying helmet because he was a bit deaf anyway.  When I got to the counter he was doing his books, so I said, "I would like to order four copies of Lady Chatterley’s Lover please Mr. Kidd".  He looked at me a bit astounded and said, "Pardon?"  I had to holler it "FOUR COPIES OF LADY CHATTERLEY’S LOVER, PLEASE MR KIDD".  He humphed a bit and wrote it in his order book.  I scuttled off and thought now I have to go and flipping collect 'em.  What a fuss the publication of that book caused.  It was mild to what is heard and seen on TV these days and what is published.  I used to have a fit of mild hysteria when Nana was really riled and said "Oh! Bum to it".  I don’t know if it is a good or bad thing that the children know so much so early.  I think they miss a lot in some respects but we were a bit naive.  Just an observation.

Newspaper rounds and the bookstall

Cherry Rogers remembers her mum and nan on wash day ... [caption id="attachment_455" align="alignleft" width="392"] Nana with some dry washing, she doesn't look very pleased. Background the land Newell's sawmill was on next door.[/caption] Monday was washday.  Tuesday ironing.  Wednesday bedrooms.  Thursday front room, which was only used at Christmas, so why it needed cleaning every week I don’t know - a quick dust and that would have been it, blinking freezing in there anyway!   The only good thing was I could dust the piano and pretend to be Winnie Atwell, giving it a real good bash.  Friday was living room - mats were taken outside to shake, hung up and had the living daylights bashed out of them.  Lino round the sides of the mats was polished.  The dusters were washed and knitwear and hand washing was done.  Nothing was ever done on a Sunday as it was a day of rest - a walk round Tip and home via the Plough or down Fengate Drove and round Weeting in the afternoon.  Chapel in the evening.  Sunday tea, and if you were posh a tin of fruit with Nestle’s cream from a tin which you had to shake like the clappers to re-mix it and get it thick.  My Dad always ate bread and butter with his and wanted me to, but no thank you. Anyway, Monday was washday.  We had a big scullery at Thetford Road with a 'Dutch oven' and a copper in it, but I don’t remember Mum using them.  Dad kept tins of paint in the Dutch oven and Mum had a gas copper which you fitted on the side of the cooker.  She didn’t use it much, just for the bath water because she went down to help Nana and they did the washing together.  Nana lit the fire under the copper in the wash house and Mum brought her washing down from Thetford Road balanced on my bike in a wicker basket.  She tried to ride with it a couple of times ... with disastrous consequences.  They filled the copper with buckets of water and got it boiling.  Two tin baths were filled with water for rinsing and a small bath with Recketts blue bag to make the washing whiter and another small one with starch.  Washing was sorted into piles - anything with stains was scrubbed with a bar of soap on the washboard, sheets, pillowcases, tablecloths, tea towels and white terry towels all went in to boil.  Sometimes towels were done separately, depending on the quantity of washing.  They were poked and prodded with the copper stick - an old broom handle cut down a bit and boiled so much it was white at the end and frayed.  When the whites came out the coloureds went in the hot water but were not boiled. The mangle was wheeled forward, the wing nut tightened and linen was mangled.  It was rinsed twice, put in blue bag and or starched, being mangled between each process.  The last process was mangling two or three times tightening it up each time. Washing was hung out, mangle rollers dried and loosened baths emptied.  The water in the copper was used to scrub the wash house floor and the path between the wash house and the house.  Then Mum wheeled her washing home to dry. Below Nana with some dry washing, she doesn't look very pleased. Background the land Newell's sawmill was on next door.

Wash day in Thetford Road

Growing up in ‘Tip

John DeCamps was born in Town Street (Tip).  His mother was Brandon-born, nee Dyer, so he has a few memories of his time there ... "I was born in my grandparents…

Jean Dodwell, nee Claxton, Was born in Santon Downham in 1921, moving to Brandon a few years later when her father ran the Fox and Hounds pub on Thetford Road.  Jean now lives in Bournemouth, and has been sharing her memories of her time in Brandon before WW2 ... "When we lived at the pub, father kept pigs at the back. Mr Boughen would come along and slaughter them for dad. It was not nice as you could hear the pigs scream when he did it. Mr Boughen would pat me on the head which would make me shiver because I used to think he was a terrible man for slaughtering the pigs. Me and my friend, Joyce, who we called “Tupenny”, were once out the back making mud 'pies'. Joyce unfortunately slipped into mud and was covered. We then realised the mud had been caused by the blood of the slaughtered pig draining into the soil! After we left the Fox and Hounds we moved to Broom House, at Wangford. Here father taught me how to skin a rabbit. First you would “pull the arms out of the coat”, then cut the head off – the eyeballs were loved by the cats; then father would say “right this is the brain, here are the lungs, the heart, etc.” I really learned a lot! I realise now that father was bad tempered at times, but he never laid a hand on me or my sister. Back then there was no such thing as a 'teenager'. No, you were either a child or an adult. One memory I have is from when we lived at Broom House, Wangford. We had an old copper, which would have a fire lit under it, to boil water. I was very excited because I had been asked to go to the Lakenheath Maypole celebrations. The condition was you had to wear a white dress. I didn't have one. What I did have was a dress with a pattern on it, but it did have a white background. So I boiled the copper with this dress in it, attempting to remove the pattern and make it a white dress. It didn't' work, so I continued to boil the dress, and when it didn't work then I would do it again. Then one day I received a parcel. Do you know what was in it? A plain white dress! I could go to Lakenheath. I wasn't told who sent it to me. Father? Anyway I was so happy I danced all th eway down the main road into Lakenheath and felt like a princess."

Jean Dodwell (nee Claxton) remembers: part 1

‘Courting’ in the 1950s

Cherry Rogers remembers courting in the 1950s ... The thing to do in Brandon in the late fifties and early sixties (same in most places I think) was to go…

Cherry Rogers, remembers working in Calders wood yard ... "I would like to share one or two memories of my times at Calders. I started work there at the age of fourteen in the July of 1959.  My birthday was in September so I was not really eligible to leave school until Christmas, but my Dad wouldn’t let me go back to school as I had the job in Calders Office as a junior - making tea, answering the phone and doing all the mundane jobs no one else wanted to do.  Calders was a bigger set up than most people knew about and had branches in Rotherhithe, Epsom and several places north of us.  One place made top quality parquet flooring.  The head office was Eros House, Regent Street and the company was incorporated into several large concerns over the years but that is by the way.  When I started work the company belonged to Sir James Calder who lived at Lynford Hall.  Sir James died a few months after I started work and I remember the funeral with representatives from all the branches attending.  I believe it was held at the Catholic Church. The trees were bought in parcels, felled by Wally Poplawski and hauled into the yard by Jimmy Drew and his brother Curly.  They drove a large red oxide coloured timber drug which was an old Scammel, like the ones used in the desert during the war.  That timber drug could be seen driving down the High Street and over the bridge nearly every day.  The timber was then milled and used for gates and fencing.  We were well known for the high quality of our gates and they were shipped to most parts of the country.  We did top quality fencing for studs in Newmarket and Surrey, and for the Queen.  We also did motorway fencing and our erectors were sometimes putting up guard rails in the central reservation while the traffic rushed past - they wouldn’t do that today.  We did at one time have a railway siding by the creosote plant and our gates went off by the truck load.  All those consignment notes to write out, they would be computerised now. At one time the logs were hauled by horses.  They were stabled over the road where the Lignacite factory was built.  Jock Bain came down from Scotland to live here and look after the horses.  There was a blacksmith forge in the yard, but wasn’t used when I was working there.  We had teams of fence erectors, some who stayed out all week and only came home at the weekend.  Alfred Zelke and Joe Zawiasa had a caravan parked by the motorway or wherever they were working.  A tiny thing with sausages hanging from the roof. Lots of families had two generations working in the yard or mill at the same time and several brothers worked there.  The Challiss family, the Smith family, the Elmer’s , Adams, Ted Beales the boiler man (who when I was a child lived with his family on Calders site and was night watchman) and his son Harry Beales. My connection to Calders was that my grandfather, who was a builder and undertaker, at one time made gates for Calders.  He also built the office and sadly my great uncle, Clive Dove, was killed while driving the timber drug in 1947.  He was 34, the load slipped and a large log went through the cab.  I don’t remember much about him, just vaguely remember sitting on his knee at Aunty Nell’s house.   We had some real characters working in the yard, one was Harold Lockwood, who had been a Japanese prisoner of war.  He was our maintenance man.  Nothing fazed Harold and he could swear for England.  We had funny, happy and sad moments.  Sad when poor Hector Elmer was knocked off his bike in front of the office and sadly died from his injuries.  Funny when Jimmy Hulme the creosote plant operator dropped his teeth in the tank.  He gave them a full overnight charge with the fencing posts and then rinsed them off in the morning and wore them usual.  They would have been preserved for a lifetime! The conditions the men worked in was not good, nothing was spent on anything new and everything was bodged up.  I suppose that went back to wartime.  Men wouldn’t be allowed to work in those conditions today.  They worked on those saws in the freezing cold and couldn’t even feel what they were doing.  I even heard one man apologise for cutting off two of his fingers.  The office wasn’t wonderful.  One end was lovely with parquet flooring and wood panelled walls, while the other end, our end, had walls made of asbestos.  Yet I had some happy times and over the thirty-two years I worked there I made friends with some lovely girls, mostly grandmothers now." Here is a photo of some long service awards at Calders. Back row left to right -  Jack Knight retired Manager, Jon Bullivant Head Office, Fred Crozier New Manager, Bernie Challiss Carpenter, Ted Beales Boilerman, Jack Adams Foreman. Front row -  Harold Lockwood Maintenance , Geoff Southgate Office Manager, Sam Ridgeon Sawyer, Tom Martin Crane Driver and Lennie Smith Storekeeper.

Memories of Calders Wood yard