Barbara Greenshields (nee Jupp) recalls some memories beginning in 1930 on the birth of her parents, Edith and Horace Jupp's, fourth and last child. Barbara would have been 6 at the time.

'Mrs Horn came to look after us when Michael (my youngest brother) was born. She lived in Hoe Lane, a few yards from her daughter and son-in-law, who kept the farm which supplied our milk. It was delivered by a man with a horse and cart and, at first was in churns, from where it was transferred to a large can and from there, measured into jugs.

Later it progressed to bottles and was delivered by Mrs Walder, the farmer's wife. I expect it was she who put Mother in touch with Mrs Horn who seemed quite old to me. She had crinkly little grey curls over her forehead and I liked her. She seemed concerned because I didn't like green vegetables. 'They're good for you, do try a little'. (How many times had Mother said the same?).

I was going to school at the time, but my eldest brother, David, was not quite five, so had probably not started and Peter was only twenty months old. With mother and baby to look after there must have been quite a lot to do. The recommended time to stay in bed after giving birth was two weeks, though many with older children and poor wages were unable to indulge in this luxury. Mrs Horn had been a nurse, so Mother would have felt she was in very capable hands.

Life became easier in our household when gas was installed - lighting in the rooms (but I can't remember if it included the bedrooms) and a gas ring in the kitchen, which meant the range didn't have to be lit every morning throughout the year to boil a kettle. Later Mother had the added convenience of a gas cooker.

On Sundays we were taken for walks, a favourite being to Middleton duck pond where we fed bread to the ducks. One warm day on the way home we saw several little lizards basking in the sunshine on a stony bank by the roadside. Sometimes we would stop at Wick House near the Southdowns Hotel. Here there was a wooden building in the front garden, which was a shop, and Dad would buy us some sweets.

Mother sometimes stayed at home and did some baking and often David would stay with her, while Dad pushed Peter and Michael in a Tansad type chair, with me walking alongside. I often wonder why David didn't come; perhaps he enjoyed the privilege of licking out the cooking bowls

It wasn't far to the beach; we took the footpath from Middleton Road to Summerley. I wore a spare pair of knickers and splashed about in the pools at the end of the breakwaters, sometimes venturing into the sea. Dad built us a sand-boat - more fun than a castle.

I went with Dad to Felpham on a cold, wet, windy day and we walked home along the beach. I was suitably clad in wellingtons, mackintosh and sou'wester. Battling against the wind, I complained because it blew the rain and sand into my face and stung my cheeks. Presently we met another family, walking in the opposite direction with a child about my own age and dressed almost identically.

'That little girl isn't making a fuss', said Dad, a trifle reproachfully. But she was lucky the wind was behind her. She wasn't suffering like I was.

In Felpham with Mother one Sunday evening we met her cousin Will and his wife Daisy, who lived next door to Auntie Polly at 'The Farm' at South Bersted. I was astonished when Daisy said they had walked to Felpham. Such a long way! When we went to 'The Farm' we had to go by bus to Bognor and then walk to South Bersted.

I didn't know there was a much shorter walk along the footpath from South Bersted, over the railway line and the River Rife, then through Felpham churchyard to the village.

'Haven't they grown?' was the comment made by many of the friends who visited us and, according to Mother my father's usual reply was, 'Yes, it's a habit they've got'.

As we grew we ventured further afield. My first errand for Mother was to go to the little shop in Flansham Lane (now enlarged and the local Post Office) to buy a pound of sugar. With the money clutched tightly in my hand I set off down the road, remembering her instructions. 'Don't talk to anyone you don't know, don't take any sweets from them and if a man comes along in a car and offers you a ride, you mustn't go'.

There weren't many cars then, or lady drivers. As I approached the houses of people I knew, I told myself that should I encounter any of the dangers Mother had warned me against, I could quickly make my escape by running up this or that garden path where I would find safety with familiar folk. Luckily my journey was uneventful. I bought the sugar and returned safely home with it, quite proud of my achievement.

The time came when I was allowed to play in the fields across the road with the other children. The one bordering the road was a long narrow strip and now has play equipment on it, swings, a slide, etc. In our childhood there was nothing, but we usually went through a gap to the one beyond. David came too when he was a little older.

'Don't take Peter into the field' Dad said, 'he's only little and if he wanders into the hay he will be hidden and it will take a long time to find him'. We all had a splendid time with the hay after it was cut, building castles and large 'nests' to play in. We never saw the farmer and nobody shouted at us to leave the hay alone.

Along one side was quite a wide ditch with overhanging trees, which we chose to call a stream. We kept trying to catch tiddlers from it, but never had any success. Other tiny wriggling water creatures went into our jam jars and were returned to their habitat before we went home.

Primroses grew along the banks of the 'stream' in the spring. There never seemed to be many on our side, but quite a lot on the opposite bank where we couldn't get at them.

Wandering through the gateway at the end of the field one day and along a footpath which led into Hoe Lane, my sense of direction told me that the meadow on my right must surely be the one on the other side of the stream, where the primroses were growing. Mother's birthday was approaching so David and I went quietly along the path, crawled under the barbed wire and picked some primroses.

We were lucky that the other children were playing somewhere else on that day. No one saw us and we didn't tell anyone our secret. (We probably weren't supposed to be there anyway!). The primroses were smuggled home, put in water and hidden under my bed. Next day we gave them to Mother for her birthday present. She was delighted.

We gathered May from the hawthorn bushes in spite of the bad luck it was supposed to bring if you took it indoors and, in late summer and autumn there was the pleasure of black berrying. It was while sitting quietly by a tree I first saw a wren darting about in its branches. How did I identify it as a wren? I don't know. Someone must have previously shown me a picture or explained what they looked like. When Nan (Auntie Hilda) came to visit, she and Mother would come to the field with us with a picnic. Nan always brought chocolate wheatmeal biscuits - these were a real treat.

When summer was drawing to a close and it was almost time to go home, we could hear the bats squeaking as they flew above our heads. We were only half-scared of an older girl's prediction that they might get in our hair and, if they did, we would never get them out again and all our hair would have to be cut off! We tried to catch them by throwing our hats up in the air, but they were smarter than we were, thank goodness. What a pity our nature lessons at school hadn't included the bat's marvellous method of finding their way about. If only we had known we'd have had more respect for them.

I went to the farm in Hoe Lane for Mother when she needed extra milk. It was supplied in a bottle so I suppose they must have done their own bottling.

Mother had become friendly with Mrs Horn and we would go to visit her. She was a widow and lived by herself in her single storey cottage. It is now named 'Horn's Cottage'. There was no garden gate, but the wall was lowered where it met the path (it still is) and you had to climb, stile-like over it, so Mother wouldn't have been able to push the pram into the garden. I don't remember where she parked it - possibly outside as this was a quiet country lane and there was little danger of it coming to harm, though presumably she took the precaution of taking the baby inside with her.

I loved the cuckoo clock in Mrs Horn's living room and would watch for the little bird to come out, hardly daring to take my eyes off of it in case I missed it. This was the first time I'd seen a cuckoo clock, but I've had a liking for them since then and at present have a pleasing old Black Forest one in my own home.

While Mother chatted to Mrs Horn, David and I played in her garden. It was not a neat and tidy garden, rather overgrown and semi-wild, with little blue forget-me-nots all over the place. We thought they were wild ones but it's more likely they had seeded from some originally planted. There were old trees too and we found a fascinating gummy substance oozing from their trunks. We amused ourselves by pulling it off and examining it, getting sticky fingers in the process.

Mrs Horn told us her proper name was Alicia, but it had been shortened to Alice and she had been married to a doctor. She went on to inform us that Thomas Hardy, the flag captain on Lord Nelson's ship The Victory, was her great-grandfather. We knew about The Victory because Mother's sister, our Auntie Annie and her sailor husband, lived at Portsmouth with our cousins Olive and Jean. I was most impressed and felt really important to be acquainted with someone as famous as Captain Hardy's great granddaughter.

Sometimes a group of us children would go down the lane. Once we played skipping outside Mrs Horn's cottage with her granddaughter Joan. Two girls turned the rope and one by one we ran in, doing the actions to the words: -
Teddy bear, teddy bear touch the ground,
Teddy bear, teddy bear turn right round,
Teddy bear, teddy bear show your foot,
Teddy bear, teddy bear sling your hook.

When we were out we took an end of the rope so we all got a turn at skipping.'

I wonder do children still play these types of games, in the playground possibly? I doubt it.