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Here Jo Jones recalls some of what her father used to tell her and her sisters about his own recollections of life when he was just a child himself.
Bishop's Stortford, Hertfordshire is where my father, Leslie William Waterman, was born on the lst of April 1903. He described the town to us children as a town divided by a river. The town centre was perched on the west hill and the remainder sat on a similar hill to the east.
It had begun as a small Saxon settlement before the Norman Conquest. Near the Causeway connecting the two parts of the town, William the Conqueror had built a very small castle and the ruins still remained in 1903. William also gave the Manor of Bishop's Stortford to the Bishop of London.
Dad remembered there was a Corn Exchange and Conservative Club in the town centre and there was a Market Square and a main street with hotels, inns and good class shops. Above the town centre was a Drill Hall, a Police Station and, a rather magnificent perpendicular church whose spire dominated the whole town.
Next to its large churchyard was a Roman Catholic presbytery or priest's residence and a small modern Roman Catholic church.
Some beautiful Georgian houses fronted the wide road which led straight into the iron entrance gates of a Roman Catholic Nunnery, just before turning left towards the local hunt kennels and open countryside.
There were two other Church of England churches in the town and a number of Non-conformist chapels. The Salvation Army occupied a timber building among private houses. There were numerous public houses and ale houses (Dad thought at least 20/30) at that time.
Education was well catered for. There were three Church of England schools and two Non-conformist and, on a far grander scale, a large high school for girls and a grammar school for boys founded in the time of Elizabeth I. There was also an extensive College governed by a Non-conformist organization.
A few old timber-framed buildings around the town centre gave evidence of its long history with first floors overhanging the pavements. However, even in the early 1900's the town was beginning to develop on the outskirts.
He remembered that two titled gentlemen of commerce from London had built lovely country mansions on the sloping wooded area overlooking the river and, beside the river, polo ponies belonging to one of these wealthy magnates grazed in the lush meadows, protected from interference by small boys by a dwarf wall surmounted by strong black-painted iron railings with decorative sharp tops.
Dad told a delightful tale of a close relative of one of these gentlemen who lived in an imposing residence facing the north end of the town's principal shopping street. The main entrance was into a large gravelled courtyard behind the buildings long facade, access being obtained through a wide archway beneath the first floor.
Several times a week, but not on Thursdays or Saturdays, a coach and coachman, complete with cockaded top hat, brass buttons and jackboots, emerged from the archway and proceeded slowly towards the butcher's and grocer's shops, about a hundred yards away.
In it sat a lady dressed in the height of current fashion, a parasol held above a large hat that already shielded her face from the sun. On rainy days the carriage roof was pulled over the seating and passers-by had only glimpses of the occupant.
When the carriage stopped, the shopkeepers and their assistants came out to receive their orders, and the purchases were placed on the carriage floor. Unsavoury or heavy parcels went up beside the coachman's shiny black boots in front of the driving seat.
The carriage then resumed its stately progress towards the wine merchant's premises and one or two other shops where similar procedures were followed. The expedition completed, the carriage turned around and re-entered the courtyard. It had travelled, at most, a few hundred yards.
At that time, my father remembered, there were, not half a mile away from the imposing residence, cottages where the tenants regularly burnt staircases and doors in their fireplaces, and their children appeared to live on bread and jam, which was consumed sitting on cold cement doorsteps.
They very often did not seem to own either shoes or stockings. The area was avoided by most citizens because of the risk of foul language and the possibility of being hit by beer bottles.
As a child, William thought his town was a rather hostile place. This feeling was probably due to the fact his father was a known Liberal in a fiercely Conservative town. Also his parents were 'chapel'.
To his observation, the town was a place where people lived and worked without associating with their neighbours too much. In his later, grown-up opinion they did one thing consistently and well: minding their own business.
One thing is certain. In those times, church-goers did not mix with chapel-goers and chapel-goers did not acknowledge the existence of Roman Catholics! Total abstainers did not mix with frequenters of pubs and beer drinkers ignored teetotallers!
Looking back, William found it strange, in so small a community, that everyone did not know everyone else.
Thursday was market day and cattle, sheep, pigs and poultry came into the town. The cattle and sheep were driven through the streets by drovers, and the pigs and poultry in carts and wagons.
No motor cars were seen but bicycles were popular. The noise was loud and constant, the animals providing a background for the shouts and oaths of the drovers. One of the best-known drovers was a small fair-haired man, Dad remembered.
He lived in one of the cottages and was well-known because, as he belaboured the cattle with a long stick driving them towards the market, he would frequently rush to the pavement to rain blows upon his miserable wife as she trailed alongside.
No one uttered a protest and the police ignored it.
The main street on the North side of the Corn Exchange was a wide one and appropriately named North Street. On market days one side of this road was occupied by stall-holders offering horse cloths, grooming kits, harness, jackets and such items as trap umbrellas (very large umbrellas to cover all the occupants of a pony trap).
For its size the town could boast of considerable industry. An engineering works, a match factory, a large flour mill and an extensive brewery. No one could ignore the presence of the brewery as its maltings emanated fumes which permeated every nook and cranny in the town.
Its yards, vats, stables, wagons and offices occupied many acres in the centre of the town and gave employment to a fair number of men, handling, loading and distributing the barrels. There was too, a long wharf with timber stores, barge tie-ups and offices.
On Saturdays the town came to life in a different way. It was not a market day, but had a market-like degree of activity about it. The market square was partly occupied by stalls covered with mounds of sweets, toffees, candies etc.
Each store had a paraffin flare to light up the highly-coloured sugary lumps, sticks and twists. Behind them were flame blowers, sword swallowers, jugglers, and barrel organs with monkeys sitting on the top, their round puzzled eyes seeking somewhere to escape from the noise and lights.
Further down the town there were often fairs with roundabouts, shooting galleries and coconut shies which added to the Saturday night entertainment.
Sometimes the town was visited by a brown bear led by a chain attached to a leather collar around its neck. This would attract a lot of attention and its owner's cap would receive a fair amount of small coins by midnight, when the stall-holders dismantled their shelters, packed up their belongings and departed into the darkness.
Occasionally, during the summer months, a German band would put in an appearance and march around the town rattling their collection boxes as they approached the shop-keepers and pedestrians for donations. The town had its own band but this only played in the Castle grounds on high days and holidays.
A very regular visitor was the Muffin Man. He made his rounds of the best class shops and houses every few weeks. A tray covered with green baize on his head, holding both muffins and crumpets, and a bell in one hand constantly ringing to announce his presence.
He was a tall, thin man with a full grey beard and a loud voice which shouted 'Muffins and Crumpets' up and down every street in the town, bringing housewives running to their doors to obtain a few before his stock was exhausted.
Where he kept his reserve stock William never discovered nor his place of residence. The man just appeared and disappeared, making neither friends nor enemies during his brief visits.
The caller William knew best was a tall man who drove his pony and milk float around all the streets each morning. Two tall milk churns stood on a raised platform which was fixed in the front of the vehicle. Each had a polished brass tap at its base from which hung two two-gallon cans. The cans had half lids on hinges and a heavy metal handle.
Pint and quart measures hung inside them. The Milkman was also a farmer with a dairy farm just outside the town's boundaries and he was the only supplier of milk to the townsfolk. He was clean-shaven, ruddy-faced, cheerful and talkative on country affairs and the weather. He wore a check cap, long overalls, leather leggings and brown boots.
Jo Jones, Ontario, Canada, 2002
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