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Barbara Greenshields (nee Jupp) born in 1924, is the eldest child of Edith and Horace, having three younger brothers. Barbara has written a book for her family of her memories. Below is an extract from that book.
'Beyond the end of our back garden there was a brick field. We would watch the men going about their work and, to me, they seemed a solemn bunch, never smiling or speaking to us. Later the Hurstwood Estate was built there. I wonder if the land where our houses were had previously been part of the brickfield? A little further down Flansham Lane the Roundle Estate was being developed. This was an alternative route to school for us, along the already completed Roundle Road, sometimes accompanied by some of the children who lived there; then past the land that was to become Roundle Square and its surrounding area.
This led into Firs Avenue where we often met Mary and some of our other schoolmates. If we went home that way there would be more time to linger; where in spring and summer colourful butterflies flitted over meadowland where new houses would soon be built.
One Saturday I was playing with friends in Roundle Road when, who should come along, but Miss Newnham (my schoolteacher and Brown Owl) and another lady (someone said it was her sister) carrying a basket of dandelions. We politely wished them 'Good afternoon Miss Newnham' - but as soon as they were out of earshot we giggled and prophesied that they'd wet their beds. 'I expect they are going to make wine with them' explained Mother when I got home.
It was about this time that Mother lost a ring. It was one she treasured as Dad had given it to her before the married. In spite of careful searching she did not find it and was unhappy about its disappearance.
Unknown to me my father had been considering buying a new house. 'Sunnymead', a bungalow at Barnham was not brand new, but Dad wanted to buy it. Unfortunately someone offered more money (yes gazumping was happening even then). He was very disappointed, but found a new semi-detached house in the South Bersted area of Bognor Regis. I received this news with mixed feelings, half pleased at what seemed the prospect of an exciting adventure and half sad because I would be leaving familiar surroundings, friends and school. I would have to start at a new school. Would I like it? What would the teachers and the children be like?
David and I had found a nest in a clump of trees on the far side of the field where we played. It was out of reach, too high for us to see inside, but we could hear the cheeping of baby birds. The evening before we moved we carried David's rocking elephant across the field and, taking turn to stand slightly precariously on it, were able to peep into the nest where baby birds stretched out their necks expectantly. I left the field with a feeling of satisfaction of having seen them.
At the end of Flansham Lane there lived a boy I believed to be particularly cruel. Some of the other children said he cut the heads off of baby birds with his penknife. I couldn't understand why anyone should do anything so wicked, but they showed me the evidence - poor naked little things lying in the grass, decapitated. If it was really him I hope he didn't find our babies. As we made our way home I glanced towards the bank where our primroses grew and felt a bit sad because we wouldn't be able to visit it to get her Mother a birthday posy again.
Moving day was fine and bright and we watched our home being loaded into a removal van. When everything was safely on board we set off to Bognor; David and I enjoying the privilege of sitting in the front of the van with the removal men. I can't remember how my parents travelled and I don't recall Peter and Michael being there. It is quite likely they stayed at Littlehampton with Nan (Auntie Hilda) and our Grandparents, an arrangement which would certainly have made the procedure easier for Dad and Mother.
Our new home in Murina Avenue was up to date. Hot water came out of taps. There were two 'lavs', one near the back door and another in the bathroom upstairs and you could flush them. There were tiled fireplaces in the living rooms, one with a mirror above it, and we had electric lighting. Really posh!
The next day Mother took David and me to South Bersted School. He went into the Infants and I started in Miss Shilton's class, a solemn looking lady who rarely smiled. I felt very much in awe of her. Luckily I was able to cope quite well with my lessons, for she seemed to have little patience with those who could not. Surprisingly, just before we broke up for the Christmas holidays, she organised games for us to play sitting at our desks and provided lots of small prizes, so obviously had a 'soft spot' after all.'
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