'People don't know what life is today', said Mabel Baker during a 1994 interview, 'I had to walk from Goring to Worthing or West Worthing and do the shopping, as there were no buses. I had just a pound to get it with and a little wicker basket to bring it home in. I did that for several years because my mother was very ill in 1915. We had to go to the Co-op or Maypole in Montague Street, or the Maypole in West Worthing.'

Mabel Baker was one of five children, having two brothers and two sisters. They all lived in a terraced cottage at the end of Jeffries Lane, Goring.

'I can remember when I was three years old, my mother and father had to part. My mother was living in a flat in Elm Grove, Brighton and Dad was working in Worthing. My mother told me that when I was born, my elder brother was in the sanatorium with Scarlet Fever and he told my mother that he was sorry she had to send him away, because her home was like a little palace. But over the years of course, living as she had to, she was forced to sell it.

Where I lived as a child, and where I still live today, is the actual Malt House; one of the cottages known as Malthouse Cottages. They were built in the l700's. The strip of land at the Saxon Church goes with the cottages and that's where we grew all our vegetables. There were some fruit trees: plum and apple. There was one particular apple tree that we had in our garden, which was beautiful. Without a word of a lie, I used to stand up against that tree waiting for an apple to drop. I had whooping cough before I started school and I used to go and stand underneath that tree and whoop!

Charlie Green was our landlord around 1910. He lived at the Beach House, Goring, halfway down Sea Lane. He got on very well with my mother.

Just after my brother was born, I opened the door to a knock and there was a nurse standing there in her old-fashioned bonnet with a cloak right to the ground. My sister was in the cradle - she was only 17 months old. The nurse went around the bed on the other side, picked my brother up out of my mother's arms and said 'You dirty little devil', and took him across to the washstand.

As a family we used to go to St James' Hall to see concerts. There were usually the summer concerts and we got to know the cast. I can still sing one or two of the songs. We also used to go to the Bandstand at Steyne Gardens. I used to love the band - I miss that. My favourites were The Camerons and The Cameronians. One of them had a good band, but the other had dancers doing sword dances.

We used to visit the Green family in Bridge Road. They used to have lovely pork pies.

At night when I can't sleep, I find myself remembering names of people who had lived in Jefferies House. It wasn't called Jefferies House in those days, it was named Sea View. That's where Richard Jefferies lived for a while and died there. Then, Jasmine Cottage was called Bell View where two old ladies lived - Mrs Rich and Miss Holloway. Miss Holloway was the governess of Goring Hall.

Then I go back to all the names of people living there right from my school days. There were people called Shephard to begin with, the father being a gardener. Also, one of my school teachers lodged there, Miss Jeffries.

We used to walk to the Baptist Church in Christchurch Road, which held a lovely service and was always packed out. The Vicar was Richard Chesterton. They always had some well-known person to sing solos, such as Professor Ronsdale.

I used to swim in the sea, but I started getting cramp, so had to stop doing it. But actually I spent more of my time at Highdown as a child. We'd walk all the way up there, boys and girls together, stay there all day to play and nobody would bother us. We even went as far as Clapham when we used to go chestnutting. We also used to go up there for primroses.

On one occasion my younger brother was left for dead up there when he fell from a tree. We didn't find out about this until the War when one of my brother's mates was in the Navy and was home on leave. We were talking and poor old Bob said, 'We thought he'd had it and left him up there for dead.' Apparently he had in fact just fallen asleep while we were chestnutting!

We played at Highdown, round by the Miller's Tomb and in the Chalk Pit. I also used to go up there on my own with my dog. I've had a dog ever since I was nineteen. I'd go up there whenever I was fed up. The first dog kept following my brother home and we found out in the end that it came from Ferring. But he took a fancy to my brother, nice little dog and he brought it home one day. We found out that it's owners were out all day and a neighbour down here who was a milkman, used to give it a half a pint of milk every day. We asked if they would sell the dog, so we had it.

Well on one occasion, during the War, I thought I'd go blackberrying up at Highdown with my dog. I knew I was where I shouldn't be, which was in a pheasantry, so I left my basket at the gate, took the dog in with me and was picking away nicely when all of a sudden I felt there was someone behind me. There was a keeper with his gun. 'If you hadn't left your basket at the gate I would never have known you were here,' he said. 'Your dog's got a rabbit down there,' he continued.
I replied, 'He can't have.'
He said, 'Oh yes he has, hold my gun.'
I said, 'Not likely.' He put his arm down the burrow and pulled a rabbit out and killed it.
'Take it home for your dog's dinner,' he said.
I replied, 'You're not allowed.'
He said, 'Yes you are because I've given it to you.' And that happened again further down when we were primrosing in Titnor Lane and again the dog had been off the lead for a while.

There used to be a house up at the top here where the Miss Ollivers lived and they always allowed us to play in the gardens on the light nights. The boys used to tie the knockers together on their doors, they would pull one and the whole lot would go. We weren't destructive, just having fun, but we knew when we had to go home.

I remember once, when summertime started, a neighbour had moved from no. 1 Malt House Close down to The Drive in West Worthing, so I had gone down there to play and of course, with the extra daylight I didn't realise the time. I was just sauntering along the road and there was my mother with a stick and I got it, right across my back. However, it didn't hurt, but it brought me home pretty quick I might tell you!

Mr Lee used to have a soup kitchen for the children in Jeffrey Place. The kids used to come from Highdown, Northbrook, Durrington and Ferring to our school in the beginning. If there was any soup left over we were allowed to take a can down and take some. I've tried making soup but I've not made it like that, with the bones and the meat and all sorts of vegetables - it was delicious.

I loved school, as I liked to get away from my younger sister, as she was a misery and always crying. She wasn't expected and was only three and a half pounds when born. She wouldn't eat greens; in fact I don't think she ever ate greens in all of her life.

My elder brother, being 7 years older, was leaving school as I started. He longed to be eighteen to join the Army. Well, he did join, but never fought the Germans. What he fought, in the very beginning, was that dreadful l918 flu epidemic which was in the Midlands. They had to help bury the people there - hundreds each day. From there he went overseas to British Honduras and was gone for three and a half years.

My first memory of the Literary Institute is when I was in Service at the age of 18. This was at Mrs Carew's, no. 4 Winchester Road, for about 15 or 16 years. On one occasion there was a competition going for a sultana cake (around the 1920's) when the daughter of the house, Iris let me have a go and we made the cake, or at least she stood by me when I made the cake. When it came out of the oven it was all 'out and over'. Iris said she'd made a mistake and had put three ounces of baking powder in instead of three-quarters of an ounce! Well, I tried again, got it right and won a prize for it.

My mother died in 1937 from bronchitis and a couple of nights before she died, she called me to her and said 'I know I'm dying and you're not to grieve for me, because I've done my best for you all haven't I, and others?' She was always very good to our neighbours as well as us children.'

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