|
Lifestory Showcase - Chappell
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19
 | |  | |
The world does seem different in many respects from that when I was a child. We have bombs and the activities of terrorist organisations in our streets. Very young children are molested; the elderly are mugged and robbed with impunity. Women are being raped, our cities are no longer safe and up and up goes the divorce rate with all its effect on the next generation.
It seems to me, as an onlooker that life is now an expression of greed. Get as much as you can and as soon as you can seems to be the order of the day. The world is still a beautiful place but we are slowly and surely destroying it. It didn't seem to be like that when I was young, people helped one another or maybe as in all cases of reminiscing you only remember the good things.
It shouldn't be like this, material conditions for my parents when I was born were far worse than they are today. There was no one else to call on like so-called Social Services for help or Social Security for cash of any kind. It just was not there. The first weekly payment books I ever heard of, was when the men were called up during the war years, and benefits were paid to the wives and children left behind, no matter who they were.
The men would only have army pay and rail passes to get home on leave from the camps wherever they were stationed, if they were still in the British Isles. Holidays and outings were never heard of, very few had cars, it was walk or bicycle for all ages. Very few think of walking to work or school, or even to the shops anymore, it is considered a punishment. People who do walk, do it for pleasure, and only a few seem to enjoy walking (I wish I could).
It would be a terrible thing if it took another war to bring back the sense of togetherness that we had in those days, but I fear that if that should happen now there would be none of us left to be brought together. There are however still some good and caring people about and I was able to go to Scotland that summer with an organised holiday scheme for disabled people and their helpers. It was yet another first for me, I did not know anyone when I boarded the specially adapted coach, we had perfect weather all the week and I enjoyed the journey, hotel and scenery which did not let me down.
In the summer of 1992 I was able to go back to Femdown once again, for during July a nice letter arrived from the Ferndown Historical Society secretary, inviting anyone who had ever attended the village school, now demolished, to attend this year's Reunion. I put the letter away, thinking this was too far to go although I would have loved to see some of the friends that went to that school when I did 50 years ago.
I came across the letter nearer the time of the reunion to be held on 26th September 1992, and suddenly thought "Why couldn't I go. I’ve plenty of time to find one of my many friends in Milton Keynes to drive me there.” The first name to come to mind was Lesley, a very good driver who did not work on Saturdays.
The next tine I met her, I tentatively approached her and asked her. "Where abouts?" she said "Near Bournemouth," said I and when I got around to mentioning Ferndown, she said, "1 quite often go there to visit my grandmother in Award Road." What a small world, and so we would have a nice, easy, and enjoyable day out for all of us, since she would take my mother and dog to visit my brother Derek as well.
So it was arranged, but the week before Lesley had her car, set on fire and burnt out. Without waiting for her insurance she managed to replace it, so we had a car and the great day arrived. We set of at 7.00 am. on a fresh, foggy autumn morning. But just over half way there, the sun really burst through and promised a lovely day ahead. We saw road signs to Salisbury, the way we intended to go to drop mother off, but somehow missed the turning.
This was even better for me, for we now drove through the New Forest on a beautiful autumn day. Just right, Ringwood and many other familiar names of my childhood days were looming up at me. Through Ferndown, Stapehill, around Wimborne to Henbury, Sturminster Marshall to my brother’s farm where we all lived after we left the village when I was twenty-three.
Back to Ferndown, along Wimborne Road. turning right into Church Road which was my old route to school on my faithful tricycle from about 1935 to 1944. I went up that hill to where the dear old school with its many happy memories to me used to stand to welcome us. A bare weedy patch is all that is left now, except for the iron railings that would keep us in the school playground.
We found the new very modern First School where the reunion was to be held, and my oldest dearest friend Molly (White) was waiting for me with others who remember me and my trike. Percy who knew I was coming, welcomed me with a very lovely gift of a flower vase made at Poole Pottery and which is only sold in one of the local shops in Ferndown. Tea, refreshments, a raffle, a photograph of the school being demolished two years earlier, and photographs of previous reunions, with lots and lots of chat about those old days at Ferridown School was the order of the day.
There was news of births, deaths and marriages over the years, and a younger generation whose parents knew me and whom I remembered being born. They were now parents themselves while most of my school friends are grandparents now. The day passed all too quickly for me and photographs were taken by the score. I asked Molly and Betty (Appleby) to push me, in my wheelchair around to those "Old School Gates".
We passed the little gate just wide enough in those days for the boys to get through, and walk down the path pushing their bicycles. Boys and girls had to part at the double wider gate which was for the girls and teachers. The gates are now chained and locked and allowed to stay where they stood for all those years allowing thousands of children to pass through9 day after day, year after year. While I sat there with my hands on and through those gates, Molly whipped out a camera and took a photo of me with my thoughts and memories of long ago.
As we were doing all this, some of my friends from Bournemouth had arrived, as arranged, to say 'hello' to me9 and had a cup of tea with me. They had also brought Mrs Deacon, the widow of Mr Deacon who had taught so many of us fifty years ago, and her daughter Daphne.
This was a lovely ending to my wonderful day for Lesley had arrived to take me back to my own home at Milton Keynes. Apart from someone coming from Exeter, I had travelled the furthest to be there that day. We all said goodbye1 maybe to meet again another year, I hope so, with a few more faces who should have been there.
I asked Lesley to drive me round the “block” I used to know so well, passed the Church Hall and Church with the old houses on the right; along Ringwood Road, down Victoria Road and back along Wimborne Road, all where my tricycle used to take me. When we reached Wimborne we drove round through the Square and by the Minster, to Henbury to pick up mother again.
We had another cup of tea with my brother and sister-in-law, before wending our way back again through Ferndown, Ringwood and the Forest again, enjoying the beautiful colours in the lovely still autumn evening, making the end to a perfect day.
| |  | |  |
No one has left any comments
To leave a response please login or join for free, up in the top left corner.
|
|
