A postcard and a visit to Well Manor Farm

You might wonder why I'm sharing this rather ordinary looking postcard.  The views of Buckingham (The Square and Town Hall, the old jail, the church of St. Peter and St. Paul, an old house, the River Ouse) are perfectly nice but not especially interesting. It’s neither very old nor rare, but it is special in that it opens a very small window into the past.

The postcard sent in 1960 is addressed to my parents Mr & Mrs D. Flitney (Rene and Denis), Well Manor Farm, Hampshire (UK).  I’ve not been back to Well for many years but the last time I visited it looked very much as it always has. It is one of those timeless places, and it is somewhere that will be forever dear to my heart.

Auntie Jean sent the card after she and her husband Graham, and their two boys spent a day or two at Well. I was twelve at the time but to be perfectly honest I have no recollection of the visit. The card, however, did bring back memories. This is what Aunty Jean wrote; 

We arrived back soon after 9 last evening, the mileage done was 67, so I think we travelled on the route you gave us OK.

We may have not needed to go through Henley, but the scenery was gorgeous and well worth the extra 2 or 3 miles.

We stopped for a drink at Twyford in the square and then came straight on. 

The stay was enjoyed all round and we know the boys loved it. Colin stayed awake after the first half hour, but was soon down to it when put to bed. I think he was determined not to miss anything on the route. 

Seeing those words all these years later reminded me of my dad. He loved to talk mileages and always had an opinion on the best or quickest route to or from anywhere.  I have a clear picture of him fetching his map books from the car and running his finger along the route while adding up the miles in his head. 

Naturally, I have no memories of Jean and Graham stopping in the square at Twyford, but it did bring back memories of days out with mum and dad.  

Most journeys started out with a stop at a transport café. Few families used them, but dad loved them.  A good strong cup of tea and a fry up would set him up for the rest of the journey.  The prices were usually low, the staff friendly and lorry drivers were always happy to chat. In my memory, every single conversation was the same – the best route, the number of miles and more importantly any traffic problems. This was in the days before mobile phones and the Internet so the only way to find out about these things was by word of mouth.

After a day spent with relatives or at the sea, we would set off for home and sooner or later dad would mention needing to ‘stretch his legs’. This was the signal for mum and I to start looking out for a decent pub. Those that appeared grubby or had shoddy paintwork would be rejected out of hand.  Those with five or six cars in the car park were deemed too busy. Eventually, we would find something that looked ‘nice’ and dad would pull in.   If it was a warm evening, we would sit in the garden, but more often than not they went inside while I waited in the car. After a few minutes, one of them would return with a bag of crisps and a fizzy drink. This was long before the drink driving ban, and they would often be an hour or more. Once fed and watered, we would be underway again.

The only part of the day I didn’t enjoy was the ‘eating up’ of the sandwiches. These were the leftovers from lunch, by now soggy and truly horrible. Dad would munch his way through a couple, but it was more than I could stand so I would say goodnight and take myself off to bed.  NB My brother married when I was quite young as did my sister. These recollections are of the time after they left home, prior to that all three of us would be in the car.

I don't have any photographs of Jean and Graham, but this is one of me as I must have looked when they visited. A note on the back reads Bobbie and Blacky. I don't think Blacky was our cat, so I'm guessing he belonged to the family who owned The Chequers Inn. 

The Chequers Inn is to my right (out of the picture). The building behind me is Mulberry Cottage once the home of Old Bell Ridges. I don't know Bell's actual name, although I assume it must have been Bella or Annabelle. I have two clear memories of her. The first is that most of the children in the village (including me) were a little afraid of her because on nights when the moon was full she would stand in her garden and scream. The second is of her showing mum a collection of beautiful old-fashioned Valentine’s cards the type made from material and lace. Other than that Old Bell Ridges was and will probably remain a mystery to me. I do wonder how she would feel if she knew the house she once lived in now has a price tag of more than one million pounds.  

August, 2016. For my birthday this year Terry offered to take me to London, Bath, Bristol or anywhere else of my choosing - I chose to go back to Well.

The Chequers Inn, Well, Hampshire in August 2016.

The Chequers 

Well Manor Cottages a pair of semi-detached cottages and the place I grew up. We lived in the one on the right of the photograph. Mum and dad were incredibly proud of the garden and spent hours working on it.  (With thanks to my sister Sue for the photo)

Looking in the opposite direction with the dutch barn and cowshed in the distance.

The same pair of cottages in 2011 this was some time after our parents died. 

Aug 2016 - can you spot the difference?

The house where we lived has been completely flattened, the other half of the pair still stands but our home has gone. The only thing left is a gate and a mark in the grass where the path used to be.

This photograph taken across the fields at the back of the farm might give you a clearer idea. Our house should be directly in line with the dead tree.  Most of the original farm buildings have also been knocked down and replaced.

 These buildings now stand where the dutch barn once stood. Progress? I guess so but I know which I prefer, although having said that most of the farm had fallen into disrepair in the intervening years. 

The back of the new barn.

Another of the new farm buildings

Much of the rest of the village looks almost exactly as it did...

The cricket pitch used to be in the field beyond this fence, I have no idea why I felt it necessary to point that out!  I’m standing in front of one of my favourite trees and the one I used to climb at every opportunity.  As I've grown older, the tree has grown taller - I'm not sure I could climb it now, although I was tempted to try.

The field where the cricket pitch used to be. 

The well at Well 

This well is a gift to the inhabitants of the hamlet from William Fullerton who died at Well Manor, August 25th, 1888.

A family by the name of Biddlecombe lived here.  I believe Mr & Mrs Biddlecombe had a son and a daughter. The little girl and I used to play together until the awful day when she fell out of a tree and broke her collarbone. I wish I could remember her name – Janet perhaps?  She was a good two years younger than me so the day she fell I naturally got the blame.  I remember knocking on their front door the following day and her mother telling me exactly where to go!  That was the end of our friendship. I was seven at the time and have never forgotten the injustice of it all – although I did demonstrate how to hang upside down from a branch – so in hindsight it was entirely my fault – sorry Janet (if indeed that is your name).

I can't remember the name of the family who lived here, but I do remember singing Christmas Carols outside their front door. My sister was responsible for our little band of singers. She had the best voice, and it was left to her to decide on the carols and who should sing what. She had a passion for singing descant, and it was down to the rest of us to follow along with the basic melody.  Unfortunately, the moment she started singing I would find myself joining in.  I just could not get it right no matter how often and how hard we practised. We must have looked (and sounded) a raggle, taggle bunch when we arrived at this particular door, and I don’t think we were very welcome.

 The following photographs are of the woods and fields at Well Manor Farm.  I’m afraid I was trespassing at this point (Terry had gone to park the car – so he is not implicated in this!) I could not leave without walking these familiar paths and as requests left on the new farm owner’s blog had gone unanswered I decided to risk a telling off. 

Taking only pictures, leaving only footprints and a great big chunk of my heart

I started off by saying I’ve not been back to Well for many years and the last time I visited it looked very much as it always has. However, time has indeed wrought changes at Well Manor Farm. Happily, the woods and fields are virtually unchanged.

Stored at the bottom of a box for more than fifty years Auntie Jean's postcard took me on a journey through my memories and reminded me it was time to go home.

Guest Post - My Sister Remembers - The End - For Now!

A guest post by my sister Sue Poulter. See previous post here

I went to the pre-natal clinic in Hartley Wintney where I met other mums-to-be and at last made some friends. One particular friend, Doreen, lived on the side of the common in Hartley Wintney, we visited each other most days for a cup of tea and a chat, and I began to feel less cut off. The trouble was I was soon too big to get behind the wheel of a car, and it was some months after Paula Jane was born that I was brave enough to start driving again. We had an old wooden garage with no floor just two planks to park on. Bob found it easy but the first time I tried to get the car out I ran it off the planks – you can guess how popular I was!

Paula Jane was born on the 9th October 1966, and “Auntie” Pauline came to look after us.  It was an easy birth, and I was allowed home after 24 hours. Paula was a beautiful bonny baby, and it was lovely to get home so soon.  Pauline was wonderful she took the children out and managed very well with James, considering he screamed all night every night. She was so patient with him and played with him for hours on end while I looked after Paula and entertained all the family who came to view the fourth member of the Wood football team. Mum and dad were horrified when they heard I was pregnant again, but once they saw Paula they were as charmed by her as everyone else was. After Pauline went home Bob dealt with James in a very different way. First night James screamed and screamed and Bob and I both tried to pacify him. Well, it didn't work, but the short sharp slap across his bottom certainly did!

James continued to be a problem. He didn't want to eat, he didn't want to walk, and everything else was a battle. Paula, on the other hand, and thank goodness, was as placid as Michael and had a very sunny disposition. Times were hard and we really did have to survive on the bare essentials. I regret I have so few photos of James and Paula as babies – simply because it was too expensive to buy films and pay to get them developed. I had a photo of all four of them taken together at Hartley Wintney, but it was months before we could afford to go and collect it.

A day out at Frensham Pond

At least now that I could drive I could take all the children out in the summer. By this time we had swapped the van for a little car. I used to collect mum, and the six of us would go for a picnic at Frensham Pond or to the coast. Life was always a bit of a battle with four children and very little money, but we soldiered on. I was envious of Bob because he remembered lovely little stories about the kids, but I could only remember the nappies, tantrums and hard times without money. When the children were older, I used to ask Bob to tell me all the things they had said and done as youngsters as I felt I had missed so much.

Doreen always said she had no idea how James managed to stay alive as he drove everyone to distraction. He was a lovely looking lad with big blue eyes and curly blond hair, but knew exactly how to wind people up. He would sit in his high chair and spit his dinner everywhere, and he never slept. He had boundless energy and wanted to play all night. For a while Bob and I tried taking it in turns to play with him until after midnight, but it made no difference so it was back to a slap across the buttocks!

Paula was baptised at a lovely little church in Winchfield. We had to get special permission from the Rural Dean because the church had been unused for a very long time. It was a really lovely occasion, and once again all the family and friends came back to our house for tea and cake.

St. Mary's Church Winchfield

Bob worked long hours, and so I often went to Well to visit mum and dad where we knew we would get a very good tea. One afternoon as I was about to drive away the driver’s seat sunk through the floor of the car.  Dad gave me a tin lid to put under it to stop me ending up on the road while I drove home.

At about this time the kids decided they really wanted a pet, so we got a white cat and ended up naming her “Mum Cat” because like me, she kept getting pregnant. We let her keep one kitten “Ginger” and they were both with us for many years. All the other kittens were taken to the pet shop in Victoria Road, Aldershot until we saved up enough money to get Mum Cat “done”.

The children with "Mum Cat" left to right; Michael, James, Jackie (at back) and Paula.

Jackie was five years old when we were at Taplin’s Farm, and a decision had to be made about her education. She was very highly strung and had lots of habits like folding and unfolding blankets and rocking backwards and forwards for hours on end. She was always happy and knew lots of nursery rhymes and poems. It was decided she would start school at Hartley Wintney Infants on a part-time basis.  It was an absolute disaster. She was completely lost and panicky because I wasn’t there. In those days teachers didn’t get any extra help for children with (what we now call) learning difficulties. The third day was the hardest of all for Jackie; she panicked and in trying to get away bumped into and knocked over some children in the playground. When I arrived to collect her at the end of the day I was met by some of the parents who were furious at the behaviour of my “awful child”. The Head Mistress more or less told me not to darken her door again and went on to say, “there are special places for children like that”. I remember walking home with the children and crying my eyes out wondering what would happen next.

Well, what happened was she went to Compton Diagnostic Unit near Winchester and lived and was educated there until she was nine years old. She came home for weekends and holidays, and we visited her at school.  It really was a lovely place, and she was very happy there, things seemed to improve, and she didn't have as many seizures for a while. She enjoyed her lessons and liked the teachers, and we began to hope for better things.    

In the meantime, life was becoming more difficult for Bob at Taplin’s Farm. His boss became increasingly demanding and often did strange things. In the middle of one harvest, when the weather was beautiful, he called all the men out of the fields and Bob out of the milking parlour and insisted they spend the day cutting down stinging nettles.  He would not allow them to stop for a cup of tea or lunch, and the cows didn’t get milked until after 9 pm that night.  His wife tried to intervene, but he would have none of it and told her to get indoors and mind her own business.   Bob stuck it out for three more years before deciding it was time to start looking around again. It was only later we learnt his boss had been ill for many years and eventually died from a brain haemorrhage.        

Our next move was to Northbrook Farm just outside Bentley. Bob was taken on as Herd Manager, a job he came to love. Our new home was a Gothic style semi-detached three bedroomed house. Two of the bedrooms were upstairs, and the third which the boys shared was down. Bob worked from 4.30 am until 11.30 am and then had two and a half hours for his lunch break and went back for afternoon milking and any other jobs connected with the cattle. He finished work when he could but with animals that could be at any time of the night. He looked after a herd of Friesian cattle and was responsible for keeping the books and increasing the milk yield.

Bob and cows at Northbrook Farm

I became friends with the house keeper and her daughter at Northbrook House. They lived in a really nice flat above the stable block; you can just see it in the following picture (below the clock tower). They had a pretty walled garden, and it was lovely to visit them and sit there with a cup of tea in the summer. It was such a treat to have nice people to visit and to visit me. 

Northbrook House

Money was not so tight now as I had a cleaning job, and Bob was getting a regular bonus on his milk production, so we were able to buy a better car. We started entertaining a little in the evenings. I would cook a nice dinner, and we had the occasional bottle of wine. Life was not all honey. It was still hard work with the children and even more so when Jackie came home for the school holidays.  She contracted German measles whilst at school and was really very ill. Her seizures got worse and the drugs no longer controlled them. Sometimes,  she would have up to ten seizures in one day.  

By now, both Michael and James were at school, and Jackie had moved to Lingfield Hospital School (now the National Centre for Epilepsy) in Surrey.  It was a very large school. She lived in one of a row of houses with approximately eight pupils plus staff.  It was like a village with its own very good school, hospital, church, restaurant and various other facilities. It was a much longer journey for us, and I often had to do the drive on a Sunday as Bob would be working. It was now time to change the car again so we bought an Austin Cambridge, which was much larger. The kids and I would go off on the journey to Lingfield, which was always a bit of an adventure. Once there we collected Jackie and off we would go to find a café for a cup of tea. I remember once we set off and got stuck in floods and had to get someone with a tractor to pull us out and dry the plugs before we could set off again. I was a bit nervous after that and used to stay around Lingfield more.  

Jackie, Michael and James at Northbrook

After we had been at Northbrook for a few years the farm manager and his family moved, and we were offered their old house. Once again, it was in the Gothic style with a very nice front garden with roses and clematis climbing over the walls and the porch.  I knew the house very well having cleaned it for a few years and was excited to move in.  It had a large kitchen with a walk in larder, a downstairs toilet and a store cupboard. After we moved in we discovered the larder flooded after heavy rain and if we had snow we had to shovel it out of the loft! We had a dining room and a large lounge, three bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. Our new home was just behind our old one so on moving day we put the furniture on a tractor and trailer and shifted it about a hundred yards.  We had a garage with room for Guinea-pig cages and a shed for the dog to live in when we were out, and another shed for chickens. We bought the chickens with the idea that we would have eggs and when they stopped laying we would eat them - some hope! The chicken laid very few eggs and were all given proper burials in the woods when they died of old age!  We wanted a bigger vegetable garden and the owner of the farm said we could have part of the field behind the house. Once we cleared it of stones (really good work for the kids!) we could grow everything we needed, including fruit bushes and trees and always had plenty to share around with others on the farm and our relatives.

The rest of my story is as yet unwritten. I have it in mind to continue with it, but it may have to wait for a year or two as my life is still as hectic as ever. That’s all for now, Sue Poulter nee Flitney  

Memories from an envelope

I was already putting this post together when I noticed this week's Sepia Saturday prompt - Aha thought I – two birds with one stone!  The two birds in question are my sister Sue and I (forgive the pun). There are no babies in the post even though we have five between us, but I hope two weddings will make up for that. The post contains an open letter to my sister; please feel free to read it. I have no secrets from you!

My mum (Rene Flitney) kept an envelope full of newspaper clippings, greetings cards and other bits and pieces. This is the second in a series of posts about items from that envelope. If you wish, you can read the first part here.   

It was no surprise to find a newspaper cutting from our wedding tucked inside the envelope, but we were surprised to find a wedding invitation. Those invites meant a lot to us back in 1970, but we didn't think to put one in our keepsake box. 

Terry and I agonised over the choice of design for weeks. Actually, I don't think Terry could have cared less, but he did his best to pretend he did!  In the end, we settled on a 'stained-glass window' effect. 

I have no idea why we chose the ones with a green background as our wedding was all white and pink! Perhaps colour themed weddings weren't so important then.

A Honeymoon in Austria 

A honeymoon in Austria and Switzerland followed the wedding at Odiham Parish Church of Miss Barbara Ann (Tut! my name is Anne) Flitney, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. D. W. Flitney, of Well Manor Farm, Long Sutton, and Mr. Terence Fisher, son of Mr. and Mrs. F. Fisher, of Blunden close, Basingstoke. The service was conducted by Rev. Philip Tidmarsh. 

Given away by her father, the bride wore a full-length dress of white nylon voile. It was high necked and the neck, bodice and cuffs were trimmed with pink lace. Her shoulder length veil was held in place by a band of white roses and she carried a bouquet of white lilies of the valley and pink rosebuds.

Attendants were the bride's sister Mrs. Susan Wood (Matron of Honour), and bride's nieces Paula Wood and Michelle Flitney. Mrs Wood wore a full length, pink dress with bell sleeves, trimmed with rosebuds. She wore a pink rose in her hair and carried a bouquet of pink and white carnations. Paula and Michelle also wore full length, pink dresses with long sleeves trimmed with white lace. They wore bands of tiny pink rosebuds and carried pink rosebuds and white stephanotis.

~~~

This is probably a good time to offer an apology to my sister!  Sue had no desire to be called a ‘matron of honour’ and even less desire to be dressed head to toe in pink!  She favoured a pretty green dress, thinking it would be better suited to her age and marital status. But I stamped and fumed and insisted on the pink.  Sorry Sue. Mind you, I still think you looked lovely in pink!

Our wedding day the 27th June, 1970. All Saints Parish Church, Odiham.

My sister Sue looking pretty in pink.  Me trying not to look at the camera! Terry on my left, David Jones (best man) on the right and Sue's daughter Paula in front. 

My brother Tony is holding the second little bridesmaid (right of picture third row back). Michelle hated the camera and refused to have her picture taken. 

3rd June, 1961 this time I'm the bridesmaid and my sister is the bride.  

From the left; Mr. & Mrs Wood, Mike Wood, Bob Wood (the groom), Sue, me, mum, dad and Marion in front.

Dear Sue, I was so excited when you asked me to be your bridesmaid. I loved my lilac dress, white gloves, socks and sandals.  I felt like a princess but looking back at the photos I can see I didn't look remotely like one. The little bridesmaid, on the other hand, looked adorable.

Did you know mum made me wear the entire ensemble, including the socks, to the end of year school party? Loud laughter and shouts of “she’s come as a bridesmaid” greeted my arrival. I was thirteen – can you imagine my shame? I spent the entire evening hiding in the loo, while my friends paraded around in mini skirts and white high-heeled boots!

So I guess that makes us even?

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday 276: The Newlyweds and their baby

See who else is getting wed at  Sepia Saturday

Guest Post - My Sister Remembers - Part Nine

A guest post by my sister Sue Poulter. See previous post here

Part of the deal at Wyck was that I had to work on the farm. One of my first jobs was helping the other women cut strings to use for training the hops. It was winter time and very cold, so I always put a hot-water bottle in the pram with Jackie, but it was hard to keep her warm and impossible to keep myself warm. When the snow came I asked the farm manager if we could have some heating in the barn, but his answer was a resounding no. The snow was so bad I had to pull the pram through snowdrifts to get to the barn. All the other women seemed happy to put up with it, but I downed tools one particularly bad day and said, “No heat, no work” and walked out. The other women chased after me and said that Bob would lose his job, but I won the day, and we had a heater installed in the barn soon after. It didn't make much difference though and the snow lasted until after Easter.

Sue and Jackie at Wyck

Once Bob started working in the hop gardens all his clothes and the house smelt of hops which I hated.  Following harassment from the farm manager, who thought I was ungrateful and should remember I was living in a tied cottage, Bob decided it was time to look for another job.  Mum and dad felt sorry for us, and dad asked Bob if he would like to become his Herdsman at Well Manor Farm.  We thought this would be fine, but it doesn't pay to live next door to your parents and certainly not to work for your father-in-law. Dad was not the easiest of people to work with and didn't have much patience with Bob. The hours were long, and the pay was poor and Bob ended up getting part time gardening work on his one day off a week. The house we lived in was very cold, and we only had a fire with a back boiler for heating the water, and coal was so expensive we had to sell some of our belongings to pay for it.  I loved the garden though and grew all our own vegetables. I remember a visit from granny who seeing me digging up potatoes gave Bob a really hard time, but he was working all hours and was always exhausted.

Bob and Jackie in the garden at Well

Mum and dad seemed to be fairly comfortably off at this time so when the grocery van came from Bentley Stores mum would buy loads of vegetables, fruit and "best ham" whilst Bob and I could only afford perhaps a loaf of bread. Funny when a mother seems to take delight in having more than her children.  I remember on one occasion she bought a new rug for the kitchen and asked if I wanted the old one. I was really pleased as we didn't have one, but when she brought it round she asked me to pay for it. I paid up but could have done with the money to put towards the outstanding electricity and other bills.

The Well at Well

The village had not changed since I was a teenager. There was an old water well in the middle, which I assume gave the place its name, and one pub called The Chequers, there were no buses and because Bob didn't drink there was nothing to do in the village. Jackie was a very bright baby. She read simple words and remembered every song and nursery rhyme we taught her, and of course I had plenty of time to spend with her. The highlight of my year was to go next door to watch the Royal Variety Performance on mum and dad’s television. I would wash, change and put my make-up on, as though I was going somewhere special. I started driving lessons as Bob thought it would be good for me to get out and about. The lessons had to stop when I found I was pregnant again and there was no chance of any spare money. This time the doctor kept more of an eye on me because of the problems when I was pregnant with Jackie. We couldn't afford all the food he suggested, but we had plenty of fresh vegetables and salad in the garden, so I lived on that. Probably the reason I regained my figure so quickly after the new baby was born.

Mum in the garden with Michael

Michael was born in the February of 1964 and Mum Wood looked after Jackie while I was in the hospital. His was a more straightforward birth, and he was a lovely placid baby with a mop of black hair. Everyone said he looked like a member of The Beatles, who were all the rage at the time. I was in the hospital for ten days and really looking forward to getting home to Jackie but when I did she had forgotten me and bonded with Mum Wood.  It was really upsetting but it only took a few days for her to get used to me again. Thank goodness Michael was such a good baby as not long after he was born Jackie suddenly became ill. She was two years old that summer, and it was then that she started screaming at night while rocking backwards and forwards and hitting her head against the wall. It was very distressing and nothing we did helped. The doctor suggested giving her junior aspirin, which also didn't help but she seemed better after a week or two and so with much relief we put it down to a virus. 

We managed to scrape up enough money for me to start my driving lessons again, and luckily I passed the test at my first attempt. We didn't know it at the time, but this was to prove a Godsend. 

It was a short while later that Bob began to have health problems. During the war, when he was six or seven, he was run over by a tank at the top of Worldham Hill (probably playing “chicken”or some such game) and spent many months in hospitals undergoing plastic surgery to his arm. Now all these years later a growth appeared on his arm. The doctor decided the growth would have to be removed and although the operation was a success, it made us appreciate each other more and reminded us just how short life can be. Bob always wore long-sleeved shirts even in the summer months but after more plastic surgery, he was happy to have his arm on show.  Jackie had continued to be a concern and on one of the doctor's visits to Bob, I asked him to take a look at her.  She had put on a lot of weight, and her face was often flushed. I thought it might be indigestion, but the doctor felt it could be epilepsy. My dad said it would be best to forget about it as she would be fine when she got older. Not an easy thing to do when you are worried about so many things.

Michael

I found out I was pregnant again when Michael was eight months old. I must say I wasn't very pleased as I felt two children were enough. Bob, however, was over the moon saying he would get his football team yet! As I've said previously Michael was a lovely baby, very easy to feed and always happy to sleep. He was baptised at Long Sutton Church on a very warm day when I was already seven months pregnant. After the service, all the family and friends came back to our house for tea. It was a nice day, but I was quite pleased when everyone went home.  When I went into labour with James Matthew in July 1965, Jacqueline and Michael went to stay with their Auntie Pat and Uncle Mike in Alton, where they had a lovely time playing with their cousins. I think coming home to a crying baby must have been a bit of a shock for them. Although they had a lovely time in Alton it was a shame they could not stay at home with Grandma and Granddad Flitney living next door, but they made it quite clear that as I was having the children it was my responsibility to find someone to look after them as they were not going to!

Sue holding Michael and mum holding hands with Jackie

Not long after James was born Bob started getting attention from a very attractive young lady in the village. Her car always (conveniently for her) broke down outside our house when Bob was at home for lunch. He would leave his lunch and go out to check she and her car were all right. After a few months of this I went to see her and told her just what I would do if she didn't leave him alone.  I can be quite a scary person when angry, and she backed off. I felt almost sorry for Bob as I’m sure he was quite innocent as to what she was up to, but I was having none of it.  Soon after this he decided it was time for a move, especially as relations between him and dad were becoming very strained.

After a few interviews he secured a job at Taplins Farm, between Hartley Wintney and Winchfield. The farm has now gone the way of many others and is an Industrial Estate. But when we lived there it was a rural area with beautiful views. We had a detached house with a conservatory on the side, and a lovely playroom for the children. When we first moved in the children had some bad tummy upsets and Michael often had sore throats and had to have his tonsils removed. Jackie also became unwell again and began to have “vacant” spells. The doctor suggested we take her to see a paediatrician in Reading. Bob couldn't get time off for the appointment so I drove myself and Jackie there. The consultant was most unsympathetic and after carrying out some tests said, “Well you know Jacqueline was starved of oxygen at birth and is brain damaged, which has resulted in Epilepsy." He started her on a course of anticonvulsant drugs and told me to come back in three months.  I was absolutely astounded, as although we had both had a bad time during her birth, not one person had mentioned her being starved of oxygen. The consultant assumed I knew all about it, but things were so very different in those days, and the patient was seldom told the complete story.  Now it was up to me to drive home from Reading and break the news to Bob...

To be continued