My best and long time friend, while I lived in Synwell, was Paul Brain. Paul, his mother and two sisters lived next door to us at Cotswold Gardens, at number forty-eight. Paul’s mum was known as ‘Auntie Nora’ to my siblings and me although she was no relation of ours. His dad, I understand, died when we were all quite young. Molly, his eldest sister, married a man connected with farming and as far as I remember they later moved to Wales. Where, sadly she passed away many years later. Sheila, Paul’s youngest sister married Jeff Shellard, a local engineer. They, as far as I know, still live in Wotton with their children.
Even in his youth Paul was a strapping lad, with sandy coloured hair and a freckled complexion. One of the things that I remember about Paul, at school, was that he sometimes lapsed into periods of sleep during lessons. Apart from that we were always out and about together after school. Sometimes we were with Terry Munday –who lived at number fifty - that’s if we hadn’t fallen out with him, as we invariably did, as children do.
‘Auntie Nora’ served in a butcher’s shop, in Long Street, belonging to Mr Richings, a local farmer. The shop was small, but always spotlessly clean. Behind the serving counter were two long wooden tables on which the meat was cut or chopped into joints of varying sizes, according to the requirements of the customer. Everytime that the meat cutting was completed the wooden tables were washed and scrubbed down with warm water. The remaining meat was then returned to the large refrigerated store room at the rear of the shop. During opening hours the floor of the shop was covered in a thin layer of sawdust. This was done to keep the floor as dry as possible during the washing of the wooden tables, and also to soak up any blood that may have dripped from the carcasses of meat. At the end of the day’s trading, the sawdust was swept from the floor and disposed of. The display area, behind the plate glass window, was also cleared and washed down. Along the tiled wall at the back of the shop hung numerous lethal looking tools of the butchery trade, saws, cleavers, hooks and knives of many sizes.
‘Auntie Nora’ was a short middle aged lady, with curly auburn shoulder length hair and brown eyes. She had a smile that could melt the snow from any mountain, and an Irish brogue as soft as any silk. Nora, as the adults of Sinnell called her, always did her washing on a Monday. In those days each house in Cotswold Gardens had a ‘copper’ built into the corner of the kitchen. These ‘coppers’ were used to boil the washing in, by means of a fire that had to be lit under the ‘copper’. Wood and a small amount of coal were used for this purpose, and at the end of the year many of the houses used them to boil their Christmas puddings in. No washing machines in those days, only the old mangles for pressing the water out of your laundry, before hanging it outside on the line to dry.
In the evenings I could very often be found around at Paul’s house, where I had been invited to share a meal with him and his mum. In the lounge, behind the door leading from the kitchen, was the biggest round oak table that I had ever seen. It was draped in a large brilliant white lace tablecloth, which was adorned with bunches of tiny red roses around the edge. In the middle of the table there was a large wooden breadboard. Lying across the breadboard was a large brown handled knife, with a scerated edge. Next to the breadboard stood an enormous brown teapot, which when not in use was covered by a red and white woollen tea cosy. Next to this stood a large white milk jug and alongside of that was a cruet set. The large circular dining table was capable of seating eight people with its eight matching chairs. The remaining furniture in the lounge was made up of a cream and brown coloured three-piece suite, a large three-drawer sideboard with side cupboards, and a large glass fronted display cabinet that showed off the best china tea service and an array of glassware. Beneath the lounge window stood a ‘radiogram’, this was housed in a large brown wooden cabinet containing a radio, and a record player with storage space for records (78s) it was mains powered. Although ‘Auntie Nora’ rarely sat down in the evening to listen to the radio, it was always on in the background. Usually tuned into the ‘Light Programme’ or Radio 2 as it is today. The frequency for this was 1500 metres ‘Long Wave’.
During the winter months, after tea, Paul and I would settle down either on the settee or on the floor to read our comics. While ‘Auntie Nora’ would, if she had finished her domestic chores, settle down in her favourite armchair and darn some socks or do some knitting. Before we knew it, it was time for me to go round home and too bed.
On the rare occasions that Mum and Dad went out together, either to the pub or to Wotton Picture House, Nan would baby sit for them. This meant her coming over too our house, from Locombe Place, which also meant that we could stay up a little longer. Nan was a fairly tolerant woman, but there was a limit to what she would let you get away with. While the others played amongst themselves I would climb upon Nan’s lap, as she sat beside the fire of the range in the kitchen, where she would either read to me or recite nursery rhymes. She would also try and answer any questions that I might put to her.
On warm summer days, when we visited Nan at Locombe Place, she would take us for walks. We used to walk along Locombe Place, towards Synwell past an old house called ‘The Hermitage’ that was occupied by two elderly ladies. If they were working or just sat in the garden they often chatted to Nan, either about the weather or just about old times. The two elderly ladies, who I believe were sisters, were fairly active for their ages. People often saw them out walking together, across the fields and through the woodlands around Synwell. More often than not they wore ankle length dresses with a floral design, and large wide rimmed straw sun hats that concealed their silver grey hair. The sun hats were secured by means of a wide coloured ribbon, which was tied in a large bow beneath their chins. When Nan had finished her chat with the Ladies, we proceeded on our walk. We took the footpath that ran up the side and to the rear of ‘The Hermitage’, over a wooden style and then began the climb across the field and then up into the woodlands, that would then bring us up on to ‘Hentley Tor’. The woodlands at that time of year were strong with the smell of wild garlic. In other parts of the wood bluebells danced in the summer breeze and primroses sat on the banks watching the dappled display of colour.