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Memories of The Village, Barkingside

The layout of the Village as I remember it.
There were two main cottage areas known as 'greens', Reception Green & Permament Green. Reception was for those kids who were only there while a place was found for them at another Home. Among these were many families who DBH were trying to keep together as was the case with my sisters & me. Permanent Green's name somewhat gives the game away. To get to the Village hospital, you had to walk via the alleyway from Reception, turn left & walk through the top part of Permanent. This was also the way to the bomb-damaged swimming baths & the gate through which we used to walk to Newbury Park School before Mossford was repaired.
There was a third, smaller green where the very young and/or handicapped children lived, known to us as the Babies' Green. This green was just past the church and led up towards Mossford School and Mossford Gate. There was an orchard to the right hand side of the church, that is to say, between the church right hand side and the main road. This orchard could be entered by climbing over the fence (or was it a wall?) which ran alongside the footpath by the church. For some reason, Mickey Foreman always springs to mind when I think of this orchard; wonder why!? The pears in it were bright yellow, very juicy and very tasty not less for having been scrumped. Forbidden fruit, indeed! There was also a small side gate to the road, I remember.

The main gate into the Village was opposite the lane which led to the District Line station and to the disused wartime aerodrome where we used to go to get dandelion leaves for our rabbits.
There was another large gate, Mossford Gate, by Mossford School, which we used when we went to Valentine's Park, quite a long walk, or to Claybury Park, a shorter walk away but not so big or interesting as Valentine's.
There was an out-of-bounds area known as the Scotch Coast just past and to the right of the hospital. Of course, it goes without saying that it attracted us for the very reason that it was out of bounds!
Events as I remember them.
July 1952, my elder sister Christine was 10 ½, Madeleine was 9 and I was 7 ½. Dad took us via the District Line to Barkingside station and from there up the lane to the main road which we crossed and then in through the main gates of the Village. We were met by Mr. and Mrs. Spencer at their office just on the right of the gates. They seemed very pleasant and friendly, even introducing us to their daughter Verity. Then they took us to Armitie Cottage, one of the very first cottages in the row to the left of the main gates. I cannot remember the name of the master or matron but I do remember we became friends with John Lee, a boy about Madeleine's age. At some point, I noticed Dad was no longer with us and I remember feeling very upset by this. I have a vague recollection of having been told we were going into Dr Barnardo's Homes and I remember feeling comforted by the thought that there would be a kind person, the Doctor himself, who would look after us. In common with every other DBH person, I revere the Doctor and his great work. What a pity most of his successors have always lacked those virtues which set him apart from the rest of the population: his true humanity and very real love of children. God bless his memory!
As it was the Summer holidays, we didn't have to worry about school just yet. Madeleine and I with John Lee explored the whole Village area, especially the bomb - damaged swimming baths and the Scotch Coast, a grassy area just past the Hospital to the right. There had been a fair there notlong before & John found a coconut in a well or drainhole. Somebody had evidently thrown it away because when we finally managed to break the shell, it was pink inside, smelt horrible and tasted worse but we persevered as far as actually eating some of it before throwing it away again.
A few weeks after settling into Armitie, we were moved to Heather which was under the dominion of a woman I came to hate E*** H***. We had to call her aunt E*** and the words used to stick in my throat because I loved my real aunties. Our carefree life changed drastically. Now we had duties to do such as washing and drying up and, in my case, fill the coal scuttle from the pile in the shed. I remember including a drawing of myself doing this on the first page of the first letter I sent my dad, the first I'd ever written in my life. It was clear from the start that E*** only liked children as long as they were no bigger than toddlers and female toddlers, at that.
All the cottages were named after plants or shrubs, God knows why, some Victorian or Edwardian staff member's idea of lightening the mood perhaps.
Part of our diet was cold ham which I detested as it had fat and gristly bits in it but another item which I hated even more than ham was Bovril which we were given as a drink but which I always left. E*** one day decided to force me to drink it, keeping me back when the others left for school. She stood over me while I brought the awful smelling stuff to my lips but when I went to drink it, I couldn't stand it any longer and started retching. She finally had to admit defeat and let me go off to school without much of the detestable liquid finding its way into my digestive system. I hate it to this day. The positive effect of these experiences with food is that I have never forced any of my children to eat or drink any substance they really dislike, allowing them to find appropriate alternatives. The best food item was the ice - cream we got for Friday tea. I used to love going to the Stores near our cottage to get our ice - cream ration which was given to us in cylindrical pieces about 2 inches diameter by about 2 inches thick, wrapped in thin cardboard. I also liked the rabbit, baked for preference, which we had as a regular part of our diet.
Just across from Heather was the Doctor's grave and monument which we were strictly forbidden to touch or go too near which interdiction, of course, we contravened through curiosity at every opportunity but never did I see or hear of anyone damaging or interfering with the smallest part of that sacred place.
Next to Heather was Woodbine Cottage. E*** got on well with the matron who ran Woodbine and we sometimes went to places with them, for example, when we all went to the seaside at Chalkwell and it rained, so we spent most of the time in a shelter singing songs such as "One Little Elephant Balancing All by Himself on a Piece of String" which I thought was sissy and E*** seemed to have it in for me anyway and kept having a go at me or running me down to the other adults.
When the day came to go to school, I discovered that we would be going to an "Outside" school at Newbury Park and that we had to walk there, a distance of 1 or 2 miles. There was a girl called Virginia in another Reception cottage and I fell in love with her and would do my best to walk to and from school with her cottage group if I could. One day, to my great chagrin, she went away to another Home and I never saw or heard of her again.
We DBH kids had our own DBH-employed teachers: Christine had Mrs. Page, I don't remember Madeleine's but my teacher was the excellent Mr. East, a very even tempered, likeable bloke. He never laid a finger on any of us, as far as I know, anyway. He taught us to play Football Rounders which I now see in the TV cartoon series "Recess" as 'Kickball'. Mr. East was there long ago!
My first day, in the playground, John Foreman picked a fight with me as I was the new kid and he and his twin brother Mike had a certain reputation. I was a tough little kid from London, used to roaming the streets on my own after my mother left home so I just hit him until he went down. The whole thing had immediately drawn a crowd as usual but in those far off days, fighting had unspoken rules and in this case those rules were overseen by John Peck, an older boy who stopped the fight immediately John Foreman was on the deck. By winning that fight I gained enough respect to ensure I would be left alone by bullies and it also won me friends, notably John Peck but especially John's twin Michael! It was said by all and sundry that John and Mike didn't get along well and were always fighting. However, looking back, I believe this was a self-fulfilling prophecy initiated by staff who were constantly commenting on the twins' inability to be together without fighting each other. Mike was in Forget-Me-Not as was Gordon Hollier. John Foreman was in Trefoil which was one of the cottages reserved for "difficult" boys, the other being its next-door neighbour Honeythorn, run by Mr. Cooper who had a reputation (undeserved as I later discovered) for being a very strict disciplinarian and not a pleasant person. Christine and Madeleine made friends quite early on with the boys in Forget-Me-Not who were a bit older than me.
We DBH did not like Outsiders, the term we employed when speaking about non-DBH people so we didn't mix much with them in the playground and fought with them whenever we could; they were rarely a match for our ferocity.
There was a tall very smelly chimney (hospital incinerator, I believe) at the bottom of the Newbury Park School playground and between that and Mrs. Page's classroom there was a field or green or similar area with iron railings to discourage us from getting into the field. Needless to say, whenever a ball went over, someone would climb the railings to fetch it or, if possible, get someone else to risk punishment by persuading them to go over; John Foreman was often ready to oblige. Once, he was already in the field getting a ball when Mike decided to get over, too, and they finished up having a fight in the field and, predictably, got caught by a teacher.
The school buildings comprised a main long building running parallel to the road and two wings going down, one from each end of the main building, towards the hospital or factory at the bottom of the playground which was contained within the wings. We used to have school dinners in another building at the top end of the school. We were all allocated to a specific table each of which had an older boy to maintain the discipline of the table's occupants. Head of my table was David Garvey who always wore a yellowy-brown Tweed jacket. He was always very relaxed and was a noted sportsman and for this reason was a hero in my eyes. I'd love to know what became of all those kids I met at the Village in those far off days.
We had to return to the Village for football to use the pitches there as Newbury Park had none. Sometimes we were allowed to catch the trolleybus but mostly we walked and went straight to our cottages afterwards because it was always the last lesson of the day. E*** had forbidden me to wear my red and white elasticated belt with the snake's head fastener (which I'd brought to the Village from home) insisting I wear the braces I'd been issued with by the Clothing Store near Mossford School. I always used to disobey this rule because this was my belt from home and was a link with that wonderful place. Edna evidently suspected I was doing this and had been keeping an eye on me because one day I was in my bedroom changing into football gear when suddenly the door burst open and she saw the belt on the bed. She went mad, shouting and raving then picked up the belt and swung it hard round and across my cheek. I hadn't liked her much before but that really put the kibosh on it and I've hated her from that day to this.
Another incident I remember well and one which I like to remind my sisters about to wind them up, was when Christine, Madeleine and I arrived home after school one day to be met by a stony-faced E*** who marched us into the toilets and showed us some childish crayon drawings on one of the toilet walls, nothing rude or forbidden, just a scrawled representation of some kids standing about and a few words, none of them rude either. She told us it had to have been one of us as the other kids were too young which was nonsense. She told us we would stay in the cubicle until the guilty one owned up. If we didn't own up then we would all miss our tea. I knew then as I know now that the offender wasn't me. Christine and Madeleine said it wasn't either of them so we stayed there squashed into that cubicle while the others ate their tea. Chris and Madeleine started to work on me as I was the boy (what logic is that? ) and said that it was unfair that we should all go hungry. They accepted I was innocent but someone had to own up and I allowed myself to be persuaded to take the rap. E*** was triumphant which made it especially hard to bear. She made me stay there scrubbing the wall until it was all cleaned to her satisfaction. By this time, the others had all finished their tea but I didn't get any at all that evening as a further punishment for not owning up sooner!
I remember we had to go to the hospital to have drops in our eyes, something I'd never heard of before and on the way there, Christine and some other older kids kept telling me that it was painful so by the time we got to the hospital, I was pretty stressed out. When the time came to have the drops, I fought and struggled with the nurse who finally managed to convince me that it wouldn't hurt a bit and to my relief she was speaking the truth, unlike my big sister who afterwards told everybody about my making a fool of myself. A bit later, we had to go for injections and this time it was Christine's turn to cry and struggle whereas I "took it like a man", having had it before and knowing it didn't hurt much. So I took my revenge by telling everybody about it in my turn whereupon Chris clouted me. There's no fair play with sisters!
We had some new boys in our class but of them I only remember Robert Baker, mainly because of his particular way of introducing himself to his classmates but also because he later came to Annesley. Mr. East used to make new boys stand on their seats and say their names then sit down again. He explained to the new boys what was required of them and when it was Robert's turn, he said, "My name's Robert but my friends call me Robin." Which was not quite what Mr. East had in mind and we, knowing this, laughed out loud and Robert sat down feeling, I imagine, quite crushed.
A similar type of incident occurred one day while I was playing in the sandpit just across from Forget - Me - Not Cottage, near the dovecote and disused fountain. A new boy to the Village came to join us and when asked his name replied that it was Nigel. Well, I had never heard this name before and it sounded made up and I told him so. He got quite upset at this and kept insisting it was his name. I persuaded the other kids who were there to back me up and poor Nigel went running to his cottage to get his matron to prove his name was real which she did soon after. I realised years later what a potentially traumatic experience that could have turned out for that young kid who was only about 5 years old, me being 7 at the time. There he was surrounded by strangers, having been wrenched away from the people and home he loved and now his very persona was being denied by older therefore presumably more knowledgeable kids. I sincerely hope he recovered from that nasty fright without any damage to his self - belief.
We were not really cruel to new boys, it was just that we had become hardened by being exposed daily to a strict and tough culture. I feel very strongly, as I imagine all other DBH people feel, that there is an unbreakable bond between us all (not staff, of course!), forged in the fires of our deep unhappiness at being brought up by strangers, most of whom felt no love for us.
There was a large Airedale dog called Gyp who used to wander about Reception Green, I don't know to whom he belonged or whether he was a stray but he evidently loved to be around kids and we liked him. His special trick was running after stones which we got from the basins of the disused fountains (always lots of stones in them for some unknown reason) and threw for him. Me & Mickey Foreman used to do this whenever we saw Gyp. However, he would never give them up to us and would choke on them whereupon we then had to pull them out of his mouth to save his life, daft dog! I spoke to Mick about this last Christmas & he clearly remembered Gyp & his liking for stones without any prompting from me.
Whenever I think about Christmas 1952, I get a warm feeling so it must have been a highly pleasurable experience. I especially have a place in my heart for the Christmas carols we sang at school, some of which I hadn't known but have loved ever since, for instance, 'O Little Town of Bethlehem'. Christmas at the Village was one long round of being transported by buses, coaches and taxis to parties all over London. It was fantastic and we were able to suspend reality for a brief period. Chris and Madeleine actually went to a party within a couple of miles of our home which must have been hard to bear. The only negative memory I have of this time is walking for what seemed like hours all around the Village posting E*** 's Christmas cards to her friends. It started raining soon after I set off without a mac or umbrella and as I didn't know where a lot of the places were, it took me ages.
Just before that Christmas Madeleine and I were taken to Jack Hylton's circus which was not in a Big Top type of tent but in a very big building in London. A young woman whose name I cannot remember came to Heather for us and we went to Barkingside station together. We got off somewhere in central London and waited in the main hall. Soon, along came a young man in one of those 50s light olive green belted raincoats and we all went to the circus together. It was obviously an arranged meeting and I suspect taking us out was a ploy for them to meet and go out together because of those 50s moral attitudes; young people had a hard time getting time alone with each other! Whatever the reason, he was a very decent bloke and she was a kind young woman and we all got on fine together and had a great time. I've never forgotten them and I hope they got married and had kids because they were obviously cut out to be good parents.
One day, we got a new young nurse, Nurse Lesley, at Heather who was really decent and thus very well liked by we kids. I'm sure E*** was jealous of her for this reason. Strange how most carers are never able to figure out the equation and believe that the most effective way to control children is to shout, punish and especially never to show the slightest compassion or affection for their young charges.
About this time we had an older boy, Tony Anjews or Andrews (don't know the correct spelling), staying temporarily at Heather. Christine fell for him straightaway and I liked him though he didn't smile a lot. He later stayed at Annesley for a few months, in 1957 or 58, I think.
A couple of months or so after Christmas, I got myself into trouble at Heather and my life changed, for the worse as I thought at the time but it very soon became evident, actually for the better. One night I was showing off for the benefit of my younger roommates. I got some Vaseline and a bug - rake (for nits) from the bathroom and a box of Bronco matches from a drawer in the kitchen downstairs. These matches ignited a bit like a firework; does anyone remember them? I smeared the Vaseline on my hair and combed it flat with the bug - rake. I pranced about the bedroom like a twit finally setting fire to my sheets by lighting the matches while underneath them. E*** caught me at it as might be expected and took it very seriously indeed. She sent for Mrs. Spencer to punish me as it was too serious for her, she reckoned. Mrs. Spencer spoke to me very kindly and was obviously unwilling to hit me with anything as E*** kept urging her to do. Finally, she took a slipper proffered by E*** and hit me very unenthusiastically on the behind. I remember no pain at all which must have severely galled E***. I was told I would be transferred to Honeythorn the next day at which both Christine and Madeleine cried as it meant we would be separated. I looked forward to the transfer with trepidation bearing in mind Mr. Cooper's reputation. E*** was pleased and I'm sure it was because she also believed the rumours about Mr. Cooper and thought he would give me the good hidings I deserved.
When I got to Honeythorn and met both Mr. And Mrs. Cooper, I soon found out the rumours were untrue as both of them were kind and approachable. I discovered that Mr. Cooper, who was a northerner (a Yorkshireman, I think) was indeed a disciplinarian and strict but by no means excessively so. What is more, he was genuinely very just, an extremely important attribute in an adult for kids such as we. I'm sure E*** would have been annoyed to know that nobody in Honeythorn ever laid a finger on any me or any other boy, except for the occasional mock cuff towards the back of your head which caused no pain at all but still had the effect of letting you know you were stretching the limits of acceptable behaviour. We saw ourselves as part of an élite, the tough kids' cottage.
Honeythorn was the only cottage in the whole Village to have a tv. We were hardly ever allowed to watch it but we never felt deprived of anything by this and I still prefer reading to tv. The Cooper's didn't seem to watch it much themselves, anyway. What we loved was to play Housey - Housey with Mr. Cooper reading out the numbers like an express train. It was hard at first but once you got used to his speed, anything less was very unsatisfactory. Mrs. Cooper once had to do it when Mr. Cooper was away but she was too slow for us and we made her give it up which she did with good grace.
Two kids who became my mates at Honeythorn were Philip Kirk and John Cousins. Philip was quite a big built lad and was also from the north I think and went to another Home 'up there' just before I left for Annesley. John, who was more slightly built and from the Midlands I think, also went to another home possibly Kidderminster. I can still see them as they were and hear their voices half a century later! John introduced me to Tintin by lending me an annual which I enjoyed so much I didn't want to give it back until Mrs. Cooper made me. I got John into trouble once after teaching him the rude words to "Lady of Spain I Adore You". He went off singing it only to be heard by Mrs. Cooper who sent him to bed straightaway!
Mike Foreman and I were in the same class and we were delighted when we heard that we would still have Mr. East at Mossford school, to which we were to return soon, the repairs to the bomb damage having been completed. Mrs. Page was also at Mossford as Headmistress. It was at Mossford that Mr. East taught us the lovely song William Blake's 'Jerusalem', which has rightly been adopted as England's National Anthem. Both Mike and I liked singing it from the word go and it is still one of my favourites.
Not long after we had transferred to our own Village school at Mossford, we had a bit of excitement one morning. John Foreman jumped onto the rear of the dustbin lorry which was passing in front of the school. I was some distance away but realised something had happened by the crowd that had gathered around the lorry which had stopped in front of the school. John had fallen off & under a wheel which caused him a broken leg. We talked about nothing else that day and for several days after.
Every Thursday evening, there was a film show in the big tin shack or similar type of building in the alleyway which ran between two Reception cottages and led to the Permanent Green. The main film was always followed by a Popeye the Sailorman cartoon which we all enjoyed. One week it would be reception's turn then the following week would be Permanent's turn and so on. However, we decided we wanted to go every week which caused friction with some of the Permanent kids and provoked not a few fights.
It was Spring 1953 that we were allowed to go outside the Village to attend a small church, possibly Methodist, instead of the Village church. I know it was Spring because I have an abiding memory of the beautiful pale pink blossom on the ornamental Cherry trees which lined some of the roads leading to the church. Christine, Madeleine and I used to call for the lads from Forget - Me - Not and then nip through a movable plank in the fence in their backyard as a shortcut. I had been much happier from the time I left the hateful E*** but that was soon to change because the Powers That Be had decided in their wisdom to send us all to Annesley in the New Forest in Hampshire.
A week or so prior to leaving the Village for good, Mrs. Cooper took us all to a show in London. It was great although the only act I remember was the conjuror.
I knew we were really going when I had to go to the Stores for new clothes. I should think everyone remembers the nice lady in stores with the enormous birthmark on her face, can't remember her name but I believe she lived to a very advanced age, something approaching 100 years and died not so long ago, I think. I've got a photo of myself in those new clothes and I'm smiling but only because my dad was on the other side of the camera! The socks were awful due to their being so painfully itchy and I don't mean tickly itchy, I mean prickly itchy like some of the shirts we had to wear when I got to Annesley. I've often wondered since why DBH made us wear them because we constantly complained about this awful, painful itchiness and what benefit were we supposed to gain thereby? (At Annesley, Bob Cox actually made some money out of me by changing shirts with me just before we got to school and wearing my shirt all day!) Not a single member of staff ever wore such clothing so why did we? Was it perhaps penance for some imagined sinfulness on our part, in emulation of those saints who used to wear hair shirts for the same reason? I don't suppose anyone will ever be able to come up with a better reason.
Anyway, May 4th 1953, our last day at the Village, finally arrived and with it one of those Travelling Matrons as they were called, a miserable one in our case who hardly spoke a word to us all the way to Hampshire. She took us all the way from Barkingside via Waterloo to Southampton Central Station. I remember it was a very warm day and warmer still inside the carriage. I had an orange and offered some to a young man sitting opposite who reminded me of the conjuror I'd recently seen; he declined with a smile, probably wisely as I'd had trouble peeling it, getting juice all over my hands. There we were met by Mr. Jones, the only decent housemaster Annesley ever had while I was there. He took us in the old Fordson van to Annesley, a great big house in the heart of the beautiful, mysterious New Forest and our new lives began, very different to what we'd been used to at the Village.