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Thoughts and Memories from Dulcie Newton
Written
approx 2001
While
I was quite young, probably seven or eight, I heard tell of Granddad Powers
being a carpenter and Grandma Powers a Nursery Maid in the big Rectory House,
which had been in the Titley family for several generations. There were several
children ensconced on the Nursery floor of the rectory when Grandma was there
and she referred to them as Miss Louisa, Miss Lily and Master Richard etc.
It
was Miss Louisa who opened the first village school in Barwell in the big
brick-built laundry in the rectory grounds. The children who came paid one old
penny a week and on arrival put their hats and jackets (if any) into a large
wicker laundry basket, which was hoisted up to the ceiling. The children
daren’t run home without these possessions until the laundry basket descended
again.
I
remember as a small child being taken by Grandma to visit the rectory and
standing in the breakfast room. I had no idea what a breakfast room would look
like but felt rather privileged at being there. There was seemingly a large lake
surrounded by trees and shrubs at the end of the rectory grounds and as a member
of the church school, now a brick built Victorian building with a bell in a
tower, I went with my class on nature walks around the lake. Though I don’t
think we were allowed to collect any wild or inanimate objects to put on the
school windowsills. Our teachers all seemed to be very stern, loud voiced ladies
all reinforced with a raised desk in front of us and with a thin, hooked cane
lying across the groove in the lid of the desk.
The
Sunday school children all had the privilege of sitting once a year, on the
occasion of “The Treats,” on the rectory lawns, where the teachers would
bring round large, bread baskets of sandwiches, Madeira and fruit cake and of
course we all wore our best Sunday clothes – never worn on week days, unless
it was something very special.
When
I actually remember them, Granddad Powers had retired as Landlord of the
Queen’s Head, which was one of the oldest buildings in Barwell, dating back to
the 16th Century and Grandma was small, neat and grey/white haired. Her hair was
long and twisted into a bun and her dresses always seemed black or dark.
There
were times when she was sitting in front of the dressing-table mirror combing
her long hair and I stood beside her putting the little wisps into a paper hair
tidy.
There
was another tale I was told of how we nearly had another Grandma! Granddad had a
sweetheart who lived in Earl Shilton- but on learning she would be living in a
public house, declined to carry on with the relationship, so we had our real
Grandma instead!
During
some repair work at the Queen’s Head, a small doll was found in the brick work
and is still either in the archives or a Museum in Leics.
Granddad
also catered for the travellers who visited the local boot and shoe factories.
These were thriving industries supplying the armies in both World Wars and the
travellers came regularly to the village.
I
heard of rounds of beef roasted in the ovens of the local co-op bakeries and
great Yorkshire puddings, with my own mother sometimes helping to break all the
eggs that went into them. Some of the travellers objected to Granddad’s
economic ways and Called Out “a bit thicker Will” referring to the slices of
beef.
One
sophisticated individual asked for coffee and being brought a large cup, (it
must have been a liquid camp and chicory variety) said, “I did not ask for
soup, I asked for coffee!”
There
always seems to have been one live-in maid at the Queen’s Head and one who for
some reason became very disgruntled and vengeful. In her bedroom was a chest of
drawers holding a linen cloth, with a heavy family Bible on top. She set fire to
the four corners of the cloth, but the weight of the Bible prevented the fire
catching hold. This Bible went to 58 Shilton Rd when Granddad retired, but Dr
Cooke who attended Grandma in a long illness, noticed the book by the bedside
and asked if he could have it.
There
was a large studio picture of Lily and Elsie on the living room wall at no. 58
and I use to ask about them. “They would have been your Aunties” I was told.
Fortunately Mother was born and was a cosseted child. When old enough she went
to the school at Wigston Girl’s School in Leicester which involved complicated
travelling. The first stage of the journey was to reach Elmsthorpe Station, (no
longer a stopping place) two to three miles away. Sometimes she was taken on the
pony and trap and others she cycled. She remembered vividly the agony of frost
bitten fingers in the Winter time. Then came the train journey to Leicester and
a walk to the school.
I
have “Memories of Ancient Leicester” which was presented to her on leaving.
One of the travellers who stopped off at the Queen’s Head, once heard Mother
singing and told Grandma Powers she should have her voice trained, which she
did.
Everyone
spoke of her at this stage as being a really attractive girl with long auburn
hair, (inherited by Pat, my sister and Ian, my nephew) and lovely singing voice.
She sang in the GFS concerts in the church hall and also in the church itself.
At a later date my Dad use to make us laugh, saying how the feather in
Grandma’s hat use to tremble when Mother sang in Church.
One
of my earliest memories is standing with Dad and Pat around the piano at 60
Shilton Rd, (we were next door to Granddad Powers) with Mother playing and she
and Dad singing. Dad used to make a habit of singing a sad song to Pat and she
always cried. I could get away with a few unshed ones because they always looked
at Pat. “Now look what you’ve done,” Mother would say.
It was snowing the day your Mum was born in Leicester Nursing Home. Mother remembered being in bed and watching the snowflakes falling down.
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