Growing Up In The 1950’s
Looking back some 50 years its easy to become very nostalgic and remember life when everything seemed much simpler and leisurely than now and, well – ordinary, but ordinary in this context means safe, secure, magical and ‘fun’.
I was born in December 1946 (thus qualifying to be called a ‘baby boomer’) in Kings Wall but shortly afterwards we moved to Bremilham Terrace, which were a row of terrace houses, converted from what was the ‘old workhouse’. Unfortunately these were demolished some time ago and replaced by new housing with the name being changed to Bremilham Rise.
For kids, Bremilham Terrace was a marvellous place to grow up in the 1950’s. It was perched on a high bank overlooking the Sherston Road and at the end of the front gardens there was a 15 foot high wall down to street level at one end and a steep grassy bank at the other end.
To get into the terrace from the Sherston Road, there was only one entrance, this being a narrow steep lane next to Adye’s Garage with high stonewalls both sides, and at the rear of this there was another wall separating the terrace from the school, and at the opposite rear side of the terrace, the only other way in was via a footpath through the vegetable gardens.
What this meant to us kids was that with only a little imagination the terrace became our castle. As with most groups of kids, we became a ‘gang’ and we would imagine ourselves repelling invaders from the walls, we would patrol the allotment gardens and at the extreme end of the allotments we built ourselves a hideaway ‘den’ in what seemed to be a dissused mini quarry.
Our rivals were the Corn Gastons Gang and occasionally there were fights in ‘no mans land’, which happened to be the school playing field between them and us. To this day I carry a scar on my leg from a well-aimed stone (1/4 house brick actually).
When there was nothing else to do, we would sit on the walls and watch the world pass by. Of course there were very few cars indeed on the road in those days, and I can also recall there were lazy Sunday summer days, when if we were lucky we counted as many as 6 cars an hour driving by!
One of the big challenges for us lads was to climb the sheer walls (no such thing as safety ropes back then) and an even greater test was to pretend we were paratroopers and jump off the wall.
Looking back it’s amazing that we never broke any bones or injured ourselves.
Climbing over the dividing wall between the terrace and the rear of Adye’s Garage meant that we could scrump the marvellous Victoria Plums from their orchard, which they never seemed to pick. Of course our parents chastised us but the resultant plum pies were delicious (sorry Adye’s Garage).
St Joseph’s RC School
I initially started school at the CofE primary school, just off the Cross Hayes, but later I changed to St Joseph’s RC School down Holloway for reasons I can’t remember.
I have to say that St Joseph’s was a great place. In my time, all the teacher were Nuns who were not only extremely dedicated, but were great teachers and were experts in chalk throwing as well as being the fastest ruler slapper’s known to children when they needed to be!
Notwithstanding their habits, it never seemed to deter them when it came to organising and playing sport. To this day I still retain the vision of seeing a nun playing football, she in full flight running with the ball at her feet, habit flowing in the breeze. It was truly a sight to behold.
Thinking of St Joseph’s, I recall the time we all had to parade outside and wave flags as the Queen drove through. I think it was 1955 ish and was related to Badminton Horse Trials. As I recall the plan was that she would get off the royal train at Kemble and process through Malmesbury on her way to the Badminton.
Why it sticks in my mind was that it was a cold wet day and we were all paraded outside along the pavement where we were to wave the Union Jacks we had been given a few days before. Needless to say the train was about an hour late, which meant we stood there getting colder and more miserable by the minute and when the queen eventually drove through (at considerable speed as I recall) all the car windows were steamed up so we never saw her anyway.
To And From School
Thinking of school, in my day there was none of this going to school in a car. Most people did not own cars or if they did it was only used for work. So you walked. For me, this getting to and from school was all part of the day’s adventure.
After the few initial trips with my mother, when she was happy that I now knew the way, I was mostly left on my own or went with my sister. In those days I think it was generally accepted that everyone looked out for everyone else and this applied to kids on the street too.
One of the great things about Malmesbury was (and still is I guess) the network of alleyways where you can virtually get from one end of town to the other without having to walk along any roads except for very short distances.
Needless to say this is how I got to and from school and these alleyways also gave you a choice of route. Along the way of course there were also ample opportunities to dawdle and explore all sorts of things. For example, at the top of Holloway, right on the corner, there was a blacksmith. It was always fascinating to stop and watch what was happening.
If the mood took, I would detour to the Market Cross and linger – people watching like the old gents, who always seemed to be sitting there whittling wood.
Another favourite during the spring & summer terms, was to nip down the steps by the mirror on the corner of Gloucester Street and go and look at the mill pond along Burnivale, if the weather was nice I would then walk across bridge into the meadow and cut through to the Foxley Road then up Dark Lane and home.
As I have said, Malmesbury alleyways were a great way of getting around the town. I wonder if they are still used as much?
At the age of 11, I went to Bremilham Secondary Modern School and even though it was just across the playing field from home, I always went around the streets to get there for no other reason than being told it was not allowed to climb over the wall.
Coronation Day 1953
I have to say that Coronation day was a bit of a non-event for me and I could not quite understand what all the fuss was about.
As my uncle Ron had the T.V. shop in the Triangle, we were one of the first families in Bremilham Terrace to have a television set; the T.V. arrived a few weeks before the Coronation. My father and uncle fussed over it like it was a new born baby and I distinctly remember that the setting up of the T.V. aerial was fraught with difficulties not least of which was pointing the aerial in the right direction to get the best reception. I think it was eventually pointed to Sutton Coldfield.
I remember that coronation day was a fairly cold overcast day and in London it was wet, but in Malmesbury it was just a chilly overcast day. The T.V. was switched on mid morning and all the neighbours kept popping in and out to keep up with what was happening. While I was told more than once during the day that this was history in the making and I should stay inside to watch it, I eventually got fed up and went outside to play with my friends.
I don’t recall a street party, but I remember that along with loads of kids, we all attended a outdoor party at the big house opposite the hospital (Burton Hill House), which if memory serves me right was a school for the disabled or a convalescent home.
I got the obligatory mug, which mother proudly added to the rest of the collection.
Badminton Week
The Badminton horse trials were a great event for us lads, not that we ever went there, but because the town filled up with ‘posh people’ many of whom stayed at the Old Bell Hotel.
Why it was great was that we were able to wander around the town and ogle all the posh cars, which appeared, they were either parked outside the hotel or in Cross Hayes. Remember then, cars were still a comparative rarity and seeing Bentley’s Daimler’s, Avis’, and some of the exotic foreign sports cars, (my biggest thrill was seeing a Ferrari) which was a great treat.
If my memory serves me right, the local garages also did well at this time because a lot of these owners took the opportunity to get their cars serviced while they were at the horse trials. I guess the local shops owners also did well (they may still do so).
Summer Bike Rides
At the age of 8, my first proper bicycle arrived. My father proudly took me down to a shop in the lower high street (if my memory is correct nearly opposite Ingram Street) where a Raleigh was wheeled out.
Little did I know then that this bike was to open up a whole new world of adventures and exploration?
By coincidence, my mates also seemed to have bikes that Christmas, so that summer and the next two also, until I moved to Southend-on-Sea, we rode everywhere.
As all parents will know, when kids are out, time suddenly has no meaning. This certainly applied to us the first day we went out on the bikes. With a jaunty ‘see you later’ we decided to ride to my Aunt’s place in Easton Grey. Unfortunately she was out, so rather than ride directly back, we decided to ride through the village and head towards Foxley because we knew the Foxley Road would also take us back home.
For whatever reason, we took a wrong turning and ended up going towards Hullavington. For those of you who know the area, this ended up as an epic bike ride. What makes it even more memorable (apart from being tired and hungry) was that along the way, we were so thirsty; we stopped at a cottage and asked for a drink of water. A lovely old chap and his wife took us in and gave us a drink. To this day I can remember never enjoying a drink so much, whilst listening to the sound of Wilfred Pickles on their radio.
One great thrill was to ride periodically to Kemble airfield and sit on the wall watching the fighter aircraft (Hawker Hunters) taxi past and I think almost every pilot waved at us. It was a thrill to also watch them take off and land since at each end of the runway it dipped into a valley so the aircraft appeared to drop down below the horizon.
While out Kemble way, we rode a couple of miles past the RAF Station to the field, where the Thames is reputed to start from a spring bubbling up. We though it was great that we could dam up the Thames!
We also used to ride to Hullavington airfield in the hope of seeing some activity, but I don’t think we ever did see anything interesting.
Another thrill was to go down to the railway station and sweet talk the old guard (who I remember was a lovely but gruff old boy) to let us put our bikes in the guard’s van so that we could hitch a lift to Little Somerford, from where we biked back. Of course this was strictly not allowed, but I don’t think we were the only kids who did this?
What a thrill it was to be in the guard’s van having a cup of tea from an old tin mug of dubious origin watching the countryside pass by, seeing it from a completely new perspective.
While at Little Somerford on the first occasion, we went up into the Signal Box and the signalman told us all about the workings of the signals and the levers. I know we stayed there for what seemed like ages and during the time we were there I remember the Pullman Service steaming through at high speed with its distinctive blue livery.
We repeated this trip a few times but we never managed to hitch a ride onwards from Somerford to Swindon. (Now that would have been a bike ride!)
Our longest bike ride as a real adventure. One fine summers day, having planned the route carefully, we set off (sandwiches carefully packed) to ride to Hawkesbury Monument.
Looking back, I think we did a good impersonation of the Tour De France riders. We certainly underestimated how far it was and when we got there, we were so knackered we could only lie down to eat our sandwiches and admire the view, which I remember was magnificent. Of course we then had to ride back. I think we slept long and well that night.
In addition to these long rides, of course we explored probably every little back road and lane for 5 miles around Malmesbury. Of course there was much less traffic around then, but we never felt intimidated by traffic and of course everybody drove slower than they do today.
Chris Poole