The Old School on Red Hill

This was the painting I did in about 1963

By a strange coincidence over Christmas I was invited to a private event at the present Primary School in Bow Road Wateringbury, which I had never visited in its 40+ years of existence.

Whilst there I was very keen to see if there was anything of the old school still in use and in particular any photographs of the old school.

In the main lobby outside the Headmistress office there were several photographs on the wall. Some were of the old railway station next door but most were group pupil photos, the earliest of which was 1994. There was one line drawing of the old school which was drawn by a ‘manager’ at the school for a calendar, I have asked if I can have a photo copy and will publish it here when I get it. With one exception all the photographs were after 1994 and relevant to the new school. That one photo was stood next to the trophy cabinet and was of the Wateringbury C of E Primary School Nativity play of Christmas 1961 in which was myself; I could hardly believe that of all the years the old school stood the only photo in the new school included myself. 

 

 

 

This is the Photo taken Christmas 1961 by the Kent Messenger at Wateringbury Church.

Let me know if you are in the photo, I am the boy in the sweater with dark hair third from the left at the bottom, to the right of the girl holding the baby Jesus (Jane Chapman). Dawn Shippey is the shepherd at the very front right, only her head is visible, to Dawn immediate left is Gladys Haskett, Dawns sister Valerie is the dark haired girl in the front of the second row from the right of the choir stalls, next to Valerie is Angela Seamark. Angela's brother John Seamark is Joseph, right of the central three. Farthest right, the girl in the button up sweater is Jennifer Shrubsole. Gillian Apps is also in the photo.

Teachers at the school over the years:-

Mr Peter Reid was Head Master from 1958 ish and all the time I was at the school 1958 to 1964.
Mrs Duffy who had a large spotty dog and lived in the village next to the garden shop in Tonbridge road (her daughter also went to the school) also there 1958 to 1964.
Mrs Bennet took the infants when I was there and I think some years before.
Mrs Drake took the 6 year old's class before 1958 (her son Julian also went to the school .
Miss Kellam-Smith was the Head Mistress 1947 - 1953 and Sherry Apps remembers that she brought her 2 dogs to school with her and she smoked DuMaurier cigarettes and she used to send Sherry to the post office (run by Mr & Mrs Town) to get them for her.
Mr Robinson, Miss Simmonite.

I remember being in Mrs Bennets class when about six and sitting listening to a regular afternoon programme on the radio. The radio was obviously government issue and was about two foot square and a foot deep sloping towards the top which had a handle on it. a large round grill in the center protected the speaker. The radio was on a shelf above the heater which was a large round cast iron coke burner with a lid on the top which was opened with a metal tool and the burner was filled using a long scuttle. In the winter the milk crate (as we all had a third of a pint of milk a day) full of bottles of milk, often it would be frozen from standing outside, would be stood next to the stove to thaw out. Around the stove was a horseshoe shaped guard which had a black crossed mesh with a brass rail around the top. Often the children's wet shoes and socks would be dried around this heater.

Early memories

Early memories all before I was seven years old were of Wateringbury C of E Primary School which was then a few hundred yards up Red Hill on the right, there are now three detached houses on the site but the entrance wall and lay by can still be seen where Mr Reid the headmaster parked his Rover 90, a grand car in 1958/9, Mrs Chambers also had a Rover 110 and parked in the same lay by. The playground had a circular wall with target circles in yellow painted on which I have a feeling are still there. The front of the school to the right had a lawn where we played in the summer, there was a huge oak tree which is still there some 50 year on and it looks smaller now than it did then! At the back of the grass lawn there was a row of newish buildings where the PE equipment was stored, these I believe were air raid shelters for the school during the war. There was a live-in care-taker which was Mrs Long who was also a dinner lady.

I can't find any pictures of the school, though I did paint it when I was at the school and won a prize for doing so. I will try to post a scan of the painting later.

I painted it from a Bramley apple orchard opposite which I remember being much higher than the road.

Mrs Smith lived opposite and was the school crossing lady, I remember one lunch time crossing the road without her as my mum was further down the road and beckoned me across, boy was I in trouble when I got back to school.

Even at Primary school we were made to touch our cap (which we had to wear) if we saw any teacher in the village out of school hours. Mrs Duffy was a teacher who lived in the village opposite the vicarage in a large gated detached house next to what was then the Garden shop in the Tonbridge Road. School dinner used to arrive in a canvas backed lorry driven by Alfie Brookes who my mum knew, Alfie was one of the Brookes Brothers that went on to run a local Bus company who also won various school run contracts and is still in business today. Alfie used to deliver the dinner in square aluminium thermal containers, I can picture them now beside his brown lorry, but I never had them as I went home for dinner (lunch).

On the way to and from school I would pass by several shops most of which have now gone.

From my house there was Mrs Austins Handy Shop on the right, next there was the garage on the left and then on the right was Mac the Barber who would put a board across the barbers chair for me to sit on and he would always say he wasn't cutting my hair any longer - but shorter! He also would ask if I wanted some tree wash on after to finish it off.

Next to Mac the Barbers was the Butcher and then Outrams news agent/tobacconist/general shop, across the cross roads on the left was Wickens Dairy and next to that was the post office with a general store next to that along the Tonbridge Road. On the opposite corner of the cross roads was the bakers shop. Going up Red Hill was a warehouse where the stock was stored upstairs and was winched up to large doors on the first floor that opened onto the road. The winch is still there though the warehouse has been converted into apartments.

A boy growing up in Wateringbury c. 1955 by Nick Bond

This is where I always sit when I take car numbers.  It’s right on the corner of Canon Lane and the main road.   I write down the car number, the make of the car and where it’s made.  Fords are made in Dagenham, Jaguars are made in Coventry and Austins are made in Longbridge.  I see other cars too, like Morrises, Rileys, Wolseleys, Hillmans and Humbers and motor-bikes like BSA and Norton.  They’re all English cars and bikes.  I don’t see any foreign cars but I wish I did. If I get stuck on a car I look it up in my Observer’s Book of Automobiles which I’ve always got it in my pocket.   One day in the Summer an MG sports car stopped and the driver asked me the way to the village. He had the roof down and there was a lady with him. She smiled at me.  She was nice.  I don’t do vans and lorries.  I put my bike against the seat.  It’s my sister’s blue two-wheeler and I’ve only been riding it a little while after I stopped using my trike which is green with white mudguards.  I’ve fallen off loads of times and grazed myself a bit but it’s all right.  Riding a two-wheeler is really good fun and a bit tricky but I love it.  When I’m finished taking numbers I ride home past the church.  That’s where we go from school at Christmas and Easter and some other times too.  I had to read the lesson from the Bible once standing up in front of everyone.  I was so scared but Mrs. Collins our Teacher said afterwards that I did very well.  l like Mrs. Collins she’s nice though I don’t like school much.  My school is called Wateringbury Primary School.  I don’t really like the men teachers because they get cross with you.  Mrs. Collins reads us stories when we’re in class.  I always want to look at the book Mrs. Collins reads from because it seems to have loads and loads of stories in it. Sometimes, when Mrs. Collins is reading to us some of the class go to sleep. It’s funny because you’re not supposed to wake them up.   Miss Kellam-Smith is the Headmistress. I’m scared of her but I do know that she’s got a Hillman Husky and keeps dogs called Chows, I think.   And she smokes cigarettes.  I sit next to Caroline who I like a lot and sometimes we are the milk monitors for our class.  We all get the same amount of milk in a small, glass bottle with a straw but some children have a small bottle of orange but I don’t know why.  We use a plastic thing to push down onto the bottle top to open it.  When everyone’s finished we have to put all the bottles back in the crate. We walk in twos from school to church and sometimes I walk with my friend Ida or my friend Michael and when we get to church we line up outside the porch and look at the big stones next to the path.  There are names and numbers on the stones and I think people are buried under them.  When we’re in church we sing hymns like “We plough the fields and scatter” and at Christmas “Oh, come all ye faithful” and listen to Canon Soar tell stories about Jesus. I quite like going to church but we have to be very quiet.  Then we all walk back to school.  We go right past the top of the lane where I live.  It’s called Mill Lane and I can just see the gate to our house if I look down the lane.  Sometimes I want to run across the road and go home but I know it’s not allowed. On the way back we go past Mr Bolt the newsagent where my Mum buys my comics like the Dandy and the Eagle.  I wouldn’t go into Mr Bolt’s on my own because it’s all dark inside and smells funny - I think it’s the newspapers.  We also pass Mr Furze the Grocer and over his shop front it says “Service with a smile”.  My mum taught me that.  And we pass Mr. Towns at the Post Office and opposite the Post Office is the Youth Club where my Mum serves drinks in the evenings on a Friday.  My sister goes there, she’s older than me and they do dancing to records sung by Buddy Holly and Elvis.  I can sing like Buddy Holly.  Then we walk a bit further and get to the cross-roads and turn left up the hill to school.  There’s a ladies clothes shop on the corner which has funny, orange plastic curtains in the window so you can’t really see the clothes and the orange makes them a funny colour anyway.  If you go straight on you come to Maidstone which is big town near us.  When we get to school it’s usually dinner time so we have to line up again after we’ve hung up our coats. Everyone has their own hook. Mine’s got a picture of a parrot on it.  Mrs. Long does the dinners and we have dinners like shepherd’s pie and apple and custard and sometimes Semolina that’s my favourite.  If you get strawberry jam and drop it into the Semolina and then whiz it round with your spoon really fast it goes all pink.  I love it.  We also have salad which I don’t really like.  When I was little I went home for dinner with two older girls called Hilary and Margaret who walked along with me. After dinner we go outside and play.  Sometimes we swap Whitbread Inn Sign cards.  I’ve got loads and some of them are metal which is interesting.   I love all the different colours and pictures on them.  Some of my friends skim the metal ones across the playground but I don’t because I think it’s a bit dangerous.  The boy’s toilets are in the playground and if you want a wee you go in and you have to stand outside and it doesn’t smell nice.  From our playground I can look across and see the hop garden. I think I’d like to be there.  I know my Dad’s there.  Anyway, sometimes on my way home I go into the Post Office and get an OrangeMaid lolly that I eat as I walk.  They’re fourpence.   I walk to school and back home on my own now.  Mum meets me at the top of Mill Lane when I get there and watches me cross the road.  At Christmas we have a party at school.  The main hall is laid out with long tables and everyone has a drink of orange and a hat and cake and ice-cream and there’s the smell of candles burning and glue from the streamers that go across the room and are stuck to the walls and there’s a big fire in the stove and sometimes we get presents.  And there’s a big Christmas tree. My Mum gives presents to the Dr.Barnado’s boys and girls who don’t have a Mum and Dad.  She gives the boys Dinky toys but I don’t know what she gives the girls.  They all live together in a big house.  Michael is one; he’s a friend of mine.  When there’s snow I get a lift to school sometimes with my Dad or one of the other Dads who’s got quite a big Austin car.  We pick up other children on the way and they all get in the back or the front.  I can sit in the front because I’m one of the first to be picked up.  Sometimes we have six or seven of us in the car.  We all squeeze in. It’s fun.  When we get to school we change out of our Wellingtons and put on our plimsolls.  Then the whole school goes into the main hall for assembly.  We sing a hymn like “Onward Christian Soldiers” and say “Our Father......” and one of the teachers talks to us and tells us things.  This happens every day.  Anyway, this is my house.  I live at Mill Lane House, Mill Farm, Wateringbury, Kent, England, the World.  My bedroom’s at the back and looks out over the tennis court which is really just a big, grass lawn with a tree called a Silver Birch right in the middle.   Sometimes I shoot arrows out of my bedroom window to see how far they go.  Once I got one all the way up to the greenhouse at the end of the lawn.  My Dad says I should watch out that I don’t hit Mum’s washing or I’ll “cop it”.   Our house has got a back-yard, garage, workshop, rockery, steps going up to what we call the tennis court, a Summerhouse with a thatched roof and a huge tree next to our gate.  It’s called a Yew tree and Dad says that its red berries are poisonous and not to touch them.  So I don’t.  Across the road from our house lives a man called Admiral Moore.  I see him sometimes and he says hello.  Once I threw my hat over his wall and he threw it back – it was funny.  An Admiral is someone who is in charge of a big ship.  My Dad’s manager of Mill Farm.  He grows apples and hops.  He says he’s a pomologist.  He taught me that word.  He’s got an office down in the yard.  It’s a really big farm and I’ve never been to the end of it.  I go down to the yard quite a lot on my bike though you have to dodge the spray if they are spraying the apples in the orchard next to Mill Lane. The spray is all yellow and doesn’t smell nice and you don’t want to breathe it in or get it your mouth.  It’s used to kill aphids and red spider, my Dad says.  Aphids are tiny insects that get into the apples and my Dad showed me a red spider once.  They’re little too.  Sometimes I take my cart which our gardener, old Vic, made for me.  It’s got pram wheels and you steer with your feet on the front axle.  The axle is the part which the wheels are fixed to at each end.  I get a good run-up and then go as fast as I can down Mill Lane to see if I can get from home to the yard without stopping.  Down Mill Lane it’s a bit narrow. Once I crashed into the hedge but that was alright really.  I go fast and I have to steer round puddles and use the hand brake which got stuck under the cart once and turned it over.  I fell out and cut my knees but it wasn’t much.  The cart was alright and that was the main thing.  When you pass the pond you go left round the mill and the track goes down so you can pick up speed.  One day I met my Dad coming the other way in his car and I had to go straight into the stinging nettles.  That was a bit bad and I had to rub Dock leaves into the stings which helped but my legs were covered in stings.  I did cry a bit, I suppose. When I got home Mum put pink stuff called Calamine lotion on the stings which was cold but it sort of helped.   After I’ve had a run down Mill Lane I have to pull the cart all the way back home again.  I love my cart and when I’m driving it I pretend I’m Stirling Moss in his racing car.  One day my sister fell into the pond.  We were there with some friends and they said she went down under the water, came up and went down under again and then came up again.  She was all wet and had green bits in her hair.  I didn’t know what to do really and I sort of cried a bit but we walked her back up Mill Lane to home.  My Mum came out and took her straight indoors.  On a Friday the fish-man parks outside our house.  He’s got a green Bedford van but when he opens the rear doors it’s all white inside and there’s large lumps of ice all smoking and loads and loads of fish in trays and a fishy smell.  My Mum gets kippers for my Dad and plaice for me.  A plaice is a flat fish sort of grey colour with pink spots.  The fish-man slices it up and gives it to Mum in newspaper and he throws bits of fish to our cat Misty.  If Mum gets some I know we’re going to have plaice and chips for tea.  It’s my favourite.   On Saturdays and in the holidays my friends and I play around the farm.  In the orchards we build forts out of apple boxes.  We make a square of boxes and then build them up really high so when you climb to the top you can see a long way and the boxes sway about so you have to be careful not to make them tip over.  The boxes smell a lot of apples.  Sometimes we might take an apple off the tree to eat.  You’ve got to make sure you’re taking an eater and not a cooker because they’re not sweet like an eater.  Then you’ve got to give it a good wipe on your shirt or something in case it’s just been sprayed.  Sometimes the fort does tip over which is a bit dangerous I suppose but really funny.  Anyway, we have knife-throwing games because we’ve all got some sort of knife like pen-knives or ex-army knives or sheath-knives.  Mine’s got a horn handle and five inch blade.  I wear it on my belt in a sheath.  We use our knives to sharpen straight sticks to make arrows and cut thin, straight branches to make bows.  You cut a notch in each end of the branch and fit your string and tighten it and you’ve got a bow.  With arrows, you strip off the bark, sharpen one end to a point and cut a notch in the other to fit the string of the bow.  We never cut ourselves or anything with our knives because we’re using them every day and know how to use them the right way.  There’s always loads of string around because they use it for the hops.  My Dad is in charge of the hops and the hop gardens.   Our hop garden is really big; you can’t see the end of it.  To get there you go past the Mill and carry on up past Canon Key’s house along a narrow track with a wall on one side and suddenly you come out into the hop garden.  There’s rows and rows of hops and hundreds and hundreds of hop poles.  Sometimes I go into a row and take a handful of hops and put my face in it.  I love the smell of hops.  I know that our hops are called Goldings.  In September loads of hop-pickers come to pick the hops.  There’s hundreds of them and they arrive riding on the backs of lorries with their tables and chairs or in old cars all the way from London. They bring their children with them too but they aren’t like us, they look as though they want to fight you and they’re a bit dirty too.  My Mum won’t let me play with them – I’m not sure I want to anyway.  The ‘pickers live in huts around the farm but they don’t have electric light or water.  Well, there is a tap outside the huts which they use.  And they build fires and sit round them.    They have fights too so my Dad said.  He says it’s because they drink too much beer.  One night the policeman came to speak to them – and there was a fight so my Mum said.   It’s always the end of Summer at hop-picking time and near the end of the holidays too and me and my friends are outside all day and right up until teatime and sometimes after tea and our arms and legs and hands and faces go all brown in the sun.  It looks really funny ‘cos the rest of you is white.  I really like that time of year when the hops are being picked.  What we do is we wait for a trailer to come by on its way to the kiln really piled up high with hop pokes full of hops and then we climb right to the top when the trailer’s moving and the driver can’t see us.  When you get to the top of the trailer you can look down on the tractor driver or you can lie on top of the pokes and have a ride down to the oast house.  When we do that I just want to go to sleep because the tractor and trailer is going really slowly and it’s hot and sunny and I feel sleepy.  But you’ve got to still make sure you’re hanging on tight but it’s like lying in a bed.  When we get to the oast house we have to climb down really quickly so we don’t get seen.  Sometimes we go into the Oast house which smells really strong and shuffle amongst the hops.  We kick them up and cover ourselves in them and rub our hands with them.  If you rub your hands with green hops they go all brown and smell funny - your hands, I mean, not the hops.   You’ve got to be careful in the oast because there’s a hole in the floor where they fit the pocket.  The dried hops are pushed into the pocket by the men and then when it’s full the pocket is sown up.  I’ve watched them doing it loads of times.  Sometimes the driver leaves the tractor’s engine running.  I like to stand and watch the tractor – it shudders and blows out smoke and it’s like it’s alive.  It’s blue and a Fordson tractor.  In the hop field my Mum does the tallying.  Tallying is when baskets of hops are emptied into a big round metal bin. She does that all day and makes notes in a notebook.  At the end of each week my Mum and Dad pay the pickers.  The pickers line up outside my Dad’s office window which has got bars and they get paid their money.  In the office is where my Dad keeps his shotgun.  He says it’s a 4/10. I don’t know what that means but he let me shoot with it one day. I fired at a metal drum.  When I pulled the trigger there was a bang and the drum went flying and I went backwards.  Afterwards I looked at the drum and it was full of little holes.  I asked my Dad if I could have another go but he said no.  I used to go with my Mum sometimes when she was tallying but there’s not much to do except watching the men cut the hop bine or ride on the mudguard of the tractor.  It’s really bumpy and you have to hold on really tight because the driver sometimes goes fast and it’s really noisy and smoky.  Or you ride right at the back of the trailer and let your legs dangle over the end.  It hurts a bit because you’re bouncing around and hanging on tight at the same time but it’s really good fun.  After tea I ride my bike round past my Dad’s office when he’s there.  I go past his office, up the slope, go right past the hop dryers - that’s the best bit because as you pass the open door of the dryer you get a hot blast of air, then you hit the cold air, then you get a blast of hot air from the next dryer then you hit cold air again and then you’re at the top where you go down and go right, along and then past my Dad’s office again.  I go round and round making lots of wheel tracks.  When I get home in the evening my Mum takes me and puts me in the bath and then bed.  She says a little prayer which I listen to but I’m sometimes asleep before she finishes.  Then it’s morning again but straight away.  It’s funny.  Sometimes I stay in bed for a while listening to the Rooks in their nests quite a long way away.  A Rook is a black bird – quite big and goes “caw, caw, caw” and builds its nest at the top of tall trees.  As well, I love to watch the Swallows swooping and diving and building their nests right outside my bedroom window and listen to them tweeting.  They fly so fast.  At the end of the hop-picking my Dad gives me a 10 shilling note for being really good.  Sometimes my Dad drives me round the hop field in our car which is an Austin Somerset.  It’s a bit bumpy as we drive round and sometimes my Dad stops to talk to someone and he can be gone ages.  Our car is black and it’s got column-change.  That means that the gear lever is just under the steering wheel and not on the floor.  Also, the hand-brake comes out under the dashboard.  I know what all the switches and knobs do on the dashboard but I’m not really allowed to touch them.  Dad says he’s going to teach me to drive when I’m a bit older – I can’t wait.  Sometimes, if I’ve got my bike I go into the orchard where it’s easier to ride.  I’ve got some tracks I’ve made for riding round really fast.  Once a tractor and sprayer slid down into a ditch - a long way down.  I went to see it and it was a bit scary as the driver was hurt so my Dad said.  The tractor and sprayer were on their side still joined together.  It did look funny.   When I’m not with my friends I like to lie on the grass in our garden and watch the clouds go by and listen to the birds singing and watch the trees blowing in the wind and feel the warm sun on my face.  Sometimes I might read a book like The Wind in the Willows which I’m reading right now or I chase Butterflies – there are so many around with so many colours.  I wish it could be like this for ever but I sort of know it won’t be.  Anyway, that’s what I do when I’m not collecting car numbers.

As written and sent to us by Nick Bond

       

Wateringbury School on Red Hill

The old Wateringbury School which used to stand on Red Hill

It was built in about 1842 and opened in 1843. The building consisted of two classrooms and a residence for the Master. By 1847, there were around 120 pupils, almost certainly all boys.

The first picture is a sketch of the school drawn in about 1850; note the arched windows. By 1902, the school had been extended and looked more like my second picture. This picture shows the school around 1907, the year the postcard was sent. Incidentally, this picture is identical to yours on your website, but yours was sent much later in 1931.

Unfortunately, my third picture is an unstamped postcard and I can only guess the year of around 1940. By this time, of course, the windows had been enlarged as you remembered it.

Regards

Dail W.

Photographs and words Courtesy of Dail  Whiting

 Thanks again to Dail for her photographs and words above.

Wateringbury C of E School

The old C of E School in Red Hill Wateringbury

Photo courtesy of Ruth Jones from the collection of Helen Long

At last an original photograph of the Old School in Red Hill as it was when I attended it in the late 1950's early 60's. This photo was kindly donated by Ruth Jones, grandaughter of Mrs Helen Long who was the live-in caretaker and dinner lady when I was at the school.

Wateringbury School Nativity Play 1968

My brother Brian Gilham is Joseph in this photo which was taken in the old school hall. When I was at the school, the nativity play always took place in the church.

The clock features again in this photo, is this now in the new school does anyone know?

Can you add some names to the photo?

Photos from Robert Newberry

 <>

This was taken in the early 70's but shows the school as it was when Robert and I went there in the 60's. The building just showing on the far right wasn't there in the 60's and that was all grass where we played in the summer.  The Oak Tree is still there today now in someones garden and below is Robert sitting under that Oak for his school photo. I have a similar shot of me.

<>

 Roberts Dad with his car outside 12 Glebe Meadow

 <>

This is Robert taken on the Mill Track with Glebe Meadow and his house (No12) right behind him.

<>

 <>

Above is Robert in his front Garden with a friend. Below Robert on his front doorstep with a friend

<>

<> 

The picture above and below show the cesspits for Glebe Meadow before the estate was connected to main drainage. Strange to think as children we would run along the inlet pipe and play on top of these and sometimes kids would fall in!. There were concrete hatches on the top that were slid off when the lorry came to pump them out, these lids were broken and the smell!

These cesspits were just built of brick and concrete and leaked. The area in front was known as 'The Grass' by us local kids and there was a sand pit which was sand left from building the estate. On this ground now are the row of bungalows for the elderly. 

Beyond are the hop fields.

<>

 Photos courtesy of Robert (Bob) Newberry

Roberts words from another posting.

My mother and father moved frequently when I was young, so I went to a number of schools, especially primary.

This photo is of the old primary school in Wateringbury, just outside of Maidstone that used to be on the road leading to the North Pole. I know it has long since disappeared under houses, but the old layby/pull in is still there.

As with many of my old schools, they were always gloomy inside with the windows up high so you couldn’t see out. It probably for the best however that your concentration didn’t wander to much as I remember one teacher in particular, had a habit of throwing the blackboard ‘rubber’ at you with the force and speed of a Roger Federer serve!

I was always week at ‘sums’ (maths). My one attempt at playing ‘hookey’ failed miserably. We were having a maths test so I made my excuses to go to the toilet. The caretaker caught me some minutes later hanging about in the corridor. I can’t remember what my punishment was, but I’m sure I didn’t enjoy it.

I do remember there were many posters and pictures on the walls of dinosuars, map of the British Empire (that picture may be smaller now) etc. One especially stays in my mind. I have always loved history since mum and dad took me to see ‘Ben Hur’ in 1959. On the wall was a photo of a Viking War chief with a long ship in the background. I was always puzzled by this photograph because even with my peanut brain, I was sure they didn’t have cameras in the dark ages! I have long since realised that the photo was from the film ‘The Vikings’ with Kirk Douglas as a sort of ‘Eric Blood Axe’ After a day pillaging in Maidstone (do you think anyone would notice?) I would quite happily carry off Janet Leigh. But I digress! I spent a long time looking at that picture and wishing I was sailing up the Norwegian Fjords and not sitting here!

Funny thing, childhood memories. I hated school, i couldn’t wait to get home to Mum and Dad. I wasn’t at Wateringbury long, I think it must have been circa 1959/60. The photo was taken in the 1970’s. I can’t remember any names of class mates.

Annual visit to Wateringbury

 Hi John,

It's been a while since I communicated with you - too long!

I visited Wateringbury last week and after parking in the church lay-by went for my usual walk: down Mill Lane past Mill Lane House where I lived until December 1959, down to the pond (into which my sister fell and was pulled out soaked and covered in weeds), passed the Mill in which we were specifically told not to play - but did anyway (naturally) then turned left into the yard passing what was my Dad's office on the left and then climbed Love Lane, with the gushing stream coming down from the left bank as it always has, then up to the main road. Then turned right towards the village.  Incredibly, I passed by a Pillbox which I'd never seen before but must have been there all the time I walked back and forth to school!  I assume it was completely overgrown until recently. Then to the crossroads and left up Red Hill and stopped at the top opposite where my school used to be. I crossed over and found the outline of the school lay-by now filled in.  Then down Red Hill to the crossroads (there used to be a double trap-door in the pavement that led down into the basement of "Where Memories Meet" (only it wasn't called that then). Then right at the crossroads and forward to the Church and on my way trying to see over the long wall on the right hand side.  I couldn't when I was 5 and still can't now!  The church was open and I paused for a while therein.  I can still remember being asked to read the lesson one day in front of the whole school: a terrifying experience.  

I return every year or when I'm passing by.  I have so many happy memories of growing up in Wateringbury - precious memories I'm trying to retain.       

 

Thanks and a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

 

Nick Bond        

Gladys Luck and her Family 1905 - 1996

A lovely mail from Harriet Tubb with some great photos:

I came across your page and wanted to send a photograph to you!

It is a photograph of my great grandmother, Gladys Luck who attended Wateringbury Girl’s school. I assume the picture was taken around 1915. She is in the back row, third from the left. 

I would love for it to be shared and hopefully be recognisable to some people. 

Best wishes,

Harriet

*

*

Wateringbury Girls School Photograph taken around 1915

*

Gladys (1905-1996) grew up on Old Road but moved away as a young woman. In 1917 she is in the school prize record for needlepoint. Her brother, Harry Luck (1904-1988) also attended the boy’s school and was a year older than her. 

Her father, Alfred Luck (1877-1947), was a gardener employed by Mr Henry White and then by G C Devas Esq who lived in The Lodge. Alfred himself lived in The Lodge Cottage with his wife once his children had grown. I’ve attached two photos of him also (it slipped my mind to before!). He is on the right in the first picture; I am unsure of the man on the left. He was an active member of the Wateringbury Gardener’s Society, and won many prizes at the Society shows throughout the 1910s.

*

*

*

*

Above is a photograph taken in Wateringbury of Gladys and Harry Luck with their mother Annie Luck (Baldwin), probably around 1910.

Reader AE Stephens writes

We received a short email from what seems to be from Australia which reads as follows:-

--<>--

I lived in Wateringbury Station House from 1956-1957 'My father Leslie Mayes was Station Master.  Dad had Teston Halt  and either East or West Farleigh under his control also. Ken Philpott was one of the two porters. I would be happy to see more history of the area. AE Stephens (Mayes)

Regards,
AE Stephens( Nee Mayes) 

 --<>--

Additional mail from Anne:-

Thank you for your prompt reply to my email. I only came across your site
yesterday and I am not overly cluey with computers so this will be trial and
error. I now live in Adelaide South Australia (since 1960) My brother Malcolm
went to Wateringbury primary school I attended Maidstone Technical Girls
high School. Because of the position of the station we were more involved in
St Mary the Virgin Church Nettlestead where I was in the choir and other
activities. Our Rector was Reverend Barton There was a long yard up to the
actual station with a bank and huge blackberry hedge between the yard and
the brewery. ( Where the school is now.) Our house was part of the actual
station buildings with our lounge window below the level of the platform. We
could only see the passengers feet. The rest of the house was further along
over the booking office and porters room. My father had an office near the
new foot bridge. We were very lucky because the railway embankment protected
us when the river flooded. One other thing I remember was the numbers of the
Buses I caught. The number 7 ran through Wateringbury and the Number33 ran
down past the station.
About 10 years ago my older brother obtained a DVD from the cab of an
electric train from Maidstone West to Paddock Wood along the former steam
line and then through Tonbridge to London Bridge. I see that the old Station
House still stands but nothing else is the same. Sadly just after we left a
young boy was killed crossing the line after getting off the train. I
believe his name was Jones and his Father was Lay Reader at St Mary's
Church.
Lastly for now I remember when a beer tanker over turned just up the hill at
Teston. I was on the bus coming home from school and we were held up
briefly. All of the kids on the buses were joking about drunken fish in the
river because the beer drained down the hill. Will try and send some
memories later. Many thanks Anne Stephens.
P.S. We were in Wateringbury   from 1956-57 to May 1960 ( not clear last
time)

Memories of Anna Harvey

Richard Harvey kindly sent the following

 

I was involved in an interesting debate about Whitbread miniature innsigns on the More Memories of Maidstone Facebook page yesterday, which led onto some reminiscences about Wateringbury pubs, which also involved Eric Beadel. I sent the link to my sister, Anna, who lives in Northern Cyprus and who, like me, spent her early years at the King's Head,Wateringbury.

Anna has emailed me today with some lovely memories of life in Wateringbury immediately after World War Two, and I thought you might be interested in this edited version in which, quite rightly, she corrects one or two of my memories - but then I was only a tiny sprog, who has subsequently spent his entire adult life in journalism and is therefore bound to make a mistake or two!

Anyway, I attach some of her thoughts, which you might like to add to your interesting Wateringbury website, and perhaps you might like to copy in Eric.

Thanks and kind regards

Richard

WATERINGBURY MEMORIES

By Anna Harvey

I am 99% sure that John and Hilda Harvey never were the tenants of the King’s Head, but simply worked there to learn the ropes of running a pub. The tenants were the Strattens, possibly Dutch.

John became very friendly with Dr Severn, the village doctor, one of whose sons was a Battle of Britain pilot. They had a lovely Georgian house and surgery over the crossroads, on the right hand side going towards Tonbridge, with a swimming pool no less, into which I fell and nearly drowned!

During the war, John served as a Major in the Royal Corps of Signals, and Hilda and I moved to The Orpines, Wateringbury, probably in 1943 or 44. As I recall a grey stone manor house in large grounds with a huge kitchen garden. I think it is now a housing estate, but maybe the old house is still there.

The Pratt Boormans, who owned the Kent Messenger, lived downstairs after living in South Africa. Their son, Edwin, is responsible for my paranoia over snakes, having regaled me with some lurid South African tales!

The house was owned by an elderly lady and her daughter, the Hornbys. I recall mum saying they were very kind to her, and as they had a car were able to  take her to Fant Lane Maternity Hospital, Maidstone when 'her time came' for brother Richard to be born.

When John was demobbed in 1945, our family moved over the road to the King’s Head. Whilst there, I recall a travelling cinema coming to set up in the large hall at the pub.  It was freezing cold, but I used to sneak in the back and then have the wits scared out of me watching fearsome native indians about to put someone to death before Tarzan came swinging through to the rescue!!  

Albert Jukes owned the garage next door to the pub, while his wife Doris ran the local shop at the top of the hill running down towards the river. Opposite was an old forge where we watched the smithy at work.

At hop-picking time, when all the Londoners came down, she used to erect a very high metal screen across the counter, and all transactions had to be passed over the top!

I started at Wateringbury Primary in 1945. Headmistress Miss Kellam Smith – shades of the Prime of Jean Brodie. She wore a pinstriped suit with a man's jacket and a skirt with  2 pleats at the front and 2 at the back & lace-up brown brogues. All topped with a short haircut…..

The school was situated at the top of Red Hill, and we walked to school every day. I remember the evil winter of '47, the worst on record, and coming out to the front of the King’s Head to find the huge in/out car park covered in frozen ruts which the cars had churned up. I literally had to cross it on my hands and knees and then walk on to school.-.at just 7 years old!

Ice and rubber-soled wellie boots don't mix, and don't even mention the chapped legs!  There were the usual snowball fights, and long icy slides in the playground of course, but worst of all was that the toilets at the back of the playground had frozen solid, so they had to bring in Elsan chemical toilets which could only be placed in the cubicles with the doors wide open!! On the way back to the classroom, I would break an icicle off the asbestos gutter for a lolly!

Some little time after the war ended I recall a Pageant being held at the big house. which I now presume as being Wateringbury Place. We little girls had to dance round the maypole in our prettiest summer dresses. and the rest is rather hazy but I do recall lots of stretchers laid out with soldiers on them. Perhaps the house had been requisitioned for a military hospital? Could have been celebrating V.J Day.

Two other post-war memories…

First, Mum grabbing me by the hand, and rushing along through the village to the grocer’s shop on the left, out past the doctor’s house, saying “Hurry, hurry,I have heard they have got bananas in”. What’s all the fuss, I thought. What’s a banana? 

And secondly, dear old Mrs Jukes. When she finally got a delivery of ice cream, she instantly sent a message up to the school with this news. All lessons stopped. Teachers lent us all a penny each, and soon after a basket was sent up (perhaps her son on a bike) full of those little Lyons Maid cylinders that sat in the top of a cone. But no cone, just the delicious ice cream! What a sublime treat.

Mr Reid's Class - Wateringbury School 1962/63

Tom McKirdy who is a day younger than myself kindly donated this photo of Mr Reads Class at the old primary school probably taken around 1962/3. Peter Reid was Headmaster when I was at the school.

Tom is over the back to the left of the lady teacher (anyone know who that was?) next to Robin Pearson. Then facing us is David Brotherwood and then Neville Marshall then I think Dawn Shippey and round to the front Peter Tompset. Gillian Apps is also in the photo.

Jane Chapman thinks she is in the first girl with short hair next to the boy on the right at the front.

Let me know if you are in the photo or can add anything.