The People of Wateringbury 1650-1841

Steven MacDougall has published an eBook that may be of interest to our readers

The Book

People of Wateringbury 1650-1841

 Click on the Book to buy and Download immediately

The records of every person who lived in Wateringbury between 1650 and 1841 were researched for this book, which tells what it was really like to live in Wateringbury at that time, through the lives of the people who actually lived there.

Who were the poor families? Who were the rich? How did the rich control the poor? and how did the poor control the rich? How did they interact? Some families remained poor over the whole period and others remained rich, but some changed their position in the village hierarchy. As families change their position they appear in different types of records and interact with others in different ways. Individual people also change their position in the hierarchy as part of their life cycle from single person to married person to old age. The book deals with different aspects of their lives in a chronological way. Some families can be followed from the beginning of the book in the 1600's to the end in the 1840's but Wateringbury was not an isolated village: It was in the county of Kent, not far from London so it is not surprising that people and families were moving in and out of the village the whole time. The book ends in the 1840's when the railway reached the village and the rate of movement increased.

By this time Wateringbury was well known as a hop growing area and the quantity of the harvests was regularly reported in the newspapers. Some of the people who picked the hops came from as far away as Ireland and they often caused a lot of trouble by attacking the locals and breaking into houses. One amusing aspect of this is that from time to time when people appear in court in London and they want an alibi, they say they were not in London but in Wateringbury hop picking !

There is a whole chapter on the Tomlin family, which is a detailed case study of one family over several generations. The Tomlins were the ancestors of the Perrin family of Wateringbury through the marriage of Elizabeth Tomlin to Thomas Perrin in 1754 when he moved to Wateringbury. Thomas Perrin and his family ran the main carpentry and building business in Wateringbury for the next one hundred years. The carpentry yard was behind Vine House and was there for hundreds of years before it was knocked down in the 1990’s. No photographs of the yard have been found yet. Has anyone seen a photograph?

Other families descended from the Tomlins include the Reeve family at Wateringbury and the Boorman family from William and Rebecca. Both of these were butchers in Wateringbury. The chapter on the Tomlins will be of special interest to  descendants of these families.

Thomas Perrin's house next to where the yard was.

The side of Charles Perrin's house where he kept his horses

From our Message Board

The following was left on the message board by Paul Reynolds which I though would be good to share with you all and Paul kindly agreed.

 --@--

Hello all. I was born in Wateringbury in 1948. My mother was Dorothy nee Thorne, father Bill Reynolds. We lived at 12 Glebe Meadow. My mother kept in touch with a number of village people over her life. We left in 1954, but by some irony I had a job for awhile in the early 90's at West Malling Airdrome. Mrs Apps lived next door. my grand parents lived in The Garage Flat, opposite Dr. Severns House. I remember my mother talking about John Severn and the now famous Fighter Pilots who visited his house during the battle of Britain era. She had a friend Helen Long on Red Hill I believe. Her father Gus Thorne was in the Merchant Navy in WW1 and had the Cricketers Pub in Maidstone before moving to Wateringbury. My father lived for some years wih his Cousins in Pheonix Cottages Nettlestead. I remember the Bardens, Eileen, who married Sid Targett. I went to Peter Targetts wedding in Maidstone, a good old fashioned beery punch-up type. I do not remember anything of school or if I had school friends. I remember the Tramps and going Hop Picking. The Gypsy fights in the Pubs. There was a Flop House for tramps on the road to Teston. The Garage Flat was supposed to be built from the Old London Bridge Stones that formed the Gallows. It was a cold place full of huge black Spiders, the biggest ever seen. There were Oast Houses at the back of the Yard, and used to be very busy. For a small village there were lots of shops. Eric Boreman, Skinners, all people my Mother knew well. There was the usual village simpleton all the children were warned not to talk to. All I remember of those childhood days were the walks in the Orchards and lanes, the River Medway, and busy village life. Best regards to all of you.

Village People

From the personal photo collection of Mrs Helen Long is a photo containing many names I knew in the 1950's showing Helen at the rear third from the left.

Helen loved the village and was well known. When I was at primary school Helen was the caretaker and dinner lady and lived at the school with her husband and son John.

On the back of this photo helen has written many of the names which I will do my best to get in the correct order though the position is a little tricky, if I have them wrong please let me know.

Also if you can add any names or know what the event was that would also be great. Noted as the Village Hall by Helens Grandaughter I am not sure this could be Wateringbury village hall as this looks to be brick built which the old Wateringbury hall was not. Tom McKirdy suggests it may be the old Working Mens Club Room as he remembers going there with the school to sing for a group of elderly ladies which has jogged my memory as I did thae same but country dancing!!

Photo courtesy of Ruth Jones from the collection of Helen Long

Mrs Kent - Mrs Oldrine - Mrs Helen Long

Mrs Cronk - Mr Cronk - Mr Stolton - Mr Bennett - John Brooks - Mrs English - Mrs Skinner

Mrs Randall - Mrs Clews - Mrs Styles

Mrs Bennet - Mrs French - Mrs Cole

Miss Chapman - Miss Chapman - Mrs Tompsett -

Mr & Mrs ?? - Mrs Stolton - Mrs Cowlard - Mrs Shrubsole - Mr & Mrs Cheeseman - Miss Mansel - Miss Cale

The Boorman Family

When I was very young, mum would send me to the village butchers for Pigs Fry, Sausages, Pigs Trotters or Pork Chops. There were two butchers in the village one in Tonbridge Road almost opposite the Queens Head owned by Mr Skinner and Boormans in Bow Road between the Bow General Stores and Mac the Barbers. As a family we always used Boormans. I can picture the shop now back in the 50's with its very large cold slab in front of the windows which were often open in summer or had a wooden lattice grill to let the air in. There would often be a real pigs head on the slab with a lemon in its mouth. There was a huge wooden chopping bench that was dipped where the axe and knives had worn the wood away whilst cutting the meat. and a massive cold room with a huge door with a handle that needed a lot of strength to open. I remember the lorry delivering whole or half animals, the guys wore white overalls and white hats often stained with blood.

The butcher in my day was Eric Boorman who I can also picture today delivering the Sunday joint. In those days we left the back door unlocked and Eric would open the door and shout " its only the Ole Butch".

Eric's son John has kindly written to us with some photos of his dad and his mum Joy, who was also well known in the village in my day. John has also given us a very interesting potted history of his family which I am sure you will find as interesting as I have.

Over to you John:----

Boorman's Family Butchers in the middle with its windows open and Eric's delivery van parked outside

The photo of the shop in Wateringbury I would guess is mid 1950's. I can just make out the name Saunders above the door of the general stores and, of course, "Mac" Clarke is trading on the other side, perhaps the Saunders name will help identify the date with more precision. The white Ford Anglia van, parked outside the shop, belonged to my father. I notice that there are no bubble gum or sweet machines attached to the side wall of the shop which I am sure must have arrived around 1960.

Joy & Eric Boorman

The photo of my parents was taken whilst living in Wateringbury, perhaps about 10 years before my father's death C1978 as he passed away in 1988.

A typical bill from the eighties but probably very similar for many years before

In his later years my father used to run the shop himself during the day and then, after cleaning and closing up, he would fill the van and go out to deliver on the rounds, hence the nickname by which he came to be known "The midnight butcher". I would always try to take leave from the RAF for the days leading up to Christmas so that I could take over the round and free him up to do the shop and cut the orders for me to deliver. I was often joined by my brother Nigel who would try to take holiday for the same purpose. The receipt shown is for a turkey I ordered from him at Christmas 1980. The bill is headed H. Boorman prop E.S. Boorman, father never removed his own father's name and many of his customers knew dad as "Harry". You will also notice that he never changed the "Est 120 years" either!

-*-

 The photo below was given to me by my mother when my father died.  As you will see it is a photograph taken at Wateringbury school which my father has marked C1880. I would guess that he is not too far out but my own guess would have been C1878/79. It is interesting for me as it shows my grandfather and his two brothers Frederick and William. According to my father Frederick is the boy third from the left in the second row from the back. My grandfather is certainly the boy in the same row but second from the right. William the youngest is in the front row second from the right. Given that Frederick was born 1867, Harry 1869 and William 1872 I will leave you to form your own idea of the likely year. Dad also identifies the headmaster and his wife as Mr & Mrs Kingston. He also makes note that the boy standing next to Mrs Kingston, 1st left on second row from back, is Ernest Anderson who lived in Old Road and who went on to become a surveyor working for Frederick Leney at the brewery. Perhaps some of your correspondents will be able to identify others if you wish to use the photo.

 
My 3 x great grandfather was a wheelwright who lived in Marden, two of his sons upped sticks and moved to Wateringbury around 1830 these sons were David Boorman (1807-1882) and William (1810-1887). In 1832 David married Mary Ann Cook of Wateringbury in Rochester and David took over The Dukes Head in the Old Road where he remained landlord until his death. David and Mary Ann had 11 children and David was a carpenter, grocer, builder and master builder (according to various census returns) as well as being a licenced victualler. According to documents I found in the parish chest David was quite an important person within the village, he made numerous donations to the school and was one of a select few elders of the village who were chosen to walk and verify the parish boundaries. Sadly David's later life makes unhappy reading as he was widowed in 1879 and he suffered a series of strokes which left him bedridden for his last few years. His youngest daughter became pregnant out of wedlock and then died at an early age. David summoned his solicitor, put his affairs in order, and committed suicide in a particularly horrible way. Inquest details available.
 
My 2 x great grandfather William does not seem to have risen to the heights of his brother within the village. He married Rebecca Simmons of Mereworth at Plaxtol in 1833 and settled in Wateringbury as a pig butcher. In those days when most people had a pig in the back yard which they fed on household scraps, William would have been called in to kill and dress the pig when the time came. William and Rebecca had 6 children and lived in the Old Road where William, in time, opened a butcher's shop. Family tradition has it that William liked a drink and was arrested one night and put in the village lock up. William was evidently a large man and he managed to smash his way out. I always treated this tale with some scepticism but recent evidence has come to light which may well prove this story to be true. The butcher's shop in Old Road was situated next to "The Harrow" and here it stayed until about 1912 when the brothers in paragraph 1, William and Harry, dissolved their partnership and Harry moved the shop to the village centre - William opened his own shop in Canterbury. William and Rebecca also had a sad time to deal with when their daughter Ellen committed suicide by throwing herself off Teston Bridge and drowning at the age of 18. This story has been verified by newspaper reports at the time but it is said that Ellen became pregnant by the son of the house in which she was employed as a maid. When the pregnancy came to light Ellen was sacked and shown the door, in despair she killed herself.
 
My great grandfather, Charles, married Betsy Waterman of High Halden who was acting as housekeeper for her brother who was manager of Pelican Farm. Charles (1845-1901) and Betsy had 4 children and Harry and William carried on the butchering tradition. My cousin Reg Davis who is several years older than me remembers the slaughter house behind the shop being used when he was a boy and the nightmares that it used to give him!
 
Harry my grandfather ran the shop until his death from cancer in 1943 and my aunts kept the place going until my father returned from the war when he took over until he retired through ill health in the early 1980's. Sadly he also passed away from cancer in 1988 aged 75. Although I am one of 6 children with 3 boys none of us wanted to take up butchering and my father never pressed us, he never really wanted to follow that path himself, thus came the end of a family era after about 150 years.

My mother did not move away from Wateringbury until the early 1990's when the upkeep of Lime Tree House became just too much and all 3 of my sisters were still living in the village at that time. Our final link was broken when Carol moved to the Isle of Wight about a year ago but I think Wateringbury will always be "home" to all of us. 

I enclose details of the newspaper reports following the tragic deaths of David Boorman and his niece Ellen Boorman, both so very sad but which make the history I have already sent a little clearer.
 
The following newspaper artice was obtained from Maidstone Library.

TESTON

Melancholy Suicide - T. N. Dudlow, Esq, coroner, held an inquest on Monday, the 7th inst, at the Farmhouse, on the body of Ellen Boorman, who threw herself off Teston Bridge on Sunday (the previous day). William Hollamby, who saw the deceased seat herself on the wall of the bridge, tuck her clothes round her legs, and throw herself over backwards. He gave an alarm, and, with assistance, the body was got out in twenty-five minutes after, but life was extinct. William Philpot, who assisted the last witness, confirmed his statement. William Boorman, father of the deceased said he could only suppose that the cause of deceased's crime was her being discharged from her place, where she had lived for 6 years, which prayed upon her mind. She had been ill at different times lately. She had left her place about twelve weeks. Verdict - Deceased destroyed herself by throwing herself from Teston Bridge, she not being then of sound mind.
Ellen was buried at Wateringbury on 14 Apr 1856. The service being conducted by the Reverend Henry Stevens.

Following the inquest Ellen's body was taken to Wateringbury church in a coffin where she laid for a week until her burial. Her father placed candles around the coffin and stayed by his daughter, day and night, until the burial. Ellen is buried with her parents and infant brother, William in Wateringbury churchyard just inside the gate to the left of the main path where the memorial stone still stands.

In the Maidstone and Kentish Journal 12 Jun 1882 the following report under Wateringbury was found. (Newspaper film located at Maidstone Library)

SAD CASE OF SUICIDE

On Thursday last an inquest was held at Wateringbury by J Rogers, Esq, the coroner for the Tonbridge district, on the body of Mr David Boorman, 74 years of age, for many years landlord of the Duke's Head, who committed suicide by hanging himself on Wednesday. From the evidence it appeared that Mr Boorman had been paralyzed for two years and a half and confined to his bed. Within the last few days he signed a petition to wind up his business affairs in liquidation, since which time he has been in low desponding state, but his relatives had no idea that he intended to attempt his life. In order to raise himself in bed a handkerchief was tied in a loop to the bed post, and on Wednesday the deceased was found with his head through this, and his body on the floor, quite dead. The jury returned a verdict of suicide while in a state of temporary insanity.

The above words and photos were Courtesy of John Boorman

 



 

From Wateringbury to Australia in 1969

We  had a lovely email from Bernice Richards (nee Williams) as follows:

 <>

My name is Bernice Richards (nee Williams) and I live in Sans Souci, New South Wales, Australia. I have just spent a lovely afternoon after accidently finding your website about the history of Wateringbury. I am currently writing some memories down for one of my daughters and as I was answering her question, I needed information about where we lived, so I googled Wateringbury and your website came up.

My family moved into Redhouse Gardens, Old Road when the houses in that estate were first built, we were number 1, my father gave the house a name, Amore, but I think that would be long forgotten now. He was the Doctor in the village, Dr David Howard Hiley (he was my stepfather) and my mum, Dorothy, was a nursing sister in Maidstone. I had forgotten who his partner was in Wateringbury, but your website reminded me. The surgery would have been in Claremont House and the other doctor would have been Dr Miln. I remember getting off the bus from school in the afternoons and going for a swim in their pool! I read that you rented the flat in the house in 1973, but by that time, we had migrated to Australia - I think we left in about 1969.

I have had no contact with anyone I knew when we were living there - my school friends kept in touch for a while (I went to Maidstone Grammar), but I was only 13 when we left there and it is hard to keep up friendships at that age and across such a huge distance. My best friend in the village was a girl named Vanessa Powney, but I know she passed away in her forties and I never spoke to her after we left England. She lived in the houses we used to call the cowsheds - I don't know if you would remember them, very unusual buildings for that era!!

There were a few names that I remembered from your entries who were also my friends and I think you went to school with some of these people - they were a bit older than me. I used to go down to the Old Mill on Friday nights and play table tennis with Robin Pearson and Ian Seamark, there was another boy too, but I can't remember his name. I do know they fished my sister out of the mill pond once and saved her from drowning!! The surname McKirdy also rings a bell. Are they all still living in the village? The Benhams owned the pottery at that time I think.

I have been back to visit Wateringbury once since we came to Australia and would love to do so again but I wanted to say thank you for putting all this information together, it is a wonderful resource and a great memory jogger for people like me.

I don't think I have many photos left from when we lived there, but will certainly look and will ask my sister Davina if she has any.

Kind regards,

Bernice

<>

If the above jogs any memories of Bernice and or her family  please share it with us. If you remember Bernice and would like to get in touch please send me a private email and I will pass it to her.

Where Memories Meet

Where Memories Meet 

Is a shop right on the Crossroads that can be seen many times throughout this website at many different times in its long history as a key village shop.

We don't normally add photos of today or advertise but this shop has been lovingly turned into a meeting place with a Tearoom & Antiques/Vintage Centre where village people can meet each other as they would have done in years gone by. It is also a record as it is today and comparison to how it used to be.

Good Luck to Mark and Sze Lin we hope this corner remains the same for many years.

Click on the photo to go to the website.
 

http://www.wherememoriesmeet.com/

Village People in the 1st World War

Colin Brotherwood thought it would be interesting to see if we could get a feature going on the men from the village who fought in the 1st World War.  Let us see what we can do.

Colin starts the ball rolling with the following:-

My grandfather was born in Feb 1898, and his mother died in March 1899 of a burst appendix. So he was eventually fostered out to the Hammond family, who lived in Bow Rd. That is how he came to be living in Wateringbury. He joined the Durham Light infantry and saw the last piece of action in the 1st world war. I've attached 3 photos of him from the war in his uniform. The one of him sitting on the bank is a postcard sent home from Hellenthal on the Belgian/German border. I don't know who the guy on his right hand side is. He later met his wife (Caroline Kate Herbert) who was from Fulham. Maybe they came down for the hop picking season. They were married in 1922. Any info on Charles would be most appreciated.
Maybe you could do a feature on the men who fought in the 1st World war from Wateringbury. It might throw up some more old photo's. 

Photos and Census Courtesy of Colin Brotherwood

Village People

Steve Latter writes:-

I've found another pix for the brewery section. it's picture of my father Syd, my uncle Dixie & a family friend Ralph. Their having a bit of fun with a Mackson stout bottle & the promotional cow.

 

The gentleman on the left of Ralph is Doug Robins who I remember well from my youth, I remember he walked very upright with a limp. I believe his wife still lives in the village, in the house almost opposite the entrance to Glebe Meadow. my mum thought the lady was Joyce Latter (her cousin) but Steve does not recognise her so that seems very unlikely.

John - Webmaster 

Village People

Keith Harden recently left a note on the message board which read:

.-.

I never lived in Wateringbury! but my mother, Gladys Harden, nee Kirby did. Indeed, her mother and father, my grandparents, are the same Edward and Gladys Kirby mentioned as running The Fir Tree Ale House on your 'old pubs' page. She lived there together with sisters Joan and Betty and all three of them had to help in running the pub in their teenage years. The pix of hop picking strike a chord with me because, even though the family moved away when The Fir Tree was demolished, we still hop picked every years (I think they lived at Paddock Wood then). I remember little else of the time but some names stick - Cronk (another website gives the Cronks as licensees of The Fir Tree) and Ada or Ida Shepherd. Anyone remember my family? A house fire 8 years ago destroyed most of our family archive and I am trying to resurrect it. Thank you.

.-.

Keith has now kindly sent some photos which we hope will jog some memories and enable us to help him put some names to some of the people and places.

Over to you Keith:...............

.-.

Well, I hope these photos are good enough for you to do something with.  They are, as you can see, poor quality and somewhat fire and water ravaged.  However, now that my interest has been excited by your website I felt I must send them; you will probably have seen the latest from Diane Hayes on the message board and it turns out that although we are not actually related, we nearly are!  Words of explanation to go with the photos are as follows:

The family group of Ted and Gladys Kirby with daughters Gladys (back) and Betty.  The gent sitting in the front is my maternal Great Grandfather Henry Martin, who was landlord of the Queens Head was Whitbreads longest serving licensee at 47 years. (his son in law Fred Cronk was landlord of the Nort Pole).

This is my Aunt Joan (Cheeseman, daughter of Gladys Kirby from her first marriage), my mother Gladys and the youngest sister Betty.  The family used to refer to this photo as “The Bisto Kids” – that too should bring back memories for your readers.

 This lady is Evelyn Adams, nee Martin.

Possibly taken on the wedding day in the photo at top right – my mother on the right with Doris next to her but I do not know the others.  I do have a dim recollection of the very tall, elegant lady second from the left.

Dawn has since kindly written to say that the elegant lady is her Gran Ada Shepherd and that from left to right is: Mrs Latter, Ada Shepherd (Dawns Gran), Lily Shephard (Dawns Aunt) and Doris Huggett (nee Shepherd).

 

A real piece of social history – May Day at Wateringbury CofE School. My Aunt Betty Kirby is seated to the immediate right of the May Queen with Gladys Kirby standing far right.

'The Handyman, Queens Head'

I have no idea who this gentleman is but am guessing he might be an ancestor of mine.  Any help from readers would be appreciated.

This is of Ted and Gladys Kirby in their garden at Northbourne in 1937 where he was licensee of the Hare & Hounds.

I am guessing that this house is/was in Wateringbury because it was on the same page in the family album as many of these other photos.  Address or connection to my family, unknown.

The wedding of Dick Huggett and Doris ? – is the lady on the right Ada Shepherd?  

It was taken in May 41.

 Dawn again later writes to say this is William Shepherd (Dawns Uncle), Dick Huggett, Doris Huggett and Ada Shepherd (Dawns Gran).

 

This is my Great Grandfather Walter Kirby with two of his daughters, Louie and Ivy.

One final plea, my reference above to Glady’s Kirby’s first marriage to someone called Cheeseman who was killed during World War I.  I have not been able to identify him from the numerous soldiers of that name, all from Kent, and was wondering if any of your readers might be able to help.  I know there is a soldier of that name on the Wateringbury War Memorial but the military records show him as leaving a widow Alice rather than Gladys, so I doubt it is him.  My father’s research came up with the theory that he died fighting with the Black Watch (I hope that means fighting with rather than against them !) but he would not have been Scots.  If any of your readers can identify who he might be (name, regiment, etc) I would be most grateful.

All the above photos are courtesy of Keith Harden

RIP DAIL WHITING 13/10/1943 - 15/04/2025

RIP  DAIL WHITING   13/10/1943 - 15/04/2025

A Very Sad post indeed. The following is a copy of the post in this months Wateringbury Rostrum but I just wanted to add a personal note as I will miss Dail so much.  We had regular chats on the phone or exchanged emails whenever someone asked me a question about the village or its people.  Dail was so helpful to me with her invaluable knowledgeable of Wateringbury and its people but was always cautious not to publish anything that may offend families even very many years after the event.  We are so lucky to have so much of her knowledge on the website where hopefully it will remain for others to find in many years to come.  My thoughts are with Mike and her family and friends. 

From the Wateringbury Rostrum May Edition

<>

            Dail Whiting was a true daughter of Wateringbury. She was born here in 1943, and after a few years away returned with her new husband Mike in late 1976. They have lived here ever since.

            Dail's vast knowledge of Wateringbury people from her childhood, together with a passion for history, led her to engage in some extensive research and write two editions of her book substantially building on George Newman’s recollections of Wateringbury in the 1840’s. The second edition was titled “Wateringbury In the Steps Of George Newman, and Beyond.” From her book, her three essays on the Wateringbury breweries were reproduced in the Summer 2002 edition of the journal “Brewery History”.  She was also a regular contributor to John Gilham's “Wateringbury Remembered” and became the 'go to' person for anyone enquiring about Wateringbury and its inhabitants.  Dail's research abilities were also used to produce booklets on Wateringbury’s WWI, and later WWII soldiers, which she then donated to our church.  Dail will be remembered as one of the most significant Wateringbury historians of recent years, and for her outgoing and captivating personality.

<>

The Kings Head Hotel - 1890's

This photo was kindly donated to the website by David Alchin who owns the original.
.

Photo Courtesy of David Alchin

This is a fantastic photograph capturing a moment in time at the Crossroads. 

Its hard to imagine how the village once was.

The people's faces in this photo are very clear when enlarged (click on the photo) and I wonder if any are related to me especially those standing on the pavement. It would be great if we could put some names to some of them?

First Memories

My First memories of living in Bow Cottages were from the age of around five years old (1958). We lived with my Grandad who had worked for the brewery Whitbread and we lived in a tied cottage. I remember shelling peas and broad beans outside the scullery with my Grandad, going to watch horse racing on TV at the local shop, the Handy Stores owned by Mrs Austin, just round the corner in Bow Road. Not many people had a TV in 1958 in the village.

My next door neighbours were Jim and Glad Smith and their boys Roger and Peter. One memory is Jim won a Pig at the local fete in bowl a pig which he kept at the top of the garden, I remember collecting acorns on the way home from school to feed to it, I am not sure what happened to the pig! This was where I took a drag of the one and only fag I have ever been near, when Peter made me take a drag of his roll up, never would I touch one again.

As a kid I remember so much fruit was grown all around us, from the gate in the back garden it went straight into a plum orchard which lead directly into a Bramley apple orchard. From that across the main road and also in Red Hill were Cherry orchards, across Bow Road there were Pear and eating apple orchards and of course there were hop fields all around. My Grandad used to have an apple orchard to pick, not sure if he rented it or was just paid to pick the apples, he seemed to be the only person picking. The orchard was in Bow Road directly below what were the Police houses and opposite the brewery entrance now Phoenix Close.

Functions at the Old Village Hall

Inside the hall at Jean Weller's 21st Birthday in the Early 60's donated by Janet Barden.

Photo courtesy of Janet Barden

Janet is front row with a white top and a lilac skirt, her best friend Betty Raines (nee Miles) is next to her with a white and brown patterned dress. Jean Weller is in the back row, her uncle (Ted Cronk) is directly above where Janets head is and Jean Weller is standing next to him, standing sideways, she has short dark hair and a greenish coloured dress.

Front row far left Valerie Miles, Betty’s Dad (Mr. Miles) girl with white dress is Jane Bryant with Terry Cronk to her left and to the right Monica Richard, Betty Miles, Derek Raines, Janet Barden, Bob Whitlock, Ann Wells, John or David Allen, Joyce Gruber & Mr Honeysett.
Jean’s Mum is at the back directly above Betty Miles

Can you add any more names?

This photo brings back memories of the stage where we would have the disco equipment which is where the back rows of people are standing. The walls were made of a type of hardboard which was warped from the dampness. The chairs (as seen in the front) were stackable and used to lean dangerously when stacked high.

Hopping Tokens

Dail sends the following explanation for the Hopping Tokens:-

Hop Tokens

There is far more history surrounding hops and subsequently hop tokens than is written here, but very briefly, hops were first cultivated in Kent in 1525 by immigrants from Flanders who brought hop plants with them, and the knowledge of how to grow them.  By the 18th century, the number of hop grounds in Kent had greatly escalated, particularly in the Canterbury, Faversham and Maidstone areas.  Subsequently the available local labour force became inadequate during the height of the hop-picking season, so hop-pickers were hired from elsewhere, predominantly people from London who treated hopping as a long working holiday.
Hop tokens were used as an on-the-job currency for the hop-pickers.  For each bushel picked the farmer would pay with tokens which were exchanged for cash at the end of the hop-picking season.  This arrangement generally facilitated the farmer's cash flow as well as discouraging the pickers from leaving the job and moving on.
Hop tokens are almost exclusively associated with Kent and East Sussex.  They generally date from about 1770 up to the start of World War Two, but because hop cultivation was not confined to this period, it seems reasonable to suggest that some sort of token currency may well have been in use before and after these dates.
The very early tokens were made of cast lead, gradually moving over to white metal alloys in the early nineteenth century.  Other metals such as brass, bronze, copper, and zinc were also used to a much lesser degree.  Early tokens would have had the farmer's initials or full name on as well as the monetary value, but from about 1835 tokens became more ornate, and may well have been embellished with either the Invicta horse, oast houses, family coats of arms, hop pokes and even hop binds.  In more modern times non-metal materials were used such as printed cardboard.  Hop tokens finally became obsolete in the 1940's when increased literacy led to written methods of accounting and payment, such as hop-pickers books.

W N Vinson.  Wateringbury.  Hop Tokens

Regarding your own Hop tokens bearing the name W N Vinson.  Wateringbury.
The fruit and hop farmer William Nash Vinson was born in Swanley Kent in 1885 to William Vinson, a farmer, and Mary Hannah Nash.
William junior, eventually married Mildred Laidlaw in Chelsea in 1909, and soon after moved to the beautiful Hall Place in East Barming.  I cannot find where his Wateringbury hop ground was situated, but suggest it was on the outer boundary of the village, as most hop grounds here are well known, and well documented.
William Nash Vinson died aged 29 in the district of Bromley in 1914, which perhaps dates your tokens between 1909 and 1914.

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