OK, this picture might be a rose-tinted vision of an England in earlier times, but it's very much how I remember my native Surrey village of Lingfield, as a child.
I was born in 1946, and lived for the first 14 years of my life in my small Surrey village, where almost everyone knew who I was; and greeted me with a cheery 'hello'. I always felt very much a part of village life. We all knew the village 'Bobby', the District Nurse, the Vicar, the Butcher, the Baker, and everyone else of importance.
I had my little red bike, and would cycle wherever I wanted. I would go fishing, watch the village Cricket team, or visit friends. My world was only limited by how far I could cycle. Freedom was total.
There was a village pond, and a village memorial to those who'd died in the two German wars. There was a lovely old church, where I sang in the choir. And there was a village Silver Band who rejected my appalling lack of skill on the Cornet.
In Autumn there was a huge Horticultural Show in the village hall, for adults and children alike, and on November 5th we held one of the biggest local Bonfire Night parades in the area. There was also a very active WI.
It was how an English village should be. Very little crime, other than one wayward Irish family who lived on a council estate, and couldn't help themselves. And lots of friendliness from almost everyone else. The only 'foreigners' I remember were a Canadian family; the Beardmores. The father had been sent to work in England, and the son was at Prep' School with me.
My only complaint about the present state of the village is it's proximity to Gatwick. These days (not when WE lived there) there is constant airplane noise, which has spoilt much of its appeal. The last time I returned there, I could hardly believe how much noise there was.
Our village here in France used to have the same feel about it, but even that has now changed. The camaraderie that came with peasant farming has gone, and those same people now sit at home and wait for their EU cheque to arrive. The 'newcomers' are mostly NOT country folk, and often have no idea how to behave.
Those descriptions remind me of growing up near our local Village in Burnham Bucks. It was like another world altogether. And yes, we're being forced to look back through rose tinted glasses.
ReplyDeleteAnd the tragic news that our government are about to flood the Yorkshire village of Linton-on-Ouse (of 700 residents ), with 1,500 illegal immigrants is heartbreaking.
It proves that Andy Burnham is simply carrying on from where Starmer left off. It's going to be another nail in the coffin for The Labour Party. And people wont forget this when The General Election comes round.
I feel very sorry for the people of Piddington in Oxfordshire. Their lovely village of 300 residents is to have 1,250 young male illegal immigrants thrust upon them. Unbelievable !!!
DeleteYour'e right Dee, it is absolutely tragic what's going on, makes you want to jump into hole and bury yourself doesn't it!
Delete1250 hitting Barnham on Norfolk Suffolk border. I wrote about it yesterday. Village of 600 people. Rachel
DeleteBy "airplane" I assume you mean "aeroplane"? Why did the village bobby, Sergeant Thumper arrest you and your dog down by the village pond? Had you been chucking bricks at the ducks again?
ReplyDeleteJust for your enlightenment, the word 'airplane' is standard American English, and seeing as most of the airplanes landing at Gatwick are either from the USA or were manufactured there, the usage is correct. As for throwing bricks at the Ducks; no, I used to shoot them with my .410.
DeleteWhat a lovely picture. Yes, I grew up in a village, similar to yours only not quite as pretty but things were the same, you could stay out all day on your bike and you knew everyone. I still live in a village which is pretty and everyone knows everyone but now there's this constant remarking on who is 'local' and who is not, very tiresome. But at least we don't have hundreds of foreign men descending on us...yet. Things don't get any better do they, take me back to the 1950's please!
ReplyDeleteVillage life in those days was perfect. I feel so sorry for those who are having to have all those illegals dumped on their doorsteps. We all know what will happen!!!
DeleteVillage life in Stretton was fun. We had room to play out. The Crescent had a big Green in the middle, our neighbours were our friends. There was a village shop across the road run by Mr and Mrs Walker, a gentle elderly couple. I went to the village school, and sang in the Chapel choir. I know we shouldn't look back, but look forward to the future. Where has it all gone.
ReplyDeleteThe problem is that it can only get worse, and it's being done on purpose. Those halcyon days are gone for ever.
DeleteI'm just glad that I was born in 1949, and had a normal working class background. Yes we had struggles for money, but we found lots of ways to entertain ourselves with very little cost.
DeleteI think it is natural to recall the past through rose tinted spectacles but remember homosexuality was illegal, women couldn’t get a mortgage without a male guarantor, the polio vaccine wasn’t rolled out until you were 10, over half of households didn’t have an indoor toilet. Much has changed for the better.
ReplyDeleteThese days in Africa and India, many children are lucky if they own an old T Shirt. There's still a long way to go.
DeleteI grew up in a village similar to what you have described.Now its been swallowed up into Derby. The " new" A52 cut straight through the middle of Kirkleys Avenue. Dividing it into north and south. The constant hum of traffic is terrible.
ReplyDeleteFrom Stretton we used to get a bus to Derby to go shopping. It seemed to take forever, we could sit on the top deck and gaze through the windows at the beautiful countryside. Front seat was favourite. It was like going on holiday. Now the roads are all joined up by ugly concrete jungles.
DeleteChange is natural progress, but it doesn't mean we have to like it.
DeleteA community is what the people living there make of it. To have good neighbors, we need to be good neighbors.
ReplyDeleteHow very true. I need to explain that to two of our new neighbours here in France.
DeleteOut in the Colonies my life growing up was very similar. No village pond but we had the town Bobby and freedom to roam and enjoy growing our childhood.
ReplyDeleteI'm sure that life was better then. OK we didn't have the internet or mobile phones; some of us didn't even have TV. But we were never bored.
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