Jill Gay

My memories of Steventon in the 1950s

The old Village Hall with the corrugated roof. To a young me it seemed very dark. As far as I remember the toilets were just inside the door – no flush toilets just holes in a wooden top. I used to be taken to the Village Hall for British Legion meetings with my Grandmother and Mother.

There was a fancy dress parade in the early 50’s – possibly to celebrate the festival of Britain.

Highlight of the 50s for me was the Church Fete, held in the Vicarage grounds. Every year my Father had the hoop-la stall. Grandmother was a member of the mothers Union and sewed constantly during the year to replenish the Mother’s Union stall with aprons and small clothes. I even remember where the stall was positioned - in the front of the Vicarage, on the drive. It always seemed to be heaped high with goods to sell. I loved those fete days and always used to stay with my grandmother on the night before as the Saturday was always a very busy day.

I remember the outside toilet hiding behind the lilac bush at 85 The Causeway – it always smelt of Jeyes fluid and had hard toilet paper or old newspaper cut into squares and hung up with string. There were lots of cobwebs and spiders. I didn’t like it and used it only occasionally.

There was gaslight which popped when you lit the overhead light and emitted a bluey-green light, nowhere near as efficient as the electric but it was the only form of light in the cottage, apart from candles for every other room.

Water was collected from the standpipe at the front of the cottage and stored in a baby’s bath in the larder – but I do remember the taste of this water. It was lovely and soft water and tasted almost sweet, much better than the water from the taps these days.

I remember the milk being collected in milk-churns from the old farm opposite, when it was a farm.

I would go with my grandfather to his allotment, positioned where the houses in Stonebridge Road and School Close are built now.

By 1953, the year of the Coronation, I was living in Harwell. What a wet day that was. I walked to the Village Hall with my Father. As I was little I was allowed to sit on a small wooden bench at the front of the hall. We watched a mute television screen with a picture in black and white. I don’t remember much about the coronation except the rain and walking to the hall, but I do remember when the young Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh embarked on a tour of Britain driving past in a large black car. I stood on the side of the road and watched her drive past in Harwell. I think they were on their way to Abingdon.

I remember the big steam trains of the 50s. They were nearly always black and puffed out black smuts that landed on the washing, much to everyone’s disgust! I used to sit on the stile in Little Lane with my cousin collecting train numbers. Little Lane in those days led over the railway line to Castle Street and Jacques Bakery – what delicious smells were emitted from that bakery! On bakery delivery days Mr. Jacques would just open the front door and shout – long gone are those days of leaving doors unlocked and children in prams and pushchairs outside shops, knowing they would be safe and unmolested well strapped in with a harness.