A Chiddingly history by William Chives

Bluebells and Wood Anemonies
We shall need to take another stroll northwards this time. Come, we pass the Old Mill, the Stream Farm, fifty yards down the road, over the little bridge we take a short cut, up over the banky field to the road which we take past The Holdens round to Greywood Lane, "There in that pit?". No, that is where the stones were dug for the Parish Church centuries ago. "Yes", on up the hill, when we pass Scotland Barn. Why Scotland I fail to know. Ah, here it is called Scotland Dell, sometimes called Bluebell Dell, for look at that lovely blue carpet there, and the first in the parish. Anemonies too, galore.

Starting at Chiddingly School
And yet again I have wandered back in thought and lost myself in sweet memories of the past, thus having given verse to explain those memories. I will return to my first day at school at Chiddinglye. I feel to tell all of the many things during my whole school days would prove a bore and indeed be irksome. That being so, I will touch as briefly as I can on the major points. My first day at school I never shall forget, what boy does? With one and a half miles to walk I must needs start soon after eight to reach the school by nine. A thing which my mother always told me to remember was "punctuality". I think I was late twice and well I knew it, I had to write out (after school time) "I must not be late", 100 times the first time, and on the second occasion twice that number.

The school in those days was used near the Church, which is now used as Village Hall, the new Council schools being erected at Muddles Green in .... but I only had six years and a half at school, staring at the age of seven and leaving when thirteen and three months. To begin at the first day, I was taken into the Infants room and stood in front of all the other classes, and given a book to read from aloud. I shall never forget the Governess' look when she said "Look here children, here's a new boy, his first day at school. We will see if he can read well enough to join the top class". (Now it is only right to state that my mother had schooled me at home each day.)

As I stood looking at that page she had given me to read from, at the end of the book, she very nicely said "Ah, as I thought he cannot read", so she shouted out, "Read, boy, or maybe you don't know your A.B.C." At that, having read the whole of the page to myself, I read the greater part without looking at the book, "Oh", the good lady said, "I see, well read this, a Nursery Rhyme", really the very thing I revelled in reading verses. Having read three through, she turned to the others and said, "There, children, that's the proper way to read, mind your stops and sound your Hs." She then sent for a book of Standard I in the next room, which I mastered with ease. That having done, she said "Follow me", and so I was taken to the Head (her hushand). I found myself in Standard II when playtime came, and at the end of the week in Standard III.

There I stuck for two years. Fractions and decimals puzzled me, when given sums of them to do. Try e'en as hard as e'er I might, those wretched sums would not come right. I always worked sums out in my head and got the answer first, then I could put the working out down quite quickly and easily.

The calling of the Registers
It was with wonderment that I listened for Chives, William Charles. The fact that all the surnames were called before the Christian puzzled me. Should any child arrive at the school door after the bell rang (and lines being drawn in perfect straightness after which all marched in single file), the door was locked. After which (if even within the yard) there was an unfortunate child arriving half a minute late, he or she would be kept waiting outside at the King's pleasure, so to speak, the Head's pleasure, wet or fine. Sometimes till after the Registers were marked.

Woe betide such, for the penalty was up to 500 lines to write out after schooltime. I remember one of my pals having to do so, on one occasion, and he thought to help him after schooltime he would do half of it during the dinnertime, but his hopes were dashed to the ground, for when having written the remaining 250, the Head said "Oh, how very smart to do it so quickly, now you can sit down and write, 'I must not be deceitful' 250 times", having to walk 2 miles home afterwards.

Another instance of disciplinary measure being made use of happened one afternoon when the 4th standard was formed into a circle, to study the products of the manufacturing towns of England. When Birmingham was mentioned, as being one of the chief towns for iron and steel products, the Head was telling us of the many things made there. "In fact", said he, "anything from a brass button to a steam engine is made there." Now his eye had caught a girl whose attention was taken up by the class close by, and to see how much she had heard, he shouted, "Olive Charman,what do they make in Birmingham?" "Brass buttons into steam engines, Sir" came the quick reply. Needless to say, there came a little tittering from all the class. "Go and fetch my cane", to the girl, whereupon she received three strokes with it, and was told to write out, "I must mind my own business" 500 times after school, having then to walk to the cottage, opposite Lime Kilns Farm (now Little Bridges) and the cottage, "Rose Cottage", Chalvington, a distance of some two and a half miles.

There was never a shortage of so-called canes at school in my time there, as the Head often called out a couple of the biggest boys to go down to the wood at the bottom of the field joining the school playground, Coneybury Wood (or Canterbury) as some would call it, the former being the right name. And was those sticks made of cane, it oft proved otherwise, especially as the knots were left rather badly trimmed off. Also being green they fell very heavy upon those who were unfortunate to receive punishment therefrom. Now there was one boy (whose name I will refrain from mentioning) as it is not good etiquette to "tell tales out of school" - that lad would watch for the chance of grabbing those sticks after a few days had elapsed, for having a new stock, he, the Head, would lavish punishment upon the slightest offender. This procedure would always upset the better feelings of this said boy, who, having secured those canes (so-called) would split them to pieces, or burn them.

This boy came from a very hardy, and iron-willed family. That being so, he could take all the Head gave him, without flinching. Many a time he has had all forms of punishment to make him cry, but not once did the Head bring him to tears. There is a good deal that I could disclose to that boy's credit. He was ever looking around to see that the smaller ones was dealt justly with by the older ones. Woe betide that boy who dared to take advantages over a smaller one. H... would lead him round the playground by his ear, squeezing it all the time, while the culprit yelled for mercy. Very often too, I have seen H... cast a certain look at the Head, when dealing punishment to a small boy or girl, and that look soon bore fruit. Many a boy and girl has H... to thank for that for, truth to tell, the Head was 75% afraid of him. True discipline with kindness would oft overcome that boy but never brute force.

Drills of the old time Volunteers
The Head belonged to the old time Volunteers, and each year would go for a fortnight's training, and did we get a drilling after he came back. Every boy and girl should have passed into Girl Guides and Boy Scouts as far as drills were concerned, had such existed in those days. Fall in, Right or Left Dress (as the order was given), Eyes Right or Left. Then he would proceed to end of the line (with a thick book in hand often) and woe betide the boy or girl who was a least bit out of line. I myself received a sudden surprise in the back of my head with that book once, which sent me flat on my face which temporarily robbed me of consciousness, which gave the Head good cause for fear. However, I never received such a second time.

When I look back over those days, I often wonder how we stuck it, but discipline is the backbone of the British Army, we were told by the Head, and it certainly went a long way to having his orders obeyed, but it also bred a dread of punishment in many a boy's or girl's heart. I also remember on one occasion after having returned from Sheffield Park where the yearly training of the Volunteers was carried out. Mr Bailey our Head seemed to have passed through a great stage of fire or trial. He seemed to be transformed, all that firey look was gone from his eyes, when giving us orders to fall into line. But a few days later, we were acquainted with true facts of the cause, for it was with the look of a broken man that he told us how that, while carrying out instructions of firing or blasting at the training a few days previous, one of his fellow Volunteers was killed before his eyes (Mr. Tingley from Ripe). That day he told us of it, he went to the funeral.

The Head's Children
There are just two things which I always remember concerning the youngest of the Head's children. I often wonder why such things of minor importance will insist upon hanging in one's memory. Also I remember my mother told me, that in the case which I am about to mention, the child could have had clear speech, had a slight operation been carried out when he began talking at first. She said he was tongue-tied. Now this boy could never sound the letter R nor F. When quite young he often played in the Village with a certain little girl who lived opposite the Six Bells Inn, whose name was Florrie Brook (I know she would not mind me using her name as we have often laughed about it since). Whenever the boy wanted her to come out to play, he would call out, "Mrs. Bwook, is Po-ie coming out to pay", meaning of course, is Flowie for Florrie.

And again on one occasion he had tried to sharpen his pocket knife, whereupon he called to his older brother Frank (who he would call Frankie), "I say, Panckney, you feel my knife. It tuts like a lazer", meaning it cut like a razor. It seemed that he could use the letter R at the end of a word sometimes, but not at the beginning or in the middle. That reminds me of yet another boy who I have heard (not long since) say he liked a certain thing a little but not a lot, he didn't like it much. Actually what he said was (when speaking to him), "I don't yike it much". (Again I think a slight operation would put it right).

I go to make one (a fool it seemed afterwards, of myself too) at a Cricket Match between Chiddingly Boys Team and Horeham Road Team
The Head's son aged about 12-13 who was Captain, came and asked me if I would go. I said, well I have never played the game of cricket in my life, neither had I how-sum-ever, as the old Sussex used to say here (meaning, of course, however). I agreed to go but told him that he mustn't grumble if I did wrong as I did not even know the rules of the game. We were keeping pretty well tie, as they say in score, but I went in the next to last. The ball came hurtling up the pitch to me and I caught it on the edge of my bat, which caused it to roll about 8 yards in front of me.

Now always baving been told to be polite (and sporty, as we say nowadays) I stepped out, picked the ball up, and tossed it to the wicket keeper. "Ah", I see you are laughing you boys, what boy would not, that knows cricket. I forget which side won that day. Well you imagine what shouts there were hurled at me. Our captain shouts, "You silly fool". Anyway, before the season was out, he came to me again and asked me to go to play against East Hoathly but I said "No, silly fools can't play cricket". I know I was wrong to say it, and acknowledge it, but truth to tell I did no feel up to it for I had had little sleep for nearly a week through abcess in the drums of my ears.