A Chiddingly history by William Chives

Well, I will leave you to answer that, but after having beat the woods and hedge, also fields, all round Nash Street end of the property in the morning, we were all glad to have such a good lunch. I must say Mr Robert or Bob Griffen (then publican of the Golden Cross) certainly knew what cover beaters could eat. Also Mr David Gutsell of the Six Bells Inn prepared some excellent lunch for parties of all descriptions, sales included. Now I must explain that I had had some cold pickled pork for my breakfast which was rather salty, which made one thirsty and having no drink all the morning I was ready for a good drink at lunchtime.

Now for some unknown reason there was no minerals at the lunch that day, and I had never tasted beer and so one of the men went to one of the cottages in the Burgh-hole (or rather, he said he had) and came to me with a tumbler with some cold tea - without milk in it. He said the good woman at the cottage had no milk. Well, I was simply longing for a drink, and thanked him for taking so much trouble. I raised the glass to my lips and I nearly emptied that tumbler before I noticed it was not cold tea. Well now, we will go back to the post of stop boy under the row of fir trees by Birch Wood, which are still there today. Well it seemed to me that I must have been there an hour, but no doubt it was less, when I fell asleep at foot of tree.

The first I heard was a gunshot not far from me inside the wood. I sprang up and then there was a real succession of shots. I saw 10 birds brought down round me. The Gentleman who came out of the wood in front of me said, "Well done, my lad. You are a first class stop". I smiled, thinking he would have thought so if he had found me asleep. Truth to tell, all the birds had come to my corner as it was quiet. The other boys had kept up their tapping on the trees and hedge. I was starting to tell him I'd been to sleep, but was called by another Gentleman to whom he called 10 birds here round about. I thought, "yes, thanks to that cold tea, not me".

Now snow was beginning to fall fast, which made it musky overhead. It was decided that the day's sport was at an end. We all then went to the Golden Cross Inn where we were paid, one shilling and sixpence [8p]per boy and a rabbit each, the men two shillings and sixpence [13p]with a rabbit. The snow was halfway up to my knees by this time and while getting into the grass to let someone pass with a willicky horse, I tripped over, one hand I had my rabbit in swinging along, the other was gripping my 1/6d in my breeches pocket, but on tripping over I snatched it out quickly to regain my balance. On reaching Pound Cottage gate I put my hand to grasp my pay, but the shilling was missing. So I goes back to find it but no, I was not lucky enough, "and that's for going to sleep" I thought.

I was bitterly disappointed as my mother said I should have the sixpence towards a new Sunday suit. Well, I just couldn't take it, as I knew she was badly in need of it just then, but I had a job turning up the following Saturday at the Dicker. Mr Wm Ashdown, tea merchant and grocer, wanted me to go over every Saturday to deliver groceries and tea (he specialised in tea). For the day's work I received a good hot dinner, tea and 6d [3p]. I lived at Muddles Green then, so I used to go across the footpath (public) turning in at the cottages below, where the old iron dump is at the present time (that being used for making government ammunition at bottom of Burgh Hill - S East, 1941), and which is a short cut to Nash Street, coming out of the wood on to the road close to Brook Cottages.

I turned into another public footpath opposite the old workhouse. Mr Thomas Hamper had it at that time, who by the way was a second-hand dealer. He was noted for his collection of things. One day two local men were talking about their requirements when one of them said to the other, "If I was you I should go up to see old Tom Hamper, he could fit you but I bet. He is hard to beat for collecting things. He has anything you like to ask for." Said the other, "Well, I bet he hasn't got a coffin, I be given [?] to see, when I call dere for my other thing." But Mr Hamper could supply his need (with odd tools in it). "Now be-in as how you have got dat, what about a poulpit (pulpit)?" "Yes, here's one in here." "Well, I be danged," said the man, "I lost my bob bet."

Now having turned into the bar-way or heavegaite as the old folks call them I proceeded over towards the main Dicker and came out where the footpath does now, below Mr Siplet's wheelwright's shop, now carried on by Mr Ernest Lade. I usually got up early Saturdays and cut my morning wood, and arrived at Mr Ashdown's about 9, sometimes in the summer months at 8. Now I remember on one occasion asking Mr Ashdown's mother (Mrs Alfred Parks) if her old house Willow Cottage (which stood almost on the spot where the Willow Stores, or Cafe, as it is now, stands, was in Chiddingly. She said, "No, my boy, but my plat (or plot) is out the back, so now you know where (according to her estimation) the two parishes Chiddingly and Hellingly join."

Mrs Parks was an old lady of 80, so she should know. Mr Ashdown, her son, had the cottage with a small shop at the end of it farther up the road, actually where Mr Jesse Scrase lives now - The Croft. Now have you ever harnessed a pony, my friend? Yes? Well I had not, and one Saturday morning Mr Ashdown asked me to harness his pony, Tom, and put him in the cart while he got his goods looked up. I was struggling to get that Tom into the shafts when Mr A came out and he broke into a fit of laughing. I had not got the shafts up yet off the ground, when he called out, "I think we had better have the collar on the other way, Billie. Tom won't like it so well that way round." If I had given it a thought, I had seen the horses ploughing at different times, but I was too intent on getting Tom into the cart before he came out.

Another incident which happened to me while working there, was this. I was sent out to feed the hens in the field by the house where I found there was a very greedy rooster. He kept pecking at the hens to drive them away. I stuck it as long as I could, then I thought to scare him a bit. Now, have you ever had the misfortune to throw and hit anything, when you did not really want to do so? Well, I did, the mixing stick in the pail had a hard knob of sour meal on the end of it almost as large as an hen's egg. Well I skimmed it at that greedy brute to scare him, but alas it hit him right behind his head. He rolled over, then got up and ran a few feet away, then dropped like a stone.

Now I was in a pretty fix. I went and told Mr Ashdown what I had done. Of course, he was angry, and said, "that bird was worth 6/- [30p] so you will have no money for 12 weeks." You can imagine how I felt, but when leaving that night Mrs Ashdown said, "Here, Billie, here is 6d from me. You will have your money the same but don't let Mr A know," (he was out), she said, "Your mother needs all she can get to clothe and feed you. You should have higher pay if I had my way."

The windmill on the Dicker was owned at that time, or at any rate ran by him and the wind, by Mr Benjamin Hide. I have often gone over to watch it working. I think it was a good deal taller than the Golden Cross one, used many years by Mr Ebenezer Wickens, a kindly old Gentleman. His son, Mr Ernest Wickens, used it many years after his father's death. He too was well known by Chiddingly people for he always had a smiling face, but he too has passed on. The windmill on the Dicker and also the Golden Cross one have been sadly missed by many people. The Dicker windmill was blown down in a gale in the year .... The Golden Cross one was badly in need of repair throughout, which repairs would have cost almost the price of building a new one, so it was taken down in year .... but the brick bases of both mills are still standing and being used today as meal stores.

Mr Ezra Wickens too was a well-known figure in Chiddingly for many years. He was a true pattern for any man for he was always ready to help anyone in distress and many a family could tell of his kindness while on his rounds delivering the daily bread. But he was smitten down in the prime of life by an accident while out shooting, being badly injured by a shot from one of the guns which was the cause of his early death in the end. There were several instances of their men rendering long service under Mr Wickens. The well-known loader, Mr Charles Goldsmith, still works for the firm at light duties after having served 43 years there.

I gain position as Paper Boy while on half time at school, having passed my examinations
I was about 12 years of age, or 13, when I was offered the post of paperboy, but I had no need to cry out as the town news boys do, "Morning or Evening Paper, all the Litest") for my duties consisted of fetching the papers from Horeham Road (now Horam) and bringing them to Chiddingly Post Office and Stores, which was owned by Noakes Brothers, Mr James and Mr Henry Noakes. Now I added to my income three shillings weekly, being on half time at school, for which I passed my exams. I could tell a very great deal of which I saw while holding that post, but I will tell only of those of most interest.

It seems a very little while ago, that I started that job which was my real start of life in a good many ways. I had to start from home by 7.30 each morning to arrive at the said station (3½ miles walk) in time to sort out the periodicals, which had arrived overnight, before the 8.45 came up from Eastbourne with the daily papers. I had several papers to dispose of around the station (on Saturdays I had to go up to Stillions Towers near Maynards Green), delivering at every house on the way home but one other days, and Saturdays that one I called at as well. Now, to do so, and arrive back at Chiddingly Post Office at 10 o'clock, I had to look slippy as we used to say, but that was the time I was expected to be there (walking all the way) in which case I received a whole biscuit as recompense (a Brighton or a Bath biscuit), one does not see them now. Those biscuits would just cover the palm of my hand I remember.

Then I would deliver at certain houses in the village, always at the Six Bells Inn where often the cheerful wife of the Publican, Mr David Wickens, would say, "Good morning, Billie boy. A bottle of Stone ginger beer to help that biscuit down?" Needless to say, I never refused after a 7 mile walk, plus in and outs to houses and all for 6d a morning, but I was earning something now. Each morning but Saturdays, I would cut down across the public footpath, (I underline public because lots of those footpaths will vanish soon as a public right of way, but I hope to make a list of all I know and have them printed out, for those who come after me) from Stone Hill top to the Old Stream Mill, which leads to the top of Honeywick Lane, then turn in again through the brickyard (which Mr Charles Benge owned or hired in those days, but is no longer a brickyard situated opposite the Lower Lodge House at the entrance to Hilders Court).

By the way, that right of way has been altered three times to my knowledge. Passing up over the Parsonage Meadows to come out right opposite the Post Office. On Saturdays, I had to use a truck or handcart, as I had two sacks full of papers, which meant I had to keep to the road down Stonehill via the Bulls, turning right at the top of Bulls Hill (sometimes called Poets Hill) which brought me to Honeywick Corner. On reaching the bottom of Honeywick, I had to keep to the road, via Parsonage Farm and the Place Corner, on up to Post Office. I remember I was grumbled at several times on a wet Saturday because I was late in getting back, 10.30 or 11 o'clock. Now when I look back I wonder often how I did it in the time, having to push my truck (which I made myself out of a sugar box, which Mr James Noakes charge me 3d for), and a pair of perambulator wheels, which I paid 6d for complete with axle.

I tried once or twice bringing my truck through the fields but found the footbridge at the mill flooded over, which meant I had to go back or go round through the Stream Farm adding a good half mile to my journey, for I couldn't put my sacks of papers down (as I could when dry) to carry my truck over first. Then there were all stiles to mount. "Yes" I often wonder how I did all that for 6d but I was happy, I was earning, and what boy is not thrilled when starting to work.

I began my duties in the middle of September. At the following Christmas I was surprised to find most people had a Christmas box waiting for me, and on counting them all up I found I had 15 shillings and 3d [76p]. Not bad for only having done it three months. Mr Noakes gave me a new 6d I remember, that being included in the amount mentioned above. The following Christmas I did even better, that amounting to £1 2s 6d [£1.13] and a rabbit. I gave the job up in the following March whereupon I was told by six or eight different people to apply for a reference to them if I ever needed one. I remember all of them well even today. Today the news boys receive 10/- [50p] per week to start with, plus a bicycle to ride. I heard one grumbling a few years ago because he was only getting 10/- a week and did 2 hours hard slogging for it. I said, "Well, you are slogging true my boy, but why do you try to hold yourself back all the while."

He had a large hole in each bag and the papers were rubbing the spokes of the back wheel. In fact, I wondered if folks got half a paper to read. I told him to tie his bags up over the carrier; the answer? "Oh. I shall get a new bag if I can wear this one out quick." I wondered what Christmas boxes he got, also if he kept his job long enough to get a new bag. I knew one thing and told him so, that I should have been mighty glad to be getting 10/- a week when I was his age, saying nothing of the cycle to ride. I think I was the last one to walk for the papers.

Now let us see what old memories we can recall, by naming the various ones which was printed then. Daily Mail, Daily Chronicle, Telegraph, Morning Leader, Daily Express, The Times, The Observer, Weekly Times and Echo, Southern Weekly, Lloyds Weekly, West Sussex Gazette, East Sussex Advertiser, Farmer and Stockbreeder, Farm & Home, Farm Field & Fireside, Home Notes, The Family Friend, The Family Herald, Home Chat, Home Companion, Hobbies, Financial News, The Standard, Good old, Ally Sloper, Chips, Comic Cuts, Coloured Comic, Scraps, The Stock Exchange, I all remember well. There were a good many which the grooms had from me at the Park racing stables not mentioned here.

Count Monksonoski or Monksonosky had it then and afterwards (I think I am right) Reid Walker took it. After him came Mr Hutchins I believe, then Mr Wright, Church Warden of our Parish Church. I also did a good bit of carrying parcels of all sizes from the station for people. Many a pair of boots I've brought too. In fact, I often earned more at that than I got for the paper work, as there was no delivery much in those days. I just remember the days when everyone had to go and fetch their goods from the shops, and I mentioned to a young friend of mine, only today (22nd November l941) how that my wife's mother said that her mother used to walk from the old Millhouse Cottages, here at the Golden Cross, in to Lewes and back Saturdays to do her shopping. On wet days she wore pattens with wooden soles, and irons on the bottoms.

There were no buses then, but nowadays folks are often heard complaining of having to walk to the buses. Several men I knew in my young days would walk 4 miles to work and home again each night and be off to bed at 8 or 9 o'clock, and earlier in the winter, and up again at 4 in the morning. No whist drives, dances, or pictures in those days. Truly England as well as other nations has fell to pleasure seeking. One will often hear this remark at a dance: "Time? Oh, it is only one am. Time's young yet." I said there were no dances, well there certainly was dancing and merry making times after a wedding, Harvest Home and at Christmas, but they jolly well earned it, I think you will agree with me on that.

Carters were up in their stables mostly at 4.30 am to give their horses time to enjoy their breakfast while they had theirs, and always a nosebag hung on the harness for lunch. Horses too were often taken off the machines or ploughs at noon and their collars stuck up in the sun to dry to prevent them getting sore withers. But what do we see today, dirty harness and the horses left hitched to the plough, very often all the dinner time, not in all cases I admit, but a very great number are treated so. I am glad for that reason that horses are not used so much for farm work for how ever hard tractors are worked they do not feel it the same as the horses do "our dumb friends".