WATER END UPSTREAM, DOWNSTREAM. By George Appleby

Water End Brompton is where my roots took hold in the early hours of 27th November 1928 and "Water End Upstream, Downstream" is my attempt to pass on to my descendants and others an understanding of where I came from and how my life developed from there as a small part of their heritage. The best way I can give you an understanding of why I chose this title is to start with the "Foreword" to the story. (All Pictures in this story kindly contributed by George Appleby) Read George's YorkPress blog

FOREWORD by George himself, pictured recently below.

Agatha Ann Bradley was born in Water End, Brompton, Northallerton in North Yorkshire in 1882. and was married in 1902 to John Hoare, a returning English/Irish professional soldier from the Boar War. She was a tower of strength in the family and influenced my life a great deal in my formative years. Agatha, my mothers mother, was my strongest link with my roots, she enriched my life greatly into my late teens and I always enjoyed a special place in her affections from the day I was born because I was the first of a new generation in her life. She favoured boys. For this reason, I look upon Agatha as being symbolic of Water End, where she and I were both born; our ancestors as symbolic of Upstream, and the generations which followed her, like myself, as symbolic of Downstream like the waters of the beck which run through the village to the Wiske, then to the Swale and on to the Ouse in York and beyond. I cannot imagine how different it would have been for me without Water End and it's people, or that there would be a time when people would not want to live there. A place gets it's character from the people who inhabit it just as, in part, the character of its people develop special qualities from the places they 'belong to'. The life blood of a place flows through the veins of its people and when you leave it and the people you knew are no longer there when you return, you are almost returning to another place. Therefore, I think it is very important that I try to give my reader an idea of the people and times of the village I knew and still know. It provides an essential background to my story.

HOW I PUT TOGETHER "WATER END UPSTREAM, DOWNSTREAM"

Cockpit Hill looking to Water End 1958. I started work in my school days during the war, as the oldest of five children, from our council house home in York. In the garden, harvesting on farms, paper rounds, delivery boy, sorting Christmas mail at the post office, mushrooming at 4 am and selling them to neighbours with flowers from our garden, cleaning windows (without insurance) and, as often as I could, going to Brompton where I helped my uncle, Danny Hoare, in his fruit and veg business, as much as I could. In 1993, aged 65, I had come to the end of an enjoyable, busy working life which had always involved me dealing directly with people. My bosses could not let me work on because of company policy and I needed an interest to take the place of what I was loosing. My wife Sylvia, who had always been in sole command at home because of my long hours and regular absence with work, was very much in agreement when I decided to research my family history and present the results in the most interesting way I could for our children, theirs, family and friends. During the next 4 years, A lot of my spare time was spent in the North Yorkshire Records Office, the Borthwick Institute in York and libraries at Northallerton, York and Tang Hall. I amassed boxes of hand written notes, leaflets and other material and the most interesting was sorted into sequence with text and photos, edited and re-edited. Finally I put it together with the computer I got for my 70th birthday. I worked on it during the next 3 years, adding new material as it came up until I decided to finish it off with lists of the births, marriages and burials of our nearest ancestors from my research. Result; 7 volumes, each containing 3 parts of 25 - 30 pages ... which can be seen in printed form at Northallerton, York central and Tang Hall reference libraries. CDs of PDF versions can also be seen at York Central and Tang Hall. Starting with my next posting, I will post excerpts with pictures, and hope you will find them interesting. -----------------------------------------------------------

Water End

Upstream,

Downstream©

By George Appleby.
Volume 1. Part 1.
The life story of the author and his family, from his roots in Brompton near Northallerton, early life in York and travels in his sales career before returning to Yorkshire.
The 7 volumes of Water End Upstream, Downstream. each had 3 parts with about 25xA4 pages. Most of my research centred around my grandma Agatha's parents' family, the Bradleys, because I was thought of by many as one of hers. Some called me George Hoare, her married name. I will take excerpts from the parts to give an idea of the sequence of the story.

About Part 1.

The Brigantes, Saxons, Romans, Danes, Vikings, Scots, and Normans all left their mark on the area and I tried to get a feel of these times to start the story off. It was as much about the place as it was about the people who shaped it in their own time. Constantine ruled the Roman Empire from York, just 32 miles away, and his garrisons were at Catterick and all around.
Alcuin, Bede and King Alfred put much of our early history on record. King Edgar 959 - 975 created a common currency with his own silver penny, anointed himself the first King of all England, created the counties, which lasted very much unchanged until 1974 and Aldermen, still with us. He made a register of everybody’s assets for tax purposes, also used by William the first and later. Harold marched north to repel the Danes before marching back to confront William and taking one in the eye at Hastings.
William had trouble with our northern ancestors and, after two on the spot warnings, came back to put a grisly end to it with what came to be known as the 'Harrying of the North'. What this meant was that he laid waste to the area between York and Durham, killing 100,000, leaving them to rot, burning their homes, crops and stock in 1069 and creating peace in a wilderness. 17 years later he updated King Edgar's register of assets with his own 'Doomsday Book', making direct comparisons and the full extent of the damage he had inflicted was still there for us to see.
The Scots were regular raiders and got their biggest comeuppance within sight of the village some time later.
Many Kings passed through the area with their armies and it was a well established stopping off place for provisions, horses and supplies. Signs of this still remained when I was a boy and Lancaster's field, at the bottom of Cockpit Hill just past Candy Windress's paper shop, was full of horses destined for Catterick. It had a pond half way up, with eels, and was used for sledging.

Retta with sledge on Lancasters field at bottom of Cockpit hill on right, in Water End ---------------------------------------------------------------

The Doomsday book 1086 AD

(Land of the King.) ----------------------------------------------------------------

Read as Aluertune funt

------------------------------------------------------------- Read as Northallerton

------------------------------------------------------------ Read as Brinton

------------------------------------------------------------ Read as Brompton

The comparisons which were shown in the Doomsday Book
only served to highlight the serious long term damage which he
had inflicted upon his own domain seventeen years earlier.
Rejuvenation was going to be very very slow indeed. 1086 was
the year of the book and it showed some progress in small
pockets, but the overall picture was still one of desolation.
William's commissioners had done a good job. They had covered
the country from top to bottom and listed the names of
Landowners and tenants alike, the extent of the lands they held,
the woods, meadows, fisheries and mills. It was also noted how
many plough men the holdings employed and the crops they
would produce. All Demesne (moor land), Berewicks(small
holdings) and Sokes(a district where milling rights are held) were
assessed in detail for taxes. A very tidy job of stitching everybody
up for a long time to come, with a sound basis on which to update
from time to time as required. Most of all, it shows us now, in
detail, the amount of damage inflicted on the areas and places we
know so well.
Nowt left from York to Durham.
Brompton, Northallerton and the surrounding area were still
wasted, as the book puts it, HOC EST WASTA. (NOTHING, NOWT,
NOBODY) No Applebys, Bradleys, Joblings, Hoares or anybody
elses. Life had to start again from scratch and there weren't such
things as development grants. All that existed were wolves, wild
boar, red deer and robbers. Not by the names I have just
mentioned! The North Riding was valued, in tax terms. 20 years
earlier at £924.01s. Each ploughman was worth 3/-. Its total book
value in 1086 was now £184.2s.8d. (You'll have to get your
parents to work that out for you in decimal terms). In short, it was
now worth only 20% of its value 20 years earlier. Of 193 manors
in the honour of Richmond, which had been a present to Count
Alan of Brittany from William, 108 were still totally wasted and all
above Aysgarth was a howling wilderness still. No point in setting
off to Askrig, Bainbridge or Hawes market. Similarly to Wensley,
Middleham, Coverham, Leyburn and another 20 manors in the
lower dale. Reeth, Marwick and Gilling were the same in
Swaledale, except for seven plough men between them, but at
least there were some scant signs of recovery in its early stages.
Not so in Upper Teesdale where there had been work for 71
ploughs in Barningham and Wycliffe alone, now in 1086
everywhere was still waste.
The Vales of York and Mowbray were terribly dealt with.
There had been 30 ploughs each at Pickhill and Burnestone but
still now only one between them, rendering 3/-. The King's own
township of Northallerton and its' 11 Berewicks and 24 sokes,
previously worth £90, and the Bishop of Durham's manor at
Brompton which had yielded 40/- a year were still worth nowt, as
were those of the Archbishop of York, (departed at the first signs
of attack), The Abbot of St. Mary's at York was one of the very few
leniently dealt with for some reason (William may have been
concerned about his afterlife). The Abbot’s lands at Kirbymoorside
had been spared and had increased in value by 660%, which
shows that viable land and property had increased and the losses
of those who suffered were much larger even than could be
shown by the book.


------------------------------------------------------------

Events leading up to the Battle of the Standard 1138

This was just at the time when the worst effects of William's Harrying of the North had passed and the feel good factor was beginning to return. The city of Bath also experienced a serious fire at the time and the Cathedral at Rochester burnt down. People still weren't happy about having to live under the Normans and, with all the other problems, they certainly weren't feeling good. The last thing they wanted was to have King David and his lot calling regularly. Thurston, the Archbishop of York, was fed up to the teeth with everything and decided to try and change things. He was a man of high standards so he built one and nailed the banners of St. Peter of York, St. Cuthbert of Durham, St. John of Beverley and St. Wilfred of Ripon to it. He then did a selling job on the locals to fight and die for it if necessary, and urged the other Bishops and Barons to gather their loyal armies around them and meet him at Thirsk to confront King David's lot and put them in their places once and for all. After three days of taking oaths and fasting in devotion at York (Psyching themselves up), they all met at Thirsk. Thurston handed the chair to an up and coming Bishop of the Orkneys, of all places, and went back to York on some excuse or other (he wasn't daft, our Thurston). Anyway the young Bishop; Ralph was his name, delivered a motivational speech I have never heard the better of, and I was a salesman all my working life. It listed all their previous successes in battle and the foes they had beaten, then likened the Scots armies to be no more than Irish rabble, and promised all who fell in the cause a direct ticket to paradise. Battle of the Standard 1138 AD at Brompton; Wash day, Monday 22nd August. "Right" he said, "off we go to Brompton to meet and beat the Scottish hordes" or words to that effect. It was wash day when they arrived at Brompton on Monday the 22nd of August, and set up shop on the highest point at Standard Hill Farm as it is called today. "We'll put the standard up here on this cart and invite them to knock it down", he shouted and attached a silver box containing the sacraments of the Roman Church and a crucifix. This was the grandest standard they had ever seen and all were sure that King David didn't stand a cat in hell's chance of matching it. In fact, when they did arrive, all they had to rally round was a cheap bunch of dead heather they'd picked on the way, tied to the end of a long pike. Scots! Always on the cheap. The whole of the local male population, often badly armed and protected, had been recruited to join up with Stephen's force from the south. The men at arms on both sides were well equipped with armour and the best weapons of the day, astride chargers. The Scottish lowland foot soldiers carried long pikes and were very skilled in their use. The dreaded men of Galloway were astride their sturdy ponies, and their savage ferocity and love of slaughter was well known. They were at the forefront of the assault, by their own insistence. A total attacking force of 27,000 faced Brompton men and youths who were there to repel them on that day and I have found no evidence that Applebys, Bradleys and Joblings weren't amongst them, (that's the way they put it nowadays, isn't it ?). It's not so far fetched. I know there were Applebys in the village in the 1500s, nearly 500 years ago, so 400 years before that is a distinct possibility. Unfortunately there were no rolls of honour to tell us. The Standard was protected in depth on all sides by men sworn to defend it with their lives against the mixture of attacking hordes, equally intent on its capture. The English front line, as so often in our mediaeval history, was made up of peasant bowmen and yeomen of the wolds and forests, protected by dismounted Norman Knights and foot soldiers. Insulted by the taunts of being no better than Irish, the Galwegians bore down in relentless waves on the massed defenders, inflicting massive damage and forcing a split in the outer defences, but they had to retreat under the clouds of shafts launched against them. King David's son Henry and nephew William led a cavalry charge of picked Knights to rescue the beleaguered Galwegians, who chose not to wear armour. They put to flight the grooms who guarded the mounts of the dismounted English knights at the rear, but failed to bore through to the standard and open the way through for the Scottish Lowlanders and Highlanders with their pikes, spears, double handed claymores and Danish battle axes. Before the Scots could capitalise on the confusion, the English regrouped and, after 2 hours of desperate combat, the resumption of the deadly rain of arrows and the untrue rumour that their King had perished, the brave Galwegians could take no more and turned in panic. This spread through the ranks to those who had yet to strike a blow and the whole attack broke up in disarray as they fled the field, leaving their baggage behind them on the moor, as it was then. (Cowton Moor). Hence the nickname given of 'The Battle of Baggamoor'. Over half the original force died, more In flight than on the battle field. They were slaughtered like lambs in the fields and woods where they hid. King David protected the retreat of his disordered remnants with only 19 of his 200 mailed knights carrying their harness from the field. Fifty were taken prisoner. There was no time to plunder on their return journey home, those who were able to make it were glad to do so. Walk out of Brompton towards Deighton, over the railway for a mile past Redhill on the left, over Redhill Bank where the blood ran in rivers. There also is Scotspit Lane where many of the dead lie buried, leading to Standard Hill Farm where the centre of the battle raged around their standard that day and many local men fought and fell. They won much needed peace and prosperity for years to come for those living between York and the Scottish border. The Scots were quiet for more than 3 decades following, and in the years 1160 and 1171 Malcolm and Henry, successors of King David came to York with their Barons and High Churchmen to pay homage to Henry II at the first recorded Parliament in our history, held in York. All that I have written about here is as much a part of you as the nose on your face, and the places you know are as they are because of what has happened in the past. Everything resulting from earlier times, natural change and human conflict. Nothing has remained the same. Change is happening as we write or read and we tend to forget how things were. Stability is comfortable but change is inevitable, so go with it but keep in touch with the past if you can. We are now in a world where major changes happen by the second and it is hard to keep up, particularly as you get older. In the past, it happened slowly and there was time to get used to things. Looking ahead at the possibilities we know of, never mind the ones we don't know of, I think there is going to be a lot of comfort to be gained from our past. In the quiet moments when you aren't chasing the future, read on and look back occasionally. --------------------------------------------------

Tithe map of Brompton 1841

The map was surveyed in 1837 by Hirst of Darlington and is dated 1841. It can be seen at the Borthwick Institute of History Research, York University and is known as Map of Brompton near Northallerton Ref: 860 VL. It is rolled on a six foot long pole and accompanied by a book showing all ownerships and tenancies for the whole parish of Brompton. I RANG THEM A DAY BEFORE, FOR THEM TO HAVE TIME TO GET IT OUT, AND HAD IT TO MYSELF IN A SEPARATE ROOM WITH A TABLE BIG ENOUGH TO OPEN IT OUT. I did that on March 9 1998 and traced an area of the main village area, actual size, within A4 size and made notes of a few entries which you may find interesting. They gave me written permission to use it in the way I have. You may be able to do the same. They have many interesting booklets about their subjects too. SOME OF THE TYTHES. Plot 813 & 814 John Langdale to Sir R M Roffe. 818, where the Village pub is now, owned by George Geldard let to Charles Walker. 816 James Jobling to James Jobling, probably his son. 608, Robert Robinson to Sarah Boston. 623 Rev Wm Middleton to John Smith. 626 J. Stephenson ( who also had the flour mill seen in mid road Water End) to John Smith. 634 Wm Brown to Wm Tutin. 577 - 580 Henry Lascelles, Earl of Harewood, 20 acres 2 perches to Christopher Stockhill. 974 to 982 Public roads and wastelands (roads and greens). 789 (2 and 4 Water End), with 787 (Lancasters field) and 786 the next one down to the Green Tree. John Dunning to Ralph and Elizabeth Bradley, my Great Great Great Grandparents, age 58. Ralph paid 15 shillings tythe for 5 acres 2 perches in tythe rents to the vicar of Northallerton on St Andrews Day. More recently, their great great grandson Danny Hoare (my uncle) owned property and land on that side of the beck. That was enough to get the me delving further. SOME EMPTY SPACES YET TO BE FILLED. In Water end. Footbridge where the road bridge was added for Claud Wilford's new car in 1912 and Cockpit Hill where the Temperance Hall and Primitive Chapel were to be put. In 627, 645, 660, 661 and 653 where the railway, station and coal yard,Wilfords and Pattison mills came in the 1850s. TWO BUILDINGS WHICH MADE WAY FOR THE MOTOR CAR. At the bottom of Cockpit Hill, the Stephenson flour mill in the middle of the road entering Water End. At Shop End, The Toll House in the middle of the road. You will see several more spaces filled or changed, I am sure. --------------------------------------------------------------

Union Workhouses

Having put some flesh onto the earlier gory past of our ancestors to show how far we and Brompton have come, I will skip through the middle ages with brief mention of events I researched, then concentrate on more recent ones into the lives and times of familiar family Brompton names and their activities. There followed armies to and from Scotland, mostly through Northallerton, the taking of captives like Wallace and Charles 1, kept at the old porched house opposite the church. The Crusades and 100 years French wars. The Roses and Civil War; many of their battles fought within a few miles of Brompton and all requiring involvement by its people. No quarter was given. 28,000 men under the Lancastrian flag, died at Towton in ten hours during a snowstorm on Palm Sunday 1461. 60 skeletons of men between 18 and 43, recently found in a mass grave, revealed that most had multiple heavy blows to their heads, whilst in kneeling or lying positions, from maces, ball hammers, flails and pole axe; deep sword wounds, daggers and arrows. Tudor times brought the establishment of the church under the monarchy and severing of ties with Rome. New religious, social and commercial thinking was released. The UK emerged, the English language flourished, and our democracy started to blossom as the beginnings of the British Empire took root. People left our shores for others around the world and the British way of life was spread far and wide. There were also Applebys In the Brompton parish records from 1618 to 1623, when witches were still burnt. Six christenings of children belonging to their father Henrici, with first names Johes, Jo, Willm, Christopherus, Xpoferus and Thomas (my granddad's), had surnames with different spellings; Applebi, Appleby, Applebie. It is very likely that Henrici was alive during the reign of Elizabeth 1st. but I have not established links. The starting point for our social security systems was made in 1603 with The Poor Law. Brompton had its own workhouse, raised its own poor rates and distributed them to the needy under the control of Church Wardens, Overseers and Workhouse keepers. The able paupers, were put to work on farms or in-house weaving with unused looms from those too old to use them. Little changed in life for ordinary people until after 1700 when rural land was enclosed; more crops grown so that breeding animals could be kept over winter. The economy was linked to the price of corn and the staple diet of the labouring classes was bread, ale and whatever they could produce themselves. In 1834 larger area Union Workhouses were built to serve several towns and parishes. What remains of the Northallerton Union Workhouse can be seen on the right as you enter the main entrance to the Friarage Hospital. A traced copy of the Union Workhouse ground floor plan from a 1851 York city map, was little changed until it became known as an infirmary within my lifetime. The plan illustrates the different groups catered for. Lunatics and idiots male and female, infants, girls and boys, unmarried females, vagrants and foreign tramps. I imagine the ‘dead house’, next to the laundry, would be a constant reminder to those working there of the Grim Reaper. The laundry, carpenters shop, school of industry and oakum shop where they unpicked tarred ropes from ships kept them busy before their time arrived. ------------------------------------------------------------- CLICK TO GO BACK TO TOP

The Applebys

Tom and Martha Appleby. George’s grandparents. -------------------------------------------------------

Tom Appleby - the Brompton Station gateman

Tom the Brompton Station gateman, soon after the railway came through the village. I have spoken of Applebys in the village as far back as Elizabeth the First. and I wonder about the coachman of Sir George Cayley, the inventor of the theory if flight. Sir George sent him up in his newly invented flying machine at Brompton Dale, near Scarborough in 1853. Cayley was 79, so he volunteered his coachman John Appleby to be the world’s first test pilot. He sat in the glider and was pulled with ropes by farm workers down the slope until it flew into the air. It flew across the dale some two hundred yards before crash landing John the coachman got out and is reputed to have said, “Sir George I wish to give notice. I was hired to drive, not to fly.”. John Appleby and Sir George Cayley had made history as the first men to fly and design a heavier than air machine — the aeroplane, fifty years before the Wright brothers. Our Brompton was very much about horses and John was a family name in that era! I will write about my dad Horace, who worked himself into an early grave for us, but he spoke little about himself and his family. -------------------------------------------------------------

Tom and Martha’s son Horace, my dad.

Tom and Martha’s son Horace, my dad. Horace volunteered to serve in the Great War, age 15 from Northallerton Grammar School in 1915 and served as a wireless telegrapher on his Majesty's Australian Ship Sydney until 1918 when hostilities ceased. Wireless was in its infancy. The male line is generally researched for our roots, with the female lines being incidental, but I had far more bonds with my mother’s family, the Hoares, and her mother Agatha’s family, the Bradleys. Agatha, staked a dominant claim on me at birth and protected it fiercely. I did not know my Appleby grand parents and my father’s sister, Mabel took my brother John, the next born, under her wing. Bertha, their step sister married Frank Robinson, professional soldier, and they had a large family, but I was not as close. We were the first of our generation for both families. My mother’s roots were well and truly in Water End, where the flood waters got into the houses, and my father’s in High End, where they mostly only got near and my story is mainly linked to Water End and its people. --------------------------------------------------------------

The Bradley Family.

Robert and Mary Bradley, Agatha's parents, my great grandparents. Robert and Mary Bradley nee Hepworth - Jobling. The tythe map shown earlier has Ralph Bradley and his wife Elizabeth nee Fawcett, of this parish, living at 2 and 4 Water End in 1841 with their sons and their families nearby. They were married in Brompton in 1811. He could have been an incomer. Ralph is recorded on the marriage certificate as ‘Of Bishop Auckland’. Elizabeth was ‘Of this parish’ so my connections with her take me back further. The photos are my earliest visual links with my family in Brompton. -----------------------------------------------------------

Agatha Bradley

Agatha Bradley at school. Agatha Bradley, my four year old grandma at Brompton School, with the slate, third from left at front. On her left, baby brother George next to sister Modena, 1886 ------------------------------------------------------------

John Hoare, Agatha’s husband.

John Hoare, Agatha’s husband. John, my mother's father, professional soldier, musician and wit. Served in South Africa against the Boars and europe in the 1914 -1918 War. ------------------------------------------------------------

Daniel Hoare

Daniel Hoare with George’s mother Mary Irishman Daniel, John’s father, and my mother Mary his grand daughter. No Photo of his wife Mary nee Fay. -------------------------------------------------------------

George’s grandma, Agatha Hoare nee Bradley

George’s grandma, Agatha Hoare nee Bradley and her family of six A photo for husband John serving in France 1916. Back Danny and my mam Mary, front left to right, Johnny, Retta, Desmond, Edgar. ----------------------------------------------------------

Life at Water End and beyond

Ralph and Elizabeth Bradley lived at 2 and 4 Water End in 1841 and their sons and their families were all around them. In later years Agatha and Danny would trade from the shop here at Nos 14-16, before, after and all through the second world war. My grandma Agatha was born in the little cottage at 18 Water End on December 16th 1882 and christened at St. Thomas' church on Jan 9th 1883 by Rev. Walker. In this two bedroom cottage, she was the youngest girl of 12 children, although three of these died in their fourth month of life. Bradleys, Joblings and Applebys were thick on the ground when Agatha arrived. Her father Robert Bradley would be dead aged 45, before she reached her 9th birthday. Her mother Mary, aged 51, just before her 17th. birthday when she was working away in service at Chipchase Castle.

Her first job from school was kitchen maid at Crosby Court near Thornton le Beans. 2/6d a week and she walked back home for a couple of hours on Sundays. Her parents, Robert and Mary were married on the 28th of November 1864. Robert aged 18 and Mary an alert, energetic 16 year old who had been in service with the Clarkes, farmers on Winton Banks, looking after baby Frederick. The bridegroom was unable to sign his name but his bride signed in a strong open hand "Mary Jobling hepworth" (small h). Robert and his father Robert, were recorded as hand loom weavers, as was William Jobling, who signed as Mary's father alongside the marks of the two Roberts. On September 19th 1729 William, son of Thos Appleby, (weaver), was buried in the village and there was weaving long before that. In 1851 there were 300 hand loom weavers and 21 ancillary workers working at home in the village, out of 1,491 population. There was still weaving at home in young Agatha's days, even after the mills had opened.

Note the flour mill chimney in Water End and the Co-op. Also the street light far left on the Three Horse Shoes wall. My granddad, John Hoare had the job of lamp lighter at one time. Thus started the life of Agatha Ann Bradley which would span 92 years well into the next century, during which she would raise six children of her own, losing one (Johnny's twin girl Agnes) just after birth. She would be living at number 18 Water End at the time of her death. -------------------------------------------------------------

Back to Brompton

When Agatha’s mother died she left Chipchase Castle and returned to Brompton, staying with oldest sister Harriet Cornforth. She met ex-soldier John Hoare and married him in Aiskew in 1902. They set up home at Darlington where his family had settled from Ireland and my mother Mary, Danny and Johnny with his twin Agnes, who died soon after birth, were born there. They returned to Brompton and Edgar was born. Twins Retta and Desmond followed in 1916, after their father had gone to serve again in France. Mary, my mam, the oldest of the family, played a big part in helping Agatha to bring up the others, as they did in those days.

Agatha & Daughter Mary

Mary followed her mother’s path into service, first with the Yoemans then as maid companion to Miss Fairburn in Northallerton. The spinster daughter of Fairburns the pharmacists in the High Street, between Zetland Street and where Thompsons butchers are. Mary had full run of the house and Agatha and the twins were regular visiters to help with washing and cleaning. My dad Horace courted her and was often there too. When they decided to wed, Miss Fairburn sent her to Lewis and Coopers to chose a dinner service, her wedding gift, and the date was set with Rev Yates at St Thomas Brompton Church. 27.7.1927. Danny would give her away (their father John was at Scorton in hospital), John Thomas Atkinson best man and Retta and Lillian Pollard bridesmaids. Lillian was a servant on Northallerton High Street and they chatted as they polished the brasses each morning.

Miss Fairburn wears the biggest hat behind Mary, Aunt Harriet is between and behind Mary and Horace, Agatha and Danny next to Miss Fairburn, Tom Appleby and step daughter Bertha in front of Danny, Mabel kneels in front of the happy couple with Edgar and Des in front of her. The bridesmaids flank the main stars of the day. Next to Des at the front all the younger Robinsons and the older ones behind them. Next to Edgar, Johnny and Harriet’s family, the Cornforths, with friends. I think the box camera would be Mabel’s in someone elses hands. Taken on the small green next to the road bridge. Danny, working at Wilfords mill, was now head of family and started to expand his activity to earn extra money. Retta and Des go to school with their friends.

Brompton school 1928 class

Top row- Mr Verrill, Nancy Walker (sad death), Loretta Hoare, Mona Cully, Ivy Gregg, Margeret Goldbrough.
2nd row- Henry Bowes, Tommy Rudd, Betty Bradley, John Albert Backer, Earnest Hope.
3rd row- Twaller Bell, Clifford Smith, Willy Hustwaite, Kenneth Jobling, George Neesom, ? Hill (fish shop).
4th row- Teddy Cornforth, Fred Alderson, Robert Tutin, Desmond Hoare, Jack Coverdale, Stan Forth.


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Times were getting hard.

The depression was looming as Danny started to make progress with a shoe club and was putting a bit extra away. Retta applied for a job at Northallerton Co-op with references from Rev Yates and Mr Verrill the school master. She had her interview and was taken on. Mr Verrill’s reference for Loretta

Rev Yates reference for Retta

Northallerton Co-op job appointment offer for Retta

Edgar went as apprentice painter and decorator but it got on his chest so he went as a conductor on the United busses. Mary and Horace moved in with his dad Tom and sister Mabel on High Green until number 15 Water End came up for rent and they moved in. Two doors away Agatha and the family were at number 19. Mary and Agatha still went to Northallerton to help Miss Fairburn.

27.11.1928 and all that changed. The first of a new generation was born. ME! Agatha was on hand and diverted all her maternal feelings and skills in my direction. I have always been able to handle any amount of attention. She favoured boys, particularly the eldest. Like Danny.



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I'm here and most are happy.

Agatha is over the moon, Des isn't so sure but Retta will convince him. ------------------------------------------------------------

The girls wait.

Back; Dolly Winn, Mona Culley, Ivy Gregg, Retta Hoare Front; Mabel Robinson, Nora Elgie. On middle bridge --------------------------------------------------------------

Some get to hold me

Nora holds me. Freda Bell holds Fred Palister. She went to Australia I was told ---------------------------------------------------------------- CLICK TO GO BACK TO TOP

From Brompton to Northallerton to Burtersett near Hawes

One of Miss Fairburn’s cottages, in a yard off Northallerton High Street became empty and we moved in so that my mam could help her more easily. Harry Mitchinson of the Brompton family worked at the County Hall and he joined us as a lodger.

Jobs were being lost and Danny and my dad were casualties. My dad was offered a porters’ job at Hawes in Wensleydale and accepted. Danny had a bit in the bank and his boot and shoe club to fall back on. One of Agatha's cousins married a Hardisty who had a greengrocery shop next to the Central cinema in the High Street at Northallerton. They helped Danny to make a start in the trade in a small way. At different times, all the family would be involved with him as the business grew rapidly.

We moved everything by rail up to Burtersett, near Hawes and my dad walked in to work each day. Tom Wood was his pal while we were there but after 6 months a job came up as goods porter at York and we moved again. I am told I put together my first sentence up there, having watched my dad at work. Everything went up and down Wensleydale by rail in those days and I observed, “daddy carry moo chu choo.” Agatha was a regular visitor and we went back with privilege tickets regularly and for holidays.

My closeness with the village has never weakened and I returned to live there twice; once before my national service and then again after our marriage.


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The years leading up to the war.

Me in 1929 with Agatha on seat and Willy Walker with cap and Herbert Bradley look on . Danny was establishing a nucleus of regular customers and Desmond ran round getting sales. Parson Wright had the small shop further along, which was later to belong to the Kiplings. He sold straw and hay from behind it and William Mankin made coffins by candle light at night in a shed at the back, next to Agatha, her family and the Marchants. A bit frightening if they wanted to go up the garden to the closet after dark.

Easter 1935.

Retta and me with Alf Marchant with Parson Wright’s shop behind – Easter 1935.

Retta and Des on stone bridge - 1935

The move to the Shop and House 14 and 16 Water End

Shop and house at 14 and 16 Water End - LEFT: Number 18. Agatha born and retired here.16 Shop House in the centre and number 14 Shop in a later photo. Parson Wright, (wasn’t a parson; it was a nickname) sold the shop business, kept the straw and hay and moved across the other side of the beck, where Dukie Tyreman lived later. There was a field through to Stokesley Road behind. He had a pony (Daisy) and small flat cart which he rented to Danny. Frank Hardisty sold him whatever he thought he could sell and, as the trade built up, he got an old car and adapted that, then a lorry and started standing the market, as well as one or two rounds he built up. The shop and house at 14 and 16 became vacant and Danny took it. The family moved in and they were all involved in some way as the business grew. My mother Mary was the last of the family in service.

1935 George at school

Me at school in York. Still getting back to Water End with mam, dad, John, Flora and Harry, born that January.

Later in 1935 together

Taken at council house 280 Fifth Avenue Tang Hall YORK. Left to right; John, Flora, Harry and me.

Easter Sunday

Young ladies with 2 young men middle bridge.

Easter Sunday young ladies including Hilda Relph.

Easter Sunday 1935. Nellie's sister is on this one. Must have taken the other. No men?

1936.

Whit Monday, 3 young ladies with young men and car.

1938.

Retta and cousin Betty Bradley.

Retta, Betty and Nellie.

Retta and cousin Herbert Bradley with his dog.

Herbert volunteered in 1938, went to train in Canada as an Air Gunner and died over Hamburg. A handsome young man. But, while other people were enjoying their new freedom and money, Danny devoted his life to building his business. The younger ones enjoying life would be most involved in the approaching war.

Back to busy Brompton.

As the business grew, there was so much work that there was hardly enough time to fit it in. 3 three ton Morris Commercials were fully utilised. I was taken to the markets to help generally around the stalls and clear up rubbish. Trimmings from vegetables, empty boxes, bad fruit and so on. Sometimes I was put at the front of the stall with a few baskets of strawberries to catch people walking past. They bought out of admiration, seeing such a young lad trying to make a sale. I wasn't allowed to go out on the rounds yet because they never knew when they would get home at night. On Tuesdays, for instance, Edgar and Desmond set off with the remains of the previous weeks produce after Thirsk market the day before, and well loaded with standard local vegetables. They went via Winton Bank calling at Clarks farm then Matty Stockdales small holding, at the top near Foxton wood. Swales farm was next as you drop down to Ellerbeck where they called on Harlands and the few cottages there, then up the hill at the other side to the village pub. On to the mill farm, where flax for the Brompton linen trade was bleached in the old days, and then the pubs at Clack Lane Ends. Along the way, if anybody wanted anything which Edgar was short of, he took note and got Danny to leave it on his way home later after joining them when he returned from the early morning wholesale fruit market at Leeds, via Thirsk. He dropped off orders at several wholesale customers there which had been taken by Edgar the day before. He carried on to meet up with Edgar at the bottom of Clack Bank and topped him up with all the new produce he had bought that morning. All the sheets came off both lorries and the new produce was loaded, stacked and opened where necessary. Then the orders were put up for the orders Edgar had taken earlier and Danny would call with them on his way home. The prices were put into the book for collection the following week. By this time it was dinner time and Danny couldn't wait to get home to Agatha's hot meal, while Edgar and Des sat in the cab to eat the sandwiches and confectioneries she had packed for them that morning. They would get a hot meal whenever they made it home at night. All this was lovely when the weather was good but when it was cold, wet, and windy too, fun didn't enter into it. Except maybe when they came to a friendly house and were encouraged to take off their wet coats for a while and have a cup of tea and something, to eat. There were a few of these at strategic intervals along the days march. Every household up Clack Bank were customers, starting with Mrs Crow and her two sons, who ran the local bus service. The oldest, Harry, lived with his mother and her young woman helper Mary, who had been with her since the days when she had the Kings Head at the bottom. She was there during the first world war and was known to have been quite happy to extend her hospitality to the soldiers stationed locally, as long as they wanted to take advantage of it, much to the frustration of the local bobby. "Somebody has to look after t' poor lads", was her justification. By the time Edgar got into Osmotherley it was early afternoon and people were waiting for them near the policeman's old house, as you go in. They could be there for a couple of hours. Not one door was neglected, unless there was a firm request to that effect and I can only think of one such in the village, off hand. A couple of hours near the garage then along to Miss Thompsons paper shop, the Golden Lion, Queen Catherine, the fish-shop. Then Potters, (one of many), round the corner, up the hill towards the vicarage on the right for another hour and almost as far as the reservoir to Mrs Faber. Some of the people from the moor farms came down into the village, like Rosy, who took in a wounded German flyer who had bailed out at night on the moor, during the war. There was still a few hours work as they turned round at the top, went back down to stand near Miss Moon's bakery and the pub then down the hill, stopping another three times, to the village bottom and Captain Williamsons. He was related to the Robinsons who owned Matthias Robinsons at Stockton and Leeds. They lived further up the village and Mrs Faber was their married daughter. Osmotherley was as full of Potters, Pollits and Daniels as Brompton was of Bradleys, Joblings and Dunns. Leaving the village when everyone had been served they carried on, back down Clack and right at the bottom to the Tontine Inn, then to Ingleby Arncliffe, East Harlsey and Rapers farm at West Harlsey. They were always sure of a warm reception here and some refreshment from Mrs Raper, the kindest, most pleasant and delightful lady they had the honour to call on. I enjoyed the honour years later. She was also a great cook, baker .and maker of all sorts of jams, preserves, pickles and eats of every description. She relied on the Hoare boys for the fruit and produce she needed to prepare all these wonderful foods. Things had their seasons in those days and as one season passed another was upon you. Foreign fruits came in at the same time each year, as did the local and home grown ones and she was always busy jamming, preserving, pickling, making bread, cake and pastry. Her fruit pies were straight from heaven. They had a large farm to run and many hungry mouths to feed, particularly at the busy times of year, such as harvesting and hay-making. This was when extra hands would be brought in to help their own team of men who were needed for the ordinary seasonal and day to day jobs. Their son and daughter were away at Great Ayton school, but would be seen out on their ponies when they came home at the end of term. It could be anything up to midnight, at very busy times like Christmas, when they left Mrs Rapers and they still had to call at Harlsey Castle for the Kirks and Mrs Barlow at Long Lane railway crossing before they could sheet up and set off for home. More usually, it was between 7 and 8pm; but remember there was still work to be done unloading all the empties and cleaning down, then reloading for an early start next morning. I was still nine or ten and therefore they had to choose a time for me to go with them when they could be sure of getting home at a reasonable time. Markets and going out to farms for spuds etc was alright in this respect. I was very upset when I wasn't able to go with them, but my grandma always found something to keep me occupied and when she couldn't there were plenty of local lads I had made pals of. Agatha had a large flock of geese and ducks. and 50 or so laying hens and pullets plus a sty full of fattening pigs, to keep an eye on. This on top of the shop and house. Agatha was busy and needed help. She was getting help in the house now from Emily Sawden the daughter of Danny’s tenants at No 12 on the other side of the passage from the shop. They and the Marchants at number 10, who had been neighbours across the green, shared the yard at the back with us and the right of way came up through the passage and yard, then the allotments right through to the Stokesley Road and the Green Tree. I can remember Emily, always happy, looking after me when I was much smaller so she must have been helping for some considerable time before they left and Shepherds moved in. Agatha was a hard boss, having been brought up the hard way, she soon let them know if they weren't coming up to scratch and wasn't above calling them "silly bitch" if they didn't use their gumption. Retta was at home full time in the shop and helping in the house too. Agatha couldn't possibly have managed without her. She was very big and important when the travellers arrived. There was one woman, not at all attractive or smart and well into her sixties, who Agatha noticed had arrived in the shop on two occasions when travellers were in. "I'll tell you what Mrs -", she said, "these young men have wives and families at home and they don't want you hanging round them every time they come. What do you want ?". Retta was in her early 20s now and loved to be out dancing with her pals. Sometimes when Agatha wanted her to help get the dinner ready for the lads coming in at night, she would escape unnoticed from upstairs. Getting dressed upstairs, she climbed out through the back bedroom window. Over the warehouse roof she went and off on her bike, which had been put in a handy place ready. There were the two Wilson girls, the Relphs, Nora Neesom,some of her cousins, Ivy Gregg, the Atkinsons and others. They got around to all the village dances and she met her husband to be at one of these, after one or two romances which didn't come to fruition. John Potter was a regular private soldier in the Royal Corp of Signals at Catterick who hailed from the potteries and impressed her as being a gentleman, both in his speech and his manner. She was slim and supple, as you can see from photographs, and her favourite dance was the Tango, for which she won prizes. She never lost her love of dancing and would still be enjoying it if she was here. I helped my grandma to fed the birds when Danny had gone off to Leeds in the early morning without feeding them and the pigs too as I got bigger. There were a couple of aluminium possing tubs outside the warehouse where slops and waste were put. Meal was added, stirred with a brush handle and carried up to the styes in two buckets, one in each hand to keep balance. I was ten years old, but I never had much weight. Even at the age of 18 when I joined up for my national service I only weighed in at 8st 10 lbs wet through and I was 5' 9" in height. Danny had two large breeding pigs in one sty and a litter of piglets in the other. I was alright when it came to feeding the piglets but the large ones were too much for me. I did try but they had me over and on my back amongst the foul smelling slurry almost before I could get through the door. The pigs fought to get into the buckets and upskittled them all over the floor and me too. I had to wait and grow a bit before I went in with the big ones again. They would be left until Danny returned from Leeds after that. Picture below shows George selling fruit for Danny, on the same run at Osmotherley in 1953. The lady with the hat is Agatha's sister Blanche on a visit from Canada.

Green Tree war strategy.

On the Sunday morning Neville Chamberlin declared war on Germany, Agatha sent Desmond to York in Danny’s car to pick us up and return us to Brompton. The strained, excited talk between adults was all about the outbreak of war and what it would mean. We unloaded our things and each had the usual all embracing hugs and pursed lip kisses in the nape of the neck from Agatha before sitting down to Sunday dinner and lemonade. While all this was going on, Desmond slipped away to the Green Tree through the gardens. I heard the story about what he found there. The pub was more packed than usual on a Sunday dinner time. All the normal activities were in progress and the smoky bar vibrated with loud chatter declarations and laughter. Both quoits pits at the back were in use and inside, several tables of dominoes and the darts board, with the initials of those waiting to get on next on the scoreboard. Pints were coming out of the kitchen thick and fast as new orders were shouted through above the din. The topic had nothing to do with farming, the factories or village gossip. Adolf Hitler was under the worst kind of verbal abuse and every man there had his own ideas about what should be done about him. This was the only time of week many of them had time to rest from their labours, with the knowledge that when the drinking was over they could find a quiet corner, maybe by a fire, and have a snooze before picking up where they left off in the evening to fortify themselves further against the rigours of the week's work ahead. Several had served in wars gone by, and could speak with some authority on the subject of dealing with the enemy. One who had answered the call of the flag but had not been allowed by fate to serve was a gent by the name of Miles Coverdale, known as TARY. He had consoled himself in service on the land after leaving the army shortly after his recruitment, because the army just wasn't up to finding suitable employment for him. Tary was still never afraid to talk of his army experience in a positive way and today gave him the perfect opportunity to add his own shrewd assessments to those being put forward in this time of need even though his were not likely to win arguments or carry much weight. I suppose the bobby had more to think about than closing time on this day, and the drinking went on longer than usual. When it finally fizzled out and only a few stalwarts still had comment to make, Tary left by the front door onto Stokesley Road and approached his bicycle. His old 'sit up and beg' had served him wall over many years and always responded well to the application of the sole of his wellington on the front tyre when he needed to slow down or stop. It was said that he never had to steer it home; it knew the way. He could usually be found in somebody's hayloft or outbuilding, although he had fairly regular work with one farmer these days. His dress was simple, in that he only had one set of clothes and usually managed to acquire replacements when some oddment of his wardrobe no longer held together. The only accessories were safety pins and binding band, necessary to close the holes against severe weather. No one ever remembered him having a new pair of wellingtons and it was commonly believed that they would have to be amputated at the Friarage if they needed to be removed. Grabbing his bike and running alongside as he launched himself into where he knew his arse would find the saddle, he shouted back to 'the few' still assembled, "I'll be joining my old regiment tomorrow". He was serious. As his feet hit the pedals and he worked himself up into top speed to make the hill on Lead Lane, the chain came off and he finished up in the hedge back near George Bowley's building opposite. Too drunk to recover his dignity he fell asleep and, after making sure that he was alright, they left him there to sleep it off until opening time that night. Tary was classified as doing essential work during the war and the military just had to manage without him. The Green Tree was the typical village pub in those days. When Danny bought the house and shop at 14/16 Water End he also got the large field behind which became allotments, with a path throughto Stokesley Road beside the Green Tree. The passage beside the shop led into the allotments. My grandma would send me to tell my uncles at the pub that their Sunday dinner was ready. Danny had bought an old United Bus garage next to the pub (a bad mistake) and, after finishing their preparations for the following week on Sunday morning, they would call in the pub for the odd one or two. The mild and bitter was brought out from the kitchen to the thirsty regulars. The continuous flow of shouted orders could only just be heard through the perpetual loud chatter with a done deal here and there. The front door opened directly onto the Stokesley Road and, as you turned left, there was a hand pump alongside Jim Burn’s blacksmith’s shop at the end of the building, handed down from his dad. I would arrive at the back door with the exciting news about Agatha’s Sunday dinner. Just inside on the right was the door to the kitchen, the engine room of the business. Jinnie and Jim were never overjoyed to pass on the message but reluctantly they shouted "tell the Hoare lads ‘Gertha’ wants them." The shortened version of her name did not in any way diminish the authority which it invoked, and the lads were subjected to a chorus of laughs and jibes as they drank up ready to go. I had a large jug with me to be filled for the table at home. I still have that jug and it stands full of carnations in our lounge today. CLICK TO GO BACK TO TOP

The quoits players could be served with their drinks through the open kitchen window, when the weather permitted. The game consists of throwing heavy iron rings to fall around an iron peg in the centre of a pit of wet clay some 7 or 8 yards away. The pit is about a square yard enclosed within a perimeter of wooden sleepers and the quoits are thrown from another sleeper at the required distance away. The quoits are about twelve inches diameter with a rim of about an inch wide and half an inch thick, at a guess. This makes them pretty heavy and getting them to encircle the short iron peg at that distance is by no means easy. Obviously, practice makes perfect and the real enthusiasts are very good at it. They had their leagues, and travelled to other pubs competing for trophies and proudly displayed. In those days there were no women drinkers at dinner time. They were at home getting the dinner ready and seeing to the family
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In a short time Johnny and Edgar would be serving in Northern Ireland and Desmond driving ambulances in the East End of London during the blitzes. Johnny and Desmond went to North Africa and Italy later. Desmond being Mentioned in Dispatches. Edgar to India like his village pal Clifford Smith. Danny was exempted on two counts he was stone deaf and also an important part of the local food chain for the community. How he managed that later.

Photo of AGATHA sent to her 3 boys serving abroad

Agatha sent this photo to Desmond and Johnny in North Africa and Edgar with the Military Police in India in 1942. She had brothers Edgar, Victor and William Robert who served in the Boar War and then in the 1914-18 war with younger brother George and husband John to be.

Photo of Retta for her husband John

Retta sent this photo to her husband John, serving in North Africa 1942. They married 5 days before war broke out, as this moving and wonderful picture below shows:- (Picture kindly sent to George by Colin Narramore in Nov 2007). ------------------------------------------------------------

Retta Hoare & John Potter on their Wedding Day

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RETTA AND JOHN BACK WITH HER FAMILY AFTER BEING WED.

From left to right; Baby Eric Hoare held by Mary (my mam), great aunt Hariett Cornforth (Agatha’s oldest sister, lived at top of Cockpit Hill), crouched in front, her daughter Edna who married Ronny Stockdale the Northallerton builder, John the bridegroom, peeping over his shoulder Greta (Edna’s sister who married Bob Sheffield), Retta the bride, behind her Aunt Selina who married Agatha’s brother William Robert Bradley who was honoured with the Distinguished Conduct Medal and by Lord Roberts and Mentioned in Despatches by Lord Kitchener in South Africa 1903. When he died she married the widower of another of Agatha's sisters Hannah Paton when she died. Selina was also a cousin and the mother of Betty and Herbert Bradley and step mother of Jackie Paton. Next is Agatha and her brother Victor who cut hair opposite the Masons Arms. My father Horace is looking over his shoulder. Back to Agatha. Danny, Agatha and Retta now had to manage as best they could. Two of his three lorries were taken by the War Department along with the male members of the family. There was important work to do. The well established, busy general grocery shop had many regular customers to look after. Everybody got ration cards and registered with a retailer who then drew available supplies for them. It came by road, was unloaded at the front and taken through the passage to the warehouse at the back. The doors were securely locked and mouse traps all over. The walls were covered in shelving for everything and the shop was stocked from there. I was growing into my teens and always found work whenever I was able to get through. I was about 13 and with him on a Northallerton round when we finished one road and I was waiting in the cab for him to return from a call, and turn the lorry round and go to the next street. I took it upon myself to do the job for him but didn’t get my feet properly on the clutch and brake. The fully loaded lorry finished up through the front garden fence of one of his best customers. Fortunately for me she was a Brompton lass and old friend, now married with a big family. I got off lightly, but not without a good cursing. Everyone was told to “Dig for victory” and grow as much of their own food as possible. They kept pigs and poultry but had to send most of their pigs to the VOM for general distribution. Alan (Captain) Robinson killed and butchered those for Danny’s own use. His brothers Willy and Arthur were both stationed at York and often came to our house. Farmers used all available land to grow food and were provided with Land Army girls to help. The October school holidays became potato picking holidays when those old enough went out to farms to help with the harvesting and other work. Women and men, too old to fight, did their bit to keep the nation fed. Italian prisoners of war, under supervision, were used. Some local farmers and their wives came to the shop after it closed, when their work was finished, for their shopping. Many supplied Danny with produce, like the Thompsons of Deighton. Business people were issued with petrol ration coupons for each vehicle and Danny bought a very old, grey, estate tipping lorry from Sir Hugh Bell at Harlsey to use on short local journeys for small loads. We called it Sir Hugh. Its brakes, lights and wind screen wipers were basic and operated in delayed action. This could be scary if you were pulling up behind another vehicle and only come to a stop inches away from the one in front. Some allotments at the back were unused because of men away in the forces. Danny got several pensioners to turn these over to crops for the business like rhubarb, lettuce and beetroot and he also took on the walled gardens and greenhouses at The Close from Mrs Williamson, the owner, and put them to good use. His future wife, Lilly Chapman, was cook there and this is how they met. Nora Shepherd, our neighbour across the passage, worked for him and was as good as any man. Her husband Charlie was away in the forces and she had a family of three to look after. The oldest was Stan, a good pal of mine along with Claude Marchant, Cecil and sister Gladys, Derek Bell, Violet Britain, Geof Forth, the Dunns and Winnie Bellwood; all neighbours. There were evacuees from the North East. Among them, two Bede Grammar School lads were placed with (dad’s sister) Aunt Mabel and Uncle Harwood Peacock at Red Gables on Lead Lane. He was manager of the factory, ran the Yorkshire Penny Bank and they were very involved in the Wesleyan Sunday School.

AUNT MABEL AND HARWOOD PEACOCK

Pictured here at Red Gables on Lead Lane, Brompton ------------------------------------------------------------

Visits to Brompton in School holidays

Here is a photo of old Uncle Edgar at his door, 42 Water End (where the Layfield bus used to stop) I continued to get through to Brompton as often as I could in school holidays and when there was a need for something to be taken there. I was 14 and had been working long hours at the York Post sorting office to earn extra money for my parents in the run up to Christmas. Armed with a railway privilege ticket, I caught a late train to Northallerton on Christmas Eve with a Christmas pudding and mincemeat for my grandma at Brompton. Very tired, I fell asleep and went through to Darlington. Kind hearted soldiers got me into the NAAFI canteen, the only place open and I had a teacake and a cup of tea. I was allowed to sit in the train that would be going to Northallerton next morning and fell asleep again. I woke as the train approached Thirsk. I was lucky to get a train back quickly and stayed awake. I walked to Brompton and through the gardens from Stokesley Road arriving at the at the back door at 12 noon and listened to Forces Favourites with them after the pudding had been put on to steam. As always when it was time to leave, my grandma went with me to the bus stop outside her brother Edgar’s house at 42 and pushed me to the front for the Layfield bus saying, “excuse me my grandson has to catch a train to York.” -----------------------------------------------------------

It’s all over !!!!!!!!!!!! Redcar Sands in 1945

Front left Cecil Marchant. Behind, his brother Claude. Me standing at the back Mrs Prest said "George is well made." Front centre Nora Neesom with little girl. Then Margeret Thompson from Black Swan. Then Retta with Sydney Marchant. Then Betty Bradley. Don't recognise any more

WAR HEROES RETURN.

Like every generation before them, they served their country somewhere in the world defending King and Country. Now, men and women too are back except, for us, Herbert Bradley. Edgar, and wife Ella nee White from Thornton Le Moor who worked for Barkers, are at 8 Water End with their two young boys Eric and Alan. Johnny, and wife Edith nee Kirby from next to the school at Ainderby Steeple, are in a small semi-bungalow on Stokesley Road almost opposite the cemetery with little daughter Catherine. Desmond, and wife Margeret nee Murray from Glasgow are at Cudsworth with children Mary and Micheal. Retta and John are at 13 Water End in their little cottage on 10/- per week, later bought from Mrs Wilford at Cedar Mount for just over £300 while John was still away. Sadly, Edith died when Catherine was small and having treatment for a spine disorder. Thankfully, Johnny found a caring loving wife in Nora, who helped them through and created a very happy home together. Picture below shows Johnny’s wife Edith with Retta

13 WATER END IN FLOOD

Retta and John’s cottage was the one on the right of the big blue doors. Next on the right is where I was born and the one after that where Agatha and family lived before moving into the shop across the beck. ---------------------------------------------------------

JOHN AT THE DOOR OF NUMBER 13

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Business as usual.

All had a spell back in the business with Danny, then Desmond moved to Airdrie and worked on the Glasgow busses. Johnny went into the Post Office at Northallerton. Edgar stayed with Danny. I left school at York and after working in the estimating office of Shepherds builders dealing with National war damage (at cost plus 7.5%) and then the front office of The York Waterworks Company, I too joined Danny full time until going into the RAF for National service at the age of 18. Retta still helped in the shop and the market. During this period Danny taught me to drive and I went mainly with Edgar, and sometimes alone on the rounds or with Philip Cornforth who had joined us. We covered wide areas. As well as the run to Osmotherley, we went out through Danby Wiske finishing at the Cowtons, Yafforth, Romanby, Ainderby, Scruton, Otterington, Kirby Wiske and the whole of Brompton and Northallerton. Saturday was Crosby Road and district. Friday, Stone Cross, Brompton Road, Springwell, Bullamoor area and Monday Thirsk market, including Whitsuntide and Bank Hollidays. That meant that we missed all the parades on Whit Monday but I did get to the dance in the village Hall. I was one of the best gymnasts at Nunthorpe School in York and one of my party pieces at the dance was a couple of hand springs down the dance floor. ----------------------------------------------------------- ME AND PHILIP CORNFORTH HAWKING IN HILTON GREEN.

A Sticky situation.

One Saturday morning, while Danny was away at Leeds Market for soft fruit, Retta and I set out the stall in front of Ryders pork butchers and Archers furniture shop at Northallerton. We had 2 big stalls for the fruit and veg and a smaller trestle on stands at the end for the other products. Amongst these we had Farrows loose dried peas and honey. ARE YOU AHEAD OF ME? You guessed! Just as Danny arrived the trestle collapsed with serious consequences. Very sticky ones. Danny’s reaction is unprintable.
He still had the gardens and greenhouses at The Close, the allotments, some of which were being taken on again by the returning pre-war occupants. After years of shortages when much of what was sent to us by sea, including food and fruit like oranges and bananas, was sent to the seabed by U-Boats, there were still shortages and rationing and people were glad to get the seasonal crops.

Repeat performance.

Some overseas fruits were coming in but we were hard up as a nation and this curtailed supplies. Red apples in large wooden barrels from America and Canada were a real treat and there were queues when they arrived. On one such occasion, an open barrel was on display at the front of the stall and Danny went to it for one of his favourite customers. Excusing himself with those standing there, he lowered himself into the depths of the barrel with a brown paper bag and let off the loudest attack of uncontrolled flatulence imaginable as his head disappeared out of sight. Being deaf, he either decided not to comment or just make out he hadn’t heard it. Everybody else did; judging by the amused glances and steps back by some. There was a long pause before he emerged smiling. When you are dealing with people in your work, amusing things often happen.

All work no play makes life dull.

I lived with Agatha and Danny at the shop house and made the most of Saturday nights in Northallerton. Jammy Hartley and his son Denis at the Fleece satisfied the thirsts of Claude Marchant, Stan Shepherd and myself before we took the short trip up the steps to the dance at the Town Hall. The other Bromptonians we would later walk home with were there. The Browns, Derbyshires, Robinsons, Dunns, Gladys and Alf Marchant Violet Britain, Winnie Bellwood, Moira Lowther and the Walkers.
One night, I had too much to drink and my pals had a job getting me back to Water End. Winny Bellwood helped me to Retta’s because I didn’t want my grandma to see me like that. We found Danny asleep there. He and Lilly had been helping themselves to Mrs Williamson’s sherry at The Close and he had the same worries as me. Retta got me sober and I went across to tell Agatha about Danny. Her past experience with my granddad John helped her handle the situation very well.
On my 18th birthday, 27th November 1946 my recruitment papers arrived telling me to report to RAF Kirkgate in Lancashire, 1st of January 1947, for National Service. While getting kitted out and going through the medical, I talked to a tall lad wearing a St John’s College scarf from York. He showed me a photo of his girlfriend who turned out to be a girl called Sylvia Wroe I had known since we both went to the free slide shows at Heworth Church Hall aged 7. I didn’t know that 3 years later on 24th June 1950 (midsummer day), I would marry her in Heworth Church.


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2340743 A/C Appleby George.

I actually served 2 years 4 months, mostly as a driver, at RAF Warton between Preston and Blackpool before being demobbed in May 1949. It had been an American operational base 2-3 years before with Flying Fortresses. One of them crashed into the village school at Freckleton trying to get back from a raid. All the teachers and children were killed along with the crew and several people near by. Our billets were in the village away from the camp where all the hangers were now full of supplies of everything needed by RAF units anywhere in the world. There were mountains of socks in bales of 144 pairs and (don’t tell anyone) Sylvia’s mother and my mam both wore WAAF knickers. The RAF got me on the cheap. Drivers were in short supply and they had a large training unit for drivers and mechanics a few miles away at RAF Weaton. I was one of the few people aged 18 who could drive and I had experience driving lorries. We had a large transport section with all the vehicles needed for distributing the supplies. Bedford troop carriers which we used to take men down to man London Docks during a strike and to take men around the camp where needed. The cold war was just starting and we sent supplies from Warton for the Berlin airlift. We had Queen Marys, 60 foot trailer vehicles for carrying aircraft and parts. I drove one of these to Lackenheath and Mildenhall, full of beds for the Americans. For heavy load we had Guys, Thornicroft and Dodge. 30 cwt Hillman Bantam for moving small loads around the camp. Staff cars and motor cycles. large and small fork lift trucks and trolleys. I boast, jokingly, that I also FOUGHT ON THE BEACHES. Referring to the night operations with friendly visiters under the central pier at Blackpool. -----------------------------------------------------------

ME THE DRIVER

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ME THE GYMNAST.

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Injured in action.

I was injured when a starting handle kicked back on me and the scaphoid in my right hand was fractured. I was excused guard duty but allowed to keep driving, which I was happy about. It didn’t interfere with my dancing skills and in those days all the top bands went to the Tower and Winter Gardens at Blackpool and took their followers from all over the UK with them. All the industry in towns and cities closed down for a week and everyone went on holiday together then. Places taking different weeks. They were called Wake Weeks. So, I danced to Ted Heath, Joe Loss, Edmundo Ross, The Squadronaires, Ivy Benson and Geraldo in spite of my pot arm. For the last year of my service I was courting Sylvia and hitch hiked home to York at weekends, returning by train on Sunday night.

THE LOVELY BRIDE.

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NEWLY WED AND DRESSED UP, AT RED GABLES.

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1953 - 1965

Sylvia and I came back to Brompton with our first baby Ruth and I worked with Danny and Edgar in the fruit business. I lived with grandma at number 18 next to the shop until Hilton Green was completed and we moved into number 38. Most of the time I worked with Edgar at Thirsk market and on the rounds but took on the Osmotherley round on Tuesdays on my own. Christopher and Judith were born and these years hold many happy memories for us. We had a host of good friends, neighbours and family all around in the village which I was very much a part of. A multitude of customers for miles around who I had grown up getting to know and enjoy and we enjoyed a good social life. In 1955 Agatha’s sister Blanche also returned, on a visit to the village, after many years in Canada with two of her children. The photo shows her, in her white hat centre left, surrounded by Hoares, Cornforths, Bradleys, Sheffields and Applebys, all family, and neighbours Mrs Marchant with Sydney and Mrs Britton, on the green

We suffered the severe winter of 1962-63 as seen near the Chequers Inn at Ossy by Sylvia, baby Judith, Christopher and Retta below.

By this time I had moved on with my work to sell for manufacturers to retailers around the Yorkshire Dales. First biscuits for Carrs of Carlisle then Soup for Campbells. This meant that I could take part in the celebrations on Whit Monday. The first time since I entered as a arab in the head dress my uncle Johnny brought back from Palestine in 1938 after serving there with The York and Lancs regiment.

Me as as a dancer with Legionnaires Clifford Smith and Geof Forth. Then, celebrations at Red Gables in Lead Lane with Ruth Walker, her sisters and their husbands, all daughters of Wilson the milk man who brought them up in the detached house on Brompton Road, at the end of Quaker Lane in Northallerton. And, of course, Retta. Below.

That’s my lot as a comedian used to say. Enjoy the site. Winding down. I have been fortunate to contribute to the Brompton Matters web site, after Harry Cooke invited me to do so. He and Colin Narramore, with the group, have put a lot of work into it between them and the success they have created was clear from the number of people who came from far and near to the open day in the village hall. Sylvia and I enjoyed it immensely, meeting and sharing memories, information and stories with old friends, relatives and new acquaintances. It can only grow and I am delighted to have done my bit. I can't let George go so easily without paying tribute to all his hard work in making this contribution to Brompton's heritage and history by recording the story of his life. There is no doubt that these extracts, taken from his story of life and times "Water End, Upstream Downstream" (all volumes available in local libraries), will provide an enduring tale of life in times which seem to be now quickly departing. We are grateful to George for making this information available to such a wide audience. As far as this website is concerned, he set himself the mammoth task of selecting suitable extracts which would be of use to anyone with an interest in Brompton. He has succeeded in producing a wonderful story for our Brompton website, no mean task which has kept us both busy over the past few months. My wholehearted Thanks go to George for his endeavour and to his good lady Sylvia for her patience. Harry (on behalf of BromptonMatters and the Brompton Heritage Group) Click here for more stories from George Appleby