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Now and again, I receive emails containing people's memories of Shapwick. Where appropriate, and with permission of the sender, these memoirs will appear on this page, more or less verbatim.
Gill Hunt, nee Frampton writes:
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My sister Pat and I were born at 182 High Street Shapwick, my Dad Harry George Frampton died at a very young age, he was 25 when he got cancer, 31 when he died. But I cant remember much about him but I can recall him lying in bed, Pat on one side and me the other, and him telling us he would buy us a pony, of course we were very excited but he didn't live long after that.
They were happy times growing up in my beloved Shapwick .
The meetring place was Shapwick cross and the bus shelter we didn't have much to keep us occupied and we made our own fun.
I can recall one November the fifth Derrick Waygood had some rockets and decided to let one off in the bus shelter it went up in the thatch roof and started burning we did manage to put it out by hitting it with our coats, very frightening at the time.
We played skittles in a new skittle alley that was built joining on to the school, there were several teams I was in your nan's team ( Milly Wigmore) I cant say I was very good - they called me two handed Tyson because I threw with two hands, but I did win the money sometimes and then go to the bottle n jug to spend it.
Uncle Bob was at that time carter for Caves the farmer, he had three shire horses, Sargent, Blossom and Major, he would platt there tails with pretty ribbons and put horse brasses on there heads , we would go up to the harvest field we would be up there all day and in the evening we could have a ride back and they would go into the river for a drink , they must have been very thirsty.
When Cave's barn caught fire we were in the hall and the boys were in the back room playing billiards and somebody came in and said was on fire, about a week later PC George Keynes come to the school at Wimborne and we were asked one by one where we were at the time, we all said the same and I don't think they ever found out who or how it started.
Going back to the shire horses aunty Hild Snook was riding her bike up through Shapwick to see Gran Frampton no lights on her bike and all of a sudden she hit something and got thrown off her bike, it was Blossom and she had escaped from her stable and was in the road, I don't think she was badly hurt but her front wheel was bent.
Chunky Large was my step dad - everybody knew him, he would push his old pram round the village gathering any that had fallen down sometimes giving it a helping hand with some rope, he was often mistaken for a tramp, he did support the Pub quite a bit and many times came home in the back of the Coal lorry.
Like you we could go down to the river , Plummer Cave would take us in his boat down to Black water it was very deep he lost the punt down a deep hole and he had to paddle us back with his hands we were very frightened , Plummer still lives at Corfe Mullen.
Mum and me were standing talking to Gran Frampton at her window you and your Mum came down the road just as Mrs Welsh and her Daughter ( i think her name was Doreen ) come up the road with their Collie Dog that looked like Lassie, you went to stroke it and put your face down to it and it bit your face it was a very nasty bite whitch left a scar .
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Linda Buttle, nee Spooner writes:
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"Susan [Edge] and I are the same age as we went to school together - and I remember it was my 9th birthday when she give me a white rabbit in a basket and it had his head looking out of the basket and I was so proud of it. I showed it to everyone at school and home, because it meant a lot to me as it came from a friend it was so sweet. My Aunt Lou Mace, she did live down Pound in a cottage past Jim Taylor, and when the river come up high after all the rain she had to go upstairs as the water would come in the place. Then she moved next to Kate Boyt where she stayed untill she passed away years ago. And I also remember Richard Cave - we would be standing in the bus shelter for the school bus - and Richard would stand on his sister's hand and pull her pigtails as hard as he could and she did do a thing because she was older than him so he'd get away with it. My grandad Sid Bennet he worked for the Cave family until he got too old to work. I have a photo of my grandad and Cyril Cave (who lived next door and who was Robert Cave's dad and Richard and Julia's grandad..."
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Sandra Bailey, nee Frampton writes:
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I have just come across your reviews of Shapwick on a visit to Priest House Museum in Wimborne. It was lovely to read about Shapwick in the old days. I am Sandra (nee Frampton) youngest daughter of Sid who married Joan in 1953. Sid was one of the brothers of Bob Frampton who you mention in your review.
Mum, Dad and Susan lived in White Cottage, and Little Falcon by the Church, before I was born. I lived with them in the cottage on Church Street. It is also where Uncle Bob spent his last years. though we had moved to Colehill long before then.
I have vague memories of Gran Frampton as I was very young when she died but remember visiting her in her cottage and her getting the sweet jar down from the shelf.
I was born in February 1963 and am told the snow was knee deep as referred to in the Great Blizzard, Mum finally got to hospital by ambulance where I was born in Poole General and couldn't believe the lack of snow there.
I have many fond memories of Shapwick and lived in the cottage opposite Pub in Church Street (i think Dr Norman lived opposite) until 1967 when we moved to Colehill.
We spent many a summers afternoon visiting Auntie Hild and Uncle Jim Snook at Queens Cottages and spent many a happy time exploring the lanes with my cousin Barry. we used to look for Easter bunnies on Easter Sunday up Swan Lane. and hunt for birds eggs.
We used to have cycle races to Ash trees and back, and go for walks up the lanes with Dad, Mum, Auntie Hild and Uncle Jim where we saw a "Shuvvies nest" - a non existent birds nest, we used to look for it and someone used to shove you in the hedge!!! You only did it once! I always seemed to fall for it.
We also used to spent Christmas with Auntie Hild and Uncle Jim, with a traditional drink down 'Pub' on Boxing Day for the adults - being Dad, Uncle Jim, Susan, her husband Alan, Marg, Dick and Bri and Pat Snook. Mum and Auntie Hild used to stay behind and cook dinner and look after the kids. Barry and I joined them down the pub when we were old enough just to see what it was all about!!
I was always fascinated by the Hunt on Boxing Day with all the colours and lovely horses, but didn't realise the cruelty at that young age, I remember seeing Auntie Hilds shooing away some hounds that had got into the kitchen!!
I too remember Bottle and Jug and we also used to look out for our Dads at the bar. or we would sit out in the garden and play on the swing.
I also remember the thatched bus shelter by Cross.
Also the paperman in his 'Hillman' car(?) I think it was. We used to run down the path for fear of missing him with sweet money clutched in our hands, and that smell when he opened his boot full of sweets, I often get that memory when I walk in a sweet shop today.
I also remember visiting Auntie Cis and Uncle Frank when I was young and loved the pathways to their house with the clear ditch running underneath the path.
My sister Susan will have lots more memories than me as she is 9 years older. Her friends I remember were Marg Jewell, Ann Kerley and Liz Kerley.
I also remember the annual coach trip to Weymouth, I remember Mrs Parrott used to sit with us on the beach and have photos with the ladies in their summer dresses and men in shirt and ties - no bathers or trunks for them!! We used to stop on the way back in the Red Lion for a shandy or two - for the adults of course, ours was a lemonade and packet of crisps.
Dad recently passed away in April 2005 but always had stories to tell of "Shabbick" , Dad is in one of the pictures on your website, outside the Anchor with the children all stood to the right, Dad is the one leaning on the bike, My sister Susan bought this picture for Dad as a fond memory, but didnt have any idea it was Dad in the picture until he told us. He even remembers the picture being taken as it took so long to take pictures in those days!!.
It has been nice to look back
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Beverly Gallagher, nee Waterman writes:
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My mother, Milly Ingarfield, was sent from London to Shapwick with two of her sisters by the Children's Country Holiday fund in the thirties.She stayed with Mrs Cuff and her sisters stayed with Mrs Harding. During the war she and some of her sisters stayed in Shapwick for a while but I don't know much about it.
My parents took me to Shapwick when I was a girl and we stayed with Jim and Margaret Taylor, nee Harding. Brenda used to write to me and I think young Jim came up to London to stay with us once. I remember old Mrs Harding and Iris very well, especially because their cottage did not have electricity or running water, which was very interesting to a London child.
Mrs Harding lived in a cottage on its own along a road to the left as you go towards the cross. She was Margaret Taylor's mother and she had another daughter Iris who had a physical disability. They are both buried just over the wall in the cemetery. Margaret lived in the cottage facing the church, in Church Street in fact. I think her husband Jim was a thatcher but he had a lot of other country skills.
I was friends with two lads called Alan Kerley and Gordon Marsh, who took me and my friend Carol on the river in a punt with another boy nicknamed Plum. When we were all grown up and married, my husband and I visited Alan and his wife in a tiny cottage when they had a little baby in a pram in the garden. It was a hot day and we all bathed in the river.
Those beautiful days in Shapwick were the start of a lifelong love affair with Dorset and I now live in Sherborne, having left London far behind me.
I have some photos and cine film of the village if anyone would like to see them, and I would be very glad to hear from anyone who remembers me.
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John Hunt writes:
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I was an honorary resident of Shapwick in the 50’s and 60’s. My Great Aunt and Uncle lived in Swanway Cottage in Swan Lane and I spent every school holiday with them coming up from my parents in Devon either on the Train or in the car. They were always known to me as Gran and Grandad as that is what all my cousins called them and they always treated me as one of the grandchildren.
They were Ethel and Jack Dart and had lived in the cottage since the 1930’s. Their children Denis, Jean, Nora, Peter and John were all brought up in the cottage. Denis was killed in the war serving in the RAF flying Lancaster Bombers, he was shot down over Berlin in 1944.
Jean married Jack Cummings who she met when he was sent to guard a plane or glider from Tarrant Rushton that crashed in Swan Lane in the run up to D Day. They lived in Blandford after the war. Nora married and lived in Tarrant Keynston. Peter married and moved away to Preston in Lancashire. John worked for the Tory’s at Crab Farm and married Bobbie and they lived in the tied cottage opposite the Farm.
The cottage was part of the Bankes Estate and I’m not sure but I think it was a tied cottage. We had no electricity, gas or running water. The toilet was a bucket in a corrugated iron hut in the garden! Water was pumped up from the well by a hand pump and you always had to prime it with a huge jug full of water before you could get anything out. We had oil lamps downstairs in the evenings and candles up stairs. Cooking was done on an open range in the parlour. The Front Room was only ever used at Christmas when all the family came for the holiday.
I remember we had a wireless that used accumulators which we had to take in to Blandford to get recharged, the only problem was we were not allowed to bring them back on the bus so we had to walk back from Blandford carrying them and they got very heavy.
I remember walking down the lane to the village shop for sweets and to change the Postal Orders that my parents sent me as my pocket money. Mr and Mrs Boniwell were always very kind to me.
I used to visit Sid Marsh as his son Tony was great friends with John Dart and Sid was a great help to me in the late sixties when I left school and went to work for the Tory’s at Crab Farm for a short while. I seem to recall that Terry Frampton also worked there at the time. I think it was Terry that filled my cap up with tractor grease one day and stuffed it back on my head!
As a child I would never walk down Swan Lane to the village after dark as I always believed that the woods just down from the cottage which we always called Red Lady Wood was haunted by a lady in red shoes and she would get you if you went there at night.
My long stays at the cottage ended in 1968 when I joined the RAF and only went back for short visits to see Gran & Grandad before they died.
I did go back to the cottage several years later when the National Trust had taken over and spoke to the new inhabitants to discover that they had had an indoor toilet installed and a generator for electricity.
I have photos of the cottage and of some of my relatives who lived there if you are interested and can let you have copies for your website which I found purely by chance and really enjoyed.
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Kath Singleton (nee Clarke) writes:
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The day Dawn and I walked to Charlten Marshall to play football against some lads we met at a 'real' game in Shapwick. They promised to get a side together as did we!!!
We never managed to talk anyone else to joining us but that didn't stop us.
Eventually we arrived, albeit very tired. No the lads did not turn up, just as well really with our knowledge of the game and we didn't even have a football. I wonder if they were watching us from afar?
I was stood near our Charley when he was knocked out of his welly boots. He landed a couple of feet away but the boots remained upright. He had the "How did I get here " look on his face. It still gets brought up at family get-togethers. Like the time he was knocked off of his bike by a car and ended up in hospital. Aged about 5years, he rode out of Picadilly without looking and went straight into the path of a car. Luckily he was only bruised but unfortunately the car driver had no insurance. Scandal in the village for a few weeks no doubt.
Going into the Bottle & Jug down the Anchor to get a packet of smith's crisps (the original sort that had the little blue bag inside) or a packet of nuts and raisins, hoping Dad was at the bar and would see me. He always paid for them if he knew I was there. I think we probably drove the landlord mad.
The paper man coming on Saturday mornings in his car to collect money owed for papers. He always sold sweets from his boot. Dad would buy us some. I'm surprised we have any teeth left.
Being told that the pond in Philip's field (behind our house) was so deep that a horse drowned there many years before, so we had to stay away. True about the horse, I don't know.
Walking up to the Point-to-Point races at Badbury Rings. No I wasn't interested in horses or racing but it was probably something to do with the Brandy snaps Dad would buy us.
The following day Hazel Crabb, Betty Creech and I would go up to Badbury Rings and look for treasures that any one may have dropped. We never found anything except litter.
The Bakers van that came round two or three times a week. I remember the bread was always really crusty. It was a cowdrey's van and I think it was a Mr. Ricketts that drove it. Of course the village shop never sold bread.
The hardware van that used to come round every now and then. Just how many bowls and brushes did people get through then? I don't suppose many had Hoovers then.
Ringing Mrs. Richards's doorbell and running away (I'm ashamed to admit that one)
Why did all the village kids do that? Probably was the only door that had a bell.
The annual floods. I remember most years they came up to the Anchor Inn. But occasionally the high street would get flooded. One year they even reached passed the shop the shop.
It must have been awful to live down over the pound. I use to believe that the skeletons from the graves in the churchyard would find themselves coming up the street. Dad said that once some did get washed into the river.
One year our Michael and another (I thought it was Dave Kerley but Maureen thinks it was ??????) setting fire to one of the trees down the Conker Field. Accidentally I sure, but they were smoking, so I'm told.
We used to go down the Conker tree field when it was very cold and icy. The water used to freeze over and we would 'skate' on it. The snow and ice used to last for weeks then. The icicles that were on our roofs were huge. We used to slide up and down the road on the ice. Our shoes never had any tread on them.
At 13 or 14 years old being paid to pick the wild oats or charlotte (the yellow wild flower) out of the crops by Bobby Cave. Hazel and I made quite a bit during the summer months.
Julia Cave and I were caught scrumping pears from her grandfather's garden. We climbed over that high wall. For an old man he couldn't half run.
A load of us going down to the river to swim in the summer months. We used paddle across the stream and walk to the river t other sheep dip. It was really deep there. You would not catch me doing that now. I remember having to climb up the bank to get out and always getting covered with mud.
Bonfire night I think we came down your place a few times. Dad would buy a box of fireworks. When we were little, dad would put a Catherine wheel on the gatepost and lit it - it always flew off. Or a Rocket in a milk bottle that always fell over.
Margaret Jewell and I used to catch minnows in the ditches in Piccadilly lane. I remember her breaking her arm while playing leapfrog.
We used to play French cricket in the road. Dad used to play but I can't remember him hitting the ball! "
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On other pages...
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