"P.C.CHARLEY GOWEN" memories of Norah E.Gowing
In times gone by, even mention of the name of the Village Constable could strike terror into the mind of even the most innocent schoolchild, The great strength of the local Bobby was that he knew everybody, and was known by everybody.
Early In 1934 my husband, P.C. Gowing, was transferred from Staple Hill Police Station to Warmley as Officer in Charge. What a change it was to make to his hours of working, no longer set hours, but on call 24 hours. If he was not in, I had to be, for which my pay was 2/6d per week.
There was also the weekly market at Bridgeyate which had to be attended with the Sergeant from Oldland, (this market played an important part in the War). Then there was the house, it had just had electric light installed. That was the only modern bit, coming from a gas stove, and a flush toilet, it was quite a come down to an open grate, the oven was broken, so the first thing to do was to get an oil stove. Then there was the cesspit, the bane of my husband's life. It was the only drainage we had, so every so often it had to be emptied. This was done by tipping it all down a big pipe which had been sunk in the top of the garden. We presumed it had gone down into one of the caves of which there were a lot round the Clock Tower.
Also, not to forget all the bath-water had to be carried up in a big bath, after we all had one in front of the open fire in the living room, which was also the actual Police Station, consisting of a table and two chairs, the telephone was out in the passage. Nearly next door was the pottery which was working full time. The clay hole was very deep and a person was drowned there. A Mr. H. Harris dived in, but was only able to bring out the body.
One of the most depressing times was two outbreaks of Foot and Mouth disease. The first was before the war when all carcases were burned. The second was during the war, when they were all buried in quicklime. Every gateway of the farms infected had to have disinfectant for the washing of boots of people going in and out. For the one case of anthrax it took a ton of wood and a ton of coal, and lasted for two days and a night, and my husband was on duty the whole time.
Then came the war and our sitting room was used by all and sundry. We had two special constables and a Sergeant on duty each night, so that was when our two boys and myself were able to go to the shelter, which was where the trucks went under the road to get the clay into the pottery.
There was not much to laugh about at that time, but one night 1 heard a banging on the door, there was a man from the civil defence telling me there were flames coming out of the Stack and they must be put out. I said it could not be done. He said he could not get in to tell them, so 1 said 'Climb the wall the same as I did'. He was horrified.
During this time we were responsible for notifying Magnal to sound the Air Raid siren and for sounding the all clear. So after it was all over my husband retired with 34 years service in 1948.
'TOMMY SELLICK THE BLIND MUSICIAN' written by Kary Jennings
Here is a story of a rare talent and a triumph over adversity, a man vho was, and still is, an example to us all.
At the turn of the century, in the year 1902, Lucy Seliick, wife at George, residents of The Batch, Tower Road tiouth, Warmley, gave birth to twin boys who sadly were born blind. They were named Hector and Thomas (known as Tommy)
To compensate lor this tragic handicap both boys at a very early age developed an amazing musical talent, and by the time they were 4 years old were playing easily recognisable pieces of music on the family organ. At 5 years of age, Hector and Tommy were sent as boarders to a school for the Blind at Westbury on Trym, Bristol; they learned to read Braille and went on to receive a general education; their best subject and first love was music, they played the piano together in school concerts and at concerts around Bristol.
After leaving school they returned home to The Batch to live with their family and continued playing together at local Churches and Chapels. During this period Tommy and Hector met a gentleman by the name of Bishop who became their benefactor, manager and good friend. Soon after this meeting, with the blessing of their parents they went to live with Mr. Bishop and his wife in Thornbury near Gloucester. The name of the house they lived in was 'Auckland'.
When the boys were 16 years old, Mr. Bishop decided they were ready to try their luck in London. He contacted a friend by the name of Bevan who owned a theatrical agency. After meeting the boys and hearing them play the piano, he was very impressed by their ability and professionalism and soon after booked them for several engagements in the theatres and halls around London. It was decided that Tommy and Hector should have a. stage name and the name they chose was 'The Twin Brothers Auckland' - after Mr. Bishop's house in Thornbury, so that name was used throughout their careers.
Their first concert tour in London proved to be very successful and soon they were in great demand. Over the next five years the engagements kept coming in and many more tours followed. They toured South Wales and many more cities all over the Country. Mr. Bevan became not only their agent but a firm and trusted friend. When the twins were playing in London they stayed with him and his wife in their flat in Regents Park and during the South Wales tours at their flat in Swansea. Tommy and Hector were very happy during this time, not only were they doing what they loved best but earning a good living. However, their career almost came to a premature end when Tommy developed ear trouble. He was taken to see a Harley Street specialist who diagnosed mastoids which called for an operation. Everyone, including the family at home, waited anxiously for news; fortunately the operation was successful and although Tommy's hearing was impaired, to everyone's delight he was able to perform as well as ever.
However, within a couple of years, Just at the time when arrangements were being finalised for a tour of America, Hector became ill with a kidney infection; as his condition worsened all engagements had to be cancelled and within a few months Tommy, Hector and Mr. Bishop returned to Thornbury.
Hector's condition continued to deteriorate and in the year ol 1924 at 22 years of age he died from kidney failure. Hector's body was brought home to The Batch for burial at Tower Methodist Church.
Tommy was devastated by the loss of his beloved twin and grieved deeply for him but gradually, with the love and support of his parents and sisters, began to play the organ again and was soon playing the piano at local concerts and Chapels. Tommy was not only well known by the people of the community but also by the bus drivers and conductors in the area. I well remember one occasion, when none of the Sellick girls were available, taking Tommy to the bus stop, the conductor then took charge and made sure that he got safely to his destination; there was always someone at the end of his journey to meet him, but if they were a little late or the bus was early, there was usually someone getting on or off the bus who knew Tommy, and would see him safely to where he was going.
As the years passed Tommy continued to play in all sorts of venues. One of his favourite times was during the Second World War when he toured around Bristol and the West Country playing to people working in the munitions factories at their lunch-time concerts.. He Joined a concert party which was organised by a Mr. Small who lived in Keynsham, and over the next 20 years or so he carried on playing as a semi-professional until his hearing deteriorated further and so was forced into retirement.
He spent his time listening to classical music on the radio and playing the organ and piano for his own pleasure. Tommy was a lifetime member of the National Deaf-Blind League, he wrote and had published several letters in the Leagues' magazines. From one of them, dated September 1976 he says; and I quote: 'I joined our splendid League in 1933; The Rainbow magazine was written by hand in those days and I was asked if I could help them to write copies of the magazine. I was fortunate to have a machine -an old fashioned model, but very good; no clamps then; the machines were similar to what we have now. They sent me Braille paper to do the Job and I made as many copies as I could. - I am 74 years old now, and up to last year I could hear the radio and what I was playing on the piano and organ. I love classical music, Beethoven was my favourite -what a wonderful man he was to be able to compose music although stone-deaf.'
To me, and many, many people who knew Tommy, would agree when I say; 'You too, Tommy was a wonderful man.' For the last 41 years of his life Tommy lived with us and was cared for by his devoted sister Hilda and family. Towards the end of his life, Hilda nursed him at home until a few months before he died at Manor Park Hospital in 1984 at 82 years of age. He was cremated at Amos Vale Cemetery.
The musical gift of Tommy and Hector was passed on to their nephew Paul, who was the son of their elder sister Dorrie. Paul was also born blind, and like his uncles was playing the piano at a very early age. By the time Paul left school, he and Tommy were very close friends, they spent many happy hours together playing piano and discussing music.
Sadly Paul died when only 35 years of age. However, the musical gift lives on in his son Simon.
'DENIS BRYANT' memories of Denis W.M. Bryant
Long before supermarkets were even dreamt of, vital commodities such as, bread, fish, vegetables and milk, were brought to the housewife by tradesmen, here is the story of one of these truly local people.
We moved from Goose Green to Crown Farm, Warmley, in about 1933, and during the first two or three days, two people asked if I was going to deliver milk to the people near the farm. Father, who I worked for, said that I could deliver the milk in between my other duties. So that was the start of my life as a Milk Retailer. I had already been taking milk to a few people at Goose Green before we moved, so I started off with a milk can and two measures.
Mrs. Nash at the Paper Shop was my first customer followed by Mrs. Dewsberry in No. 8 Tower Road and from then to the present day, there has been a steady flow of new and recommended customers. Up to the time I retired there were still two families who had been with me for 53 years and quite a number had three generations dealing with us.
Soon I acquired a bicycle, a 'sit-up-and-beg' type ladies cycle, with a can on each handle bar. At that time I counted 36 different milk retailers selling milk in the village as all the small farmers from around came with milk, eggs and farm produce to get a bit of ready money. After the first bike I bought a BSA Tradesman's bike with the small wheel at the front and a basket, so then I could carry two cans on the handle bars and bottles and eggs in the basket. One memory- that I have is in the Winter of about 1936. I think I had got as far as Blackhorse Road, Kingswood, and we had about three inches of snow. Tramlines were also on the main road from Blackhorse Road and crossing the Tramlines at the wrong angle, the bike skidded and off I came, bottles smashed, eggs scrambled and the milk in the cans spilt! So back I had to go to Warmley to load up again.
In those days milk was 3d a pint and large eggs 10d a dozen. My first van gave problems in bad winters. A 33 Austin Van, no heater and handle start. When the windscreen froze over it was wound open to give visibility. So it was thick scarves and Balaclava helmets.
Perhaps only selling 4-6 gallons of milk each, there were three or four larger firms such as Robinson and Drew of Springfield Farm, Co-op who had between them 50of the trade, Hornby's Dairies of Keynsham and a host of the said smaller ones of which I was the tiddler, names like Frank Gay, Mr. Jenkins, Joe Peacock, Teddy Downes, Frank James and so on. I passed my driving test and bought a second hand van for £25, petrol at 10d a gallon. We had cold weather in the winters then and if I stood talking too long to one of the customer's daughters the milk in the pail would soon have a think layer of ice form over the top.
Delivering milk loose from a can was a lengthy job, as most people liked you to knock for the jug, or open the door and walk in and take a Jug off the dresser and put the usual amount into it. At that time, I was selling a lot of half pints and going around twice daily with morning and evening milk which did not help with my social life, as the local girls would sit on the wall In front of their homes and ask me when I finished work and on replying 9pm., they would say 'Uh, we have to be in before nine.'
Bottled milk came Into use about this time and I found it suited me much better to ease the customers on to bottles, as it was much quicker putting down halves or pints one after the other, than hanging about with Jugs, although there then was the extra work of filling them and when the round was done, the washing of the used bottles.
I was able to talk a couple of the local girls into coming down to the farm and helping to wash and fill. A few months ago, a middle-aged customer suddenly said, 'You don't remember me do you? I used to help you wash bottles years ago when 1 was a girl!'
Then the War came and I joined the LDV's, later to be called the Home Guard, and worked my round and did some farm work for Father and also my Home Guard duties and made plans, if I had to Join the Regular Army, to use one of the Land Army girls to look after the round, but fortunately, 1 did not get called for Regular Service.
Delivering milk during air raids became a common thing. I wore my HG Tin hat, carried my rifle In the van and observed the dog-fights in the air, also I remember vividly one of the raids on the BAC works at Filton.
In 1940 I met my wife-to-be, Olive, and two years later in 1942 we married and I had bought the house where we are now and have lived there ever since.
The round grew to two vans with a third one as spare. 1947 was a very bad winter and as Father's herd could not supply all my needs, I had to go to a wholesaler down at Church Road, Lawrence Hill and bring back six or seven churns of milk to bottle up and take out by 7am. This meant that I had ta be at Lawrence Hill by 5am. , and as the snow was quite deep all down Two Mile Hill, it was a long slow haul back, using my old Austin car with a trailer on the back.
Going back to my early days, one of the reasons why people came over to me was as someone once said, 'We like to walk along Tower Road and see your Father's cows in the field, they look so clean and well looked after and it is nice to think that's where our milk comes from'. Those fields would have been where Mardons and the other factories are now and our farm, Crown Farm, was where the bend in the road is, where Station Road joins into Tower Road and the other side from us was The Blackhorse Inn.
Father always fed his cows well and gave them plenty of straw to bed down in, which enabled them to be clean. The milk in the bottles at that time was untreated and the cream line was halfway down the bottle. But in 1952 all that came to a stop and all farm milk had to be pasteurised, either on the farm where it was produced, or be sent to a wholesaler with the equipment to do that. So after that we had our milk delivered to us already bottled and in crates. Time passed and by the middle Sixties the round got too big for our small staff and with labour troubles, I had one driver leave and so I sold off part of the business.
We then had trouble with the other roundsman who asked for his cards and I gave them to him, although both these men came back a few months later and wanted to start again, but I said 'No'. My son, Fred Alan, had by now expressed a wish to join me so after he had passed his driving test, he took over the two rounds and some we had to pass on to Unigate, sadly, because they were loyal, not given to grumbling and all good payers, but I had made up my mind that I had enough of outside roundsmen and would run the Dairy with just Alan and myself.
I have now retired, and in one way very regretfully as I have enjoyed the work; walking about in people's gardens, listening to the birds and enjoying a nice day, made up for the wet, cold and snowy weather.
