When we came to live in Yoxford, we joined the Methodist church and took part in all that was done there. I became a steward and jointly we became cleaners. In 1950 our minister was Rev Leslie Clench and both he and his wife were well-liked. He asked if I would be the speaker at a meeting and I accepted; it was a missionary meeting. He wanted me to tell about my experiences in the war. The meeting started at 7.30 pm and later I heard the school clock across the road strike and thought it was 8.00, it was in fact 9.00. Rev Clench was in charge of seven churches and he asked me to speak at all of them. When we got to the last one he said I have heard them all but you have something different to tell every time. Then one evening we had a meeting to discuss the business regarding Yoxford chapel. As we came away I said to Rev Clench I have been thinking I ought to apply to become a preacher. Every quarter (13 weeks) a plan is produced for preachers to know where they are expected to conduct services. Following our conversation, when the plan came out for the next quarter my name was there to go to Sibton, three miles away.
The day duly arrived, a very wet and windy one. I had a little idea where the chapel was but took a wrong turn but got there in time for the service. There were two sitting there and the steward greeted me (he was an elderly preacher of many years). He said “Well young man, what are you going to do now there are only three of us”. He was a great help and we had the service but not the hymns I had picked. When the next plan came out I had two appointments. A young minister living in Halesworth started a meeting to train preachers and to take exams of which there were four. We used to meet on Friday evenings at the Manse. There were six of us. There were written exams on the Old Testament, New Testament and doctrine. This took three years which included answering verbal questions put to us at the preachers’ meeting. In 1953, we were recognised local preachers at the quarterly meeting of all the churches.
The number of appointments grew as some of the older ones who had kept going during the war retired. I only had a few at first, perhaps six, then it became more, one each Sunday. I became the secretary of the preachers’ quarterly meeting. I soon found that my appointments were more, until one quarter I had 33, which meant that some Sundays I had three services. The most anyone could do was 39 and I felt that this was too much. After this my average was 25 but it still meant that I was sometimes out all day. In our circuit there were 25 churches, from Orford in the South to Southwold in the North – south to north was 20 miles and east to west was 12 miles. When I first started most rode bicycles including some ministers.
It was interesting getting to know the people and their various ways of doing things. I had been used to Yoxford where the steward was there before the preacher and they had a prayer before the service began. One church I went to for the first time, there was no one there. I sat in the vestry and waited until a head came round the door and said “Oh, we are waiting for you”. Not a good start to the service. The “organist” played only by ear, played a note and picked up the tune as we sang. When it came to the sermon, she got off the organ stool, sat in the front pew, folded her arms and went to sleep, waking when I stopped talking. One very hot August I was there when she slept so well I had to wake her. That day there was a bigger than usual congregation as it was a bank holiday weekend. In another church it was not unusual to hear a mouse trap spring with a sharp snap.
One elderly preacher could not read. He had fallen on a fire when he was very young and burnt his face so he had missed a lot of school. He was a fine well-respected preacher. His wife had taught him passages of scripture which he used. He had also learnt the first verses of five hymns, the hymn book opened at the wrong place. It was a long time before I realised that he couldn’t read and I was not alone.
The hospitality that we had was good, always someone ready to take us for a meal. One meal I remember I had to go to a village further on. As I entered the house I was told that they hoped I didn’t mind but they didn’t work on Sunday so it was a cold meal. I said that it would be alright but I was surprised when I was given a real cold meal – cold meat, cold mashed potatoes, cold peas, followed by cold apple pie and a glass of cold water. They did not believe in making people work to produce electricity, a principle I could not understand, what about the power for the organ in the church? Now I find that there is very little need for any hospitality as there are very few who have to take more than one service. One preacher used to come into our circuit from the Ipswich circuit. He used to cycle 40 miles to Southwold in the morning, then nine miles to Darsham in the afternoon, then two miles to Yoxford in the evening, then back to Darsham to catch the train home. One Sunday I had to go to Southwold, my hosts that day were Mr and Mrs Short. While his wife prepared lunch
Wally said how about a walk along the front and while we were talking I found out that he was born in Yoxford. The foundation stone of the Yoxford Methodist church had been laid by his father (William). On the south west wall near the door of the church there are a number of bricks with letters engraved in them, mostly ending with S all except one which only had S. I asked him if he knew anything about them. He said that he didn’t but then suddenly told me the birth dates of his brother and sisters and then there was a long gap between two of them. As the other dates were regular he said his mother must have had a miscarriage.
One little chapel had, as many of the others, a tortoise stove for heating, usually near the centre. When I went there in the winter the stove was alight but there was always a strong smell of paraffin which had been used to get the fire going. At the end of the service the caretaker used to say that it was nice and warm. I never did enlighten him that it was cold the other end of the building. He used to sit by the stove; he was the only one who was warm. I am no musician, but I like a good sing. I used to choose the five hymns for a service and hand them to the organist and wait for the groans. “We don’t know that one, that one is difficult”. There is a great deal of difference in churches, some are easy and everything flows but there are some where it seems as if there is a wall between preacher and congregation. An annual preachers’ conference was held in Overstrand, Norfolk and I enjoyed attending these together with sixty to seventy other preachers.
After a year or two I got an auto cycle which meant it was easier than the pedal cycle. One Sunday, my auto cycle let me down. It would start but stopped after a short time. After getting it to go I began my journey home, it was five miles to Yoxford. I had not gone far when it stopped and there was only one thing to do, push it home. I was a half a mile off the main road when a car stopped and waited. I reached the car and it turned out to be the coal merchant from Yoxford who I knew fairly well. He towed me home, with me holding a rope. There was very little traffic then. All together I found being a preacher very rewarding. Some Monday mornings I felt really tired but I was able to do my garden work to suit how I felt. Another step came when the elder of Mrs Forster’s sons, Richard, had a BSA Bantam motor bike, but didn’t use it. Then the station master at Darsham Station rang to say that he wanted it moved. It had been left there for two months. I went to get it and pushed it the mile back from the station and found a home for it in the shed. A month or so later, Mrs Forster said that if I wanted it I could have it.
I joined the British Legion soon after I came home and was sick visitor and standard bearer. I was also involved with the Yoxford Vegetable Show committee. I was elected onto the parish council and also helped to start up the over 60’s club which met every Thursday afternoon. I became the chairman and we called it the Welcome Club. The members paid sixpence a meeting and there was also a draw which covered our expenses. During the summer we organised a coach trip with a meal somewhere. The first one went to Southwold and took a picnic tea. One of the ladies told me that she had never been there or to any of the villages we passed through. Another time we went to Lowestoft and to a show at the Sparrows Nest theatre. I understand that the club is still going but has a different name. Dr Forster allowed me to do this and he let me have time off for church meetings which were in the week. One evening Ted Phillips came to see me (his wife was a member of the over 60’s club) and told me that his wife wanted to see me. He said that she wanted to make her will and wanted me to be executor. When I asked why she wanted to see me, he said that they knew what I did and who I was. I took that to be a compliment. The solicitor was coming next week and all that was necessary was done.
One day Mrs Forster brought home what had been a very comfortable arm-chair, it had a rounded back and partly covered arms. It was intact but in a very bad state. It had been covered with a leather-like material with a buttoned back. I had what had been a stable years ago but was now the workshop. Repairing the chair now became a wet day job, first to strip it and clean and polish the frame. The springs were alright but all the webbing needing renewing. The horse-hair stuffing was usable. Once this was done, Mrs Forster produced a very nice roll of gold brocade to finish it. I was fearful of cutting it, in case I cut it wrong. It went well and with the buttons in the back it looked it very good. It was given a home in the sitting room. Next a chaise longue turned up, it was not in as bad a condition as the chair. The gold cloth came out again and when it was finished it looked like new and found its place in a room off the dining-room.
When Margaret was seven, David Graham was born. He, like Margaret, has been a great blessing to us. Before David started school he used to come and “help” me in the garden. He loved it with his little wheelbarrow I had made for him. He moved lawn mowings and planted some of the larger seed. One day he was helping with sowing broad beans. I made the holes and he put the beans in. I got to the end of the row and he was on his hands and knees. I asked him what he was doing and he said that he had put two beans in one hole. I told him that it didn’t matter but he said that you said just put one in each hole. He was then and still is particular to do things properly. Another day I was working near to the house and he was with me. Then I heard him calling me. He had slipped and one leg was in the small pond. I lifted him out, took off his little Wellington boot and tipped it out and told him to go home to Mum. Off he went and when Edith saw him walking awkwardly and making a squelching noise she said “You haven’t have you?” No I haven’t, he replied. When I went into the house for coffee at 10.30 a.m. he used to come in as well. Mrs Forster always made a fuss of David and Margaret. One day, I had to go up into the roof space above the main bedroom to turn off the water from the tanks there for a plumber. As I came down I saw a wasps’ nest which was on one of the rafters. It was round, about the size of a football. I, with permission, took David up to see it, this was in November so the wasps were quiet. I cut it off into a cardboard box and several people were interested to see it. One of the teachers in the school said that she would like to show it to the children. On Friday morning I took it into school. On Monday morning on my way to collect the newspaper I saw the caretaker coming out of the school. He said that he had been clearing up wasps, they were everywhere. The warmth had brought them out. I did not tell him until a few days later that I had been the person who had taken the nest into school!
The cottage we had lived in when I was a boy was put on the market and Dr Forster bought it and the adjoining one. The dispenser lived in it at the time so while the two were turned into one house he and his wife moved into the White House. Part of the cottages was pulled down and a proper kitchen and bathroom with a flush toilet were installed. The dispenser and his wife, Fred and Eva Barber moved back into the cottage and everything seemed normal until one morning he told me that he was no longer needed and had to move out. Then came a great surprise, Dr Forster offered us a chance to live in what is now known as Pinns Cottage. It was an easy move for us as Silverdene Cottages where we were living backed onto Pinns Meadow the same as Pinns Cottage. We moved with father helping using a wheelbarrow going across the corner of the meadow. Margaret and David could now have separate bedrooms and we had a bathroom for the first time. Our garden was on the other side of the hedge from where I worked. Mrs Forster told Edith that it was always their intention that we should live there.
To me it was good as in the next door cottage were friends, the Deverills, who I had known for years. We used to play with their daughter Betty when we were younger. Betty was married and living in South Africa at that time. Mr Deverill died suddenly and the children then called Mrs Deverill ‘Gran Deverill’ (by then both their grandmothers had died) and we all got on very well. In fact when she died much later, it was left to us to deal with everything that had to be done.
At the White House I was told that the telephone system was being updated with a phone extension in the summer house near to the tennis court and another extension in Pinns Cottage. The phone rang one evening and Mrs Forster asked me if I could go to the house as they had had a fire in the dining-room. A young man passing had seen the flames through the window. When I got there the fire was out and there was smoke damage. The heavy curtains had been across a window covering an electric fire which had been switched on. There was a lot of pewter in the room, including two very large serving dishes which had melted.
We were very happy with everything until one morning, Mrs Forster was in the kitchen when I took the daily paper in and she told me that Dr Forster was in hospital. He had been having a lot of trouble breathing. The days seemed empty as I carried on trying to cope with the locums who had trouble finding their way around. They didn’t stay very long. Not long after this Mrs Forster told me that the Doctor had died. My time after that was used helping Mrs Forster as much as I was able, sorting things out and disposing of this and that. On May 2nd 1973 I was given a letter by Mrs Forster’s youngest son Christopher giving me eight weeks’ notice to leave. A doctor who was taking over the practice and had shown interest in the White House decided to live in Westleton. I had been busy decorating a bungalow in Westleton for Mrs Forster to move in to. This was all complicated but Mrs Forster did not move to Westleton but went to Framlingham instead. I must say that Dr and Mrs Forster and their sons looked on Edith and me and the children as part of their family. We still have contact with Christopher from time to time. Now I was to become unemployed. Who was going to take on a 55-old gardener/handyman who also needed somewhere to live?