In January 1925, we were awakened by a lot of noise and dogs barking. When Father looked out of our bedroom window he said that he couldn’t see anything. In the morning, the young man from the bakers brought the yeast for Mother to make the bread and also brought the news that the Three Tuns had burnt down. Later we went with Mother to the shops and had to pass the smouldering ruin of the “Tuns”. The fire pump was still there and the firemen were trying to get a rope over the swinging Inn sign high on the front wall. We stayed outside the shops so that we could see the sign being pulled down.
Yoxford is said by some to be the garden of Suffolk. The story is told of a gentleman who stayed at the Tuns one night. The next morning, he opened the curtains and across the road was a garden full of flowers in bloom so he said it looked it must be the garden of Suffolk.
Father did not get much time off working on the railway as a platelayer and ‘first fog man’. Being a fog man he had to place three detonators on the rails to warn the train driver that the rail ahead was not clear. Being a fog man meant that he had to be on duty when it was foggy at the distant signal on the down line. The detonators were held on the rails by lead straps, three at a time, a set distance apart. The train set them off with a loud bang. Father had to show either a red lamp or a green lamp for the driver to see. It was a dangerous job. Several men were killed because the fog deadens noise and the sound of the approaching train. Father had a thick overcoat issued to him, I think it was every two or three years. We had one of them on our bed in the winter. These railway men only had Christmas day and Good Friday off work. Like many in the country they went on strike. These times made things very bad, moneywise, but Mother had a good name with the trades’ folk in the village. It was still hard after the strike was over. Father now had better wages and conditions, all Bank holidays off work, cheaper travel by rail for all the family and one week annual holiday. We used to do the same thing every year in August. Monday we went to Aldeburgh carnival, Tuesday shopping in Ipswich, Wednesday we went to Great Yarmouth where we were all weighed on the jockey scales on the prom. On Thursday we went to Felixstowe and on Friday we went to Lowestoft to visit Aunt Sally, Father’s sister. On Saturday we went to Norwich shops and the Castle Museum.
One thing we got every winter was chilblains on our fingers and toes. The itching and soreness was awful and sometimes the skin broke. Mother tried all sorts of remedies but none seemed to help and it had to run its course. Then Mother heard of someone who had a cure, it was paraffin. When we went to bed pieces of linen soaked in paraffin were wound round our toes and hands, held on by socks on our hands and feet. Two nights of this and no itching. It was smelly but it worked. Homes are so much better heated now that we hear very little about chilblains.
Mr and Mrs Stevenson and their young son and daughter moved into the village, across the road from the school. Mr Stevenson had been in the war and had no legs, apart from his thighs. He had a mobile chair which enabled him to get out. It was a pedal-type chair which he cranked with his hands. He could get about quite quickly and he used to go for a drink in the Kings Head. On our way home at midday, we would hurry to open the pub door for him as it had a Suffolk latch which was too high for him to reach. He was an amazing man, always out in his mobile chair. For a day out he would go to Southwold, which was ten miles.
On two occasions we got home from school to find a steam wagon with its near-side wheels in the ditch. This was not an open ditch but was covered over to make a pathway to get to the houses in Brook Street. This was a narrow street and was the cause of the wagons getting too near to the path and it just caved in. These were new wagons, on a test run from Leiston, where they were made. We never saw how they got them out, but we did see a bigger engine towing them. Southwold held a Trinity fair on the common and we would hear the steam engines on a Sunday morning passing through Yoxford. These were bigger engines towing three or four tractors and looked a sight with the brass shining. They were not allowed over the river bridge until after the evening service in the church was over.
Between 3.00pm and 4.00pm on a Friday, we would see three or four vehicles on their way to Lowestoft. They were each driven by a man who was open to all weathers so they wore thick overcoats and sometimes, leather goggles and leather helmets. On Monday mornings, about 10.00am, these drivers returned to London driving red double-decker buses. The coachworks at Lowestoft where they were made is now closed.
Another thing which we saw regularly was the tramps that walked the roads. At ten in the morning they would be going south and around four in the afternoon they would be going north. They walked from workhouse to workhouse; the nearest one to Yoxford was at Blythburgh. Before they left in the morning they had to do so much work in the gardens and then they would be given a measure of tea, sugar, bread and cheese. Some people along the way would give them food when they called in for water for their billy cans. They got to know where they would be given more than water. It was terrible to see them dressed in ragged clothes and very poor footwear. These times were very hard for many.
November 5th , Guy Fawkes Night was a lovely time in the village. There was a torchlight procession to Rookery Park to a great fire and fireworks. A guy was carried and thrown onto the fire. That is except one year, when instead of being thrown he jumped and ran away. It was the local Doctor playing a trick on us!
An outing was organised for the Ipswich children who were less well off. They came to Yoxford to Rookery Park, carried in vehicles of all shapes and sizes, motor cycles, side cars, buses, lorries, some open, some covered. The day before they came, a fair arrived and the children were given tokens to go on the various amusements. When the children returned to Ipswich the village folk were allowed into the park to enjoy the fair in the evening. Early on Monday the fair would be on the move again. The fair traction engines were different to those used on the farms. For a start, they were bigger and had a lot of shining brass and a dynamo to produce electric lights on the amusements.
A man from Walpole cycled in on a Saturday, selling cream, water cress and cream cheese. Milk was delivered to the door every morning, straight from the farm. The horse drawn milk cart had two churns: the milk was brought to the door and measured out into the buyer’s jug. I think the horse knew the round as well as the man in charge. There was cheaper skimmed milk which was collected from Cockfield Hall. I, at one time, used to take four cans, for Mother and three other ladies after school. I would get two or three pints, whatever they wanted. I was given sixpence a week for doing this. One lady used to call “Come in”, when I knocked to deliver her milk. She was always sitting in her chair. One day when I called and opened the door she had a good fire in the grate. She then informed me “There is Effie if you want to see him”. Effie, her son, had died and there he was in his coffin. I got out of the room very quickly!
On 18th May 1925 we had a flood. It had been a heavy, sticky day with rumbles of thunder. It got worse after father came home from work. He stood at the front door, they always said that both back and front doors had to be opened when there was thunder. Apparently this was to allow any thunder bolt to get out. At least that was what I was told. The storm broke and father said that there was going to be a flood, he could see it coming across the meadow at the back of our house. Before he could close the door the water was in the house. We two boys were pushed upstairs followed by chairs. The couch and bits and pieces were put onto the table out of the way. The water rose and just lapped the first step of the stairs and it was still rising, it had nowhere to go as a wall at the back of the house was stopping it getting away. On the other side of the wall was a wide tract of land which ran between houses. Father and Mr Newson, who lived next door, pushed the wall over using a large piece of wood and the water ran away to the river. The house where we had first lived had water up to the mantle shelf. Father was worried about the chickens, particularly the sitting hen as she had ten chicks which were only a few days old. Until the eggs hatched there was a box for the hen to incubate the eggs. When they hatched, the box was replaced by a wooden floor which luckily had floated in the coop. We were going to be able to have chicken for Christmas after all. In a flood it is not only the water which is bad enough but the filth it leaves behind. In the days I am writing about there were even toilet buckets, less their contents, floating down the street, it doesn’t bear thinking about. A few days after this flood a hole appeared in the garden where father had dug a deep hole to get rid of tins, bottles, jars and what have you. There was no collection of rubbish at that time.