As told to Tina Pascoe
Millie Tyler – born 1910 – Warborough
Married Donald Pritchard 1935 – Warborough
Died 2000 – Wallingford
I was born in one of the farm cottages, belong to St John’s College, which used to be down Gravel Lane and went on to live in various homes in Warborough for the rest of my life.
One of the most memorable features of my childhood in Warborough was the ditches which bordered most of the main road and were full of water. The one running from the Greet Hall to the shop used to afford us youngsters’ hours of enjoyment. We used to catch our tadpoles from the pond outside Church View, and swing on the willow and hang from the grating by the shop. The fire engine used to fill up from the ditch near the drapers, Quakers’ Cottage, and cows used to graze on the verges. One of them pitched me into the ditch which was, thankfully, nearly empty.
On cold days, I remember my mother used to give us hot potato to put in our pockets, both for the warmth and nourishment. And in one of the houses along Thame Road, there was a brick missing from the outside chimney breast, and we used to stop there to pop our hands inside to warm them.
On Saturdays, many of us youngsters would take our little carts and walk to the wharf, where the coal barges would stop, to collect coal for the week. In this way we could earn money to put towards the three (old) pence that we would take to the Vicarage kitchen each week to be entered on our Shoe card. The Vicar would act as ‘banker’ and in this way we could buy a new pair of shoes or boots each year. I remember the vicar, Mr Caldicott used to give us a half-a-crown at Christmas, which my mother would always buy a jar of Horlicks and some lump sugar. Mrs Greet would give all the children in the village school a shilling and an egg each Easter. The Warborough Feast, which was always the first Sunday after 21st August, was a great highlight of the year. I recall having free rides because my father used to give marrows and beans from his allotment to the showmen.
On Sundays my father, on his way down to bellringing, would hand our baking dish of meat and potatoes, and a plum-duff pudding, which would last us a week, to Mr Bullock at the Old Bake House, where it would be cooked. Later on, Mr Bond would ring the ‘pudding bell’ and we, along with many other families, would run to collect our Sunday dinner.
At the age of thirteen and a half I was allowed to leave school to train as a parlour maid. I was paid five shillings a month and I left home to ‘live in’. I used to be up at 6am every morning to clean the kitchen range; and once a month we had to go to the 7am Sunday service in order to have breakfast ready for the family returning from the 8am service. One of my duties was to wrap up the flat irons in paper to warm the cook’s bed. We had one Sunday afternoon a fortnight off; but we could not leave until the luncheon had been cleared away and everything was ready for tea. We were still expected to be at Evensong at 6pm, and we had to be ‘in’ by 9pm.
In ‘courting’ days lads and lasses used to meet of a Sunday afternoon to go for a walk. Often, we would all walk through the village and the boys would buy a few sweets at the shop in Shillingford. We would wander down to Shillingford Bridge or pay a penny to cross on the ferry. Whatever the route, we usually came back down Watery Lane and made sure we went through the ‘kissing gate’. In this way I met my husband, who had been born at Rush Court, and we were married in St. Laurence Church. On the day, my mistress, Mrs Hayes, gave me away because my dear father said “he would never give anything good away” – and with that he went off to work on his allotment.