The Great Floods of 1953

Tonight marks the 60th anniversary of the Great Floods of 1953. A combination of high Spring tides and gale force winds coming from the North Sea hit the East coast of Britain where over 300 people lost their lives in East Anglia alone. During that night the sea wall on Canvey Island collapsed and the sea came flooding in and purged the Island resulting in 58 Islanders losing their lives and the whole Island being evacuated. There has been a lot of media coverage this week and many commemoration services. I wrote this story of my own evacuation from Canvey Island for our local Community Archives which I thought I'd share with you
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                                           Our bungalow "Glenroy" on the corner of Northfalls and Springfield Road

 I remember the events of that January night as though it happened yesterday. I remember most things and my late mother filled me in over the years. Living with me in our bungalow "Glenroy" were mum and dad - Stella and Sid and my sister Barbara. I was 5½ years old.

My story begins with the howling wind outside my bedroom window when getting ready for bed that night. We lived in Springfield Road at Leigh Beck, known as The Point, the most easterly point of the Island and the furthest distance from the only road off the Island at that time across the bridge some five miles away. The The River Thames and sea wall was about 500 yards from our bungalow on one side and maybe 1500 yards on the other side. It was hard to get to sleep with the wind and rain battering the windows and the trees rustling in the wind. My sister and I went to bed as usual unaware of what dangers might be looming.

I remember the sound of something or someone furiously banging on our back door and then the windows. It's was the old lady Mrs Savage dressed in her nightclothes, who lived in Rose Cottage opposite ours. She was shouting and screaming "the sea wall has broken, the sea is coming down the road, get out, the sea is coming". This was 2 o-clock in the morning and with no street lights working I don't know how she found her way to ours, especially as the road was already under water and filling up dramatically. I don't know what happened to her that night although I'm sure my parents would have helped her evacuate alongside us. She did survive and returned to Rose Cottage over the next few weeks.

                                                        The dinghy that came for us outside Glenroy

I remember mum and dad rushing around the house in a kind of mad panic and putting clothes and things in a holdall of some kind. By now my sister Barbara aged two years old was awake and crying. I can't remember the next few hours but around dawn we left through our back door and us girls were carried down the flooded garden and lifted over the fence of our neighbours' Beryl and Bert Green and over another fence to where we joined a group of other evacuees from the road behind us. From somewhere there appeared a couple of dinghies waiting for us round by our front gate. I imagine that volunteers or the army had been sent to our part of the island due to its vulnerability and that it was now our turn to be evacuated. It must have been awful for mum and dad to stay put in the bungalow knowing the water was not subsiding.

We were helped into a dinghy by some people and someone rowed us to the slightly higher ground of Park Lane. Most areas at this part of the Island had dykes alongside the roads, put in many years ago by the Dutch settlers, ironically to take away any excess water. On our dinghy journey we passed an Army truck which had obviously overshot the road and had gone head first into the dyke and almost overturned. Perhaps the reason we had such a long wait for help. From there we walked about a mile along the flooded Point Road towards Maurice Road where an Army truck was waiting for us. There I remember being literally hauled onto the back by the soldiers and sat waiting with lots of others for my mum, dad and sister to join me. It was cold and we were all very wet and scared.

 

 

      Our road looking towards the army truck

 

We were then taken to the Benfleet Infants School in the High Road. How the truck was able to get over the bridge to the mainland I really don't know but I guess the tide may have gone down slightly by then. On arrival at the school we were given blankets and I remember someone offering my mum a small pile of dry clothing for us to change into to and take with us - including vests and liberty bodices. I can still remember that pile of clothes and thinking at that young age, how could we wear something that has already been worn by someone else. We were given hot drinks and food. Babies were given nappies and bottles of milk. I remember sitting on the floor up against the wall alongside lots of other mothers and children. We seemed to be there for hours.

Eventually we were able to make our way to Benfleet railway station where we boarded a train to Fenchurch Street and onwards to my grandparents' flat in Middlesex. They had been worried, with no telephones in those days they were unaware of our imminent arrival. Living in such a small flat there was literally no room for us but we were put in touch with a work colleague of my Nan in Brentford who was able to put us up for six weeks. I remember there was an older boy living there too, probably about ten and I was given a pair of his striped pyjamas to wear. I hated them! They had mother of pearl buttons - I haven't been able to bear to touch those buttons since. My dad did not come with us as be needed to stay behind to feed and look after the chickens!!

 

Dad at the back of the bungalow when the water had started receding several weeks later

 

When we returned home again six weeks later it was to a very muddy and damp bungalow. I also remember someone coming into school with some "goody bags" for all the children which contained things like soap, flannels, toothbrush and toothpaste and some little toys to play with. To this day I can still remember the smell of those goody bags. Our lovely teacher at the time was Mrs Lording and I remember she made a great deal of fuss over us and welcomed us back to Leigh Beck School.

I have feared water all my life and when it is very windy outside I still remember that dreadful night. It's only now that I've written this that I realise the acts of heroism of that night; the old lady probably saved our lives; the people who rescued us with a dinghy; the Soldiers who evacuated us in their trucks; the kind people of Benfleet who took us under their wing and donated those clothes, and of course my mum and dad whose first thoughts were to make sure us girls (and the chickens) were safe.


Tomorrow morning I've been invited by Canvey Town Council to an unveiling of a plaque and short commemoration service at the local library in rememberance of those who perished, to be followed by an exhibition of people's memories of that night.

 

 

 



The life and times of Granny Smith

I wonder if you might like to see a potted history of my Granny Smith. My sister Barbara and I have spent many years trying to track her story down.

I think she was about 60 here in 1933

Fanny Frances was born 'out of wedlock' in the Kensington Workhouse in 1873 so her birth certificate told us.  A stigma she must have carried with her all her life.  Illegitimacy was not good in Victorian London. Unwed mothers and their infants were an affront to morality. They were spurned and ostracized by the public relief and charitable institutions. If a young woman became pregnant while still living at home, she was forced to leave in disgrace and move into the workhouse or to an area where she was not known. Scorned by family, friends and employers alike.

We searched the Guardians' minute books at the London Metrolpolitan Archives and indeed found her mother Elizabeth Monet aged 17 in the Mary Place branch of the workhouse where she gave birth to Fanny in February 1873. It is not clear why they were in the workhouse. Perhaps through poverty or the parents disowned her because of the shame of pregnancy, who knows.

Fanny’s mother Elizabeth and grandparents Fanny and Peter were living in Notting Hill in very overcrowded conditions in streets of tightly packed houses where over the years with an increasing family they relentlessly moved from one set of crowded rooms to another paying about two shillings a week for the privilege. These conditions continued throughout Fanny's childhood.

The family consisted of several children and this may have been a reason why Fanny and her mother ended up in the workhouse. The children slept at least four, top-to-tail in one bed. Often there were another three or four families living under the same roof, where sanitary conditions were appalling and so encouraged rats to roam freely in the filthy and polluted streets.

This area of Pottery Lane historically had became known as “the Piggeries and Potteries” owing to the many pig-keepers and brick makers who had migrated from Ireland to Notting Hill during the 1840’s because of the potato famine.

During Fanny’s time this area was also known as “Laundry Land” because of the many hundreds of housewives including her mother and grandmother who had to take in washing and ironing for the families in the posh houses at the top of the hill in order to earn a shilling or two to help out with the family income. Alternatively they would take the laundry down to the Public Baths.

Kensington Public Baths 

 

When Fanny was three years old, her mother married a Mr Curtice, who became Fanny’s stepfather. Over the years, several more children were born, giving Fanny half brothers and sisters. The 1881 census shows a Fanny Curtice aged seven, living with her grandparents Peter & Fanny Monet in a street nearby. Whether Fanny had been living with her grandparents since her birth or maybe since her mother’s marriage is unknown. There may simply have been no room for her at home. An elderly aunt told me that it was not at all uncommon for the eldest child to live with grandparents at that time.

Fanny attended a local school which cost a penny a week. When she was 12 she was ‘put into service’ where she worked as a scullery maid doing very menial tasks including scrubbing the floors, stoves, sinks and dishes for a mere pittance of about one shilling a week and a room in the attic. She only had a few hours off each week.

In 1891 aged 18 she was working for a household in Earls Court Road where by now she had become a cook. In 1894 she met and married her husband Charles Smith. Fanny started life as a Monet, lived her life as a Curtice and upon her marriage discovered her father’s name was Shearman which appeared on her marriage certificate. She was known to never have any contact with her mother after her marriage and I wonder if she never forgave her for keeping her illegitimacy from her over the years, as well as never knowing who her father was until her wedding day. Fanny died in 1963 aged ninety years old.

Barbara and I have been to Notting Hill on several occasions and found some places of interest - but will leave that for another time.

Pictures by courtesy of The Story of Notting Dale.by Sharon Whetlor, 1998


I'd like to welcome my new followers - Kitty, Elisabeth, Annmarie, and Linda

Doilies, catwalks and memories

I've been collecting litle vintage lace doilies and embroidered tray clothes for a while now - all from charity and second-hand shops and some from antique shops in France.

Here are just a few from my growing collection - too many to show 

  

This post on doilies and tray cloths reminded me about this little tray cloth - which is the beginning of another story. It was hand-made by me in 1957 at primary school for my Mum - so I guess it could well be classed as vintage in its own right! I found it in a drawer the other day and had quite forgotten about it. It has a couple of marks on it but I put it into the washing machine and gave it a light press and hey presto - good as new.

One teacher in my infant school Mrs B who taught needlework was a bit of a tartar - likeable but very strict and us girls were all pretty scared of her as she shouted a lot. She was very particular and spoke her mind. She taught us how to embroider. I was pretty proud of my first attempt. Mum loved it and kept it all those years. She gave it back to me not long before she passed away.

After I had been in Secondary School for about a year, Mrs B joined the staff as a needlework teacher and we were quite daunted at the thought of working with her again. Normally at the end of the summer term the school would put on a show of some kind. This particular year it was a fashion show, where the girls had to model the garments they had made in the needlework class during the term. The school had recently introduced a new fabric for their summer school uniform, so that was my project to make a school skirt.

Well, there was I aged 11 years old walking down the catwalk, feeling pretty smug with myself in front of all the mums and staff,  modelling the skirt, when Mrs B had to describe what we were wearing. Most of the other girls had made various items of clothing and were suitably commended on their work. Then it came to my turn and to my utter dismay she announced to all and sundry "It's a pity that Pat had to machine stitch the hem of her skirt - it would have looked so much nicer if it had been hand stitched". I was mortified and fled the stage in tears.



This is the wretched skirt - taken outside Anne Hathaway's cottage in

Stratford upon Avon on a school trip in 1959

Do you know, I have NEVER EVER machine stitched a hem again in my whole life. Even curtains have hand stitched hems. So I guess I learnt my lesson from a very young age but at the time I couldn't forgive Mrs B for humiliating me in front of so many people. In later years when we were all grown up and running our own homes, some of us attended a school reunion where we again encountered Mrs B who was by now in her 80s.  A lovely lady who'd mellowed over the years and talked fondly of her time teaching us from primary through to secondary school.  Memories eh?

Do you have any embarrassing moments you've never lived down?



Snowy walks

Well - it finally arrived yesterday, even though it looked like sieved icing sugar falling from the sky all day long and eventually gave us about 4/5 inches. I must admit I do like a good snow shower of large snowflakes which can mesmerise you as you gaze out of the window. But I'm not complaining. We took a walk to our daughter's Sunday afternoon through the woods with my camera in tow.

 

It was quite magical

 

 

 

  

 

 

 and so still - just the occasional bird tweeting

 

 

I don't drive in the snow and ice so this morning's school run was of the more

 healthier walking kind.

 

 



 

which took us up a pretty steep hill  through the woods

 

 

 

towards the church at the top  

 

 

and up through the churchyard 

 

 

A bit out of puff when I got to the top  (must get fit) - but the view was stunning

 

 

 

 Dropped L off at school and then did the return trip which was much kinder on my legs!  

 

 

 

Not sure why I don't do this more often. The excuse normally is that L, at eight years old might not be able to manage to walk the hill whereas in actual fact it was ME that was getting left behind and L that kept saying "come on Nan". So - after I get fit, watch this space!

 

Finally,  I would like to thank all my blogging friends for your wonderful comments recently. I apologise that I haven't replied to them all but revision is getting in the way at the moment. I do appreciate all the lovely things you have to say and they certainly lift my day.

 

Have a good week

 

 

 

To Snow or not to Snow..that is the question

Hi Everyone. Well I was hoping to post some lovely snowy photos today, but no, it is positively Spring like here. Not a hint of it. Just a very hard frost this morning and very very cold temperatures. To say I am envious of the rest of the country is an understatement. I might well live to regret that statement if we get snowed in and under next week and I can't get the car out. 

However, the photos I took today are giving me some consolation as I haven't had a stroll around my garden for ages and was quite pleasantly surprised.

 

These pansies are on our front porch and were planted last Summer

 

 

How they've survived the battering winds and rain that we've endured

this winter, I'll never know

 

 

This Hebe looks like this all year round and is beginning to flower

(can you see the merest of mere white stuff on the lawn?)

 

 

Another favourite - Hebe with Euonymous

 

 

This ornamental grass has been in a pot on my front garden for donkeys of years

but still manages to put on a brave face - I love the colour

 

 

This evergreen Rhododendron always comes up trumps and looks so pretty in May

 

 

So, that's my non-snowy, unseasonal winter garden. However, as we speak, I've just spoken to my sister Barbara who tells me that the weather forecast is predicting heavy snow showers this weekend -so watch this space.!

 

 

I'd like to give a warm welcome to my new followers - Liz, Vanessa, Perpetua, Joy, Rosemary, Lacy Crochet and Kristie. Thank you for joining me, it's lovely having you aboard.

 

 

Bye for now

 

Have a lovely Wednesday evening and keep warm.

 



Belgium - part 2

Another highlight of our recent trip to Belgium was to visit the city of Ghent. Many of you already know that I am on the last leg of  my History degree. My current module is Art History - Renaissance and I'm loving it.

We have to choose a particular piece of artwork to research and write about in our final 4500 word essay in May. I have chosen the famous "Ghent Altarpiece" painted by the renowned artist brothers Hubert and Jan van Eyck from the Northern Renaissance workshops, in what was then called the Netherlands but today known as northern Belgium.  So it was no co-incidence that we made this trip which has gone a long way to aiding my research with the added bonus of being able to view this masterpiece  for real at St Bavo's Cathedral.

 

featuring "The Adoration of the Mystic Lamb" 

 

 

This impressive Gothic cathedral is one of the most famous landmarks of the city of Ghent 

 



where this sculpture of the brothers Hubert and Jan van Eyck stands outside

 

 

 

The deli's and bakers shops were so tempting

and I love that you can have a coffee or beer in the same establishment

as an antique shop/art gallery!

 

In Brussels there were many flea markets but sadly not enought time to visit

 



 

and allthough I was done with Christmas, it was interesting to see the
Christmas markets, which I'd never seen or been to before

 

I hope you enjoyed this tour of our short but sweet trip..

 

Bye for now

Random acts of kindness...

 

 

 

Aren't these a breath of fresh air 

 

I've never seen tulips so early in the year before. They were given to me by a very kind lady who I've never met, who took my place on a pre Christmas lunch  that I could not attend due to a funeral. She belongs to our local church and a mutual friend from our Home Study Group asked if she wanted to go. I love acts of kindness and remember seeing this quote.

 

"I expect to pass through life but once.

If therefore, there be any kindness I can show,

or any good thing I can do to any fellow being,

let me do it now, and not defer or neglect it,

as I shall not pass this way again"

 

William Penn (1644-1718)

 

On a similar note I must just show you these lovely old Dutch bobbin-lace bobbins that were very kindly sent to me by  Heidi from Holland. who knew I was starting a small collection and posted them off to me..

 

Such a kind thought and a lovely addition to my collection which you might remember seeing in my post here

 

No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted

 

See you soon

Belgium - part 1....

I'd like to say hi to my new followers Terri, May and Izzy - welcome aboard and hope you enjoy my blog as much as I enjoy writing it. 

I can't believe I've been back from Belgium for a week now and not posted anything yet. Both John and I have been brought down with this flu virus thingy that is spreading like wildfire and probably caught on the tour coach we were on in Belgium. We've both laid low for the last five days and for John not to go to work and take to his bed - well that says it all.  But hey ho, the sun is shining today and it's onwards and upwards into the New Year which I trust you will all have a happy one.

Well our trip to Belgium was lovely, the weather wasn't perfect - only raining at night - but mostly we had some sunny but cold days. We visited Ostend, Antwerp, Bruges, Ghent and Brussels during the four days but my main focus was on Bruges and Ghent.

Bruges is located on the River Reie and is the capital of the province of west Flanders. Often called the "Venice of the North" it connects with Ostend, Veurne, Ghent and Sluis via its canals.

  

This medieval town with its cobbled streets and assortment of shops is a photographer's dream

Beautiful lace shops

And chocolate shops

As well as the pretty waterways

These canals were everywhere and you just can't stop yourself from snapping them!

The buildings were so pretty - these look like old almshouses 

and churches - way too many to photograph

 We were only here for an afternoon and wished we'd had more time. I'd rather have missed the trip to Ostend that morning and spent more time in Bruges. Have to come back again methinks! 

I'll pause here  -  but will return with a few more photos from Ghent and Brussels.

Has anyone else been having trouble uploading photos - the browser button isn't appearing in the "Select a file/photo" box. I checked the Blog help page and it seems there is a problem at the moment when uploading from Internet Explorer. They suggested going into HTML mode to upload a photo and then going back into Compose mode to write the post. So annoying and time consuming.  They are working on it and here's hoping it goes back to normal very soon.

Bye for now