Valediction to a cat

Alfie the cat lies content, sleeping on her side,

Black against the blanket in a cardboard box,

Comfortable and still, unconcerned by my advance,

Undisturbed by clatter of the plate and other noise

Because the thing that made her live is gone.

She doesn't raise her head or look surprised,

Or even stir to scratch or lick,

No interest in her food or opening fridge,

She remains where I gently placed her hours ago

And nothing now disrupts her poise,

This is a lifeless corpse - the cat was that!

She lies in sweet repose, the spirit flown,

The character is fled, I with a body left alone,

I look outside and two dull thuds to scare the birds

Announce the doom, as flapping crow croaks passing by.

These are her sombre salutes, as if they know

She rested here in state, never again to rise.

I make a mourning cup of tea to celebrate

The little furry life recumbant there,

Reluctant to disturb her sleep, I creep about the room,

Careful not to make a sudden noise;

Even for a cat, the instinct strong to show respect.

Yesterday poor thing, she refused to eat or drink,

I knew it was an omen of the end,

I wrote a note to female friend

To help me take her to the vet,

To ease her journey to the never-never land.

Unusually she had settled in a place

On Knole sofa amidst the Oak and refused to move.

I put her out, then brought her in,

From crouching by the door, grown very thin, 

She wore a sheen of elegance and poise

I hadn't seen before. Perhaps a sort of giving up or giving in?

As I sat in front my computer screen,

Connected to a nether world of facts and dreams,

She sprang upon my lap, as was her wont,

One last defiant jaunt to feel my touch

And bid a last goodbye - she must have known.

I smoothed her back and twirled her ears,

Then placed her next to me - she awkwardly jumped down

And straightaway crept under the winged chair

I'd bought with mother years before,

From whence now came an unearthly sound.

Part howl, part growl, part wail, part yowl,

Walt Whitman's barbaric yawp, cut though my heart,

One last quite desperate feline cry.

Anxious, afraid, I moved the chair,

Revealing her still lying there, I thought expired.

But when I gently lifted her, again the awful groan!

I layed her down in front the fire quite comatosed,

I, a powerless observer of nature's course.

I only could whisper sweet nothings in her ear,

Speaking softly fond farewells, my furry friend,

And thank her for her company these passing years.

Crouching low, trying to detect a vital sign, 

I touched her side,

Two coughs scared and made me jump, 

They marked the end.

The water flowed, she seemed to bury her head face flat down.

Was she trying to haste her end?

She did not want to see me cry, nor I.

She passed away unseen, unknown,

Apart from me and Spirit in the sky.

I left her there and went to bed, 

Her body resting down below.

I met her in the morning, 

When I went downstairs.

She still was there and strangely quite unmoved.

When suddenly from somewhere unbeknown,

Welled up a tear, emotion and a prehistoric groan,

Thinking how I should have to place her, 

In cold hard ground to decompose alone.

What mystery is here as life elopes and leaves the form.

Whatever shape it's been, whatever name it's given, 

An indefinable presence come and gone,

Now just on earth a stiff hard board,

But maybe somewhere else, 

Perhaps a pussy feline heaven?

 Bessie May's Memories

Bessie May was my mother. 

She was born on the eleventh of May, 1909 - hence her name, a Tuesday as it happens - and passed away ninety-four years later in 2003. Her parents, Edward and Alice Louisa (nee Sparkes) Blacker were Bristolians, but she was born and brought up in the villages of Stanton Drew and Pensford. She married my father, Maurice Bertram Veater at Totterdown Gospel Hall, Bristol, in 1936, and subsequently had five children. I was the last, at the relatively late age of forty.

About thirty or more years ago I was anxious to record some of her memories before it was too late. The following is what we produced together. There is nothing remarkable about it but it does contain many fascinating little details and anecdotes. 

The world she describes, despite the passing of only around a hundred years or less, has undergone remarkable technological and social change, probably more so than in any other similar human epoch, and personal memories illustrate them better than anything else. They may also be of greater interest to those with local connections to the North Somerset and Bristol areas.

By 1909, the Agricultural and Industrial Revolutions had transformed Britain from a relatively sleepy, predominently rural nation, to a bustling, crowded, smelly, urban one, based on coal and iron, heavy industry, shipping, manufacture and commerce. An Empire over at least a third of the globe, provided the raw materials and a market for the finished goods. Britain had a head start in innovation and manufacture and then exploited it.

In 1909 it was at the cusp of its greatness and on the brink of a war that destroyed it, a process of decline that has continued to this day. Yet paradoxically the living conditions and life expectancy for the majority has vastly improved. The economic verities are hard to fathom.

Even in the North Somerset village of Pensford, these national changes had their effect. A railway station came to the village in 1873 linking Bristol and Frome, with connections at both ends to an amazing national railway network, that by then had been created. 

Two local collieries were opened, Bromley in 1860 and Pensford in the same year my mother was born (1909) Mines and railways, transformed the process of coal distribution and domestic heating and also impacted the environment in a big way. Green fields were hidden under slag heaps, embankments and cuttings ensured a level permanent way.

With the railway also came telegraph and telephone wires, and telephones gradually found their way into the homes of businesses and the upper classes. "Compton Dando 234" still rings in my head.

For the majority without them, communication relied on the delivery of letters and in urgent cases telegrams. During the 1914/1918 war, the black framed telegram took on an altogether ominous reputation, families dreading their arrival. My mother as a small child delivered them all over a network of footpaths. My father spent more than thirty years delivering letters on a push bike. I believe he lost four uncles to the war!

Roads became tarmacked and motor vehicles started appearing. Progressively the horse was replaced by the tractor and the harness maker gave way to the mechanic. 

The Education Act of 1888 resulted in the appearance of State schools everywhere, and Pensford's appear in 1905 and 1915. (My mother remembers the second one being built, for which the cottages opposite her house were demolished) 

The school leaving age was raised to twelve in 1899 and then fourteen by the 1918 Education Act. The Education Act 1902 resulted in the expansion of secondary education and the need was recognised to rationalise the many school leaving examinations. Both my mother and father passed the entrance exam for Bristol secondary schools but my mother was too shy to take up the place. My father joined the very strict St Mary Redcliffe school until the age of fifteen or sixteen.

Domestically, conditions improved. The meager old age pension introduced for those over seventy, with other social benefits, by the Liberal Government in 1909, transformed the lot of those that survived to that age. Gradually health care and midwifery improved until the introduction of the National Health Service in 1948.

Pre-First World War, village life was dominated by the class structure. Everyone fitted into, and was affected by it. Working, middle and upper classes knew their place. My mother's father was a working class docker at the new port of Avonmouth. Nevertheless he was able to afford to have built a brand new bungalow just outside the village, where the family moved, in 1930. She comments on how she regarded the Battens as being 'middle class'.

My father's father, Arthur William (1878 - 1950) on the other hand, being a self employed business man, regarded himself as lower middle class. He was a master saddler working in a dying trade. My mother's family were Chapel/Liberal, my father's Church of England/Tory - that is until an evangelist arrived on the scene, but that's another story entirely. 

Although old houses remained substantially the same, the arrival of 'council houses' from the '30's onwards and 'improvement grants' from the '50's, transformed the interiors providing bathrooms and kitchen with modern amenities. I was to directly benefit from these, things that are today taken very much for granted. 

The village saw the arrival of a District Nurse and a policemen, both provided with a house for the purpose. Who knows who did the 1909 delivery of my mother - she doesn't say, but I assume a midwife was called to that cottage in Stanton Drew. Forty years later I was born at home in Pensford - a house called 'Maranatha', that my father owned -  because my mother had a deep aversion to hospitals and doctors. This lasted to the end of her life and she died at home, with medical care - again leaving much to be desired.

My mother had numerous potentially fatal illnesses: as a child she had mild Ricketts a vitamin D deficiency disease and Measles; in her twenties she had throat infections, diptheria, TB and pneumonia but survived them all, much to her credit and little to medical science. Even in the 1930's it was rudimentary and rather Heath Robinson. My father had religious reservations regarding vaccines, so I did not have any until I started work. More recently I think the retained scepticism has held me in good stead.

My mother contracted TB prior to the introduction of either vaccination or anti-biotics. Although Penicillin was discovered by Fleming in 1928, its purified version wasn't readily available until the early '40's. Streptomycin effective against TB, wasn't isolated until 1943. She reports her doctor gave her an injection, but she was never told what it was. Maybe it was the recently developed sulphonomide drug 'Salvarsan'? In any event only one injection is unlikely to have been effective against anything! 

Interestingly, Paul Ehrlich who researched and developed it, was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1908, the year before my mother was born. She provides some details of her six month stay in the Sanitorium on the Quantocks, reliant on fresh air, barely decent food, exercise and the occasional 'collapsed lung', then the only known forms of treatment for the disease. 

My mother was an intensely shy and private person who avoided crowds or social functions, other than religious ones connected to the Plymouth Brethren, which she attended regularly throughout her life. She neither smoked or drank alcohol and avoided medical preparations. Neither of my parents gambled or swore. From the time she was married she ceased paid employment, though rather amazingly took up cleaning for a local wealthy family for a couple of days a week in her sixties, which gave her a new lease of life. She had always been an honest and industrious person.

She was not tactile or gushing but she was genuine and fully committed to family duties and household tasks, ensuring cleanliness, order and home cooking at which she was very competent. She could knit, sew, play the piano and garden. She specialized in flowers, my father in vegetables. 

Interestingly in her comments she said little about her children. You must make of that what you will, but all her children kept in close contact with her to the end and she always welcomed them to her home. She undoubtedly had a well-founded Christian faith, rooted in Methodism and later the Open Brethren. It was sincere and understated.

She was loyal and caring, taking in her brother-in-laws' orphaned twins just before I was born; cared for both her mother-in-law and father when they were both aged and infirm; and cared for her sister when she suffered a mental collapse and looked after my father during his long decline from Parkinsons Disease. She lived a further seventeen years after his death. Last but not least, she put up with me!

I hope you find her account interesting. (TTV)

BESSIE MAY VEATER'S MEMORIES

(As told to her son)

Stanton Drew and Pensford.

I was born in a remote Somerset village called Stanton Drew, about six or seven miles south of Bristol, mainly famous for its prehistoric stone circles and quaint 'Round House', the latter located next to the road to collect tolls in the Eighteenth Century. The year was 1909. 

My parents were both Bristolians and my father at this time was working at the docks in Bristol and later at Avonmouth. Previously he had worked on coastal steamers transporting coal from South Wales to western ports around the tip of Lands End. 

His parents used to visit this village with horse and cart, selling mostly footwear from the business they owned. My father accompanied them and liked the place so much decided to settle there when he could. When he got married, he found a cottage to rent in the Barton at Upper Stanton Drew. This is it now! 

 

My mother was never really happy there, finding the isolation more than she could bear and missing the city so moved back to Bristol. Then she tried again and this time was more successful. By this time they had had both a boy and a girl but the male child had died before leaving Bristol. I was born in a little secluded square at the edge of the village overlooking green fields, with a narrow lane leading to the next village, Pensford. There was no water in the houses - you had to collect it from standpipes fastened to posts here and there in the village. A short distance away we collected our milk in a can from 'Druid Farm'.

Move to Pensford in 1911

We didn't stay there very long, moving to another cottage by the River Chew in Pensford three miles away. This was more accessible being on the main A37 and having a railway station all to itself as well as a Post Office. The cottage was very pleasant, secluded, facing south with the river running by on our doorstep. We remained there for the next nineteen years and my younger brother, Charlie, was born there.

This is where I grew up, attending the school next door, whilst the second was being built - opened in 1915 when I was six. To build it a number of cottages had to be pulled down and the tenants rehoused. Most ordinary people rented their accommodation in those days and only relatively few owned their own home. Pre the First World War only horse and carts used the roads. Now motor vehicles are constant with frequent huge juggernauts too wide for two to pass at the same time! As children we played in the road without danger. Marbles was a favourite game of children then. Today a Warden is required to ensure children pass over it safely and can you imagine playing marbles in the middle of the road now? How times have changed.

'Mousehole'

(The two houses near right have gone. The one with the children standing in front is the 'Mousehole' referred to in the text. Ed.)

Our near neighbours lived in the oldest cottage in the village. (Not actually accurate but perhaps the quirkiest? Ed.) They were two spinster cousins. One was a skilled dress-maker. I was always fascinated by the tiny interior of the cottage and used to sit inside on the quaint old settle. (It's not called 'Mousehole' for nothing. Ed.) From the main room there were three little steps to a long narrow room adjoining the road. Later this became a shop. 

These two old ladies never did any sewing on Saturdays or Sundays. One always put on her best clothes, her jewelry and her wig. We used to think it very strange wearing a wig! She would stand outside and ask me who all the people were as they passed by. Her small garden always had the same flowers: Nasturtiums and tall white and yellow Daises. A carpenter who lived further up the hill, always brought them chopped stick for kindling. Without fail he would stop for a chat but it wasn't always the truth. We knew he invented stories about local people.

The school playground which adjoins the property led to problems. Most days a football would fly into the garden but only if she was in a good mood would she give it back. Quite often you could smell the balls burning on her fire. After the sisters passed away the house was bought by my grandmother who sold it again not long after. It is still there with just a few minor alterations and additions from when Mrs Tressider lived there. Interestingly she also lived in and modernised the house where I grew up, now called 'Waterside', and kindly showed me around when it was completed some thirty odd years after I left it.

Three Churches

Two Anglican churches and a Wesleyan chapel served the community. (Interestingly she doesn't refer to the Gospel Hall that she attended virtually her whole life. Presumamably she didn't picture this as a 'Church'. Ed.) One Vicar  served both Publow and Pensford. The chapel was served by visiting Ministers from Bristol.

The Blacksmith and Wheelwright

The village possessed numerous curiosities and attractions for children's attention. I well remember the Blacksmith's shop (Now Bridge House garden.  Ed.) in a roomy, cold building with little light. At the back were enormous bellows to blow the fire. It suddenly went from dying embers to fierce heat turning metal red and white. These he hammered into shape on his anvil with deafening sound and bright sparks flying everywhere. Across the way he shod the horses hooves.

There was always plenty of work for horses around the district for hauling carts, working on farms and in connection with the pits, not to mention those used for riding and pulling the carriages of the gentry. My mother in law had a pony and trap in which she used to travel the lanes alone, sometimes at night, delivering finished leather goods and visiting her relatives in Winford, Dundry and as far away as Wedmore.

Sometimes the blacksmith would make a iron hoop with a glider attached for local boys. At the time this was a common toy often appearing on photographs of the period. Girls played with wooden tops. Around the corner from the Blacksmith was Batten's builders and undertakers. 

Out side this building a circle stone was set in the ground on which was located wooden cart wheels to which a red hot metal rim was dropped. When quenched with water it would contract, securing it firmly to the wheel and holding the wooden spokes firmly in in place. We used to watch them being spun on our way to the shop.

The Sadler

Opposite Batten's yard was the harness-maker's shop (Later to become Harry Flower's butcher's shop and part of Bridge House. Nor does she mention that the harness maker was in fact her future father in law! Ed.) with astable door. Someone always seemed to be leaning over it telling village news. At the other end of the village street (I assume what became Veater's saddlery. So it seems that Flowers and Veaters must have later changed ends? Ed.) outside on a rail above the window carcases were hung on hooks. I suppose there were no flies in those days? Later this became the sweet shop. I remember the shining copper scales and brass weights and the nice lady who owned it.

Mill House and Weir

Around the corner was was an old mill house and the ruins of the paper mill. The house was effectively on an island shared by the Thomas a Beckett church, surrounded by water with the mill race on one side and the river on the other. A little further on was the weir with an ancient narrow bridge under which the river rushed with a roar. It carried the footpath from Stanton Drew and Bye Mills and many people fished from it. 

During the summer it also doubled as meeting place and diving platform into the pool beneath it. It was the place for local boys to show off and girls to be impressed by their antics. It was also a gateway to the fields and Old Downs which we regarded as common land. We welcomed the Spring and Summer when we could venture forth with a picnic or take our tea to the hay field. It sometimes took four days to clear a field from cutting the grass to making the rick. Only much later did hay barns appear. During the war (I assume both 1st and 2nd? Ed.) women took the place of men for harvesting.

Flower Pickers

We had no holidays as such, only an annual trip to the seaside or an afternoon at a tea garden with a few races (? Ed.) for a sixpence. Children played more outdoors then, even when it was dark. The village had no street lighting. Occasionally a conjurer would visit the school. I thought it was great fun. On summer bank holidays, crowds of people would arrive by train for a day in the country side walking the footpaths and gathering by the river, returning in springtime with armfuls of bunched Bluebells. I used to wonder what they did with them all. All the flowers had been been pulled up by the white stem at the root!

Head Injury Accident

When I was six or seven I fell off a low wall behind what is now the 'Miners' Welfare Building'. It was on a Sunday and I hit my head. They said I had to go to hospital but I said "No"! I didn't even have the doctor call. The District Nurse may have come and dressed it but I can't remember now. Eventually it healed over but I still have the scar on my forehead.

Near Drowning

Then I nearly drowned! We used to go out in the fields to play. Mother used to make us sandwiches to take with us.  I was playing with my sister and fell in the river from the bank. She was going to take her boots off - we all wore leather lace-ups as children in those days - but decided to come in straight away and got me out. I remember lying there with water going over my head! I didn't appear to be frightened at all. My mother came around and wrapped me in a shaw. However I never learned to swim but was more cautious in future.

Measles

Next I remember I remember being home from school suffering from the 'Measles' at the same time as they were building the new one - 1914/15. I never had any injections but the school doctor examined me. I used to hate it and still do hate doctors. He never discovered anything wrong with me despite my illnesses.  We used to have Mr Bromham come to see why you stayed away from school.

Feeling ill at Aunts 

When I was about ten or eleven I used to go and stay with Aunt Nellie who lived in Percy Street, Bedminster. She was a dress-maker and had a treadle sewing machine going all the time. She used to make most of our clothes. Whilst there I felt really unwell and sent a postcard to my mother asking her to come and collect me. I thought the fish and chips had upset me. I had awful headaches and stayed in bed. I had a bad journey back, walking to Temple Meads and I didn't know how I was going to make it to Castle Street where my mother was doing her shopping.

Contracting TB and stay at the Sanatorium

When I was twenty-six in 1935 I had a cough that I couldn't get rid of. The medical people came and took a swab and the result came back positive for Tuberculosis (TB)  so I was sent away to the Sanatorium the other side of Bridgwater - Over Stowey in the Quantock Hills. I was there for seven months from April to November. I went there on the back of Maurice's motor bike and I couldn't speak when I got there! They said, "Fancy coming on a motor bike!" Dr. Raeburn was very nice. He came to the bungalow at Amercombe. A girl there from Pill used to talk about him all the time.

The Sanatorium was a pretty miserable experience. You had to stay in bed all day. They put a sign over it saying "SILENCE. Not allowed to talk." They put me in a big ward. A woman made out I had stolen her cuttlery, if you ever did!  So I said I wouldn't stay there any more and they moved me to another ward. Lady Stanley had owned the building and they said her ghost walked through the wards at night which terrified the Night Nurse. They made me clean the floors. We had to go for walks over the hills and the men walked the roads to keep us apart. And then they reversed it. That was the 'treatment for seven months.

I didn't have any pills or medicine, though some girls had 'AP' treatment which consisted of collapsing a lung at Bridgwater hospital. This rested the infected lung - or one of them. Whether this was effective I do not know but the girls seemed alright when they returned.

Every month we went for X-Rays in a very dark room. They may have shown them to me but I can't remember.  My cough got better and I returned home. We girls used to make our own fun. A girl from Wells was in bed all day sick but at night she got a new lease of life and mimicked the nurses and we would all scream with laughter. In fact the Night Nurse complained about the noise. The same girl from Wells was always saying she was going home but never did. I think she later died from TB in hospital at Wincanton. All the cleaners came from a Taunton mental hospital.

The sanitorium was a massive mansion with extensive grounds planted with conifers. I'm not sure if it is still there?  (It is. In 2003 it was an outdoor adventure centre. It is currently on the market for sale. See: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quantock_Lodge  Ed.) There was no heating and the only warmth was a hot water bottle! There was a big dining room but the food was very poor. The best meal was 'hot pot' consisting of vegetables, meat and potatoes. "Rice or Sago" was written on the back of the lavatory door, as it was on the standard pudding. Once when we walked to a cottage for tea, as they were getting it for us we couldn't stop giggling. (Why is not explained. Ed.)  Maurice used to ride down on his motor bike every weekend to see me, and my mother (?) came down as well on occasions.

A young victim of TB

Before going to the sanitorium I worked for a woman at King Road, Knowle called Mrs Rich. She was about twenty-five. She worked at Peak Freans biscuit factory in St Phillips where my mother's parents had lived. She had TB. I used to hear her coughing when she came in. I think I may have contracted the disease from her. When I was at the sanitorium she usd to write to me but I think she died before I had left. She wouldn't go to hospital. That summer she lived in a tent in her garden. Eventually she became so ill she had to give up work and remained in bed most of the time until her death.

Returning home to Pleurisy

When I got home in November 1935, I promptly went down with pleurisy and the doctor wanted me to go back again. Doctor Taylor came and gave me an injection in my back but I don't know what it was. I was in bed for a while whilst the football world cup was on the radio. I wasn't all that ill. 

I used to have an ache in my back. I used to take 'Formamint' - little white tablets which had just come onto the market but I had no idea what they were composed of and whether they did me any good. Maybe they did, as I recovered from the pleurisy. (Active ingredient Formaldehyde used for embalming and preserving specimens. I could have severe adverse effects when taken as medicine. It is today classed as a known carcinogen, mutagen and skin irritant. See: https://americanhistory.si.edu/collections/object/nmah_1215957 Ed.)

Diptheria

But there is more! Before I contracted TB I had Diptheria. Joyce, Maurice's youngest sister had it first.It started with a sore throat and back ache. My father was frighted to death of it and went to enourmous lengths to keep away. When Maurice used to tell me about his antics I would 'laugh my head off', until I had to tell him to stop because it was hurting my throat so much. I didn't go into hospital for it.

Close shave with death

Then I had Double Quinzies or infected tonsils. I had an abscess on them which broke releasing the pus which I had to spit out!  I just put up with it. My mother and Maurice used to look after me. I couldn't laugh and couldn't eat apart from tripe cooked in milk. I also drank Ovaltine and other liquids. It went on for a couple of weeks and must have been serious because the doctor came to see me twice a day. In fact he thought I was going to die but it didn't worry me a lot. I just put up with it. However my father was terrified of catching it. He wouldn't come into the bedroom and would only speak to me from outside through the window.  Funny!

Teeth Trouble

When I was twenty-five in 1934, I hd trouble with my teeth, so I went to see the dentist who had his surgery in a domestic house near the Cut in Bedminster.  He rented the room from the occupier, a Mrs Garlick. Several houses in the terrace did the same for bankers. A dentist called Sampson used to operate from a rented room in a cottage in Belluton where Blackmore and Langdons are now. My mother had her teeth taken out there. I think my dentist's name was Tuffs or something like that.

I went to have one toothout but he removed ten! The room was quite large and another dentist operated from the same house. He had a proper dentist's chair. I told him the tooth I wanted out and he then gave me the gas. He put a black rubber mask over my face and I passed out. As I came around I realised he was removing my teeth. I was without front top teeth for nine months!

As I came around I remember crying and being in shock. I took a long time to get over it. The worst part was as I came round I didn't know where I was or what was happening but I still appreciated the sensation of my teeth being pulled. Maurice was there and when he realised what he had done, he went in and 'blew him up' about it.

False Teeth

We didn't pay for the extractions and the dentist never sent us the bill. We returned on the top deck of the bus which was open with reversible wooden seats. As I said, I was waiting about nine months for my false teeth denture. Over the next two years I had all my teeth removed but one or two at a time. I still do not know to this day why it was necessary but it was common practice at the time. 

I can't remember who made the false teeth or how much I paid for them. The only thing I remember was a meal at the bungalow when I took them out because they were so uncomfortable. They felt like marbles in my mouth. Maurice said to me unless you keep them in you will never get used to them, so I kept them in for ever after.

Deaths

When I was about six I remember three local deaths. First there was Mrs Berry who lived in one of three cottages in the Barton. It was frosty weather and they traced her footsteps in the grass across the meadow to the river. They retrieved her body at Publow, drowned. She was about sixty and they said it was because her husband was friendly with a woman in Salter's Brook.

The second related to Andrew Porter's brother who jumped off the viaduct! The story was it was because the army had rejected him as being unfit to join for the First World War. They say he lay on the ground at the far end for many hours seriously injured before he was found. I remember Ernie Penney talking about it.

The third was a person who lived in the street. He committed suicide by jumping in the river. He was named Parsons and I knew his sister. He jumped in somewhere up-stream near Bye-Mills.

I went to a funeral at Publow once. Someone from Wedmore who had lost their son but I don't remember the details now or why I attended. (My paternal grandmother lost three of her 'Fear' brothers in the First World War and some of her family lived in Wedmore, so I am wondering if there might have been a connection there? Ed.)

Brass Band

At Whitsontide the Paulton brass band used to parade around the village and march to Publow Church, surrounded and accompanied by children and village folk. At weddings we would tie the church gates. If the married couple were willing, they would throw a handful of copper coins out to the children who would scrabble to collect them, before untying the gates. I think this tradition continues in places to this day. 

I remember your dad's sister Daisy getting married there. I walked down Publow Lane and saw her coming out the gate. Tragically she was to die very young after the birth of her daughter. (Her daughter was the remarkable Kath Travis who passed only recently at the grand age of ninety-nine. Ed.) And another time Mrs Treasure after her wedding, walking up Culvery Lane. 

Weddings didn't bother or upset me but funerals did. I seem to remember them better too. Poor people didn't make much of weddings. They would get married one day and go to work the next!

Wildlife and Flowers

We used to walk up to the pit and pick Cowslips in huge numbers. The fields were full of them. We intended to sell them but never did. We picked Bluebells in Culvery woods in armfuls in spring-time and thought nothing of it. I used to go with Grace Atkins, Olive Hazel and sometimes Lydia Veater to pick Primroses and Violets. We would walk down Parsonage Lane and pick Buttercups and Daisies in the banks facing the sun. We didn't look for birds nests or steal the eggs. I think they told us not to in Sunday School.

Plants

My mother used to like gardening and bought plants. We didn't have a large garden at the cottage but when we moved to 'Milestone Bungalow' at Amercombe in 1930 we had lots of space for them. In the cottage my father grew his own but when we moved he began buying them from a plant shop in Bridge Street, bringing them back on his motor bike and side car. Michaelmas Daisies, Lillies and Berberis.

Chickens 

He kept fowls and hatched chickens. The collected eggs he would take to his sister and sell to all the people in the street. He also sold the eggs to Maurice's older brother Albert, back from Australia, at ten pence a dozen. Albert had a grocery round at Knowle West at the time. (Albert William (born 1903) returned to Australia and remained there until his death in New South Wales in 1972. Ed.)

Rats, Mice, Fish and Moles

Back at the cottage we had ducks in the river and rats which the cat would catch on occasions. There might have been mice in the house but not rats. Your Aunty Alice used to fish with a bent pin but I don't remember her catching anything. In the summer we spent hours in the woods playing houses.  We would make them from stones and fallen branches and would light fires and boil water for tea. 

In the winter we didn't venture out much. We would wade in the stream and catch Loggerheads in jam jars. We picked Blackberries in the woods and sold them to Robinsons for jam. Only high class farms had game. There didn't seem to be any foxes around. Some people used to catch Moles and Rabbits for their skins.

Gospel Mission (1923)

My father is left of the sign, my mother is third row back in white dress on right. (Ed.)

First of all they had a children's meeting in the winter of 1922, in the Publow old school rooms in the High Street located just before you get to the new Gospel Hall (Now closed and converted to a house. Ed.) Two men ran them, Mr Royce and Mr Harry Linton. (He used to wear leggings and Annie Bilk nick-named him 'Leggings') They used to cycle out from Bristol from October to March. At their last session, Mr Turner from Totterdown announced that Mr John Brown would be coming for a Mission, which he did later that year - 1923.

I remember the first night of it on a Sunday. Mr and Mrs Deaton arrived a day early on the Saturday and were waiting in the field outside the tent. They lived in Pensford Hill and later moved to a cottage in the High Street. I went on my own or with other Chapel friends like Olive Hazel and Grace Atkins. Mr Brown the evangelist and later missionary to Africa, lived in the tent in partitioned off sleeping quarters. 

As to grace Atkins, she had been adopted but it was said she was a survivor from the Titanic!  In fact boys in the village called her that. She and her sister lived in the first house up Culvery Lane. She had a collection of lovely dolls and bears. Mr Atkins was a postman and had a beard.

I remember the first night of the Mission and the first hymn: "Why should I charge my soul with care? The wealth in every mine belong to Christ, God's son and heir, and he's a friend of mine." Another was, "One day when heaven was filled with his praises, One day when sin was as black as could be, Jesus came forth and was born of a virgin, dwelt amonst men, My Redeemer is he."

The first night the tent was quite full. The Mission continued for the next six weeks! It was located in the field next to the Viaduct.The farmer was Bert Wookey. He and his wife had a boy and a girl. His wife and children went to the services every night. Acker Bilk's mother who went to the Chapel, played the organ. Everything else was done alone by Mr Brown. He was about twenty-four or twenty-five at the time and I had a bit of a crush on him. Acker's mother liked him too.

I used to like (Fancy? Ed.) Gilbert Penney and his brother. Gilbert lived to be a hundred years old and died only recently. (1999? Ed.) After Chapel we used to put our arms around their necks. We used to sing a lot of choruses in the Mission often with arm movements and gestures, such as in "Wide wide as the ocean, High as the heavens above, Deep, deep as the deepest sea, Is my Saviour's love."  I was brought up in the Chapel and enjoyed the singing.

Grand mother Veater and Vanda Penney were converted as were many others I believe. One was Mr Mack. (Later killed in a road accident on the outskirts of Pensford. Ed.) When he saw the tent he thought it was a circus and that's how he became a Christian! He worked for the Webb family and his wife always went with them to Totterdown Gospel Hall, whilst Mr Mack remained at Pensford in the new Assembly that was set up after the Mission ended.

I attended the the six weeks of the Mission nearly every night. We had a grand tea party at the end and photographs were taken. The whole thing was a village novelty and the weather remained good throughout. My future husband Maurice was also converted there. I knew him but wasn't very close then. In fact I didn't think much of him. When we went into Bristol in Dando's open top car with a hood for the scholarship (About 1920) he sat next to me but we didn't speak. The one petrol pump at the time was outside Dando's bakery in Pensford Hill.

Gospel Hall

After the Mission was over, they brought a wooden hut and placed it on leased railway land next to the viaduct, where it remained as the 'Gospel Hall' for about the next sixty-plus years, although the new Gospel Hall was opened on the Common in 1959. I used to attend the evening gospel services and remember thinking how cosy it was with the coke heater in the middle and rush matting up the sides. But I didn't go to the morning 'communion' or 'breaking of bread' meeting until much later on. I continued attending Chapel Sunday mornings and the Gospel Hall in the evening. People used to come from all around. The Penney family -  Leonard, Gilbert, Vanda and Olive - all went to chapel, but would also come to the Gospel Hall as well on special or odd occasions.

When my dad died in 1962 we moved from Maranatha in the village to his bungalow, where I had lived before my marriage. My sister Alice and husband Reg, moved into our vacated house and being 'chapel' and an organist, she continued to utilize the old Gospel Hall for informal children's meetings. 

(Of course there is much that my mother did not cover or relate but I hope the above provides a little unique insight into a village life over a century ago. Ed.)

ANOTHER PARALLEL MEMOIR BY RUTH FLOWER

(Ruth Flower, nee Veater, was my grandfather's youngest sister's daughter. She was therefore my mother's cousin-in-law. She died suddenly and unexpectedly at home in Farmborough on Monday 26th May, 2014. She wrote two articles about her mother's family for publication in the local magazine, but sadly her death intervened and the second seems never to have appeared in print. There is an appreciation of her life at the bottom of this article. Ed.)

Prior to her sudden death, Ruth Flower wrote her memoir about her mother'sfamily with five sons that enlisted in the1914/18 war. A war which finished forever a way of life which had continued almost
unaltered for centuries.

"My mother, Amy Beatrice Beish, nee Veater, had five brothers who enlisted in the 14/18 war. Mother, the youngest of 9 children, was born at Chew Magna, her father was the local saddler. The family
home is still there - it is now an Estate Agent's office. (Now a wine merchant. Ed.)

"Arthur, mother's eldest brother who was also a saddler, did not enlist in the Army. He lived at Pensford and tended the pit ponies at Pensford Pit until its closure.

"Three of mother's brothers, Walter, George and Leonard emigrated to Canada in the early 1900's and enlisted in 1914 or 1915 when they were sent to train at a military camp at Niagara.

(Facsimile of letter from Leonard to Amy from Niagara )

"Two other brothers, Percy and Morris who lived at Chew Magna, also enlisted. "Certainly four of them were sent to the Somme. I am not quite sure where Morris served. I enclose part of a letter that
Leonard wrote to my mother from the camp at Niagara. Sadly the letter to Mother was not treasured as she had treasured it. I happened to find this part-page when I cleared out my sister's house
after her death.

"Leonard was mother's favourite brother. He had wanted her to go with them when they went to Canada. I still have a gold locket that he sent to Mother. I know he also sent her a ring and a watch; they are lost I imagine.

"I visit France quite often these days and one day I was speaking to a friend there and told her about my mother's brothers who came to France to fight in the 14/18 war. I told her about Mother's brother who was killed at the Somme and how she was always upset at the Armistice services and that I had promised mother that if I ever had the opportunity I would find his grave and visit the cemetery. This was, of course, years before computers and there seemed little likelihood of it happening. My friend said, "Ruth, I was born in the area. Find the details and I will take you there".

"Now with computers, we are able to search for information and I did. I found the grave's location and its plot number. I took the information to France and my friend drove me to the area where we
found the grave of Leonard Veater. It was quite an emotional experience and I was surprised by the feelings that rose in me
as Leonard died years before I was born. I had never met him.

"I thought of my mother as I placed a small cross with a poppy attached in the earth. I felt happy that I had been able to keep a
promise I had made to Mother many years before. "I have no information about his death - why or how it happened - but with the aid of a computer I believe I can find out. The grave is in a small cemetery and all the soldiers at rest there are Canadian.

"What had the war done to the four boys that returned from the war?" Find out in next month's magazine.

Source: Ruth Flower http://www.farmborough.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/FF105-Jul2014.pdf


Obituary - Ruth Flower http://www.farmborough.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/FF106-Aug2014.pdf

RUTH FLOWER, Parish Councillor Public Speaker, Actress and 'DJ', died suddenly at her home on Monday May 26 aged 83.

Ruth was born on March 29 1931 and was the third child of Charles and Amy Beish who lived in The Street, Farmborough.

She was educated at Farmborough Church of England Primary and Timsbury Secondary Modern Schools and after completing her education found employment in the retail trade at Keynsham.

Ruth's father, Charlie, was a local preacher at The Batch Methodist Church where she sang in the choir. She was very much involved in village life and in 1947 Ruth took the eye of the judges at a competition to find Farmborough's Carnival Queen and won!

It was on a night out with other locals when attending a dance that Ruth met her husband to be, Ron Flower. They immediately fell for each other and so started a fantastic love affair that lasted throughout their lives and most likely beyond.

Ron had recently been demobbed fromthe Royal Engineers and was the proud owner of a Vellocette motor cycle. Both Ron and Ruth would go off on trips to Weston-super-Mare and Cheddar. They were inseparable and after much courtship they married in 1952 and moved into a cottage at Hobbs Wall. Eventually they took over a shop at the bottom of The Batch, now Stream House,and it was there, in 1959, their son Simon was born.

Ron landed a job with the MOD which meant that the family had to move to Bewdly in Worcestershire and following a few more moves they ended up in Winslow where Ruth opened a fabric shop, 'Ruth's Fabrics'.

The 1980s saw another change when Simon embarked on a diving career in the USA and Ron and Ruth moved to Portugal. Sadly Ron died in 1998 and it was then Ruth decided to return to the UK.

With her talent for singing Ruth had been a member of a local amateur dramatic society where she was well suited and a regular choice for the role of principal boy in the "Stratton Players" pantomimes.  On her return to England she soon became very involved with the entertainment side of life. 

Ruth had bit parts in "Casualty" and also had a role in the film "Stardust" with Robert De Niro. She took part in advertising campaigns for The Nationwide Building Society and Oakhouse Foods.

Known as "Mamy Rock", Ruth was a DJ and travelled all over the world sharing her ideas of life and how to live it. She even performed at the Glastonbury Festival and is listed in the Guinness
Book of Records as the oldest working DJ. Despite all of this Ruth managed to fit in the work of a Parish Councillor. How did she do it?

Ruth's death was a shock to us all. During her lifetime she touched the hearts and lives of many and we shall miss her.

Ruth is survived by her son, Simon, daughter-in-law Tracey and grandson Franklyn

Ruth Flower born March 29 1931, died May 26 2014.

See also:  The Somme:  https://veaterecosan.blogspot.com/search?q=the+Somme

Almost exactly 80 years on, a local family tragedy:

From the Somerset Guardian March 2nd 1945:

DIED AT EARLY AGE Funeral of Mrs. I. E. Veater (nee French)

The funeral took place at All Saints Church, Publow, of Mrs. Ivy Elizabeth Veater, wife of Mr. Arthur T. Veater, of Temple Cloud. She died suddenly on Sunday at the age of 33, at the Homocopathic Hospital, illness.

Bristol, She was folan active member of the Temple cloud Women's Institute. The services at the church and the graveside were conducted jointly by the Rev. F. E. Croydon, Vicar of Publow and Pensford, and the Rev.

J. Westhead, Rector of Camely and Temple Cloud, and Mr. M. Garlick presided at the organ. There were a large congregation of relatives, friends and parishioners, both from Pensford and Temple Cloud, and neighbouring villages.

Chief mourners were: Mr. Authur T. Veater (husband), Mrs. Violet Tungatt, Mrs. Evelyn Frost and Miss Dora French (sisters), Mrs. Rose and Mrs. K. Travis (nieces), Mr. Reg Pritchard and Mr. Brian Rose (nephews), Mr. Mead, Mr. A. Veater (father-inlaw), Mrs. Lydia Eardley (sister-inlaw), Messrs. Maurice Veater, R. Whiting, J. Eardley, and B. Cox (brothers-in-law), and Mrs. Geo. Brooks (cousins), Mrs.

Biggs, Mrs. Maurice Veater (sister-inlaw).

Mrs. Elver, Mrs. L. Stock, Mrs.Young neighbours, of Temple Cloud, Mrs. B. Bryant, of Farrington Gurney (friend), and a large number of members of Temple Cloud W.I. Dr. and Folliott Vaughan, Temple Cloud, Mr. and Mrs. J. Barwick (Farrington Gurney), Mr. T. Burridge (Temple Cloud), Mrs.Wilson Travis, Clutton, Mrs. Wilson Thompson, Pensford, Miss Lenham, Pensford, Mr. and Mrs. Edwards Pensford, and Mr. and Mrs. Harold Pike, Peasedown (friends);

Mr. George Flower, Publow, Mrs. Wm. Smart, Woodland, Mrs. Hilda Filer, Mrs.

H. Flower, Mrs. A. Perry, Mrs. Wm. Thompson, Mrs. E. Corp, Mrs. W. Hazel, Mrs.

F. Garlick, Mrs. F. Baber, Mrs. C. Farmer, Pensford, and Mrs. L. C. Morse, Temple Cloud, and many others.

Flowers: The beautiful floral tributes were from: Sorrowing husband and children; Mam, Dad and sisters, Kathleen, Violet, Evelyn and Dora: Granpa Taylor and Auntie Lily; Auntie Olive and Auntie Elsie; Dolly, Dick and family; Hilda Francis and family; Bessie and Maurice and family; Lydia and Jim and family; Joyce and Bert and family; Mr. and Mrs. Harold Pike; Dr. and Mrs. Folliott Vaughan, Betty and Reg; Enid and Brian; All at Field Farm, Farrington Gurney; Mr. and Mrs. W. Swift; The neighbours of Fortescue Road and The Street, Radstock; Temple Cloud W.I.;

Anne Rees-Mogg; Mr. and Mrs. L. H. Flower; Mr. and Mrs. Burridge, Bet and Phyl; Mrs. W. Chivers (senior) and family; Mr. and Mrs. Young, Mrs. Abbott and Evelyn and Mary, A. Elver, and Lil; Mr. and Mrs. A. Bishop, Mrs. H. C. Sage and family; Tom, Ivy and Delcie; Mr. and Mrs. Farmer, Kathleen and Howard; Mr. and Mrs. Turnbull; Kathleen and Brian Cousins; George and Edna; Fred and Elsie; Joan and Carol.

Messrs. Batten Bros. of Pensford, carried out funeral arrangements. Mr. A. Veater and family return grateful thanks to all relatives, friends and neighbours for beautiful floral tributes, letters and kind sympathy shown to them in their sad bereavement. Also to Doctor Vaughan and Nurse Rowles and staff at the Bristol Homeopathic Hospital. Hospital League The sum of £26 was paid into the Hospital League branch on Friday by the Temple Cloud officials.

ALL THRO' THE NIGHT Nazis Sent Supplies To Keynsham Officer Capt. D. E. Cockbaine, Greenacres, Wells Way, Keynsham, is in command of a fast-moving squadron of tanks which, on the Western Front recently, captured a bridge a German supply point nearby and then took prisoners and booty all through the night as the enemy. in complete ignorance, continued to send vehicles forward for supplies.

The "bag" included two staff cars. a half-track, three horse-drawn wagons laden with rations, two motor -cycles, a motor -lorry, and 35 men. Capt. Cockbaine said: 'Two German parked right beside my tank. We got out and 'introduced' ourselves, and, although one or two of the enemy managed to make off across the fields, the rest came quietly.

"All night long we had Jerries looking us up. and the infantry of our leading troop had a busy

CHEW MAGNA Service Fund Dance The Mirror Service Fund dance was well patronised on Saturday, and the music was by the St. Louis Band. The committee were happy to welcome Bill Hicks, Ron Roynon, Len Spear, Mervyn Price (Stanton Drew), Dick Sidwick (Dundry), and Joe Peters (from France). Ern.

Coles, spending seven days' leave in Rome, was cheered at meeting Arthur Smith (his near neighbour at home), Arthur Bailey, also spending his leave in Rome, with Ern Robbins, of Chilcompton, celebrated the latter's birthday (with othesr) in "true British fashion." The prizes at the whist drive on Feb. 14 were all gifts.

 

PENSFORD GOSPEL HALL 1923 - 2023

A Century of Christian Witness

Pensford Gospel Hall

by:

Ronald Padfield

This article appeared in:

2002 Volume 57 Issue 2 of 'PRECIOUS SEED' Magazine.

A History of the Assembly

Pensford is a pleasant village situate seven miles south of Bristol, with a population of about 1000. The villagers were formerly engaged mainly in coal mining and agriculture, but mining having ceased, they are now employed variously, chiefly in Bristol or Bath. A Methodist community existed in the village until a few years ago, and, in fact, John Wesley preached there on several occasions. The local Anglican Church is now no longer used.

In the early 1920s the Bristol Saturday Afternoon Village Open- Air Unit visited Pensford more than once. This led to a real spiritual concern for this village, and in 1922 certain brethren from the Bristol assemblies commenced gospel meetings in the village, mainly for children. They were held in the local school, weekly, on Monday evenings from November 1922 to March 1923 and were well attended. It is not known that any were saved at that time, but an early register shows that a number joined a branch of the Scripture Union then formed.

It was then felt that a gospel campaign should be mounted, and just at that time (surely not a mere coincidence!) the late Mr J. H. Brown, who had been conducting fruitful gospel tent campaigns in Gloucestershire, was available for a few weeks prior to going out to central Africa on missionary service. He agreed to bring his tent to Pensford, and pitched it near the viaduct in the centre of the village. During a period of six weeks in the summer of 1923 many attended the gospel meetings, among them the local Anglican vicar who encouraged others to come.

God was working, and the gospel of Christ, faithfully and clearly preached, proved to be ‘the power of God unto salvation’ to about ten, possibly more. Of these, and others, some, including sisters, were to become faithful members of the assembly for years. Notable among them was Maurice Veater, then a lad of 13 years, who from the time of his conversion made rapid progress in his knowledge of the Scriptures and witnessed boldly for Christ in the village. He was also used to point others to the Saviour, and became a competent teacher, and an outstanding pillar in the assembly until his home-call in 1986 at the age of 76 years. Michael McCarthy (‘Uncle Mac’) was another devoted brother and stalwart in the assembly until his death in a road accident in 1954.

For about a year after the campaign, a mixed company (some from denominations) met weekly to break bread and hold a gospel service, but these meetings eventually ceased. However, a little while later, the believers (then better instructed) met together to form an assembly more in accordance with New Testament teaching. They gathered to the name of the Lord Jesus Christ alone; baptism by immersion was practised; eldership gradually came to be recognized, and there was a continuance in the apostles’ doctrine, in fellowship and in breaking of bread and prayers, Acts 2. 41-42.

From that time in 1924 to the present day the assembly has continued (in the early years with help from brethren from Bristol) with the blessing of God, and has been a blessing in the lives of many believers and in the salvation of souls.

The assembly’s first meeting place was a sectional wood building, formerly used in evangelistic work in various places, on a rented site very near the spot where Mr Brown’s tent had been pitched originally. It served well for many years, but lacked some amenities and with passing years the structure had deteriorated.

After many unsuccessful efforts to find an alternative meeting place, in a remarkable way, in 1958, the assembly was able to purchase for £20 the site of two derelict cottages in a favourable position, and on this site the present Hall was built. It was actually opened on Saturday, 12th September 1959. It was a time of rejoicing; a large number gathered, and there was thanksgiving, praise and prayer and ministry of God’s word by various brethren, including Mr Alexander Pulleng and Mr Walter Norris.

During the years the number in fellowship has been fairly constant at about 25 to 40 until the last year or so, the number now being just over 20. In these days it is almost inevitable that some young Christians will move away from a country assembly to seek education, employment, etc., and this we have experienced at Pensford. We are thankful for those who are still with us.

The assembly has sought to maintain a lively testimony in the village, and to some extent in the surrounding villages. A Sunday School and a children’s meeting flourished for many years, and there has been frequent tract distribution, and in earlier years open-air preaching. 

In 1937, following gospel meetings by the late Mr Frank Lawes, a women’s meeting was started by Mrs. Bames, and this still continues. Although Mrs Bames, after many years of devoted service, was called home, aged 90 years, on 6th March, 2002, other faithful sisters are actively engaged in this work. The meeting has been a good testimony in the village, a help to many, and a means of making Christ known. 

For some years the assembly was able to visit three homes for the elderly in the area once a month and to hold a short service at each, but at only one of these is this now possible.There has been a consistent interest in missionary work, earlier particularly in that of Mr Michael Browne. In more recent years it has been a privilege to have in fellowship Mr and Mrs John Axford (Brazil) and Mr and Mrs John Rutter (Botswana) and so we have a special interest in them and their work.

As we review the past we are bound to give thanks to God for His faithfulness and blessing, and we are encouraged to trust Him for the future. ‘God is able to make all grace abound … that ye … may abound to every good work’, 2 Cor. 9. 8. For this we pray, for His glory, in the needy village of Pensford. END

BRISTOL MUSEUMS COLLECTIONS: Pensford Church, Near Bristol (drawing/watercolour)

Collection:

Fine Art

Maker:

MÜLLER, William James (No date)

https://collections.bristolmuseums.org.uk/.../67c3bdfe.../

William James Müller (28 June 1812 – 8 September 1845), also spelt Muller, was a British landscape and figure painter, the best-known artist of the Bristol School. So this must be a pre-1845 view and maybe before he went to the Middle East and London in 1838. There is no indication he was related to George Muller, 1805- 1898 the notable Christian philanthropist, who also came from the same area of Germany, to whom there is a remarkable facial likeness.

William James Muller

George Muller

30.1.2025: Hi again Lindsay, If that information from Roy Hill is correct, it's quite a remarkable revelation. The 'Tabernacle' building just below 'Rose Bank' has always fascinated me and been a bit of an enigma. In my mothers early days, say 1910 to 1920 it was the location for 'Band of Hope' meetings. As you no doubt realise this was a national anti-alcohol movement with essentially Christian foundations in response to the poverty and family dereliction caused through excessive drinking and drunkeness. It began in Leeds in 1847 and spread across the country although I do not know when it arrived in Pensford although it could tie in with the 1851 date mentioned by Roy Hill. The other date that might be significant is 1832 when George Muller, remarkable for his work with the provision of orphanages and schools and an early leading member of the Plymouth Brethren, came to Bristol. (George Müller Museum )  There was always a strong link between Bristol and Pensford Assemblies (so called) but I had no idea it might have been as early as this. I wonder if Muller ever preached in Pensford? https://www.georgemuller.org/uploads/4/8/6/5/48652749/gmmj.pdf However I think the building was likely somewhat earlier, although I have nothing to support this other than the architecture, which was reminiscent of many Quaker Meeting houses. In fact I wondered if it had been that, as there was a Quaker Meeting in the village from about 1660 on but more likely meeting in people's houses, until the one at Belluton was built.  So I guess that counts it out. The next possibility is that it was built in the mid 18th C. in connection with Whitefield's preaching and about a century later occupied by the Brethren. In any event all very fascinating. Of course the name is a bit of a clue. It comes from the Bible and the account of the Jews wandering in the wilderness but it was adopted by Christians. There's a famous one in Notting Hill which again was non-denominational. But here's the interesting bit, Missionary John Brown did a revisit series of talks on the original Tabernacle, complete with a huge model that was a bit of a local event. The Gospel Hall saw itself as a bit of a tabernacle, "For here we have no abiding city".  Kind regards, Tim.

We did hear back from Roy Hill but only in so far as he said the following:

 

On reflection, the Brethren assembly in Stanton Drew recorded in the 1851 ecclesiastical survey may not have been in Stanton Drew village but in Pensford as you mentioned that some parts of Pensford were in the Stanton Drew parish. I notice in the introduction to Appendix C on Muller, p 389 [“Places of Worship” book], it is stated 'Plymouth Brethren who used the Tabernacle on Pensford Hill'. That company may have been the 'Stanton Drew' Brethren assembly of that day.

 Hi Lyndsay and Paul,

 

re. Pensford/Stanton Drew Gospel Halls

 

Thankyou for this communication and your enquiry. I have been meaning to write to you for some time and it was very remiss of me not to have done so. My recent trip was brief but reasonably successful.  As you probably know, I am researching the possibility of erecting an oak-framed shelter on the old Gospel Hall site for public use. It is in its early stages but the Parish Council which was informed recently, have tentatively given it its blessing.  We shall have to see how it transpires.

 

Part of the reason for feeling the need to write to you, was to congratulate you on the publication of your Churches document which was kindly passed to me by Dom Lowe and which I have read thoroughly. It has many interesting facts and anecdotes and must have taken many hours of research and dedication to compile. Once completed it stands as a permanent record and monument to those who contributed. There is much in it that I could discuss but I mustn't get distracted from the main task as follows.

 

Naturally the majority of the contents related to the two established and ancient churches in Pensford and Publow. Of course Methodism was an off-shoot of the Church of England as a result of the work of John and Charles Wesley who were both ordained priests but Pensford certainly has an exceptional place in the former's ministry which resulted in the first Methodist Chapel in the Barton. In fact if my memory serves me right it was called the 'Octagon' although I'm not sure if any visual record of it has survived, the only remnant being one remaining pillar at the entrance!

 

As early as Monday 7th May 1737 he was preaching at Priestdown (appropriately) just outside Publow. He kept visiting frequently throughout his preaching career. His method of preaching in the open air was revolutionary and generally distained by the Church of England clergy. He says he got the idea from George Whitefield who he met when he arrived in Bristol that year, famous for preaching to large crowds of Kingswood Coal Miners, and adopted his novel method which he retained for the rest of his ministry. He was a great draw wherever he went, including Cornwall which became an important centre for Methodism, and where no village or town was without its chapel. Some have claimed, not without reason, that it was John Wesley's preaching that prevented the French Revolution coming to Britain!

 

As you mention in the book, Pensford was also the location for a Quaker Meeting place at Belluton and a Congregational Church at Whitley Batts. The former is no more, although at my suggestion its location was fairly accurately traced. It also had a burial ground attached. Further Quaker meetings were at Hallatrow and Chew Magna. In the 17th C. several Pensford residents were either fined and/or gaoled for being Quakers and refusing to attend church services as they were legally obliged to do. Tithes were another problem area. There is definitely a need for this to be properly recorded. I touched on the topic in my blog article on Locke which you have probably seen.

 

Now as to the Brethren and the Gospel Halls in Pensford it was nice to see you touched on them, though obviously and understandably very junior partners, as they only date from the the 1920's and were of very humble construction in comparison with the other gothic and neo-gothic edifaces. Neverthe less they had a impact on the village and locality, and certainly a significant influence on individuals such as myself, which largely goes undocumented. As regards Roy Hill's enquiry I have to say a Brethren meeting at Stanton Drew is completely new to me and I have never heard it referred to before.  

 

Having said that, the date of 1851 mentioned places it well before the Pensford case and even beyond that of my grandfather, born in 1878. In fact as it happens 1851 is the birth-date of my ggrandfather in Chew Magna. As far as I am aware although I have ancestors in Stanton Drew I have no knowledge of them attending a Brethren meeting there although of course it is not impossible.  The fact that Roy states fifty-five attended makes it a very significant number and it is rather amazing that it escaped notice over succeeding years. Even if it existed, it is clear that at least by the early part of the twentieth century, it was no longer in existence. As an aside you may know that Roy is a well-known Brethren preacher of repute and lives in the rather grand rectory there.

 

As you say in your book, the Pensford Gospel Hall dates from about 1920 and emerged from an evangelical tent mission in the field between weir and viaduct run by John Brown, who soon after became a missionary in South Africa when it was still a British Colony (up to 1961) Interestingly my gfather's cousin with identical Christian names,  who was an Instructor and interpreter in the Royal Navy during the First WW and was decorated by the French, also moved to S. Africa about that time. But I digress.

 

In fact I met John Brown once in the 1960's when he came to dinner at Amercombe. I have to say I was not impressed by his general view of native Africans, which he clearly viewed as inferior to white Europeans. It was an Edwardian and colonial world view that was widely shared and I suppose at that time somewhat justified. It however led to the injustice of apartheid that is now generally deplored. It does however illustrate the paradoxes embedded in past Christian missionary effort.

 

Fortunately some photograph of that tent mission have survived, which you have included in your book. Although the many individuals are not named, I can recognise my mother, father and their siblings aged around eleven or twelve upwards. Ian Hillman who was a pat-time postman and cobbler at Stanton Wick can be spotted at the back.The photo reminds me that both my father and mother became converts at that tent mission and stalwarts of the Gospel Hall thereafter. In fact although members of Pensford Church, both my gfather and gmother became initial members of the Gospel Hall. I have come across a newspaper extract of my gfather "representing the Gospel Hall" at the 1933 funeral of Mrs Hanley(?) in Pensford. My gfather appears to have also  been a regular pall bearer for Mr Batten.

 

A history of Pensford Gospel Hall, written by Ron Padfield I believe, used to appear on a Google search. It contained many interesting namesand facts. Unfortunately it seems to have been taken down, which is a shame, because although the meeting has folded, it is only right that its history should be preserved. I much regret the closing of the Meeting, blamed upon the dwindling attendance, the age of the members and the restrictions imposed by the dreaded 'covid'. As you rightly say the deeds of the new Gospel Hall were transferred to the Bath-based West of England evangelical association who promptly sold it with planning permission for another domestic dwelling, thereby ending almost an exact century of Christian witness in the village. By a quirk of fate, the old gospel hall site came into my possession in in 1997.... but that's another story.

 

As I mentioned the Gospel Hall had a disproportionate influence on certain lives including my own. As you realise, it was part of the 'Plymouth Brethren' movement which was a product of the 19th Century and in certain respects a progression of earlier Protestant evolution. There are sources much better than mine to describe it, but just as Luther, Calvin and Zwingli on the Continent had separated themselves from Roman Catholic doctrine, so in England there was a strong Puritan set that pre-dated the Henry VIII split in 1534 (Wycliffe in the 14th C., Tyndale in the 16th C.)  many believers and followers dying as heretics in the cause. 

 

Puritanism remained a powerful and influential theme during the17th Century and particularly the Civil War when of course John Locke was in his formative years.  As Henry broke from the Pope, so Cromwell broke from the King.  Just as the Establish English Church was a watered down version of Catholicism, so Methodism was a watered down version of the former. The Puritan and Quaker lines were more separate and distinct however, and unlike Methodism they challenged the very fundamentals of the Church. If anything 'Plymouth Brethrenism', if we can call it that, came from that mould.

 

'Brethrenism' began apparently in Dublin, transferring to cities and towns on the mainland including Plymouth, from which it derives its name. It is said that at its height there were no less than 28 Assemblies in Bristol alone. John Nelso Darby one of the originators fell out with others in both Plymouth and Bristol over doctrinal matter, a schism that has lasted to this day between 'Exclusive' and 'Open' Brethren, the former headed by Darby. The Pensford Assembly was part of the Open sect, though it was not unaffected by the schism. The 'Exclusives' became ever more so, preventing its members from meeting or socializing even with members of the 'Open' sect. The Padfield family was thus torn apart causing untold pain and heartache at the time. The Exclusive Brethren share many features in common with reprehensible cults and earned a very bad press in the latter part of the twentieth century.

 

Although being 'Open Brethren', many aspects of family life would today be regarded as extreme. My father would allow nothing into the house that smacked of the non-biblical world. No wireless, no television, no record player although my brother used to play jazz on the piano when dad was out! No alcohol, no cigarettes, no swearing, no misbehaviour, no make-up or high fashion. So it was. His was the biblical approach of, "Come out from among them and be ye holy." "Ye are in the world but not of the world." These are difficult concepts for the sophisticated modern man to get his head around but they did have a lasting impact on me, even if the decision was to reject it. Nevertheless as a child I managed to avoid the worst of these strictures by spending a great deal of time in less rigid houses where I managed to imbibe my share of radio television and games and I am rather glad that I did.

 

So reverting to the earlier puritanical sects that Brethrenism to some degree imitated, the underlying idea behind them was a democratic and personal one. It was to free believers from the control and ritual of a central and hierarchical body, be it Roman Catholic, English or any other. It was nothing less than a belief that individuals could establish a direct link with the Creator through prayer and Bible reading, the Bible being the inspired word of God that could speak directly to them. This of course was predicated in the belief that Jesus Christ was the Son of God (as he had reportedly claimed) and that his death for the sins of the world could be appropriated by belief in him, the act requiring repentance, forgiveness and a new way of living. 

 

These were the basic tenets of the Plymouth Brethren, thus Priests and otherwise ordained Ministers were dispensed with, to be replaced with 'Elders'.  There was no formal order of service, though rather akin to Quakers different services always followed the same format. Services centred around extemporised prayer (formal written prayers were eschewed), bible reading, the singing of 'approved' hymns with or without accompaniment, exposition of scripture. After every meeting there was the hubub of release and social intercourse.

 

There were three meetings on a Sunday (Communion called 'the Breaking of Bread'; a Sunday School for children; an evening 'Gospel Meeting' which was intended to be evangelistic but in practice it was the same group of believers who attended) and three in the week (a 'women's meeting; a 'children's meeting' and a 'prayer and bible reading' meeting) With some variation the same groups attended all of them on a very regular basis, year after year. In addition there were also annual events: a winter 'treat', essentially a free tea for the children and an evening performance with a religious theme for the parents; a summer outing where children and parents would be taken by bus to the seaside - usually Weymouth; and a 'Conference' which was serious business of speakers both afternoon and evening with a tea in between. 

 

As a child these required a high degree of self discipline and probably an element of tantric introspection to withstand but children have coping methods and who is to say that the effects of all this were not more good than bad? The Meeting was rather like an extended family - you became familiar with everyone. You were petted and spoiled, admired and complimented for your behaviour ("Oh wasn't he good", "What a wonderful voice", "Hasn't he grown?" (Groan) etc)  You became the observer of shape and size and mannerisms, that later you could imitate for entertainment. With luck something unusual might happen: someone might have a funny turn, forget what they were meant to say, faint or become over-excited. New or strange visitors were always a highlight. Unusual physical features or mannerisms were always note with interest.

 

For example I shall never forget the shock of seeing an adult - I suppose he was in his twenties - arrive in s Scouts' uniform, or the time a speaker fell backwards from the platform into the adjoining lean-to, or when my grandmother 'had a turn' and someone rushed off to get brandy which was unheard of, or when Mr Helps got over excited and had to be escorted off to Wells Mental Hospital, from where as far as I know, sadly he never departed.

 

All these characters and incidents remained locked in the memory for as long as you have one, though they are totally lost to the rest of the world. They all formed a microcosm that with much excitement and fanfare, transferred to the new building on Hillcrest in 1959. It was like a house getting an improvement grant! It now had toilets with hot and cold water at wash hand basins, a kitchen for catering, and a light, warm and airey room for all the same meeting and services. I was 'saved' in the old Gospel Hall and baptised in the new one. My grandmother, to whom I had been attached for nineteen years had her funeral there in 1968. (It was the only time I saw or met any of my grandparents siblings - Uncle Sid, gran's brother.  Oh no I tell a lie I once met a younger sister of my grandfather shortly before she died. She spoke with a broad Somerset accent that quite took me by surprise, but was probably representative of all that generation). My sister got married there. Both my father and mother had their funerals there, though some years apart. Now it is gone.

 

Well I really think that is quite enough for now!  Like Oscar Wilde my only excuse for such long letter, is that I didn't have time for a short one!  My sicere apologies for submitting you to it (if I did).I hope you found at least some of it interesting.

 

With the kindest of regards, 

 

Tim Veater.

From: Roy Hill 
Sent: 04 January 2025 21:36
To: 
Subject: 2 questions please

…

2) I have discovered in the 1851 Ecclesiastical Census that there was a Brethren church meeting place in Stanton Drew. On the Sunday of the census (30/03/1851) the attendance was 55 people. The return was provided by a Mr James Tester (shoe manufacturer). Its services would be along the lines of the services in Pensford Gospel Hall which I attended and which closed a few years ago. 

I would love to be able to find where that church building was located in Stanton Drew. I wonder if you have any information or whether you could suggest where I might start such a search.  

Thank you. 

Roy Hill

Stanton Drew

10.2.2025: Jewish and Plymouth Brethren connections to Penzance

Tim Veater

Peter Cocks The Marazion page has this: "Many people think that Marazion has a connection with the Jewish community that was settled here. In fact, its name is derived from the important fairs and markets that were held here – the earliest recorded was in 1070.

Marazion had two significant markets: Marghas Byghan (Small Market) and Marghas Yow or Jew (Thursday Market)". Time has blurred the pronunciations to Marazion – the main street in Penzance is called Market Jew Street."

As to the Jewish Synagogue behind the Star with reference to https://www.jewishgen.org/.../penz.../penzance_synagogue.htm it is clear that its history starts from the late 18th C., long after both the Marazion and Market Jew Street names were established. In 1906 it transferred to the Plymouth Brethren which still existed into the 1980's as I attended one of its meetings once! I am not aware of a formal Jewish place of worship in the district after that 1906 date but I am open to correction. Both Jewish and for that matter Plymouth Brethren beliefs and rituals are embedded in the Scriptural distant past. So is the settlement of Marazion which starts creating a documentary trace from the 11th C. onwards. But there is little doubt that long before that it was a prominent trading post to eastern Meditteranean for the metals essential for the 'Bronze Age', of course copper and tin.

"The lost years of Jesus"

A few thoughts on Jesus' 'lost years':

The topic is an interesting one.

In addition to Indian mystycism, there are of course the legends relating to Joseph of Arimathea and Glastonbury.

The Gospels are the only detailed accounts of Jesus of Nazareth and his life. It's generally agreed they were all written after 63 AD - i.e. some thirty years or so after Jesus' execution by the Romans at the behest of the Jewish elite.

The earliest of these is the Gospel of Mark written in Rome with the gaoled Apostle Paul. It is thought the other gospels were based on and embroidered this account, each with a slightly different emphasis.

What is notable in Mark's account, nothing of the circumstances of Christ's birth or youth are included, and he dives straight into the John the Baptist story, the wild man baptising converts in the Jordan including Jesus.

Baptism of course becomes a significant element of Christian theology and practise. It is not clear where it originates as it does not form part of of the Mosaic ritual, in which circumcision is the principal indicator of adoption and membership.

The Apostle Paul makes much of this change, in the process of extending the 'good news' to the wider non Jewish community. The old covenent is replaced by the new one and with it 'God's Chosen Race' from Jews to the Christian Church'.

Paul being an orthodox Jew was circumcised on the eighth day, but he does not impose it on Gentile converts. Similarly real sacrifice is replaced by metaphorical sacrifice - namely Christ's crucifixion, adopted in faith by the believer.

But getting back to the accounts of Jesus in Mark, only the time between John the Baptist and his resurrection are covered in detail. This means that about thirty of the thirty three years remain in shadow.

Other than the fact that he was derided for his social and occupational background ("Is not this the carpenter from Nazareth and no good thing comes out of there." (Paraphrased)) Luke suggests even at twelve he was showing a precocious interest in the Mosaic canon and precepts.

This is later confirmed his account of how Jesus on multiple occasions deals with the Scribes and Pharisees who try to trip him up over the Jewish laws. But it is clear he brings a new and refreshing interpretation to them relating to the Sabaath and other issues.

He also relates that Jesus was a regular teacher in Galilean synagogues and was referred to as 'Rabbi' indicating his background.

Is it likely that a humble carpenter with multiple brothers and sisters would have travelled far afield to India or Britain or been afforded an advanced formal education without it being recorded? I somehow doubt it.

The picture I get from the Gospels however is of a remarkable, unconventional man with extaordinary powers, who challenged the authority of the then establishment and forsaw this would lead to his own demise.

He possessed a charisma sufficient to impel disciples with a word of command and motivate crowds to flock after him but when people suggested he was the Messiah or a populist leader he demured, even under formal investigation. He talks in parables and intangible ambiguity.

Pilate when examining him said, “Am I a Jew? Your own people and chief priests handed you over to me. What is it you have done?” Jesus replied, “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jewish leaders. But now my kingdom is from another place.” “You are a king, then!” said Pilate. Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. In fact, the reason I was born and came into the world is to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.” “What is truth?” retorted Pilate."

Speaking truth to power, now as then, gets you banned or worse.

Tim Veater

Armando Bacco Feel free. The draw-back to asking a Priest, or any paid official of the church, they are unlikely to say what they think, or rather more accurately, to be able to think independently of the organisation they represent. They are duty bound to replicated the dogma to which they have committed themselves. Of course this is not necessarily a bad thing if the dogma is true and the practices conform to what is good and true. I suppose it comes back to what the individual, in good conscience thinks is true, but people have different ideas and even within Christianity there are disagreements and schisms, most notably from Luther on. What I wrote above is just a personal take on the gospel of Mark in relation to Jesus who was undoubtedly a MAN. Humans are eager to make people into 'Gods', some metaphorically and some even literally. The reputation of Jesus was shaped locally and contemporaneously by his words and miraculous actions; subsequently by the evangelistic activity of the Apostles, disciples, particularly the Jewish convert Paul following a miraculous incident on the way to Damascus; then later by the written word that became the New Testament. But to all this we have to add the interpretation placed on it and use made of it, by the dominant political powers of the Roman Empire which morphed with time into the 'Holy Roman Empire' complete with parallel Pontiff. No doubt a remnant of those early NT 'churches' in Asia-Minor and Greece survived but they could hardly be said to bear much resemblance to the Eastern or Western Church that came after, more akin to a political organisation, requiring obedience and conformity, enforced by draconian sanctions and methods. The human Jesus might be in there somewhere but he is hard to find. Jesus becomes mythologised and ritualised so that that the true man and his message is obscured. We have to return to the writings and rediscover him for ourselves with eyes freed of the shackles of the dogma, superstition and pretentiousness that has grown up around him. Is there a divine force operating in the universe, operating in humans, operating in all life forms? If so was Jesus of Nazareth the personification of it? These are questions only the individual can resolve and I look to no human institution to fulfill that role, though they obviously have a role which hopefully is more good than bad.