Reminiscences of Stan Whaley – (Mona Villa (no:58) from 1915 – 1932)
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As recorded by H S Whaley in 1981
Despite its isolation, Upton Park was a wonderful place for us children to grow up in – it gave us the benefit of fresh air, a love of the countryside and an ability to develop our own hobbies and interests. Don was born in Mona Villa on 28 May 1919 and the three of us grew up in delightful surroundings.
We looked onto the road, but in the summer at least, we could see no other houses because of the bushy lilacs and three magnificent copper beeches of Sabine’s garden. My back bedroom looked out onto the attractive Avenue with its line of tall black poplars on the left and some large elms and sycamores in a grassy belt on the right. It was quite a haven for the birds. To the south of Mona Villa, and stretching for a great distance was the famous Dickson’s nursery and the area adjacent to our garden was always filled with trees and bushes, especially holly, which was being grown for transplanting.
Occasionally in the springs of the 1920s, I would break through the boundary hedge at a strategic point near our lilac tree and go bird nesting with Bill Fletcher. Several times we found eggs of hedge sparrows and blackbirds but I was never successful at blowing them. The most interesting sight we ever saw in the Nurseries was the November morning when we heard the hounds and horns of the Hunt approaching – this shows how rural the area still was. We all rushed out to our yard and were just in time to see a large fox cross some open ground and hurry into a large drain near a smelly pile of manure. For quite a long time the hounds and huntsmen hovered round the area but had obviously lost the scent and went away baffled and mystified. Later we watched the fox emerge cautiously from his hiding place and return the way he had come – and I think we all rejoiced.
During WW1; I recall Charlie Dean shooting pigeons and me finding one in the garden; giving it to Mum for her to pluck and cook for our dinner.
Many of the houses in the Park had orchards and fully grown flowering cherries and laburnums, while Matthews (Matthias no:68 ?) had a gigantic and fruitful walnut. The Park was lovely.
Everyday Arthur Nixon the milkman called – including Sundays. He was bent with age and arthritis but was always a cheery caller. His horse Polly was so trained in the daily routine that she started and stopped at the appointed houses without orders from ‘Old’ Arthur. There were periodic calls from rag-and-bone men, from scruffy looking gypsies and from the organ grinder who played very merry hurdy gurdy tunes while we were fascinated by the small pathetic monkey chained to the top of the barrel. Mum always gave him something as we were sorry for the poor man who pushed his heavy barrel organ all the way from Chester for a few pennies.
In October in the 1920’s the threshing machine came to Shaw’s field and half a dozen sweating men worked hard to keep the monster going. The great noisy steam engine rattled and shook and made a prodigious din and the men worked amidst a clouds of dust and steam, but it was satisfying to see the piled sacks of straw and corn at the end of the autumn day.
One tragic event in our Avenue after the war remains shrouded in mystery and our parents were deliberately reticent whenever we three children asked questions. Early one morning Dad and a number of neighbours suddenly started scurrying about mysteriously and a policeman arrived in the Avenue. Charlie Dean’s body had been found beneath an elm tree with the top of his head shot off.
Otherwise life in the Park remained sedate and uneventful and family affairs centred around relatives.