The room I slept in, at the front of the house, was opposite the place where the Johnsons kept their hens and I can remember most mornings waking up to the sound of contented clucking and scratching and the occasional crowing. Sometimes Mr Johnson would stop for a chat on his way home and he used to say,'when I get to about here, I would ring the bell ting-aling-ting-tay, ting-a -ling-ting-tay' and mother knows its me and puts the kettle on! I remember something rather special about Grace. I was said to be a delicate child and my parents decided to send me to the Convalescent Department of Rhyl Children's Hospital, but I found myself in the Surgical Department because Grace was in charge of the ward there and would look after me! It was an unusual experience for me and I enjoyed it.

My first friend in the Park was Gwynneth Twist Jones, who lived in Ranmere (no:18); almost opposite Millside. Her parents were Welsh (almost everyone in the area seemed to be named 'Jones' but this was the only family named 'Twist Jones') and we played together in each other's home before we were old enough for school. We were both only children, so it was good for both of us.

Just before I went to the Queen's School, when I was about ten, I got to know a completely new family - so new that we all watched their house being built, from the foundations up, and wondered what sort of family was coming there. The family was named Compston and the house they were having built was called 'Rhossili' (no:4). They used to live in South Wales and so named the house after one of the places on Gower that they particularly loved. Charles Compston was an engineer and I think he used to design boilers, and he worked from home. His wife was Margaret, his son Geoffrey and his daughters Kathleen and Joan. Joan and I hit it off immediately and we have never lost touch throughout our lives. She is nearly a year older than I am and now lives in Wiltshire. We talk on the phone about once a month.

Betty Carbutt who lived in The Limes (no:25) was another good friend of ours and also went to the Queen's School.

I got to know Margaret Trant and her family at Laburnum Cottage. I think we started at the Queen's School at the same time. Her father was very often away at sea and her two brothers, Vincent and Roger, also seemed to be away from home. She also had a half-sister named 'Mary' who was the child of Captain Trant's first marriage, a very interesting young woman who drove all sorts of vehicles, which was rare for a woman at that time. Margaret, who became 'Meg' to me , used to call for me every morning on our way to school. We would both run like mad to catch the bus at the Mill, she was always punctual but I tended to be rather 'last-minute'.

There was a family named 'Catchpole' and I believe they lived in the house called 'Ravensworth' but that was not its name at the time. They had two sons, named I believe, Donald and Alec, and a younger sister named Silvia, who was a friend for some time but then the family seemed to disappear.

Ted Dean's two elder sons - Geoffrey and Frank? - seemed to call at our house fairly often, possibly on behalf of their father.

Margaret Jones, our maid, was always known as 'Margie'(hard g) and Margie was always talking about 'Mary from Shones' who seemed to be a great buddy of hers.

E Hylton-Stewart was a well-known Chester family, I believe, and I can often remember hearing him mentioned. I think he was an owner rather than a resident.

((((The name Haswell listed as the Nook, certainly rings a bell. I never knew him of course, but my best and oldest friend (still very much alive and living on the Wirral, was a Miss Haswell and I understood that her father's family had old Chester roots. Possibly the man at the Nook, was some connection. ))))

George Woodward, who was certainly 'tuppence short of a shilling', as the saying went, was the road-man in the Park. He did a few odd jobs for us and possibly came to the house because it was my father's job, as Treasurer of the Proprietors Association, to pay him.

Two names of people not living in the Park but who seemed to be involved with local events very much were BC Roberts and A Crompton. They both lived in a very grand houses in Upton Village and I can remember my mother talking of the garden parties that BC Roberts held for the entire community. When I was about ten or eleven I had taken to what was known as 'Elocution', and I have a small handbill advertising a concert in aid of the Upton WI at which I was performing and A Crompton was chairman.

I have said that my father was a Collector of Rates and Taxes and, because of an operation he had at the London Hospital, he was not allowed to join the armed forces in the 1914 War, so carried on doing his job. The Government of the time introduced Quarterly payment of Income Tax for manual workers, so many of whom were engaged in making munitions in the area, and of course my father had to collect them. He had to travel over dark lonely roads on his motor-bike, all of which became more difficult, particularly in winger, so he managed to by an 8 hp Rover car for £50. It would take me ages to describe the whole of the 'primitiveness' of this car, but I'll tell you that it had one single cylinder, oil lamps, plus one acetylene headlamp, two seats with a hood and a 'dicky-seat'. But it could go anywhere, including the Derbyshire Peaks, and took him safely over the Cheshire Countryside and the Welsh marches during the whole of the War, in very low gear. That was my first experience of a car and the next was different. At the Abbey Square school one of the pupils was the daughter of Mr A Crompton and on most days, I was taken home in the Rolls Royce, chauffeur-driven, belonging to him. I always went to school by bus and , if the Rolls was not available, returned the same way. Train travel was enormously important of course, and I note that several of the residents of the Park had jobs relevant to trains. My aunt (Daisy) owned a bungalow in Prestatyn, North Wales, and my whole family always went there for our holidays. I believe I can still remember the names of all the stations between Chester and Prestatyn - each one getting nearer to the Promised Land! I can s till visualise the rear end of the pony attached to the trap - the local version of a taxi- taking us to the bungalow.

See also
Margaret's recollection of her family and of Millside(no:84)