The nurses call me Edie

more bluebells

The re-imagined story …

They’ll be along in a little while. I see them most days, the young man and the little girl. Sometimes they walk past me but sometimes they sit next to me on the bench. I like those days. The young man exchanges a few pleasantries, comments on the weather, that kind of thing. The little girl only talks to him. My, she’s a chatterbox. She tells him about her friends and about school and who got told off that day. She has a nasty cough, mind; some days I think she doesn’t wear enough clothes. She never wears a coat in the winter, but then the young man takes off his greatcoat and puts it around her shoulders while they sit on the bench.

bluebells

But today it is summer and the sun shines on the cemetery and warms the cold earth. Yesterday she collected some flowers from one of the graves. He gently explained that she couldn’t take them and that someone had placed them there as a token of their love for the person who had died. She said she wanted to take some flowers to her mother so they picked some harebells that grew by the cemetery gate.

harebells

Here they come now. She is skipping alongside him, holding his hand. He is smiling. There is something very familiar about that smile. He reminds me of someone, but I can’t remember who. My thoughts are so muddled these days. The nurses call me Edie but I don’t think that’s my name. Tom never called me Edie. After the children came along he called me ‘ma’ like they did. I’m sure my name isn’t Edie though.

more bluebells

They’re not stopping at the bench today. That’s a shame. I like listening to their conversation. Never mind, there’s always tomorrow.

bluebells

Evening is drawing in. Doris will be along soon. She is never far away. She knows where to find me. It’s funny, I never forget her name. Here she comes now.

“Did you see them Ma?”

“Yes. They were along earlier.”

“Did Charlie speak to you?”

“No, not today. But he did smile. Do you know him then?”

“Of course I do Ma. It’s our Charlie and little Vera.”

“He doesn’t recognise me. Why doesn’t he recognise me Doris?”

“It was a long time ago Ma. You’ve changed a lot, got older. He doesn’t recognise me either.”

“I’ll remind him who I am tomorrow. They’ll be along again tomorrow.”

“Come on Ma, it’s beginning to get dark. We should make a move. Take my arm.”

I lean heavily on her, but she never complains. She’s a good girl. She’ll make some lucky man a lovely wife. I wonder why she hasn’t got married by now. I wish I could remember these things.

The nurses call me Edie, but I’m sure that’s not my name.

The facts …

Edith Emily was born in 1876 in Gorse Hill, the daughter of John Painter, a sawyer at the GWR Works, and his wife Hannah. She married Thomas Gray, a steam engine fitter in the Works, in 1895 and at the time of the 1901 census the couple were living at 263 Cricklade Road, Gorse Hill with their two children Florence aged 4 and one year old Charles. They would go on to have a total of 11 children, the last born in 1919, a daughter Gwendoline, who died before her first birthday. Two other daughters died in the 1920s.

On the 1939 List Thomas and Edith are living at 13 Carlton Street with their daughter Irene, who works as a domestic servant and son Ronald, a van driver for a Wine and Spirit Merchant.

Thomas died in November 1941 at Carlton Street and was buried on December 3 with his two daughters in plot C1024. He was 67 years old.

Edith Emily Gray died on Christmas Day 1959 at Roundways, a psychiatric hospital in Devizes. The hospital had opened in 1851 when it was called the Wiltshire County Lunatic Asylum, changing its name to the Wiltshire County Mental Hospital in 1922 and eventually Roundways. Edith was 83 years old. She was buried on December 31, in plot C1024, with her husband and two daughters. This is a public or pauper’s grave and the Gray family members are buried with two others.

Thomas and Edith’s eldest son was Charles Herbert, born in 1899. He served with the 6th Wilts regiment from the outbreak of the First World War and was discharged from the army on March 15, 1919. Sadly his records are among those destroyed during bombing in the Second World War, but we do know what action the 6th Wilts served in and that Charles was most probably with them.

The 6th Wilts embarked for the Western Front in July 1915 as part of the 19th Division and were involved in action at Loos in September of that year. After the attack they returned to Neuve Chapelle for the remainder of 1915.

In 1916 they were engaged in training at Albert in preparation for the Somme offensive, during which they suffered 380 casualties in two months.

In 1917 the 6th Battalion saw action on the Ypres salient, Messines Ridge and Passendaele Ridge. They became the 6th (Royal Wiltshire) Yeomanry Battalion following more heavy losses.

Throughout the last year of the war the 6th (Service) Battalion were heavily engaged. They sustained heavy losses and despite reinforcements were eventually disbanded, most of the men being sent to the 2nd Battalion. They were eventually disbanded in Devizes in 1919.

During the September quarter of 1920 Charles married Ada J. Edginton and the coupled lived at 14 Haydon Street. Charles died from Pulmonary Tuberculosis on April 4, 1921 at Salisbury Hospital.* He was 22 years old. He was buried on April 9 in grave plot B2321.

The birth of Charles and Ada’s daughter, Vera Dorothy Joan was registered during the June quarter of 1921, so probably around the time of Charles’s death.

Vera died in January 1926 at the Isolation Hospital. She was four years old. She is buried in Radnor Street Cemetery in plot C569, a public grave which she shares with eight others.

*Paul Cook kindly obtained the death certificate for Charles Herbert Gray.

Gray CH

History of the 6th Wilts taken from The Wardrobe – Home of the Infantry Regiments of Berkshire & Wiltshire.

34 Faringdon Road

The re-imagined story …

I quite like what they’ve done to the place, especially the wallpaper in the front parlour. I could never have afforded that when we lived there.

The thing I notice most is how clean everywhere is. In my day it was a constant battle against the filth pumped out of the Works and the coal smuts from the trains. If the wind changed direction the washing would be covered in grime when I took it off the line.

I preferred our home in Box, but it was only a small village in those days. There were more opportunities for the boys in Swindon, so we moved here. It was a dirty, noisy place back in the 60s but the people were good and kind. When John died more than two hundred people lined the roads from Faringdon Street to St Mark’s.

I like to pop back to the house occasionally. It’s open to the public now, you know. Who would have thought it?

The facts …

Jane Bennet married John Hall at New Monkland, Lanarkshire in June 1840 when John was working as an engine driver with the Wishaw and Coltness Railway in Scotland.

At the time of the 1851 census the family were living in Box, Wiltshire but by the next census ten years later they were at 1 Faringdon Street.

John died on Tuesday, February 29, 1876 as the result of a grisly accident on the railways. At the inquest his son James gave the following evidence:

‘James Hall, son of deceased, said:- My father was 65 years of age last August. On Tuesday morning, about 25 minutes after two, I was at the station with him as his stoker to pilot the up rails out. We were there in case of the other engine breaking down. There were four coaches in front of our engine, which we were going to push on to the rails. Whilst waiting, the gauge lamp went out, and my father went to the front of the engine to light it by the other lamp. As he was returning along the side of the engine the signalman signalled us to come on, and I blew the whistle and started just as my father had another step to take to get back, and, in fact, had his hand on the weather board. He was walking along the side of the engine. As he was about to step on the foot plate his foot slipped and he fell, his right leg going between the outside connecting rod and the wheel. I had only moved about a yard. The rod brought him up again against the splasher, causing his leg to be jammed and the flesh torn off. The first I knew of his position was my father calling out, ”Stop Jim,” and I stopped immediately. I got down and found he was fixed inside the rod, and he was terribly torn about. It took a considerable time to get him out. He was taken to the hospital at once.’

John died from the shock about four o’clock the same day. As the report said: ‘The injuries were sufficient to kill anyone, the flesh being taken off to the bone.’

The funeral at St Mark’s took place on the following Sunday, a wet and windy dayattended by ‘a large number of the inhabitants, many engine drivers and stokers from various parts of the Great Western Railway. We understand that free passes were issued to all such drivers and stokers as desired to attend the funeral, and in this way over ninety of deceased’s fellow workmen were enabled to attend his funeral to pay their last respects to his memory,‘ according to the Swindon Advertiser.

Jane outlived her husband by ten years. She died on January 22, 1886 at the home in Faringdon Street where she had lived for more than twenty five years. She was buried in Radnor Street Cemetery in plot A1047, a public grave, with Jane Humphreys, the wife of Alfred Augustus Humphreys of 9 Bangor Terrace, Jennings Street, who had died the previous year.

Faringdon Street was later renumbered and renamed Faringdon Road. Today the Hall’s former home is 34 Faringdon Road, the Railway Village Museum.

A literary legacy and the Misses Baden

The re-imagined story …

Everyone with the name Jefferies wanted to tell us their memories of the man, even those who were unrelated and had never met him. The Swindon Advertiser had already published a fulsome obituary notice on the local writer Richard Jefferies but Mr Morris wanted me to come up with something more, something from a different perspective.

I did a bit of research and discovered that Mrs Jefferies sisters lived in town, so I made an appointment to visit them.

Mrs Jefferies came from a large farming family. Her father had married twice and produced some fourteen children. Mrs Jefferies was the eldest of the second family. The sisters who lived at 20 Sheppard Street hailed from the first family and were considerably older than the recently widowed Jessie Jefferies.

Jessie Jefferies nee Baden — Mrs Jefferies, the former Jessie Baden

I was greeted at the front door of the red brick villa by Miss Blanche Baden who introduced herself as niece and companion to the Misses Baden. The two sisters were waiting for me in the parlour.

The ladies were dressed in the old country fashion and were frail and elderly. Miss Mary, the younger of the two, spoke for her sister Miss Emma, explaining that she had been deaf and dumb since birth.

Looking out across the road to the looming railway factory, Miss Mary talked about a childhood spent at Day House Farm and their near neighbours, the Jefferies family who lived on the farm at Coate.

In pride of place on the bookcase was a set of Jefferies books. I was invited to select a volume, each one a first edition, inscribed by their famous brother-in-law.

I wrote what I thought was an interesting piece about the Misses Baden and their literary legacy, but Mr Morris didn’t like it. I had missed the point of the exercise, I was told. He’d wanted more insight into Jefferies ambition, the political motivation of the man and what had driven him, not a non-story about two old ladies who had done nothing of note.

It was then that I decided the Swindon Advertiser was not the vehicle for my work and that I would devote my life to writing about the lives of women who had supposedly ‘done little of note.’

The facts …

Death of a Distinguished Wiltshire Man

A large circle of readers will be sorry to hear that Mr Richard Jefferies died at Goring on Sunday morning. He will be known to all classes of readers as the author of a charming series of books and fugitive articles on rural life and kindred subjects, that were as interesting to dwellers in town as to those in the country. He united to a singularly close insight into the natural workings of animal and vegetable life a power of description almost unrivalled. His books and articles were redolent of the air of the country, and dealt with nature in so picturesque and graphic a style that the dweller in a city might almost fancy himself in the midst of the scenes described. These scenes were mostly taken from his native county of Wiltshire. The son of a farmer, he soon fell to writing on his favourite subjects in local journals. He soon, however, went to London, where he at once made himself a name as a writer of books and contributor of essays to magazines and periodical literature. Many will remember the delightful freshness of “The Gamekeeper at Home,” which introduced him to the London public about ten years ago. This was followed at short intervals by “Wild Life in a Southern County,” “Round about a Great Estate,” “Hodge and his Masters,” “Nature near London,” “The Life of the Fields,” “Red Deer,” and “The Open Air,” the last of which was published two years ago. Mr Jefferies also wrote a number of works of fiction, which are certainly not so well known – and perhaps deservedly so – as his pictures on country scenes. Thus between 1874 and the present year he published “The Scarlet Shawl,” “Restless Human Hearts,” “World’s End,” “Greene Fern Farm,” “Wood Magic,” “Bevis, the story of a Boy,” “The Dewy Morn,” “After London, or Wild England,” and “Amaryllis at the Fair,” the last in the present year. Also he wrote in 1883 a work of great interest entitled “The Story of my Heart, an Autobiography.”

Extract from The Swindon Advertiser, Saturday, August 20, 1887.

Emma Jane and Mary Hannah Baden

Emma Jane Baden aged 76 years of 20 Sheppard Street was buried on March 24, 1894 in grave plot E7206. Mary Hannah Baden aged 79 years of 15 Avenue Road was buried with her sister on November 27, 1907.

Miss Blount’s tea party

The re-imagined story …

I really didn’t want to visit Miss Blount. I liked her well enough; she was a kind, patient teacher, but she was dying. We all knew it. She had been ill for a long time and this would probably be the last time anyone other than her family would be invited to visit.

As the senior pupil teacher I was selected to deliver the presents the children had produced. The infants had drawn pictures while the older children had written diary entries telling her what was happening at school. The girls in Standard IV had baked a Victoria Sandwich cake, named after the Queen who was known to have a sweet tooth. My contribution was a bunch of dahlias grown in my dad’s greenhouse.

The Blount family lived at 14 Park Lane. I expected the house to be shrouded and shuttered, the family sombre and in premature mourning, but it wasn’t like that at all. Miss Blount was sitting in the sheltered back garden where her mother served the tea. The flowers were placed in a cut glass vase and set upon the garden table while both ladies exclaimed over the lightness of the sponge cake. The younger children’s pictures caused much delight and the diary entries were pored over with great interest.

Our little tea party was so relaxed and jolly that I began to think perhaps the reports of Miss Blount’s ill health had been exaggerated. Then suddenly she was overcome by a paroxysm of coughing, and her mother rushed to her side. When eventually the attack subsided I noticed the handkerchief she held to her mouth was spotted with blood. She looked exhausted and Mrs Blount thanked me for calling, which I took to be my cue to leave.

Miss Blount was very pretty and so young, just 27, but of course as a 14 year old school girl I didn’t truly appreciate the sorrow.

There’s a beautiful monument on her grave, a floating angel, delivering her soul to heaven. When I visit my parents’ grave I take some flowers for Miss Blount. She told me she thought the dahlias were a cheerful flower, that day of the tea party.

Blount family

The facts …

Eleanor Marian Blount was born in Hereford, the eldest of William and Ann Blount’s eight children, but she was not the first to die.

William married Ann Lane on August 6, 1866 at St Peter’s, Hereford. They moved to Swindon in about 1868 where William started work as a Moulder in the railway factory. Their first home was in Havelock Street in 1869 before they moved to 43 Cheltenham Street. Their third child, Mary Emma Blount was born in Cheltenham Street but died at 8 months old. She was buried on August 22, 1871 in the churchyard at St Mark’s. In 1881 the family were living at 22 Cheltenham Street and by 1891 they were living at 14 Park Lane.

Three of their children went on to become teachers, Eleanor, Lily and Edgar. William John Lane Blount turned up in the US sometime around 1888-91. George followed his father in the Works as a Brass Finisher, but later he also emigrated to the US. Alexander (Henry) Blount worked as a mechanical engineer in the railway factory. Youngest son Frederick Walter, also worked in the railway factory as a fitter.

William died on April 27, 1913 aged 69. Ann survived him by more than twenty years. She died in 1934 aged 87. They were buried with their daughter Eleanor in a large double plot E8158/8159.

Granddad’s Museum

The re-imagined story …

As children my brother and I thought our granddad lived in a museum. His house was packed full of stuff; ornaments on every surface, paintings, prints and photographs and books, so many books.

Inside the house we had to manoeuvre our way around, careful not to knock anything over, but fortunately for us there was a long back garden where we played, whatever the weather. We were even allowed inside the shed if it was lashing down with rain.

The shed was a microcosm of the house, but without the china. There were racks and racks of old fashioned tools but no one seemed to worry that we might sever a limb or drive nails into each others eyes.

One day we found a wooden model train in a box under the workbench. I remember how we stared at one another apprehensively. It looked like a toy, but could we play with it or was it another museum piece? We just didn’t know. We decided we would play with it, only very carefully, and if it got broken we would say it was like that when we found it.

It was actually pretty robust. Not big enough to sit on, although we tried that, but sturdy. The wheels turned and the bell on the front moved, but that was about it really. We sat our Action Men in the cab and created war time scenarios, but there wasn’t a lot you could do with it really.

Clearing granddad’s house after he died was a nightmare. Our poor parents spent weeks and weeks at the job. I would have liked longer to go through it all, but there just wasn’t the time and I couldn’t store anything in my small, one bed flat.

The shed was one of the last things we tackled and this yielded some of the biggest surprises. The tools my brother and I had looked upon as instruments of torture turned out to be real museum pieces, some of them dating back to the 18th century.

When I saw the train for the first time in years I realised it was a model of the famous King George V loco made in the Swindon Works in 1927. Perhaps the owner of the tools, or one of his descendants had made the model. Sadly there was no way of finding out who. The Carriage and Wagon Works employed hundreds of skilled carpenters and throughout its history Swindon had numbered countless building firms, large and small.

As we bagged and boxed and dumped so much of granddad’s treasure I wondered how he had come by it all, especially those tools. And who had made the model of the King George V loco, which now sits on the coffee table in my lounge.

The facts …

This memorial was revealed several years ago during a major bramble clearance exercise in Radnor Street Cemetery by Swindon Borough Council.

This is the final resting place of Sarah Leighfield, her husband William and their son-in-law James George Plank.

Sarah was born in Swindon in c1851 and married William Leighfield in 1871. William was born in Wootton Bassett in c1851 the eldest son of James and Ann Leighfield.

By the time of the 1911 census William and Sarah were living at 91 Curtis Street with four of their children. William, aged 61, was by then working as a Wood Sawyer in the railway works. His son Robert was a Coach Painter in Motor Works, Alfred and Albert were both House Decorators and Ernest also worked as a Coach Painter.

1915 Curtis Street photograph published courtesy of Swindon Museum and Art Gallery.

His younger brother Richard James Leighfield established a successful construction business at 1 Witney Street. In 2015 the Royal Wootton Bassett based firm celebrated their 130th anniversary.

Sarah died in April 1911 and was buried on April 13 in plot E7339. William died in June 1915 and was buried with his wife on June 9. The last person to be buried in this plot was their son-in- law James George Plank, their daughter Emily’s husband. J.G. Plank died at St Margaret’s Hospital on July 3, 1955.

The King George V Loco, designed by Charles B. Collett and built in the Swindon Works in 1927, was the prototype for Great Western Railway’s (GWR) King class. It was the first of a thirty strong fleet built in Swindon from 1927-1930 to meet the demands of rising passenger numbers and heavier carriages.

Photo of King George V published courtesy of STEAM Museum of the Great Western Railway, Swindon.

Mrs Peddle and me

The re-imagined story …

Life’s circumstances can create some unusual friendships. In the case of Mrs Peddle and me it was the death of our husbands.

We didn’t have a lot in common. Mrs Peddle had money and I didn’t. I had a houseful of children and she had none.

I don’t think she much enjoyed living in Swindon. She told me she was born in a village called Keinton Mandeville in Somerset and she was a country girl at heart. Her back garden was full of old fashioned country flowers like night scented stock and grandmother’s bonnet. My garden was always full of washing.

I’d never known anywhere other than Swindon. I’d been born in the railway village and lived there until I got married. My dad was a railwayman and so was his dad and just about all the boys I grew up with ended up working in the railway factory. My husband Fred was a steam hammerman.

I don’t know why Mr and Mrs Peddle moved to Swindon in the first place. Mr Peddle had worked as a house painter and decorator. Perhaps he looked at all those red brick terrace houses and thought there would be plenty of work for him, but of course everyone took care of their own properties in those days. Few of us had the money for an interior decorator. So like every other man in town, Mr Peddle found himself sucked into the railway works.

Mrs Peddle would come across to my house most afternoons. She seemed to enjoy the noise and chaos the children created and I was grateful for someone to hold the baby while I caught up with some household jobs.

Then afterwards we’d have a cup of tea and we’d talk. We’d talk about really personal stuff, things I’d never spoken to anyone else about. She told me why she’d never had any children and I told her why I had so many.

Before the year was out I married William, one of Fred’s friends, and moved into his house in Clifton Street. He had lost his wife around the same time Fred died. I needed a breadwinner and he needed a mother for his children. More kids! And we soon had one of our own together.

After that I only saw Mrs Peddle occasionally. The intimacy of those few months in 1911 was gone. I’m not sure that either of us wanted to be reminded about some of those confidences we shared.

It’s a funny old world. Death drew us together but life pulled us apart.

The facts …

Emily Jane Louisa was baptised on August 27, 1865 at the parish church in Keinton Mandeville, Somerset, the daughter of John Cox, a labourer and his wife Matilda. Emily worked as a dressmaker until her marriage to James Peddle in the September quarter of 1887.

At the time of the 1891 census James was recorded as living at No. 12 York Place, Swindon, where he worked as a painter and glazier. On census night 1891 Emily was staying with her widowed mother back home in Keinton. By 1901 James and Emily were living at 76 Radnor Street, their home for more than ten years. On the 1911 census James is described as a house painter employed by the railway company. James and Emily had been married for 23 years and had no children.

James died on August 4, 1911 and was buried in plot D1473 on August 9.

In 1916 Emily married widower John Parker, a carpenter who worked in the railway factory. His wife Eliza had died in December 1914. John and Emily lived at 33 Wellington Street.

It was a brief marriage as Emily died on November 15, 1919. She was buried on November 21 with her first husband James Peddle in plot D1473.

John Parker outlived Emily by more than 30 years. He died on November 17, 1952 and was buried with his first wife Eliza in plot D1302, not too far from James and Emily.

John and Eliza Parker share their grave with their grandson Alan Parker who died in 1931 aged 8 years old.

Image published courtesy of Robin Earle taken in the 1980s.

First caretaker – Charles Brown

Radnor Street entrance

The re-imagined story …

It’s a long trek back home from the market to Clifton Street. I usually walk up Deacon Street and cut through the cemetery. Of course, in the old days you weren’t allowed to and if Mr Brown caught us kids, we were in for a right telling off.

Mr Brown was the caretaker who lived in the lodge at the Radnor Street gates. He used to keep all the other gates locked so the only way in and out was past his front door.

Us kids used to climb the railings, but woe betide you if he caught you scratching the paintwork.

He and his team kept that cemetery in a beautiful condition. The grass edges were always neat and tidy and come Autumn the paths were all kept clear of leaves. We reckoned he polished the gravestones as well, they were so clean.

He was very proud of the place. Well, he’d been caretaker from the day it opened. Funny to think he’d known the cemetery in its empty state. Strange thing was he died on July 31, 1905 the anniversary of the date he began work in 1881.

People say he’ll be missed. I’m sure he will, but my generation will always remember him as the scary man who used to chase us out the cemetery.

cemetery-lodge-front-door-2

The facts …

With the opening of the cemetery imminent the Cemetery Committee advertised for a caretaker and sexton, at a Salary of £1 a Week, and House-Rent Free. The successful applicant was 44-year-old Charles Brown who in 1881 was working as a Coachman in Wroughton. Charles worked as caretaker for 24 years. He died at home in the Cemetery Lodge on July 31, 1905 and is buried in the cemetery in plot E8661.

Death of Mr C. Brown. The death of Mr C. Brown, the caretaker at the Swindon Cemetery, took place on Monday afternoon. Deceased was born at Lambourne Berks 68 years ago, and after living at Burderop for some time, he removed to Swindon, and became the first caretaker of the Cemetery, being appointed just 24 years ago, his death occurring on the anniversary day. Deceased had been failing in health for the last twelvemonths, and went away a short time ago for the benefit of his health. He was taken seriously ill about a fortnight ago, and passed away on Monday, as already stated. Deceased was always most unobtrusive and courteous in the discharge of his duties – On Thursday afternoon, at 2.30, the mortal remains of the late Mr Brown were laid to rest in the Swindon Cemetery, over which he had had charge for so many years. The remains were enclosed in a polished elm coffin, with brass furniture, and the breast place bore the inscription: “Charles Brown, died July 31, 1905, aged 68 years.”

Extracts from the Swindon Advertiser, Friday, August 4, 1905.

Family dynamics and a rediscovered grave

One winter several years ago before public spending cuts became so constrained, Swindon Borough Council cleared a large area of the cemetery swamped by brambles, revealing many hidden graves. One of the rediscovered plots was that of the Barnes family.

This double plot E8410/E8411 is surrounded by an elegant, black marble kerbstone memorial. Although still partially concealed, two names can be detected. From these slim pickings it was possible to trace much of the history of this family, using a combination of sources beginning with the Radnor Street Cemetery burial registers.

On October 15, 1878 John Barnes and Elizabeth Jane (also known as Jane Elizabeth) Farmer married at St Mark’s, the church in the railway village. John worked as a plumber, most probably with his father Richard who was also described as a plumber on the marriage certificate. Elizabeth Jane was the daughter of Thomas Farmer, a mason.

At the time of the 1881 census John, Jane and their daughters Edith Ellen aged 1 and three-month-old Florence Beatrice, lived at 9 William Street. By 1891 they were still living in William Street where their family had increased by four sons – Harold E 6 years old, Ernest A 5, Herbert H J 3, and one-year old Frederick W.

By 1901 they were living at 5 Tennyson Street, their family complete with the birth of Edgar A in 1897. Their elder sons Harold aged 16 and Ernest 15 were both working in the building trade, Harold as an apprentice house carpenter and Ernest as an apprentice house painter. At a time when the railway works dominated the town, this large Swindon family worked independently and within the building trade. Maybe the family would look back on these times as the good years.

On September 4, 1907 18-year-old Frederick set sail for Australia. Perhaps the building trade had taken a temporary down turn, although that seems unlikely in fast growing Swindon. Was his departure a shock for his parents, or perhaps he had always been a daring, adventurous type?

But worse was to come. The first real tragedy struck on November 26, 1907 when 21-year-old Harold Ernest died, the first of the family to be buried in the large, double plot in Radnor Street Cemetery and whose name is visible on the re-discovered grave. It was Harold’s death that gave me an entry into this family’s history.

The 1911 census confirms some details. Jane states that she and John have been married for 34 years and that they had eight children, 7 of whom were living and one who had died. The couple’s four sons were listed at home in Tennyson Street, including Frederick returned from Australia.

On Boxing Day 1911 eldest son Herbert Horace John married Kate Gray Hill at St Mark’s, the church where his parents had married.

The following year Frederick and his younger brother Lionel set sail on the Orvieto bound for Sydney, Australia. John and Jane would never see Frederick again. He died in Drummoyne, New South Wales in 1913. His name is remembered on the family memorial.

Lionel remained in Australia where he married Lucy Amelia Hunt, a girl from Wootton Bassett, in 1913. They came back to England at some point, but returned to Australia in 1951 where Lionel died in Drummoyne, New South Wales in 1963 aged 71.

On September 23, 1914 Herbert’s wife Kate gave birth to a baby girl called Freda but sadly they both died the following day. Kate and her baby daughter were the first of the family to be buried in the adjoining plot E8411.

With the declaration of war, the parents must have feared for their sons, especially when their widowed son Herbert enlisted with the Royal Marines Divisional Engineers. He later transferred to the Royal Air Force.

Herbert returned safely from the war to marry Mabel Homer in 1919. He died in 1959 and was buried with his first wife and their baby daughter in plot E8411. They share the grave with Herbert’s sister Edith Ellen Lucas who died in 1962 and her husband Ernest Lucas.

Another son served in and survived the First World War. Edgar Arthur Thomas Barnes, a motor engineer, joined the army at the beginning of the war and served in the Royal Army Service Corps. He was awarded the Military Medal for repairing a motor under fire and bringing three wounded soldiers safely to hospital. Edgar died in Lincoln in 1961.

Jane died in 1922 and John in 1924. They were buried in plot E8410 with their son Herbert and daughter-in-law Mabel Barnes.

Eight family members and a day-old baby were buried in that newly discovered double grave plot. Thanks to the hard work of the Swindon Borough Council team it has been possible to trace the events of the Barnes family history.

Have you seen the doctor?

albert ramsden surgeon (2)

The re-imagined story …

Every Saturday Nan and me would come into town on the bus. We’d buy a bunch of flowers from a stall in the market and then walk up Deacon Street to the cemetery.

After we had spent a few moments looking at the wonky little headstone we would lay the flowers on the grave. Then I’d skip off down the steep path and out of the gate to Grandma’s house in Dixon Street, arriving at the front door ahead of Nan.

“Have you seen the doctor?” was the first thing she always said. Before “hello Marilyn, why aren’t you wearing a coat?” or “hello Marilyn I’ve got some chocolate cake in the pantry.”

Grandma was a wizen, little, ancient lady, who always dressed in black, I assumed in perpetual mourning for my dead Grandpa. Old ladies did that in my childhood. Of course, you don’t see that now. These days they get a tattoo and move on to a 50-year-old boyfriend. Grandma was my great-grandmother, someone to be revered and obeyed. That’s all changed as well.

When I was very young, I thought ‘the doctor’ was a relative of ours, but when I came to understand social politics I realised that’s wasn’t very likely; all the men in our family had been railwaymen.

Then one day Nan mentioned that the doctor was a surgeon, one of the GWR doctors employed at the Medical Fund Hospital. Perhaps he had performed some life saving operation on a family member. Perhaps that was why Grandma had been leaving flowers on the grave for more than 60 years.

Suddenly, as happens, life passed by. Grandma died and my much loved Nan took her place as the little old lady I took my children to visit on a Saturday afternoon. We didn’t call in at the cemetery first though as Nan lived just around the corner from us in Gorse Hill.

We talked about the past a lot, same as I find I do now, and then one day I asked her who the doctor was we used to visit in the cemetery.

She took her time replying and I wondered if she might have forgotten.

“When my mother, your Grandma, was young she worked for the railway doctors. The surgery was at Park House where Dr. Swinhoe lived, but the younger doctors lived in a house in London Street.” She paused for a moment and I sensed she was about to share a confidence that had not be spoken of for many years.

“Grandma used to do the washing for the young doctors, keep the house tidy and cook them a midday meal, returning in the afternoon to finish her duties. Remember mind, she was only 15 or 16. That was a lot of work for a young girl to be doing. That particular day, she left the meal for the doctors and went home for her own dinner.

“Just as she was about to leave her house a young boy knocked on the door with a note for her telling her not to return to work as one of the doctor’s had died suddenly. She would be expected at work the following morning. She never went back to her job or the house in London Street.”

It was a sad story. “Grandma must have been very fond of that doctor,” I said.

Nan sipped her tea and I could sense that wasn’t the end.

“It wasn’t that Marilyn. No one explained to her what had happened, or why he had died. She thought she had killed him.”

“Killed him?”

“She wasn’t a very good cook. Her family used to tease her and say one day she’d kill someone. That day she thought she had killed the doctor.”

Views of London Street taken in 2019

The facts …

Albert Ramsden was born in 1852 the son of Charles Ramsden and his wife Ann. At the time of the 1851 census, the year before Albert’s birth, the family was living at an address in the Beast Market, Huddersfield where Charles worked as a dry-salter. A dry-salter was a dealer in dry chemicals and dyes and in the 1857 Post Office Directory Charles is listed as living at 9 Beast Market, a dry-salter and oil merchant. By 1861 he was employing five men and two boys and obviously earning enough to pay for his son’s education. That same year Albert was a boarder at a school in Ramsden Street, Huddersfield, run by John Tattersfield.

Albert moved to Swindon in 1881. At the time of the census earlier that year he had been lodging at 35 Bromfelde Road, Clapham where he was described as a medical student. He had previously worked for Dr John Sloane at his large practise in Leicester.

Sudden Death of a Medical Man – An inquest was held at Swindon on Wednesday, August 31^st on the body of Albert Ramsden, aged 29, who died suddenly on the previous Monday afternoon, at his lodgings No 5 London-street, Swindon, where he resided with four or five other gentlemen of the medical staff. It appears that deceased, when at dinner, rose suddenly and went into the drawing room where he stayed two or three seconds, and then upstairs. On entering his room shortly afterwards his body was found lying across the bed with the head on the floor. The four medical gentlemen present did what they could for him, but to no effect. Deceased it seemed had fallen in a fit, death resulting from a flow of blood to the head. A verdict was returned in accordance with the evidence. The deceased had only resided at Swindon three weeks, having been an assistant to Dr Sloane, of Leicester, for several years. He was a member of the Royal College of Surgeons, and had passed his examination as L.R.C.P. only four weeks previously.

Leicester Chronicle and Leicestershire Mercury, Saturday September 10, 1881.

Albert had died during an epileptic seizure. He was buried in plot A137, the 14^th burial to take place in the new cemetery at Radnor Street.

albert ramsden surgeon

First impressions

The re-imagined story …

There was a lot of talk in the workshop about the new cemetery. We had a vested interest as undertakers, and wondered at the choice of location.

“Makes you wonder why the Local Board settled on that piece of land.”

“Must have been something to be made out of it for one of them.”

“It belonged to Mr. Hinton.”

“Enough said.”

“Which gate will be the usual entrance?”

The new cemetery was situated in the middle of Kingshill with an approach by four entrances at Dixon Street, Clifton Street, Radnor Street and Kent Road.

“I’m assuming it will be the Radnor Street one. That’s going to be quite a climb with a handbier.”

“Kent Road might be a better option.”

“Which ever way you approach from New Town there’s going to be a hill to climb.”

“Has anyone been to have a look?”

“It’s one big building site up there at the moment. There’s work going on in all the surrounding streets. I pity anyone who has to bury a loved one during the next few weeks.”

Little did we know we would be burying our own governor, Mr Edward Hemmings, just five days later.

The facts …

Edward Hemmings, a carpenter, joiner and undertaker, was born in Charlton Kings, Cheltenham. He and his wife Eliza lived in London between 1851 and 1861 and moved to Fleet Street, Swindon in the mid-1860s.

By 1871 he had a business at 43 Fleet Street and ten years later they were living and working at 22A Fleet Street. This may have been the original property, renumbered as building work continued in that area.

Following her husband’s death Eliza placed an announcement in the Swindon Advertiser.

Mrs Hemmings, of 22, Fleet Street, New Swindon, begs to inform the inhabitants of Swindon and the neighbourhood that she intends carrying on the business of her late husband Edward Hemmings, Builder, Carpenter, and Undertaker, and trusts to meet with the same liberal support bestowed upon him during the past 15 years.

Six years later the following announcement appeared in the Swindon Advertiser.

22 Fleet St New Swindon

Fredk. Hemmings

Builder, carpenter, & Undertaker

Begs respectfully to inform the inhabitants of Swindon and neighbourhood that he intends carrying on the business of his later Brother Edward Hemmings, who preceded him as above so successfully for many years.

F.H. begs to remind them that the same earnest attention to business, and care in the execution of all orders entrusted to him, will be paid, and that there shall be nothing wanting on his part to give the same satisfaction as heretofore.

Funerals Economically Conducted.

Estimates given for all Work connected with the Building Trade.

The Swindon Advertiser, Saturday March 11, 1882.

Edward was buried in plot A137 on August 11, 1881, the fifth burial to take place in the new cemetery. He was buried in a public or pauper’s grave where he lay alone for more than twenty years. In 1904 a child by the name of Frank Batt was buried with him.