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The above photo is of Grannie Poole and Laura (GIGI), at the age of 12, outside their home in Broxted, when this incident took place in 1910.
This story is from the notes of Laura Poole Delight
written in May, 1968 after arriving "home" (Gardena) from "The Ranch".
Such a lovely sunny day, and listening to the mocking-bird singing amid the blossoms in the Magnolia tree above me, brings back memories of a day so many years ago, when other song-birds were thrilling to the blue skies and warm sunshine of a Spring morning...in May. Mountainous waves of the cold, green Atlantic, the vastness of the blazing heat of the desert, snows of the mountain ranges, and now the cool of a valley, do not destroy, but perhaps serve to enhance, the picture from bygone days. When as a girl of twelve years, I lived in a small village (Broxted) amongst the meadows, brooks, and endless miles of flowering hedges and trees. All was peaceful in my little village.....a church, post-office, mill, school and a candy shop. A few groceries were supplied by Mrs. Willis, whose shop emitted such a glorious odor! After climbing the wooden steps to her shop, and ringing the doorbell (which tinkled), you enterred to the grand and wonderful array of cheeses, candles, bread, onions, tobacco, tea - oh, just anything a wide-eyed child could look upon and wish for! The school, was a two-room building. One for infants under six, and the other larger room across the hall (which served also as the cloak room) for the older children up to the fifth grade. This was a cold brick building heated only by a wood or coal open fire. I sometimes wonder how we were able to study and write on those cold slates. But we did and several students later attained prominence in the world. On Sundays, we again gathered in the school and later marched down the road to the beautiful old St. Mary's Church, which is over 500 years old. It has been carefully restored, and maintained, and has lovely stained glass windows. I was one of the few to sit in the much honored choir stalls and be a part of the choir. Of that I was very proud! I loved music and took lessons on an old pump-organ from the school-master's daughter, Amy. But I am getting side-tracked..... So..returning to a Tuesday morning so long ago, but remembered most vividly. For it was Tuesday which was a very important day in the lives of a few of us 'older' girls. Today we would leave the school-room to ride in a horse and cart..not a carriage, you'll note, but a noisy, ill-constructed cart drawn by a clumsy horse with iron shoes. How those shoes would kick up sparks as he ran or trotted over the flint stones, with which the roads were built. We used to watch for those sparks whenever some farmer would go hurrying by on his trip to the market with his butter and eggs, or perhaps to meet a train..eleven miles away! We loved to see the sparks! It was always the same horse because Mr. Barker had only one horse and it's name was "Charley". Mr. Barker whos name was George, always wore the same clothes. A brown sort of leather jacket and a black and white checkered cap pulled down close to his eyebrows. With this image in mind, I think I would have been afraid to ride with him, but in those days of almost no other horse and buggy traffic, 'Ole George' was safe. We loved the ride to the little town when it didn't rain, but because it might, we always took our umbrellas. Ole George wouldn't go if it was already raining. "Too much mud" he would say. There was a narrow lane where a little stream crossed on our way. It was known as "Watery Lane and Charley didn't like to get his knees wet, George said. Mother said it caused Ole George too much work polishing his harness if he went through the mud. But sometimes we got caught in a shower, and when this happened, we looked like eight little black mushrooms on wheels going home, all crouched together on two side slats in the cart. Today we were not going on a joy ride, indeed, it was part of our school education that the older girls should learn cooking (not Home Economics as it is now called). These were just plain cooking lessons which took place in a little town, four miles away, where other schools also sent their students to gather in a large building. I remember it had an asphalt floor, seats in rows..like benches, cupboards and a long enclosed black stove with chimney and many shiny pots and pans hanging all around on the walls. A box of white sand stood by and lots of cloths and rags with which to clean said pans at the end of the cooking session... which would be about 2:00 p.m. The lesson to be learned this particular day was how to prepare and cook (on the dreadful black stove) vegetable soup, fish cakes, and apple dumplings. I remember the miscellaneous vegetables that went into that soup, and how good it turned out to be hours later. Fish cakes with mashed potato filling and added parsley, were fried a golden brown in lard, and the apple dumplings were something to take home to mother. This is where my adventure starts.. Class is over, pans all shiny bright back on the wall, cleaned with the white sand! Floor was swept, towels washed, now the big moment when for a few pennies, we could take our choice of the food which we had cooked. We were eagerly looking forward to proudly presenting this food to our mothers! (I am still laughing at the results of my efforts to impress my mother as well as my doubting big brother, as to my culinary abilities.....in this case..the vegetable soup was my choice.) (Unfortunatly, the next page is missing, or may have never been written.. so I will continue on for her) I do remember Mom telling this story to me. It seems that Mom chose to take the delicious vegetable soup home, steaming hot from the stove. She had to sit up by the driver, right over the horse's rear end...Are you getting the picture? After all of the girls were seated, Ole George gave the horse, Charley, the signal to 'giddy up'. Charley took off with a lurch. The soup spilled over on the horse's rear-end...another large lurch was the result of this hot soup on his bottom, and more soup spilled... Over and over this happened, until alas, there was not a drop left in the very large bowl Mom was carrying... All she had now to present to her family, who were eagerly awaiting her return, was an empty bowl! I am laughing out loud..as I recall the way she told the story....and the motions she went through... ha ha! Can't you just visualize this?
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| In front of Mom's house. Gate is visable as well as Grandfather's cherry tree. "The Maltings"-early 1900's. |
Same place 1971 from opposite direction. New house where old house once stood. Find Greg and Sue | 1969 New house where old house had still been in 1963 (Mom & Dad's visit) -Old hinge on gate is all that is left now. | Mom points to old Broxted Hall and Farm | Gigi says "Right down there is "The Downs" and "Peacocks" |
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| Broxted School 1910. School-master lived in house on left. Taken about the time when soup incident occurred. | Laura's class of 1910. Top row of girls were the ones in cooking class. | Laura 12 years. Just before sailing to Canada | Laura in front of Bell Cottages..once the Bell Inn. See X on window where she was born. | The Old Bell Inn with Grandfather and Grannie. See window where Mom was born. |
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delight@lucernevalley.net
