Chapter 3
Old Characters

In my 'before the war' schooldays there were characters in the village who still live in my memory because of some peculiarity they possessed or displayed. As in all villages of that era we had our quota of old soldiers. They were mostly veterans of the Regular Army but when I knew them they had reverted to the common background and looked no different to any other villagers, except perhaps in summer when their bared chests and arms would reveal scantily clad ladies, fearsome snakes and strange beasts which their skins had acquired during their army days.
I imagine that service in Queen Victoria's army was not very well paid. Certainly the old soldiers I knew had never become rich. Some, like the Baker brothers, never settled in a regular job after their days of wandering. There was 'Sailor', so nicknamed despite his army service. He lived in Reed's Row and mostly did stone breaking for a living. He was famous to us boys as a keeper of canaries and a trapper of gold-finches. He did odd jobs for my father and when I was sent to his cottage with a message I was frightened, yet fascinated, by the hole in his throat which he had to cover with his finger before he could speak. This disability was the result of some infection contracted in India. Because of it poor Sailor could not sing or whistle to the pretty inhabitants of his cages. We were told that he taught them to whistle by playing tunes on a rotating steel disc.
Sailor Baker was quiet and inoffensive but his brother Jumbo was a more colourful character. He lived in what is now known as 'Vicarage Lane', then as 'Hell Corner'. An inveterate poacher, his back yard was full of ferret cages and the odd 'lurcher' dog. He was reformed in later years by marriage to a nice wife but when we were children we were told horrific stories of what could happen when Jumbo 'got the drink'.
Another of the old soldiers was William Rodway. He lived also in Reed's Row and was a very quiet citizen. Working for the Werrett building firm he augmented his wages by cutting hair, an art he had picked up during his soldiering days. I very much looked forward to his visits to our house for the purpose of cutting my hair. Mr. Rodway would very deliberately unwrap his scissors and comb from a clean red handkerchief (almost everything then, including 'bait' or midday lunch, was wrapped in a red handkerchief) and I waited with great impatience for my parents to leave the room so that I could say, 'Tell me about when you were in the Army, Mr. Rodway'~. William Rodway had two sons. Albert, a fine figure of a man, rose to the rank of Sergeant Major. He had married a little dark-eyed Maltese wife who lived in Hillesley when her husband was away on service. When his leave time came he would sometimes, in full dress equipment, take a stately walk down the street, his tiny sparkling wife by his side. A very fine sight! What could be better than to be a soldier of the King, our young minds thought as we watched them. He had a brother called Jesse who I cannot remember much, but I think he worked in South Wales where he had been converted. When he visited his parents he always came to our Chapel and sometimes engaged mightily in prayer.
Charles Curtis had been in a horse regiment and at some period of his service he sustained a kick. This affected his sight and he retired, semi-blind, with a small pension. His mother and sister ran a small laundry at the Curtis mill, washing the linen for Hillesley House. It was Charlie's job on Saturday mornings to deliver a huge basket of clean laundry to the Forrestier-Walker's. It was an interesting sight to watch Charlie striding up from Kilcott, the big basket on his head and stick tapping the road verge to guide his steps. It was said that he never put a hand to the basket until he reached his destination.
It was my Saturday morning job to deliver the meat to the House - two ribs of beef, sheep's kidneys for Sunday morning breakfast, another joint for the servant's hail and lamb cutlets for dinner on Monday. Somehow Charlie often arrived at the kitchen with his basket the same time as I did with mine and I watched the merry meeting he had with Mrs. Mustoe the fat jolly cook, and Mr. Hitchcock the thin but equally jolly butler. There was at that time a Mrs. Curtis, an energetic, red-haired woman who kept a clean and happy home for Charlie. She died and Charlie married Lottie. She was simple and good-hearted but the marriage was unhappy for both.
The School catered for children of all ages, there was an occasional bright boy who won a scholarship to the Grammar School but in general most local children received all their education at Hillesley. When I was at school nostalgic stories were still being told of the glorious days when a Mr. Wright was headmaster; Miss Mona Smith had charge of education during most of the time I went to school and she was one of those who deserves description as a 'character'. Her unusual name was a misfortune for her. She was always called 'Old Mona' behind her back. Her ideas of teaching were very much influenced by the training she had when young, probably at one of those teacher training colleges then starting. Hillesley parents set much store by the 'three R's' and they had little sympathy with Miss Smith's efforts at restoring Merrie England. We erected a maypole and once paraded the village with a real Queen of the May. We hunted for oak apples so that we could wear one on the appropriate day, and hung out a rather tattered Union Jack to celebrate Empire Day and the day of St. George. Miss Smith was a large lady with a great sense of occasion. When Edward VIIth died she walked to Church robed in royal purple. When the Titanic tragedy took place we assembled in a field where the measurements of the great ship could be demonstrated.
She introduced dramatics into our curriculum so that we could gain some insight into the world of William Shakespeare. To crown her position in the world of culture she had composed and published a song. I can see her now at one of our village concerts, dressed in flowing robes and holding the famous song, its covers of heavenly blue decorated with white angels.
Whether true or not, the story went round the Village that a parent knocked at her door one night and Miss Smith called out that she could not come to the door because she was having a 'bath in the boiler'. As she was of ample proportions this story gained much in its circulation and true or false the story stuck. Poor Miss Smith, about 1912 the managers asked her to leave and Mrs. Aldred came to commence a long career as headmistress. Strict, down to earth and probably a much better teacher, school days under Mrs. Aldred were never as interesting as those which were illuminated by Miss Smith's flights of imagination.
Between the eras of Mr. Wright and Miss Smith there was a Mr. Manning. I never heard the reason why but he resigned his position at the school. He remained in the village for the rest of his life and became one of its institutions. Many will remember him as umpire at cricket matches, poll clerk at elections, collector of the water rate (2/6 per tap) and writer of all public notices. His copperplate writing could often be seen in the Post Office window giving notice of some rate collection or public meeting. They all carried a prominent signature CHAS. MANNING. He was a genial little man who would sometimes sing at our village concerts, 'On My Velocipede' was his favourite song.