Some personal memories of Swaffham Prior
I thought perhaps more recent residents in the village would like to read the following article which my Aunt Doris Osborn (nee Nash), who died in November at the age of 93 years, wrote for the Crier several years ago.
I first came to Swaffham Prior from the Royston area in 1920 when my father Tom Nash (an agricultural steam engine driver) came to work for Mr Charles Woollard (a local farmer). Father and eldest brother took up lodgings in the village. The journey I remember was made sitting on a wagon with all our worldly belongings, drawn by two farm horses, and moving into 'Beech House', now known as the 'White House' - a home that went with the job. As a young girl I remember there were two large walnut trees, several greengage, apple and plum trees and a well outside the back door. Interestingly my father took up beekeeping. When the bees started to swarm, we had to ring a bell, which motivated them to 'stay at home'. It really worked.
Like other villagers, we later kept chickens. Our family circle was also expanded by two dogs, cats and even included pigs and a tame jackdaw.
As Mr Woollard had another farm at Gt. Wilbraham, my father had to take the steam engine with threshing tackle trailing behind through the village (en route) to leave the threshing tackle there for several days. They would take my brother Charles' motor bike with them - so it would be an early start every morning (about 4 am) with brother Arthur driving and father sitting on the back holding their day's 'dockie' and a special rush basket for our dog `Rose'. Lots of little boys loved to run behind.
Wild flowers seemed to be everywhere, white, pink and mauve violets and the smell of sweet briar as it mingled with the wild roses along the Heath Road. Devils Dyke proved an ideal place for summer picnics, and when relations visited, father would harness his horse to a light cart, put a board across with a blanket and we would go riding down the fen (no road in those days). This was a real highlight for us all.
Twice a year a `Hat Man' would arrive from Luton with many `Hat Shapes'. My mother would cover some for local weddings. These `shapes' were carried in a huge basket shaped like a gigantic hat box.
In those days the village had 3 butchers, 1 baker and several grocers, 4 public houses, 2 carpenters (one of which was also a wheelwright), 1 undertaker, a vet, a post office, a blacksmith, a dairy and of course Mr Foster's windmill. Mother opened a small sweet shop at Beech house. Next door were several `condemned' cottages, one of which was used as a place for fish and chips for about two evenings a week. In the 1930's the combine harvester began to be used, and father was made redundant (resulting in a move to a cottage known as 'Mount Pleasant'). After his decease, mother moved to the old arms houses at Town Close (now no more), spending her 92nd birthday as the eldest living village resident. Later moving to Ely and living until 97 years. Of course, my special memory was my wedding in Swaffham Prior Church (St. Marys) in 1952 with a reception in the old reading room.
My father was not in good health when I married so we were a little concerned in his `giving me away'. I arrived at the church with friends waiting to take photos when I was asked `where is your bouquet? The vicar was waiting and the organist (Mr Ton Cooper) was repeatedly replaying music again and again, whilst a friend (who had arrived late) rushed home to find it. Apparently my mother had placed the bouquet behind a settee on a stone floor to `keep it cool.' Sadly my father passed away a few months after the wedding. No one could have asked for a nicer location, or so many friendly folk whose good wishes still remain with me to this day - some 50 years on.