by Margot Griffiths
May 2002
I lost my heart to Hoveringham when I was ten years
old
We moved to Highfield House, there my story will unfold.
I
thought the garden magical, all wild and overgrown.
My own Secret
Garden with places of my own.
The house was large and rambling and full of stairs
and rooms
My Mum and Dad and Gran and three brothers removed the
gloom.
Our house became a home, the garden tidied up,
My pony in the
orchard, cats, rabbits and our pup.
I knew in 1947 that I was really home.
The Roses'
had moved in and never wanted more to roam.
I rode along the river bank
and paddled my canoe,
My brothers took the icy plunge. Of course, I had
to too.
We skated on the frozen dyke and fished in Summer
time.
I scored for our great cricket team, they kept me well in
line.
I loved the old corn stooks and wild flowers galore.
No huge
great holes at that time from the gravel works I saw
We frequently had flooding, cutting off our access
route,
No school stuck on our island, just home made rafts and welly
boots.
Though picturesque and beautiful, the dykes were then to
see,
They were no defence for floods in the river Trent
valley.
I joined the WI drama group, we were worth a look
alright.
We held concerts in the Village Hall which filled all with
delight.
Three village shops, a knackers yard, school, cafe and three
pubs.
We even had a Cooper who made barrels and wooden tubs.
A Garage, six farms of various sizes, arable and
stock,
Steam trains and geese that chased me and a good old village
clock.
The daily walk from my school bus down shady Gonalston Lane,
Under spreading Chestnut trees all looking much the same.
Groceries delivered to every house, in a big old
fashioned van.
Milk brought on bicycle handlebars in a galvanised milk
can.
Gypsies selling pegs who would turn up every year,
They camped
along the river bank and then would just disappear.
Knives and scissors sharpened by a man upon his
bike,
And good old farming implements, you've never seen the like!
I
helped to single sugar beet and pick strawberries on my knees,
Fond
memories of backache and sunburn if you please.
There were dances at the Elm Tree with a parachute
ceiling there,
Donated by the Yankies when they left Systerton by
air.
They used the Elm Tree Ferry to cross the River Trent.
They
came to drink and dance, I think was their intent.
As I grew up and married in 1962,
Alan and I left
Hoveringham for just a year or two,
Then I returned to Highfield House
to bring our family there,
For the benefits of rural life and to learn,
like us, to care.
The Village Hall refurbished by the hands of many
folk,
In 1969 this meant many activities re-awoke.
Our minds worked
overtime to think of things to do,
The following list I've made just
name but a few.
Ruth and George Thompsons dance classes proved very
popular.
Badminton too, arranging flowers, wine making and some
art.
Ski shows, craft fairs, jumble sales and even bingo
sessions.
Garden fetes and film shows, whist drives and various
lessons.
In '68 I started up a Playgroup with Greta
Armitage.
We served about five villages for children of that
age.
Alan ran a Youth Club and helped write the Village News,
Which
kept all up to date with activities and views.
We joined the Horticultural Committee and stayed
eleven years
I'm glad to say it continues on despite some early
fears.
School rota for the little ones was one of my delights,
Our
three boys attended there, before the closure fight.
I was on the Board of Governors that fought to save
our school.
We took it to the dizzy heights but sadly lost the
duel.
I served on the Parish Council for twelve happy years,
And
seventeen years on, in the Hoveringham News, my name still
appears.
I saved a bit of wildlife habitat at the end of
Lodgefield Lane.
We fought the mighty Tarmac for the bund there to
remain,
And every time I walk there now, I feel a little pride,
That
I was there to stop it being flattened on its' side.
The Garage has gone, no butchers shop, Post Office or
general store.
One lonely pub, no knackers yard, three farms are left
that's all.
Tarmac has swallowed up a huge amount of land.
We're
left with gaping holes, massive lakes and sandy bunds.
Despite all this, our Village Hall stands proud to
this day,
Overseen by our dear Church where we can still can go and
pray.
And I see the same spirit in willing people who
Are doing the
self same things I did with my family too.
My family life and friends I have held so
dear,
Make all my treasured memories of days gone by so
clear.
Shared fulfilment, love, hard work, and even sadness
too,
Made all my years in Hoveringham a privelege to spend with
you.