Family Memories Devon

Court Place and Buttles

I remember Holidays in Devon with Aunty Annie, Uncle Harry and cousin Billy. I would have been around the age of 11 or 12 when we spent our annual holiday at Court Place Farm, Stawley. We went by train from Birmingham to Burlescombe in Devon to be met at the station by uncle Harry with his pony and trap. Then the ride through the lanes. If we came to a hill the men folk got out and walked so that "Sally" the pony would not have so heavy a load. Uncle thought the world of Sally.

At court Place Farm there was the open fire place with a wide chimney piece, with the seats in the recess where one could see right up. There were the iron fire dogs, the huge logs burning in the fireplace and the big oven where Auntie baked her large long loaves and amongst other things the delicious egg-custards and roasted chicken. There was the oak settle which sparkled in the firelight. From the ground-floor two staircases rose, one from the front and the other to a large bedroom with its feather bed. The glow from the oil lamps cast shadows reflecting the wavering light around the walls. Outside it was pitch dark so different from our Birmingham home with the street lights.

Outside in the barn was the large cider barrel. Uncle and my Dad would often sample its contents Uncle inviting him into what he called "The Dew Drop Inn". Billy would skilfully lop trees or bushes in hedgerow or copse to provide welcome fuel. I remember the nearby Parish Church where Billy was a bell ringer. There was the little house down the garden path with its two seats one large, one small.

The farm cats had the freedom of the farm. In the evening they would usually be found around the fire, but at bed-time Uncle Harry in a firm voice would say "Time gentlemen please" and they would troop out through the door maybe to the barn or elsewhere. All except "Lyty Wee" uncle's favourite. She was his favourite and so was allowed to stay indoors.

I remember haymaking time with the cloudless skies. What fun being chased and making "Sweet Hay" with a handful of hay and a kiss. Uncle Harry had a great sense of humour for what sort of child was I to be called by him "Lady Maddiddi y"? To Dad's delight to reach up and pick a spray for me to smell its fragrance. Hazel nuts always seemed more tasty when picked from the Devon lanes.

Then there were the earlier occasions when we went to Auntie and Uncle Harry's farm then Buttles at Smeathorpe. One occasion was at my early age of 5. An outstanding day for me which I always remember. I could call it the incident of "the orchard and the piglets". They were at one end and I at the other. After shaking down some apples imagine my surprise to be quite surrounded by a grunting, squealing mob milling round. I was impressed by their cleverness next time I went to the orchard to find them waiting for me at the gate, in the hopes for a further treat.

My mother often recalled her feelings when she saw me walk right underneath a cow in the yard adjacent to the house.

One day when a pig was due to be killed, Dad took me a long walk to save me being a witness to the gruesome proceedings.

Auntie kept poultry and as was usual in the country they were her assets to rear for market and for home consumption.

I can only say how lucky I was to have such happy holidays on Devon farms in the company of my kindly Aunt Annie and her family. C. R.Knight (1987)