No . 137 The Trusty Servant play-readings and other social activities , often involving men in the school .
The author , in Pilgrims School tweed , stands beside the perambulator at his brother ’ s christening
some today that my father , and no doubt other dons , and indeed senior ‘ men ’, put on morning dress and top hats every Sunday for Chapel . This persisted at least until after we left No . 5 for Phil ’ s . But in those early days after the war I vividly remember that our milk was delivered by Mr Goodall in his horse-drawn trap . He kept a herd of Jersey cows on the water-meadows , and the wonderfully creamy milk was ladled out from a churn into jugs . It wasn ’ t long , however , before this was superseded by glass bottles , with the cream much in demand for breakfast porridge .
We also had a cook – not living in – who I suppose provided lunch , and in those days before washing-machines , sheets and the like went to the laundry , while other washing was done by a woman who took it away in a bag and returned it clean . Another feature of the life of the street was the regular passage of horses from the livery stables in the centre of town . Every time they passed people emerged from houses to collect their droppings to put round their roses .
What about No . 5 as a house ? The scullery at the back was pretty gloomy , but what I most recall about it was that it had two large boilers and a large water-softening tank . As far as I recall , this apparatus was never used . Nor was the larger of the two boilers , which was supposed to run a central-heating system . I imagine it was just considered too expensive to run . Heating was by coal and gas fires ; if you were ill you were given a paraffin stove in your bedroom . But the sound of my father raddling and stoking the other boiler when he put on the porridge for breakfast was a daily wake-up call . Being half-Scottish , he used to buy oatmeal from Scotland in sacks . When we got to the bottom of the sack , the porridge tasted more of sack than oatmeal .
The staircase at No . 5 is quite impressive , with a lot of very dark oak . At the first turn one is confronted by a door – into what ? In our day it was ‘ the telephone room ’! This instrument was clearly only to be used in emergencies . It was on a shelf in what was a long narrow cupboard , dimly lit , and full of vases and other stuff that could find no other home .
Then continuing up , a turn to the left took you into ‘ the Playroom ’. Apart from the use which this name implies , it was in fact the main room for music ,
When we were older , and once our sisters had come to occupy the nursery bedroom , my brother Tom and I were promoted to rooms on the second floor . It was then that I became aware of mysterious sounds of footsteps on the stairs in the night . I was reassured that it was simply the settling of the timbers of an old house . Also on this floor was a windowless bathroom , where I used occasionally to float toy boats in the bath . However I always felt uncomfortable there , even during the day . This bathroom adjoined another bedroom which was often let to a lodger . It was only after we had left No . 5 that I learned that the lodger had become convinced that the room was haunted .
My great friendship , as I have mentioned , was with Harley Hodges . Harley and I used to roam the watermeadows and Hills , particularly on this last looking for larks ’ nests – to be found on ground which once existed a hundred feet above the M3 . More reprehensibly , we also on occasion tried , unsuccessfully , to shoot pigeons in Cloisters with an air-rifle . I also recall our disappointment that we both slept through the drama of the College fire [ see TS 103 for an explanation and confession of how the 1947 fire started ]. We went next morning to view the smouldering remains .
It has been a delightful exercise to recall some of the ambience of that now distant time ; I hope that it has proved of some interest to those living in a very different world .
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