The Otford Society
Registered with the Civic Trust
Affiliated to the Council for the Protection of Rural England and the Kent Federation of Amenity
Societies
DECEMBER 2003
A Merry Christmas and a Happy
New Year to all our readers
C
hristmas remains,
for most people, a
time for gathering
together with friends and
family. At least this
aspect of the Christian
festival has not been
completely submerged by
our consumer culture.
We still like to enjoy
nostalgic memories at
this time of the year.
In this edition several
readers have shared their
memories, providing us
with a glimpse of by-gone
Otford.
Palace Field in Winter
1
Photo: Gilbert Denton
A WINTER’S TALE
from Pat Smith, as told to our Newsletter
I
no longer live at the top of Greenhill Road. But
when I drive past its junction with Shoreham Road,
especially late at night, I often recall, with a wry
smile, an occurrence of some years ago. Those were
happy days for Otford, in the sense that not only was
there very little crime, but a village Bobby was
always on hand.
It was in the early hours of the morning that I heard
a knock on the front door. In those days, that meant
an urgent message, probably from a neighbour, and
nothing more malevolent. My husband never moved,
so donning my dressing gown and slippers, I quietly
left the bedroom, descended the stairs and opened the
front door.
It was the village Bobby. This was a bit more
alarming, but he had a reassuring smile on his face.
“I’ve found your car,” he said.
My car had disappeared from in front of the house
only the day before, so I was pleased that it had been
located so quickly.
“Here are your car keys,” he went on, handing
them over. Even better.
“Excellent!” I said. “Where did you find it?”
“At Twitton Bridge,” he replied, “and it doesn’t
seem to be damaged.” He meant the car, of course.
“Great! I’ll pick it up tomorrow,” and with that I
made a move to return to my warm bed.
“No, no!”, and pointing dramatically, he
exclaimed, with some pride, “it’s outside, I’ve driven
it up for you.”
This seemed to me to be extraordinary good
service, but the constable then went on, “I was
wondering if you could drive me back to Twitton to
pick up my bicycle which I left there?”
One good turn deserves another, I thought to
myself, and in any case the poor chap probably had
other duties to attend to. So, after only a moment’s
hesitation, I drew my dressing gown more closely
around me, and stepped out into the cold night air. It
was, after all, only a few minutes drive to Twitton.
The constable got in the passenger seat, and I turned
the key in the ignition. The engine started somewhat
reluctantly – not uncommon in those days of less
reliable mechanisms.
“By the way,” he said, “the petrol is very low, but I
think you’ll have enough in the tank.”
A fine time to tell me this bit of news, I thought. Of
course, it’s downhill almost all the way to Twitton
from the top of Greenhill, but I was slightly perturbed
when we got to the Pond, as he said, “I shouldn’t go
round it if I were you”! We went straight down the
High Street, arrived safely at Twitton, where he
retrieved his bicycle, and with a goodbye salute
jumped on it and rode off into the darkness.
As he disappeared into the gloom, a number of
doubts assailed me. There I was, a defenceless
woman, alone in a desolate spot (which is what
Twitton seemed at that particular moment), in a
nightdress, driving a car that might run out of fuel at
any moment. What if it did? Would I then walk back
through Otford High Street, past the Pond, up Station
Road, wearing slippers and dressing gown? Suppose
someone from the Bridge Club, or the WI saw me?
What gossip would be exchanged behind closed
curtains! Escalating scandal would spread like
wildfire!
The car seemed to be moving forward in a very
unwilling fashion. Being nervous about the state of
the petrol tank seemed to stir my imagination. Otford
was dark; very dark. No sign of light anywhere, and
shadows falling on the road took on unrealistic,
sinister proportions. The large oaks looming by
Telston Lane seemed to be reaching out long arms to
ensnare anything passing by. I sped by as quickly as I
could, and turned down the hill towards Rye Lane,
where the tall willow, said to be grown from a slip
taken from the grave of Napoleon III, seemed to sway
ominously. Strange, I hadn’t been aware of any
breeze before.
After dark, even familiar places can look
threatening, and Otford High Street was no exception.
The narrow road was absolutely deserted. What was
that shadow that crossed the road by the smallholding opposite Pickmoss? A fox inspecting the hen
houses? Probably … what else? Up to the Pond, and
the start of the long climb to the top of Otford. Was
the petrol holding out? Would it be better to crawl, or
speed? I edged up Station Road, negotiated the bend
near Kennel Cottage, and into Shoreham Road. Was
the engine beginning to splutter, or was it my
imagination? If I stalled here, I thought, it wasn’t so
far to walk, except that it was very dark, and I had no
torch. The legend I vaguely remembered of the
headless horseman seen from time to time riding
towards the Pilgrims Way, I put out of my mind.
At last the dangerous turn into Greenhill came into
view, and I began the seemingly endless climb to
‘Cradlebush’. The house has a very steep drive which
I felt the car would never manage. I left it near the
entrance and scurried indoors. Thankfully I locked
the door behind me, took a few deep breaths, and
crept back to the comfort of my bed. Eric stirred very
slightly.
“By George,” he murmured, “you’re cold!”
2
A WINTER OF CONTENT
recalled by Gilbert Denton
I
think it was in 1978 that the snow fell a little while
after Chrismas. That was one of the years when the
milkman, heavily relied on in those pre-supermarket
days, often used a sledge to pull his deliveries up
many of the village roads. Sometimes milk deliveries
only reached as far as the baker’s shop in the High
Street, where bread would also be baked on the hour,
so walkers were thick on the ground, passing and
hailing each other in a merry and cheerful way that
went with the seasonal weather. Neighbourly and
friendly queues would form outside the shop in an
orderly fashion, waiting for the bread to arrive from
the ovens in a patient way reminiscent of war-time.
Word would sometimes go round the road “They’ve
got milk (or bread) at the shop”! generating a warm
community feeling.
Unlike those now far-off war-time years, of course,
most of us had warm houses to return to, even
possibly central heating and double glazing!
Knighton Road has only a
gentle slope, but uncleared
snow on the road or pavement
soon gets polished to a slippery
hazard. For the children it was
great for slides and sledging, and they took the
opportunity.
Good neighbourliness usually goes as far as ones
own front path, to clear a way for the postman, or the
rare tradesman who may call. Not in that year. The
snowfall was heavy, it fell at a weekend with Council
workmen off duty. Rather like an avalanche started
by one rock, we started house by house on our own
paths; then on to the footways, shovelling great
mounds against the kerbs; and then on to the road
scattering the snow to be crushed by any car
courageous enough to attempt a journey.
This was the men’s work, team work with a
rhythm, reminding me of the river boat song in
‘Sanders of the River’ sung by Paul Robeson. I may
even have burst into a snatch of ‘Eye-ee-oko’ – quite
incongruous as that was sung in blistering heat under
a burning African sun!
The children enjoyed the ever changing snow
scene, and then the ladies came into their own serving
welcome coffee and biscuits, or even something
stronger.
The ‘Dunkirk Spirit’ in a local operation. Happy
days!
.
H A Z EL U N DERWOOD
T
he Underwoods lived on Shoreham Road, and it was there that Hazel, the eldest of their three
daughters, was born in 1937. Hazel attended Walthamstow Hall School. In 1963, while working in
Ghana she met and married Ron Pelling, a man thirty years her senior.
Returning to England, in 1967 they took over the tenancy of the ‘Fox and Hounds’ at Toys Hill, near
Westerham. They will be remembered for the vigorous 1986 campaign they and their devoted customers
waged against the parent brewery, Ind Coope, who proposed to evict them and redevelop the pub. The
locals felt that such a redevelopment would destroy the character and atmosphere the Pellings had created.
The campaign was well publicised in the national press, and took on aspects of an Ealing comedy, the
‘Daily Telegraph’ reported.
After her husband’s death Hazel raised her five children and ran the pub single-handed. She overcame
the difficulties of the devastation of the 1987 hurricane at Toys Hill, and the 2001 foot and mouth outbreak
which caused a huge loss of trade.
A wonderful tribute to her was carried in the ‘Daily Telegraph’ obituary, which said that her customers
looked on her as best friend and social worker rolled into one. When ill-health forced her to retire two years
ago, hundreds attended her farewell party thrown by customers. She was presented with a handsome
cheque and many tributes were paid to her. She said, “I have attended my own memorial service”.
K.L.G.
3
SEVERE WINTERS AND WHITE CHRISTMASES
IN THE SEVENOAKS AREA
I
n the thirty years that I have been recording weather in Sevenoaks, there have been many
changes, of which the most striking is probably the trend to milder, wetter winters. The
winter of 1969-70 was notably cold and snowy, but, for much of the following decade,
winters were predominantly mild. In fact, the 1975/76 winter though predicted to be a very
severe one because the snails were digging down very deeply, turned out to be the mildest
of the century! Two years later, however, the winter of 1977/78 was extremely severe and
long-lasting. A severe gale on 12th/13th January was accompanied by heavy snow in West
Kent and, on 9th February, a blizzard produced deep drifts at Toys Hill and Ide Hill. A late
snowstorm deposited seven inches of snow on Orpington on 10th April. Finally, on New
Year’s Eve a severe snowstorm and cold conditions set the scene for a second long and
bitter winter. February 1979 was particularly cold with Sheppey cut off by deep snowdrifts, while the railway line to Ashford and Maidstone was cut off; for a couple of days,
only diesel trains from Hastings could negotiate the lines from Sevenoaks to London
because of the deep snow. The ground was thickly snow-covered for over a week in
Sevenoaks that year. As late as May, there was further snow on the North Downs near
Westerham. December 1981 was the coldest and snowiest for many years, and the cold
weather continued into January 1982. I can still remember a brilliantly cloudless day in the
middle of that month when a maximum temperature in Sevenoaks was only 15F!
However, the snow that lay for several days in January 1991 was really the last
significant snow that this area has experienced. There was a heavy snowstorm in January
1997 that deposited a good deal of the white stuff on areas east of Maidstone, but
Sevenoaks and indeed all areas west of Maidstone escaped. Instead, we have experienced a
succession of mild but wet, and often stormy, winters in that period. It cannot be said that
there has been no snow throughout this twelve year period, but it has rarely stayed on the
ground for more than twenty-four hours, and has hardly disrupted traffic.
Turning to White Christmases, even before the recent winter warming trend these were
rare. This is because the coldest weather nearly always occurs after the shortest day, just as
the hottest weather of the summer always occurs in July or August. Indeed, the ‘tradition’
of White Christmases in this country can be traced back to Charles Dickens’ description of
Christmas at Dingly Dell in Pickwick Papers, which was written immediately after Dickens
had experienced the very cold snowy Christmas of 1836. Over the last thirty years there
have in fact only been two White Christmases in this area, those of 1970 and 1981, and
there is even a question mark about the later of those two years. That of 1970 was a classic
White Christmas, with eight inches of snow in Bromley and Chislehurst, though rather less
in the Sevenoaks area. There was even a loud clap of thunder on Christmas night. The
question mark against 1981 is because, though the ground was thickly snow-covered
throughout the month, not only in Sevenoaks, but also in central London, the bookies
refused to accept it as a White Christmas because no snow actually fell on the London
Weather Centre Roof on Christmas Day!
Peter Rogers
Peter Rogers is Vice-Chairman of the Sevenoaks Society. He reports on the weather for the
‘Sevenoaks Chronicle’.
4
OT FORD M AT T ERS
T
he Otford Society autumn meeting in October
was well attended, 60-70 members being
present. A good debate was held on village issues,
ranging from rail noise to the application by Network
Rail for the closure/diversion of Footpath 49 where it
crosses the rail track just to the South of the Station.
Poor signing at Sainsbury’s roundabout was also
raised, and questions were asked about what is
happening about the repair of the pond.
OTFORD POND
The situation regarding the repairs for the pond
has not moved forward. OPC is still awaiting
professional advice on the best course to follow in
dealing with trees, roots and structure of the pond.
Our Treasurer reiterated, in response to questions,
that the Society’s £5,000+ fund would be contributed
when the Society was assured that an acceptable
scheme was in place.
Andrew Barber has been corresponding with the
Highways Dept. and KCC about the irritation and
dangers of the Sainsbury’s roundabout when
approaching from Otford. Which lane should you
take if you want to go straight towards Sevenoaks?
The normal roundabout practice is to take the outside
lane (left). If you do this, many drivers – also
wishing to go straight on – will take the inside (right)
lane and cut in ahead of you, assuming that you are
going into the Superstore, even if you are not
signalling ‘Left’!
ELIDAI AND THE COAL YARD,
STATION APPROACH, OTFORD
Laing Homes South East Thames Ltd have bought
the land adjoining Station Road and the rail station,
where once stood the business of Bambrook and
Draper, Coal Merchants. This is quite a large plot on
which there are five bungalows.
The new owners are contemplating submitting
applications for residential development, and have
invited the Otford Society to join in local discussions
on what form the development might take.
Andrew has suggested what seems to be a simple
solution. Arrows painted on the road indicating Left
for Sainsbury’s (in the left hand inside lane) and a
straight-on arrow in the outside lane. The Highways
Officer says this cannot be done; the outside (right)
lane (according to his rule book) is for vehicles
turning right. But, there is no right turn at Sainbury’s!!!
This is a ‘brownfield’ site, i.e. a site which is
already built on and could be redeveloped. Government pressure is put upon Local Authorities to use
such locations for high density housing. Laing’s
consultants have suggested to the Society that they
have no preconceived plans, but are anxious to take
local views into account. Affordable homes in the
Otford area are not easy to find, and this subject has
often been raised at village meetings. This may be an
option. The Society, in the past, has not favoured
over-development. It felt, for example, that there
were too many units built at Twitton Meadow when
the pre-fabs were replaced, and that cramped
conditions are not good for either the occupants or
the neighbourhood. The access from the coal yard to
busy Station Road (A225), opposite Russell House
and near to the Station Approach, looks to be a huge
problem if too much extra traffic is generated and
will no doubt govern what type of development is
permitted.
Andrew has now produced the Highway Code
which directs drivers to follow whatever signals are
displayed at roundabouts, which seems to give some
degree of flexibility for road painted indicators. The
debate continues; meanwhile, it seems, Otford
Society members will adopt a middle of the road
policy!
Following the meeting, the Society has written to
DEFRA asking that the Network Rail application to
close the foot-crossing at Footpath 49 be shelved
until the pending inquiry of train hooter noise has
reported back. The issue of noise, which has brought
about a number of complaints from residents near the
station, has not been addressed by the rail authorities,
who are seeking to solve the problem of trains
hooting as they approach Otford by closing the
crossing. We have been strongly supported by a
letter from the Sevenoaks Society. However,
DEFRA in their reply to us have said that an Inquiry
will be held into the application for closure.
The plot is very close to the Station, so occupants
would be aware of the railway noise, which has been
the source of recent complaints. It is also a highly
visible part of Otford for travellers arriving by train.
Crossing the footbridge affords rural views over the
valley, and a glimpse of lovely countryside. Consultations will be in advance of any planning
application, so if members have views they wish to
put forward through the Society, please contact the
Chairman (522709).
This suggests that it may be some time before the
Euro-wide report on hooter noise levels will see the
light of day.
5
VIDEO REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
Replacement of the Stone Bridge over the upper cut
of the Darent at Otford, 2003. Price £6. 18mins
John Frith, Scholar and Martyr, a biography by
Brian Raynor. Pond View Books. £19.95
Otford’s film maker, Barbara Darby, fresh from her
triumph at the Kent Festival with her award winning
film of the robins nesting and rearing their young in the
Darby’s garage, has produced a film of the rebuilding of
Mill Bridge this summer. It records in graphic detail the
first drill into the tarmac on 23rd June, through to the
resurfacing and restoration of the road some ten roasting
hot weeks later. The workmen operating in the summer
heat-wave, and villagers going about their business on
foot, are vividly captured. A unique episode in our
village life has been recorded for posterity. A new
construction that is likely to be there for the next century
at least, in the heart of the Conservation Area.
The cost of re-building is not mentioned, but it would
be interesting to know. ‘Otford in Kent’ (Clarke/Stoyell)
tells us that a new bridge was built in 1732 “probably
over the Mill-stream of the Darent” at a cost to the
parish of 12 guineas. This bridge may not have been the
first, it goes on, but “there is no record of a
predecessor”.
That this is the first record on film of a bridge being
built in Otford is not in doubt.
K.L.G.
Available at the Heritage Centre, or direct from Barbara
Darby (523339). Other video films of Otford and local
interest are also on sale.
John Frith was born in Westerham in 1503, and some of
his early years were spent in Sevenoaks, where his
father was the innkeeper of ‘The Three Cats’, now
thought to be the building across the road from
Sevenoaks School known as The Old Post Office.
Frith, who worked with the translator of the Bible
into English, William Tyndale, was the first English
martyr to be burnt at the stake for publishing Reformation doctrine. Brian Raynor believes Frith’s importance
in the explanation and application of the Reformation’s
teachings to the man in the street should be more widely
appreciated.
Brian Raynor was drawn to Frith as they were both at
Sevenoaks School – Brian Raynor House Tutor of
Fryth* House – both Mathematicians, and both attended
King’s College, Cambridge.
He gives acknowledgement to research done by the
late Frank Clark, local historian, who is commemorated
by a plaque in Otford Methodist Church. Brian Raynor
has lived in Otford for many years. He taught at
Sevenoaks School, is a lay reader at St Bartholomew’s
Parish Church, author, chorister and musician, member
of the bell-ringers, and entertains around the District
with his hand bell group. His biography of Frith tells the
story of a Kent boy who rose from humble beginnings to
become one of the outstanding scholars of his day,
whose life and promise was tragically cut short at the
age of 30. The author says that it “was left to others to
build on the foundations that he laid … foundations that
were the product of an outstanding academic and
mathematical mind; foundations in which he firmly
believed, while at the same time respecting those views
that differed from his.”
*alternative spelling
K.L.G.
A n Ot f o r d N at i v i t y St o r y ,
rec ount ed by som eone w ho w as t here.
Your Editor was having a little grumble that his readers
didn’t offer articles and items for the Newsletters.
“Don’t you know any stories about past winters and
Christmases in Otford?” he asked me, a long-time
resident of the village.
“Well,” I replied, “although I was a bit too young at the time to remember it properly, there is one story I have
heard a few times that I can tell you, and it will explain why I still speak of Kennels Corner, which many in Otford
will not recognise these days as the junction where Pilgrims Way East joins Shoreham Road …”
O
ne December in the late 1920s my parents, who lived in Otford, were expecting the birth of their first child some
time in January. They were celebrating Christmas with their families in Beckenham, when my mother, early on
Boxing Day, felt a little unwell, but put it down to too much turkey and plum pudding. Her elder sister, who had two
children of her own, suspected otherwise, and suggested that it might be a good idea if my mother returned home. So
my mother was bundled into a car – in itself quite a novelty at that time – and good friends set off with her for Otford.
Things, I am told, had reached panic stage when they neared Kennels Corner. In those days the West Kent Hunt
gathered there for their Boxing Day Meet, the hounds being housed in the buildings on the corner, hence the names of
several houses at the bottom of Coombe Road. So it was that on that day, the road, normally clear but for a stray
bicycle or the odd motor vehicle, was completely blocked by exuberant followers who annually turned out to see this
traditional winter spectacle. The car window was wound down, and the call went out “Illness! Illness! Let us
through!”, this being less embarrassing for my mother than “Imminent birth on board!”
We did make it home safely, and I was a Boxing Day gift for my parents, reminded of the story from time to time
on birthdays. As a child, I did indeed see the hounds out exercising; if you met them in the lane, flowing past like a
silent silky stream. The Hunt eventually moved to more rural surroundings but, to me, that location will always be
‘Kennels Corner’.
The West Kent Hunt abandoned its Otford HQ after the railway line was electrified in 1934.
6
1947 – A SNOWY WINTER
T
here will be many others who remember the winter of 1947 – wonderful if you were a child. It snowed and
froze, and went on snowing, and Otford Mount that year was a fantastic white playground for the young. At
that time the Mount was completely clear of scrub, and there were two well-marked wide paths leading down
from the top. One ran steeply down to the entrance of the narrow footpath that leads to Pilgrims Way East, and it
broadened out before the footpath, turning to the right, and happily hedged off by a mesh of Old Man’s Beard
and the odd thorn bush. The second pathway went from the top of the Mount diagonally across to the right hand
corner where one could join an unofficial footpath that led into Hillydeal Road. During the prolonged snowfall
and frost of that 1947 winter these paths provided sledge runs for all.
The steep one was for the brave, since it became very fast, and even with the Old Man’s Beard, the finish was
abrupt. John Fisher broke his arm: that made us all jam the right foot down the harder on nearing the bottom so
as to swerve round into the space mentioned before. The very skilful could negotiate the entrance to the footpath
and for the homeward run could make it practically to the village, the deep snow covering what steps there were.
There were also two noticeable humps which could make one airborne, and from which one gathered bruises
on the hip bones if ones chosen style was to lie on the toboggan. The diagonal slope was longer but less steep,
and there was more chance of steering into the long grass at the edges if one wanted to slow down. Every
evening and weekend – it seems now that it was for weeks – anyone who was anyone and of the right age group
in the village, gathered on the slopes. Boys and girls dragged wooden sledges up Station Hill, some from as far
as Telston Lane, and from all other directions as soon as school was over. It got dark early, so one couldn’t waste
a moment. It was perhaps one of the most natural community gatherings of all time in Otford, being entirely
spontaneous and inclusive. Very few had Davos sledges, and plastic ones were unknown. Mostly they were
home-made and very heavy to haul. As it froze harder the ropes got stiff. The McDowall’s had a beauty of a
toboggan, it being large enough for three or four at a time, and with superior rounded steel runners.
We sledged up and down, up and down, until it was dark, sitting on the sledges set across the slope at the top
to rest and to wait for the run to clear enough to set off again. Then weary, but elated, home to food, rationed –
but the plainest was satisfying since we were starving! – and dry clothes. The wet ones – they were always wet,
as were our Wellingtons, ski-suits being a thing of the future – had to stand round the kitchen boiler hopefully to
get dried out for the next day.
Perhaps it is a good thing that we don’t get snowfalls like that these days, for where would we sledge? The
Mount is a scrubland now, hardly recognisable as downland, which seems an awful shame. And the paths – well!
One is obliterated by undergrowth and bush, and the other (the ‘fast’ one) has even had steps cut into it. Perhaps
whoever owns or looks after The Mount might think about clearing it to match Kemsing Down? Could it be an
Otford Society project?
Fay Plant
T
he winter of 1947 was one that will live in many memories. A winter
playground it may have been for the young and active, but the reality was
grim for a country struggling to emerge from the hardships and shortages of
war. Soon after Christmas the meat ration was cut to 1/2d per week (6p),
although tinned meat went up from tuppence to fourpence (about 1.5p). Rail lines were blocked, trains cut off
and stranded, shipping brought to a halt and fishing fleets portbound, coal unable to leave pit heads, electricity
supplies cut off in the day time; pubs and shops using candles; roads blocked by non-stop blizzards. At one time
the Great North Road was under drifts that reached 20 feet high for a stretch of 22 miles. By February 12th four
million workers had been laid off, and the RAF was dropping supplies to isolated villages. Fay Plant mentions
that “it got dark early”. If memory serves me right, I believe ‘summer-time’ had been retained as a fuel saving
measure!
K.L.G.
7
St Bartholomew’s across the snow
Photo: Gilbert Denton
World War II Memories
J
ust before Christmas 1939, the Kent County Police Constabulary promoted my father to a Sergeant, and
moved him from Wigmore (near Gillingham) to Otford. My parents were not too displeased with the move –
they felt with the outbreak of war Otford may be a safer option than the Medway towns, little knowing that they
were ‘out of the frying-pan and into the fire’! The Police, in their wisdom, arranged the removal date for 23rd
December! So my parents, with two young children, found themselves on a bitterly cold and frosty morning
arriving at 11 Rye Lane (the then Police House in Otford). Very good neighbours, in the form of Mr and Mrs
Albert Cobbold, gave us welcome hot drinks and a fire in the grate.
That Christmas was remembered as the one in which, with no floor coverings down or curtains up (apart from
the mandatory black-out cover over the windows) my parents, for the sake of my sister and myself, had hung up
the paper-chains and decorated a few twigs for a Christmas tree!
Over the next few Christmases, as the war continued, the police set up road blocks in the Polhill area, in an
effort to prevent raids on poultry farms. A chicken Christmas dinner was a great luxury, and many chicken were
stolen and taken to London and sold by ‘spivs’ on the Black Market, following such thefts. I well remember one
Christmas when
my father actually removed a half-cooked chicken from someone’s oven because it had
been stolen!
A more pleasant Christmas memory is of the years after the war when a band of carol
singers, largely made up from the Wesley Guild of the Otford Methodist Church, sang
carols around the village. The highlight was always when Mr Rogers, a JP who lived at
Broughton Manor, invited us into the Great Hall; big, blazing log fires welcomed us in.
Mrs Kilby was a member of the church, and assisted with housekeeping at the Manor. A
few of the singers would be invited to climb the stairs to the Minstrels’ Gallery, where
they would sing to the rest of us below. Our last call was to someone’s home where we
had
been invited for hot drinks and mince pies!
In 1947, just after the war, there was an extremely cold winter, with very heavy
snowfall. I have memories of many hours spent tobogganing down the Mount with friends, and sliding on the ice
on the fishpond in the garden of Broughton Manor – happy memories in spite of the impressive black eye gained
through a fall on the ice!
Audrey Curnow (née Hale)
Otford Society
Chairman and Newsletter Editor: Ken Gunderson 522709, 37 Knighton Road, TN14 5LD
Membership Secretary: Vincent Tilley 522491
Newsletter Distribution: Andrew Barber
Next Newsletter: March 2004: letters/contributions welcomed
Printed by British Heritage Print, Otford
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