The Rookery today with Whitehill in the background

In this post Jeanette Allen nee Hand who attended St. Saviour’s Sunday School in the 1950s describes the house in Church Street, The Rookery where she lived until she was eight years old.

Growing up in The Rookery

My home in Church Street was a typical two up two down house with a single storey kitchen at the back. The toilet and the coal shed were in the yard behind.

The room we called the front room was rarely used except when my brother did his piano practice or when I played in it.

We lived in the other room. When I was very young it had gas lights, one each side of the fire place. One day two men appeared and put in electric lights. Afterwards my mother must have bought an electric iron because I can remember seeing the flex plugged into the double light socket so she could have the light on while ironing.

My mother would have bought the iron from John Noble’s catalogue. She ran a catalogue club for the benefit of herself and four of her sisters who lived close by. They paid a weekly amount into the club which enabled them to buy everything from clothes to household goods.

When we were living in Church Street, my father who worked on the railway earned £2.12/- (£2.60p) a week. The house belonged to our next door neighbours who rented it to us for 12/6d (62.5p) a week.

We did not have a garden but to supplement his income my father had an allotment where he kept chickens. The chickens arrived as “day olds” in a flat cardboard box full of holes. I think they came through the post or perhaps by carrier. They were kept in the house overnight before being taken to the allotment. They would begin to lay at about 16 weeks and kept us well supplied with eggs. Later the chickens were bought as “point of lay” to save the cost of rearing them.

When their careers were over, the chickens were retired – to our dinner plate. My mother prepared them, carefully putting aside any unlaid eggs which were used for baking.

The allotment also supplied us with potatoes and lettuce. My father built me a swing there which he made from an old railway sleeper. I spent many hours on it swinging and jumping off at the highest point or twisting the swing round so that it spun back while I was sitting on the seat. The swing remained there for decades after we left The Rookery but the last time I looked it had gone.

Copyright Jeanette Allen – The Phoenix Trust 2012

Photograph Copyright David Martin – The Phoenix Trust 2012

PH/JA