Memories are made of this

Audrey Ellis (Nesbitt) My grandmother May Hopkins was born here in May 1892. My paternal grandfather James Nesbitt was born in 1900 at Sunderland and grand mother Lucy Esther Nairne also in 1900.

My maternal grandmother May Hopkins was a native of Finedon and lived in Allen Road and was born on 21st May 1892. My grandfather John Ashby came from a nearby village. He later won some money on the football pools and bought a farm in Rushden.

James Hopper Nesbitt
Brenda May Ashby. Brenda ran away from her home in Finedon to marry James in London and there were no family members at the ceremony held in London.
I have recently learnt that my own dad James Hopper Nesbitt worked on the trams in Coventry changing the points; he was called a Rope Runner on trains carrying munitions (this was after he had lost an eye at the age of eleven when it burst due to a build up of fluids). His parents worked extra hours to pay for his treatment. Leaches were put on his eye to suck the fluid out and when this failed to work his eye was taken out. He also had extra tuition to learn Braille privately. My father lost his other eye when he was twenty one. He used to go out after dark and walk around the city of Coventry trying to quietly get used to his loss of sight.
I needed to have an identity and some knowledge of my roots. Over the years there existed the knawing feeling that out there somewhere was another part of my family. I also did not have any photos of my dad only the memory of him and a child’s visualising from being eight years old. I did remember, however, that about two years before dad’s death an article was carried in a Daily paper about how blind parents managed to rear sighted children. I recalled running down Swindon Close, Harold Wood holding hands with the rest of my family and that there had been a photo taken of us all.
I have made several trips to the Family Records Office in London to try and trace the only family photo of myself and my mother, father and brothers but have not managed to find anything to date although I will continue to look so that I can come full circle.

I lived in Harold Wood Romford Essex for the first eight years of my life with my mother Brenda and my father James Hopper Nesbitt and also my brothers Peter and Richard .I have always felt nothing but pride for both parents and am only regretful that they failed to get the opportunity to see their grandchildren grow up and take their place in the world. It must have taken courage for mum to decide to basically run away as she did getting married in London without the presence of friends and family. They had met whilst training to become telephonists. As a young child of course I was aware that mum and dad were different and they led their lives in an adapted way. Mum read us stories contained in large green books which she read in Braille. I was fascinated watching her delicate hands swiftly moving down the stiff brown paper from left to right reading us stories like Enid Blyton and The Famous five. All our cups were plastic and when she filled them up her fingers would be inside the cup as she listened quietly as the cup filled up. I have happy memories of trips to Coventry with dad visiting his parents. Other memories include family trips to London as well as Southend. I am not sure quite how he did it but dad managed to move around with just the use of a white cane regularly commuting to work in London. Dad also played the accordion at weddings and I think also in local pubs and clubs.
He would spend hours listening to classical music which I hated at the time. He also had a keen interest in using his tape recorder as we got on with what was to us everyday living. He also loved gardening and woodwork once getting so carried away that he nearly sawed the chair in half which his plank of wood always rested on. We were blessed with diligent parents who showed us immense love. Dad died suddenly in 1959 in his mid thirties after being ill for a matter of weeks leaving myself, mum and my brothers desolate; I was not quite nine. The intention was that we should move from Romford to Finedon. Of course I did not want to leave the home I had grown up in. I recall my grandfather carrying much of our furniture in a pig van and me sliding around as I clung on to a wooden chair in the back of the van. I would say that it has taken me many years to begin to feel that I am part of Finedon.

I clearly remember walking along Allen Road soon after my arrival and a girl about my age walking towards me but on the other side of the road. She crossed the road and asked me who I was and where I had come from so I told her. She proceeded to hit me across the back of my legs with a stick which was something of a shock. In order to stand my ground, well that is what I thought, I turned my cheek, she had already hit me on the cheek, and told her to hit me on the other cheek…..and she did!

We lived at 47 Allen Road and our neighbours were Peggy and Jeff Gore who had a large and busy family. Peggy was a regular visitor to our house for a cup of tea and a chat. I remember her making my summer dresses when I went to the Secondary School in Irthlingborough. I remember that she also took to me to Dr Bells surgery after I had seriously burnt my hands putting out a chip pan fire….I was about thirteen at the time. In my mind I see Dr Bell peering over his half rimmed glasses, prescription in front of him, pen in hand and poised ready to write. I’m sure that he must have been a kind and caring man but I had a feeling of high anxiety when I entered his surgery and sat down. He seemed really tall as he stood up and I remember his brown brogue shoes he wore and how his heels clicked and his shoelaces sometimes flicked upon the floor as he walked down the hallway. There were no appointments and you would sit and wait your turn at the front room of the house on Wellingborough Road. Dr Bell used to live in the house which is now an old people’s home on Wellingborough Road. Later Doctors we had included Dr Bird, Dr Padgett, Dr James (he was only I think just starting out as a GP when he became our family doctor and was kind and supportive.

I also remember lovely Cath Moore over the road who was also a source of help. Aunt Lil and Uncle Frank, who lived on the A6, were very supportive. Aunt Lil, paid by NCC, doing some of the housework followed later by Mrs Adams who was always bright and cheery.
I remember going to visit Aunt Gladys and Uncle Jim who owned the Bowles bike shop next to the Quaker house; I was fascinated by their home. He had a wood yard at the back of his house and he would drive round Finedon in his lorry delivering bags of wood. He used to carry his little pet dog in a bag on his shoulders. They had a daughter Cynthia Bowles who was a Police sergeant I think at Wellingborough Police Station and a daughter Doreen who when she married a serviceman went to live in America and later became a teacher there and they had daughters; I used to write to Cheryl for a while.
I first attended Finedon Girl’s Junior School which I detested. Each morning we would stand in lines in the playground which is now Dr Spencer’s garden. We would then file into our respective classes. We sat wedged behind long wooden desks each with an inkpot. I recall that I had a particular skill of coating not only my pen also my fingers in ink, which in turn mean most of my school work as well as me and my surroundings must also have been covered in ink fingerprints .Our school mistress sat on a wooden dais where she asserted her authority absolutely. A good ten minutes of every morning was spent learning our tables by rote. I was petrified of this particular teacher and so was always a reluctant pupil. It used to take me about twelve minutes to walk from my house in Allen Road to the Girl’s School in Church Street.
The buildings that follow I saw on my journey to school.

It would take me longer though if I lingered at Mona’s cake shop. I would stand and stare at the neatly displayed sponge fingers with pink icing on drizzled with streaks of chocolate icing .At times I would catch sight of Mona as she stretched down into the window,
paper bag in hand, for a cake. I remember also the old till sitting on her counter. On the shelf behind her lay bloomers, tins, long tins and bread rolls and some of the bread was already in bags waiting for the recipient to collect. I particularly relished the small bars of iced fruit cake which had been trimmings from wedding and birthday cakes. Mona would leave her display of cakes in the shop window on cooler days. There were trains and boats and cars all displaying her patience, skill and a touch of love. Further down the street I would look across at the Co-op Drapery where Cyril Wilson, who also lived in Allen Road, worked and was I recall a lovely kind man.

I left school at fifteen without academic qualifications but did gain five “O” levels two “A” levels as well as a” National B.tech Certificate in Health and Social Care. I married Paul Ellis in 1975 and we have three children.
I also work as a volunteer for Wellingborough Welfare Rights and mainly concentrate upon representing people at Tribunals locally. I have worked as a volunteer for nine years and feel happy to be able to make a contribution. We are always in need of volunteers so contact them or me if you are interested in helping us. I also am an officer with 1st Wellingborough Boys Brigade at the United Reform Church in Wellingborough and we meet on a Friday evening; again we are also always seeking volunteer helpers. Since beginning my work on Finedon I am delighted to have what I see as a fantastic closure to my life. I have met my father’s sisters Lucy and her husband Ivor who live in Coventry and Joan a Casting Director, who lives in London. I now have knowledge of my own roots and can feel only a deep pride and joy. I thank all the Finedon folk who have welcomed me into their homes and shared so much with me. God Bless you.