Memories of Kathleen Knight of the Inter-war Years in Redhill 1918 - 1939
I was born Kathleen Bean in Cecil Road, Redhill in November 1914. My parents were from Sussex. My father worked on the railway as a guard and had moved to Redhill when transferred there from Snodland. I never knew my two older sisters who sadly had died from purple measles within a week of each other before I was born. The family used to return to its Sussex roots from time to time, especially at hop picking time when grandmother would put out a large, open, upside-down umbrella and tell the children that once they had filled it with the hops they had picked they could go to play. They usually would stay hop picking for a month and, such are childhood memories when one remembers only the good times, I cannot remember it ever raining. My memories of Redhill related here are my earliest ones from close to the end of WW1 to 1939 when I married. |
Joe Chandlers vegetable, fruit and fish shop on the south east side of Redhill High Street. The lady with the pram is my mother, and the two girls with her, one in the pram, are Annie and Lily, the two elder sisters I never knew |
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My father
was exempt from First World War military service by
virtue of his job on the railways and was involved in the
bringing back of wounded from Dover. As a guard he was
normally to be found in the guards van but, as
fortune would have it, was walking through the middle
section of one train when its rear section was hit by a
German bomb. My earliest memory is of German soldiers marching up and down Cecil Road, Redhill. Chigwell House in London Road, once a doctors house, later headquarters of the Royal Ordinance, now the site of the DSS office building, is where German prisoners of war were interned locally and they were exercised by marching up and down Cecil Road. Exits, such as the entrances to side roads and alleys, were guarded to prevent escape attempts and I remember my mother getting the children in and bolting the front door. Even inside the house the sound of their hobnailed boots could still be heard. My only other wartime memory is that of going onto Redhill common at the end of the war and, carried high on my fathers shoulders, having a good view when a giant bonfire with a dummy Kaiser on top was set fire to as part of the celebrations. People with burning torches came up all the paths to the common and I, then still only four years old, thought a real man was being burnt. When I was seven the family moved from Cecil Road to Grovehill Road. I remember the gasworks and the daily hooter that signaled the beginning and end of the days work for the men there. The entrance was opposite Grovehill Road, its hill too often the site of the demise of horses whose over-laden carts were beyond their strength to hold back on the steep gradient. Sometimes, in spite of wooden wedges under carts' wheels they were puId off their feet and down the hill to their deaths at the gasworks entrance. To this day I am unable to understand why carters and delivery men would risk their valuable horses on the steep hill. The carts were also frequently badly broken as the result of such an accident, with the goods carried also damaged. Due to ill health I did not start at St
Matthews Infants School until I was six. Two
classes were taught by Miss Burr and Miss Smallfield but
my time in the infants was short and I soon was in
Standard 1, which was taught by another Miss Smallfield,
the sister of the infants' teacher. Uniform was a white
pinafore but as the schools boiler emitted soot
into the classroom when stoked by the caretaker it was
usually a light shade of grey by the end of the school
day. Another early memory is of my first visit to the cinema. A family friend offered to take me to the Picture House in Station Road and with my mothers permission off we went. The film, however, was the Hunchback of Notre Dame, a rather frightening film and not the sort for a child. It put me off going to the pictures for a long time after that. |
This is me in January 2000 holding my school photo. I am the girl in the centre leaning forward slightly. I
left school aged 14 in 1929. My mother wanted me to work
in Jones but I saw an advertisement for a junior at
Shepherd's, the newsagents and toy shop across the other
side of the High Street from Jones, applied for the job
and was taken on. My starting pay was four
shillings for a six-day week. I got a rise to 7/6d when I
was sixteen. Each day I started at 6 a.m. and worked
until 7 p.m. on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. I worked
until 1 p.m. on Wednesday half-day, 8 p.m. on Friday, and
to 9 p.m. on Saturday, making a standard working week of
74 hours. Jennings shop was across the High Street
and at Christmas Mr. Shepherd would often stand at the
door and watch to see if Jennings stayed open late. If it
did Shepherd's would also stay open and the girls were
not allowed to leave until both shops closed, sometimes
as late as 10 p.m. Mr. Shepherd,
a single man, lived in Ladbroke Road with his sister.
When he died his brother came from the USA to live with
him. He lived near enough to go home for lunch, something
his shop assistants were not allowed to do. His lunch
break was the only time they could relax a little. We
were able to keep a look-out for his return by watching
the reflection on our side of the High Street in
Johnsons wine shop window. |
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Other than
sweeping the floors and cleaning the windows my jobs
included looking after the paper and magazine department
with another employee, Miss Miles, who I called
Milo. Miss Crisp and Miss Partridge worked in
the toy department. National papers were delivered to the
shop and one of my jobs was getting up six newspaper
rounds per day, four day rounds and two evening rounds
that were done by boys. If one of the boys did not turn
up for his round I would do it and get paid 5d extra.
Surrey Mirrors had to be collected from Ladbroke Road and
this was also my job. With a trolley I would take the
back route through the Market Field to avoid meeting
anyone I knew. As well as filling in for absent paper round boys I also had one or two special deliveries to make. I took the Morning Post to Mr. Arthur Trower at Wiggie where there would always be a cup of hot chocolate awaiting me, an evening paper to Mr. Pringle in Upper Bridge Road, where I had to knock because he did not like his paper folded and put through the letter box, and a newspaper to Joe Chandler at his High Street shop. Joe could not read and I would get an apple for reading the headlines to him. His wife read the news items to him later. |
If
anyone were to walk the east side of the High Street with
their eyes closed they would recognise most of the shops
they were passing by smell alone, as each had its own
distinct aroma. Starting from the centre of the town
there was Nicols, which sold ladies clothes and home
furnishings. Nicols had a disastrous fire in 1901 but it
had at least one other fire as well, as I remember fire
damaged goods being sold off in the 1930s. The shop
became Burtons in 1935. Then there was Finlays
tobacconist, Boots The Chemist, Rego clothiers,
Smiths Popular Stores, Rigden draper (later became
Dolcis shoes), MacFisheries and then Hepworths
outfitters, which was the last shop before the entrance
to the Market Field. The cattle market was held in the
Market Field every Monday. The ordinary market was on a
Saturday and my favourite stalls were the sweet, toffee
and honeycomb makers. |
Grice's bakers shop at 11 High Street as Kathleen Knight would have known it. |
The next shop was Foster Brothers clothiers, then came
Allman, fruiterer and florist, next door to which was
Grice, bakers (delicious cream buns). Next were Home and
Colonial Tea Stores; Walton, fruiterers; Askew, saddle
and harness makers; Chas. Spearing, pork butcher, which I
remember sold lovely sausages. I also delivered papers
there and would be given chitterlings (pigs
innards) as a reward, which were lovely fried at tea-time
but are not available now. Then came Lewis tobacco
and confectionery; British and Argentine Meat Co.;
Greenwood & Sons, run by brothers George and Fred,
leather sellers; Shepherds, stationery, toys and
newsagents (where I worked) and the Singer Sewing Machine
Co., which was the last shop before the entrance to
Marketfield Road and also another entrance to the Market
Field. |
Redhill High Street in 1927 when I was 13 years old. The Singer sowing machine shop is far right and Shepherds shop, where I went to work, is next to it with its blind out over the pavement. |
Next was
Burton & Sons, butchers, which in the days before
refrigeration sold cheap meat on a Saturday night, with a
shoulder of lamb costing 1/6d and a joint of beef 2/-.
Then came Chalmers, coach builders and motor engineers,
Reids coats and gowns, Chandler, fish fruit and
vegetables here was the alley to the railway
station Crittall, tobacco and confectionery,
Wright, boot-maker, Quinton, guns, cycles and sports
goods, and St Matthews Parish Rooms. Two well-known people that I remember
coming to Shepherd's shop were novelists. One was Mr.
Athol Harcourt Burrage, son of novelist father E.
Harcourt Burrage. Athol wrote Three Chums novels plus many other boys adventure
titles. I remember that he was a short man mindful of
Ronnie Corbett, and at the time lived in Wiggie Lane with
his mother. He would buy the shop girls sweets for
selling his books. |
Shepherd's shop on the east side of Redhill High Street, where I worked from 1929 to 1939. Mr Shepherd gave up the business in September 1945. He had learnt his trade at a London warehouse before coming into the family business and eventually becoming its principal. The business was acquired by Mr Jolliffe who had been connected with the news agency business in Redhill for some time. Mr Shepherd lived at Hoton, The Chase, and died, aged 76, on Good Friday, April 4th 1947, collapsing in London Road while on his way to the Memorial Sports Ground. |
I remember the town as having a good atmosphere and being a friendly place where everyone knew everyone else. I met my husband-to-be, Len, in Shepherds shop, as he used to come in regularly for magazines. Len worked as a carpenter at Bushbys in Reigate. Courting was something done at the weekends as there was no time during the week. We married in 1939 and this was the end of my days at Shepherds. It was also the end of the inter-war period that had begun in 1918 and lasted an all too short twenty-one years. |
Kathleen Knight as told in 2000. |
Kathleen Knight died a few years after relating the above | |