The Fold
Here are two pictures I was sent of a house which I believe is in The Fold (I need to check this as I cannot find it on Google Maps, but it could off the photographed area). Even if it turns out it is not there it has been the impetus I needed to upload some memories written down for me by my aunt, many years ago. She wrote about a farm house which was three cottages made into one building. The similarity of these images to what she describes will have to suffice until I revisit Coates (today, it is Feb 21st, 2013; I shall visit again when it is warmer!).
In each case, click the image to enlarge it.
In each case, click the image to enlarge it.
Memories of life in Coates
by Lois Chapman (née Ashworth)
by Lois Chapman (née Ashworth)
These notes were written by my aunt – Lois Chapman – in the 1980s and consist of a number of letters she sent to me which I have collated. Anything in brown type was added by me. In what follows Lois describes the farmhouse in The Fold where her Grandparents lived. Colin Ashworth, February 2013
My mother [Hannah Ashworth, née Fletcher 1882-1969] said that our family is descended from the French, our forefathers coming over from France, (I presume during the revolution). [There are some Fovargues associated with Coates; I do not think we are related]
The first thing I remember about Grandma and Granddad Fletcher is that they used to come [from Coates] to see us in Queen’s Walk, Fletton, Peterborough, on market days bringing butter in a 2lb strawberry basket covered with rhubarb leaves to keep the butter cool. She wore black skirt and blouse, black short cape embroidered and sequined, and small bonnet. Granddad wore black pin-striped trousers black jacket and bowler hat. They came in a “buggy” a coach built trap, lined in fawn corduroy, with a big umbrella large enough to cover four people if it rained. There was a little door at the back and a step, and a whip on Grandma’s side in a holder. The trap was pulled by ‘Taffy’. They would ‘put up’ as it was called at the “Coach and Horses” (or Rose & Crown), whilst they went to market. My cousin John would bring in the cattle to be sold, walking them from Coates to Peterborough cattle market about seven or eight miles; no cattle truck in those days.
I understood that Granddad Fletcher [Joseph Fletcher 1847-1929] only went to school for half a day when he was four years of age. He did not like it, so went on to the land, “crow scaring”. He managed to learn to read, but not to write, but he had a marvellous brain, and could work out his cattle prices.
Mother and Dad [James Thomas Ashworth 1883-1959] went to Coates school. Dad left school at ten years of age and apparently joined his father [William Ashworth 1859-1913] in his business as Joiner, Wheelwright and Undertaker as also, I think, did his elder brother. His father died at an early age of consumption so I do not remember him. My mother, Hannah, also left the village school at ten years of age but was sent to finish schooling at Whittlesey. She had to walk there, and left at twelve years old.
After a section describing her life in Fletton, Peterborough, Lois continued thus:
When I went to Grandma and Granddad’s, when they lived at The Fold, they would pick me up in the trap. Granddad sat on the offside, and Grandma on the opposite side. Parcels etc. would be under the seat. We would go through Stanground, but what I most remember of the journey, was when we came to Horsey Toll. There was a toll house, but no toll was then paid, The road, however was not very wide and the toll was approached by a little steep bridge. At the top of the bridge the road suddenly turned sharply to the left and here the river ran alongside of it. Taffy hated this river, and would put her head to the right and try to go over to the other sine of the road. Grandfather would give her a slight flick of the whip, to make her as he put it, "let her know who was master" and keep a tight hold of the reigns to make her keep to the proper side of the road. We seemed to make good time, again Granddad would remark, ‘she knows when her head is towards the stable’. We would pass through Eastrea, and approach Coates. Here we went between the large village green, as the road through Coates towards March still does today. We took the first turning to the left. The village hall and police house were on the right of us in this road, and a bit further on the village school was on the left. A short distance further on we came to some big gates. The road went no further; these gates were the entrance to the farmhouse and yard. We would draw up outside the house; three cottages made into one home.
Although when I used to go to Grandma’s for a holiday I usually went in the trap with them. On one occasion, for some reason, I was sent by carrier’s cart. I can still remember the long drawn out journey to Coates. I thought it would never end. My mother knew Jess Kisby and knew he would see me to The Fold. As we went along the road, the van horse was not like Taffy. It was slow, and very often the carrier would turn off and take something to a farm, then retrace back to the main road and carry on.
When I used to arrive at the house in Coates for a holiday the first thing I would see was the well. It had wooden sides about 3/4 of a metre high so no one would fall into it, and by its side were two buckets with ropes. All the water needed for the house and for the cattle had to be drawn from the well. Holding the rope, the bucket would be thrown down the well, and drawn up by the rope full of the water.
The house had two doors. The door on the left led into the scullery. It was quite a large place. Inside this scullery a door on the left led into the dairy, but just past a sink on the right, another door led into the living room. This living room had a door which opened on to the yard, a window which looked on to the farmyard, and a door which led into the parlour. From the parlour, I think there were two sets of stairs to the bedrooms.
I can recall practically everything in the dairy and living room. In the dairy stood big pancheons, brown on the outside, cream coloured on the inside. When the cows were milked, the milk was put into these pancheons, and then someone had to put the milk into the separator. The handle had to be turned, and the milk was separated, the cream coming out of one spout, aid the skimmed milk from the other. The cream was then put into the churn, and Auntie Patty (Martha) mother’s younger sister, would turn the handle until the butter “came”. I asked to help and she let me, but I found it was an arm-aching job, and soon let her take over. Sometimes it seemed as if the butter would never "come". I expect the weather had something to do with it. However when we heard the “plop, plop, plop” we knew the churning was at an end.
I cannot remember much about the scullery but on the far right a door led into the living room. Just inside the door on the left was a bow-fronted chest of drawers. Two large china or pottery spaniel dogs, one at each end, stood on this chest. Mother [Hannah] had bought them for her mother [Mary Ann Fletcher née Carter]. They had gold chains about their necks. When Granddad came in from the farm he always put his cap on the head of the first dog.
Next to this chest stood a grandfather clock. As one entered the living room there was a big black cooking range on the right. A fire always burnt in this, summer and winter, as it was the only means of cooking. A door opposite the cooking range opened into the sitting room. From this room stairs went up to the bedrooms. All I can remember of these rooms is that the floor was not level and the big beds had down filled mattresses.
Outside, at the rear of the house stood three earth closets, one for each of the original cottages. Inside these ‘loos’ were two wooden lavatories, wall to wall and filled in to the floor at the front. One was higher than the other, for adults, the other lower for children. Each had a shaped hole and wooden lid. I loathed these, and being used to a flush lavatory I was very frightened that I should fall into the huge hole down below the smell was awful. These ‘lavs’ would only be emptied when full.
Beyond these closets were stables for the three or four heavy horses and also this is where the calves were kept in another small building. Granddad always had Prince, Blossom and Beauty, the heavy horses, and Taffy the trap horse.
Opposite the stable were the open sheds. Carts, the trap, and other farm equipment stood in these sheds. Then there were hat stacks and at the bottom a plum orchard. As I went in the summer holiday, it was usually harvest time. The corn could be cut by a horse drawn bit of machinery, and it threw out the corn out in bundles. My cousin Eva, who was my age, and I used to take the afternoon tea in enamel containers with a lid which was a cup. Granddad and his men would be working making bands to tie up the bundles of corn so it could be stacked.
The men were kind enough to let us have a go at making these bands. The corn was taller than it is now, as now it is short for the combine harvester. No string was used to tie the bundles. Two lots of corn, each several strands tied to be twisted together to make a band long enough for the job. Then after the bundles were tied, they were stood into stooks, allowed to dry for carting and stacking. Later on the stacks would be dismantled and "thrashing" would done. It was carting and stacking that I liked best.
My cousins Fred and John, mother's brother’s children, worked for granddad, as did I suppose their father, uncle John, and other men. Cousin John and Fred did the carting. They would let Eva and me ride in the empty cart to the field, where it would be filled by men using two pronged forks. The horse would be led to the farmyard near the house, where it could be unloaded and stacked. We would walk beside the cart, come into the stack-yard. Here would be the two or three men able to do the stacking. At first they could do it from the ground. A man would climb into the cart and throw the sheaves to the stackers. The stackers would make the stack from the ground until they could not reach. Then as the stack grew higher, the elevator had to be used. The sheaves would be thrown on to the belt of the elevator. As I remember it the belt had spikes, the sheaves would not slip on the upwards journey. The elevator was motivated by the big cart horse ‘Blossom’. He walked round and round in a big circle. There seemed to be machinery in the centre of this circle, and metal pipes, at one point, stretched to the elevator belt. Each time Blossom came to these pipes or rods Fred would call out, “Up Blossom" and the huge horse would lift his big hooves and step over the rods, and so the sheaves were elevated to the man on top of the stack, where they put them into place. A skilled job, when the stack was high enough it would be thatched until time to be threshed.
Cousin Eva I were always together. In the evenings it was our job to collect the eggs. All the hens ran free in the big yard, they could get into the open barn, lay their eggs anywhere, in the hedges round the yard, in the stables and lay in the racks over the horses heads which had hay in them. They had their favourite places and Eva knew them, but we had to look all about, as the hens would find somewhere else, and we might find about a dozen eggs, that the hens had been laying for several days.
We once started to have fun sliding down a haystack. The more we slid the more hay collected at the bottom, so we had a soft landing, Granddad soon put a stop to this.
On Sundays we went to the Methodist chapel situated in the middle of the village green, granddad had a pew right at the back, and it had a little door. The chapel was lit by brass oil lamps hanging from the ceiling; Dad’s mother, Grandma Ashworth (Eliza Hall) was chapel cleaner, I expect she was glad of the little extra cash to help bring up the family, especially as granddad Ashworth died so young.
My mother [Hannah Ashworth, née Fletcher 1882-1969] said that our family is descended from the French, our forefathers coming over from France, (I presume during the revolution). [There are some Fovargues associated with Coates; I do not think we are related]
The first thing I remember about Grandma and Granddad Fletcher is that they used to come [from Coates] to see us in Queen’s Walk, Fletton, Peterborough, on market days bringing butter in a 2lb strawberry basket covered with rhubarb leaves to keep the butter cool. She wore black skirt and blouse, black short cape embroidered and sequined, and small bonnet. Granddad wore black pin-striped trousers black jacket and bowler hat. They came in a “buggy” a coach built trap, lined in fawn corduroy, with a big umbrella large enough to cover four people if it rained. There was a little door at the back and a step, and a whip on Grandma’s side in a holder. The trap was pulled by ‘Taffy’. They would ‘put up’ as it was called at the “Coach and Horses” (or Rose & Crown), whilst they went to market. My cousin John would bring in the cattle to be sold, walking them from Coates to Peterborough cattle market about seven or eight miles; no cattle truck in those days.
I understood that Granddad Fletcher [Joseph Fletcher 1847-1929] only went to school for half a day when he was four years of age. He did not like it, so went on to the land, “crow scaring”. He managed to learn to read, but not to write, but he had a marvellous brain, and could work out his cattle prices.
Mother and Dad [James Thomas Ashworth 1883-1959] went to Coates school. Dad left school at ten years of age and apparently joined his father [William Ashworth 1859-1913] in his business as Joiner, Wheelwright and Undertaker as also, I think, did his elder brother. His father died at an early age of consumption so I do not remember him. My mother, Hannah, also left the village school at ten years of age but was sent to finish schooling at Whittlesey. She had to walk there, and left at twelve years old.
After a section describing her life in Fletton, Peterborough, Lois continued thus:
When I went to Grandma and Granddad’s, when they lived at The Fold, they would pick me up in the trap. Granddad sat on the offside, and Grandma on the opposite side. Parcels etc. would be under the seat. We would go through Stanground, but what I most remember of the journey, was when we came to Horsey Toll. There was a toll house, but no toll was then paid, The road, however was not very wide and the toll was approached by a little steep bridge. At the top of the bridge the road suddenly turned sharply to the left and here the river ran alongside of it. Taffy hated this river, and would put her head to the right and try to go over to the other sine of the road. Grandfather would give her a slight flick of the whip, to make her as he put it, "let her know who was master" and keep a tight hold of the reigns to make her keep to the proper side of the road. We seemed to make good time, again Granddad would remark, ‘she knows when her head is towards the stable’. We would pass through Eastrea, and approach Coates. Here we went between the large village green, as the road through Coates towards March still does today. We took the first turning to the left. The village hall and police house were on the right of us in this road, and a bit further on the village school was on the left. A short distance further on we came to some big gates. The road went no further; these gates were the entrance to the farmhouse and yard. We would draw up outside the house; three cottages made into one home.
Although when I used to go to Grandma’s for a holiday I usually went in the trap with them. On one occasion, for some reason, I was sent by carrier’s cart. I can still remember the long drawn out journey to Coates. I thought it would never end. My mother knew Jess Kisby and knew he would see me to The Fold. As we went along the road, the van horse was not like Taffy. It was slow, and very often the carrier would turn off and take something to a farm, then retrace back to the main road and carry on.
When I used to arrive at the house in Coates for a holiday the first thing I would see was the well. It had wooden sides about 3/4 of a metre high so no one would fall into it, and by its side were two buckets with ropes. All the water needed for the house and for the cattle had to be drawn from the well. Holding the rope, the bucket would be thrown down the well, and drawn up by the rope full of the water.
The house had two doors. The door on the left led into the scullery. It was quite a large place. Inside this scullery a door on the left led into the dairy, but just past a sink on the right, another door led into the living room. This living room had a door which opened on to the yard, a window which looked on to the farmyard, and a door which led into the parlour. From the parlour, I think there were two sets of stairs to the bedrooms.
I can recall practically everything in the dairy and living room. In the dairy stood big pancheons, brown on the outside, cream coloured on the inside. When the cows were milked, the milk was put into these pancheons, and then someone had to put the milk into the separator. The handle had to be turned, and the milk was separated, the cream coming out of one spout, aid the skimmed milk from the other. The cream was then put into the churn, and Auntie Patty (Martha) mother’s younger sister, would turn the handle until the butter “came”. I asked to help and she let me, but I found it was an arm-aching job, and soon let her take over. Sometimes it seemed as if the butter would never "come". I expect the weather had something to do with it. However when we heard the “plop, plop, plop” we knew the churning was at an end.
I cannot remember much about the scullery but on the far right a door led into the living room. Just inside the door on the left was a bow-fronted chest of drawers. Two large china or pottery spaniel dogs, one at each end, stood on this chest. Mother [Hannah] had bought them for her mother [Mary Ann Fletcher née Carter]. They had gold chains about their necks. When Granddad came in from the farm he always put his cap on the head of the first dog.
Next to this chest stood a grandfather clock. As one entered the living room there was a big black cooking range on the right. A fire always burnt in this, summer and winter, as it was the only means of cooking. A door opposite the cooking range opened into the sitting room. From this room stairs went up to the bedrooms. All I can remember of these rooms is that the floor was not level and the big beds had down filled mattresses.
Outside, at the rear of the house stood three earth closets, one for each of the original cottages. Inside these ‘loos’ were two wooden lavatories, wall to wall and filled in to the floor at the front. One was higher than the other, for adults, the other lower for children. Each had a shaped hole and wooden lid. I loathed these, and being used to a flush lavatory I was very frightened that I should fall into the huge hole down below the smell was awful. These ‘lavs’ would only be emptied when full.
Beyond these closets were stables for the three or four heavy horses and also this is where the calves were kept in another small building. Granddad always had Prince, Blossom and Beauty, the heavy horses, and Taffy the trap horse.
Opposite the stable were the open sheds. Carts, the trap, and other farm equipment stood in these sheds. Then there were hat stacks and at the bottom a plum orchard. As I went in the summer holiday, it was usually harvest time. The corn could be cut by a horse drawn bit of machinery, and it threw out the corn out in bundles. My cousin Eva, who was my age, and I used to take the afternoon tea in enamel containers with a lid which was a cup. Granddad and his men would be working making bands to tie up the bundles of corn so it could be stacked.
The men were kind enough to let us have a go at making these bands. The corn was taller than it is now, as now it is short for the combine harvester. No string was used to tie the bundles. Two lots of corn, each several strands tied to be twisted together to make a band long enough for the job. Then after the bundles were tied, they were stood into stooks, allowed to dry for carting and stacking. Later on the stacks would be dismantled and "thrashing" would done. It was carting and stacking that I liked best.
My cousins Fred and John, mother's brother’s children, worked for granddad, as did I suppose their father, uncle John, and other men. Cousin John and Fred did the carting. They would let Eva and me ride in the empty cart to the field, where it would be filled by men using two pronged forks. The horse would be led to the farmyard near the house, where it could be unloaded and stacked. We would walk beside the cart, come into the stack-yard. Here would be the two or three men able to do the stacking. At first they could do it from the ground. A man would climb into the cart and throw the sheaves to the stackers. The stackers would make the stack from the ground until they could not reach. Then as the stack grew higher, the elevator had to be used. The sheaves would be thrown on to the belt of the elevator. As I remember it the belt had spikes, the sheaves would not slip on the upwards journey. The elevator was motivated by the big cart horse ‘Blossom’. He walked round and round in a big circle. There seemed to be machinery in the centre of this circle, and metal pipes, at one point, stretched to the elevator belt. Each time Blossom came to these pipes or rods Fred would call out, “Up Blossom" and the huge horse would lift his big hooves and step over the rods, and so the sheaves were elevated to the man on top of the stack, where they put them into place. A skilled job, when the stack was high enough it would be thatched until time to be threshed.
Cousin Eva I were always together. In the evenings it was our job to collect the eggs. All the hens ran free in the big yard, they could get into the open barn, lay their eggs anywhere, in the hedges round the yard, in the stables and lay in the racks over the horses heads which had hay in them. They had their favourite places and Eva knew them, but we had to look all about, as the hens would find somewhere else, and we might find about a dozen eggs, that the hens had been laying for several days.
We once started to have fun sliding down a haystack. The more we slid the more hay collected at the bottom, so we had a soft landing, Granddad soon put a stop to this.
On Sundays we went to the Methodist chapel situated in the middle of the village green, granddad had a pew right at the back, and it had a little door. The chapel was lit by brass oil lamps hanging from the ceiling; Dad’s mother, Grandma Ashworth (Eliza Hall) was chapel cleaner, I expect she was glad of the little extra cash to help bring up the family, especially as granddad Ashworth died so young.