Memories of a railway childhood

by PAMELA BINNS
1934-2010

This is really the life story of my father, Percy Herbert Craske, who was born at Aylsham, Norfolk, on 14th September 1906, the eldest of seven children, although there were also three others who died in infancy, and living in Chestnut Terrace at Sutton Bridge in South Lincolnshire. He told me he always wanted to join the Royal Navy but was not allowed to because the money he earned was needed to keep the home going.

The family were closely connected to the railways. His father was a signalman and Dad was a porter at the time of his marriage to Mum, Gladys May Cheney, in 1930. Her father was listed as a railway servant on the marriage certificate and he was also a lay preacher. We often wondered if there was any connection with Dick Cheney, the American vice-president under George Bush, and there might have been because grandpa’s brother emigrated to Canada and after all, the name is unusual.

Dad was eventually appointed stationmaster at Counter Drain in the late 1930s. This was a small station out in the fens which had opened way back in 1866 on the Bourne to Spalding railway line which had just five stations, namely Bourne, Twenty, Counter Drain, Pode Hole and Spalding, and serving mainly Tongue End and the surrounding farms. He was responsible for the upkeep of the station and dealing with the goods and passenger trains that stopped there.

I was about five at the time and on one occasion I was allowed to ride on the engine from the platform to the goods yard. No Health and Safety regulations in those days. I also regularly visited the gatehouse where I was often allowed to help with the levers for the signals and other equipment.

The station house has now completely gone. When we lived there it was without any modern amenities such as gas and electricity and this meant oil lamps and candles at bedtime. Our drinking water came in milk churns by train and our only luxury was the wireless with the accumulator man calling regularly to bring us a new one to keep it up and running.

As we lived in such an isolated place, learning to ride a bike was a necessity. We were about a mile away from Tongue End village and my nearest friend lived at a farm half a mile away. Unfortunately learning to cycle resulted in several lacerated knees which saw me all dressed up in Sunday best for the chapel anniversary but with bandaged legs.

Tongue End village and the chapel which was demolished circa 1960.

The non-conformist chapel was situated the other side of the river at Tongue End which meant quite a journey every Sunday but we attended regularly. The school was also there with the teacher travelling in by train from Spalding each day. We had one very bad winter while living there and conditions meant a mile-long battle through deep snow to get to lessons. A special treat was being given a big chocolate coin in gold foil for bravery over having a vaccination. I cannot remember what for but it was probably for smallpox. Dad was also involved in amateur dramatics which were held at the school at that time.

The Second World War broke out in 1939 whilst we were living there and we had a mother and baby billeted with us after being evacuated from London to escape the blitz but she could not stand what she described as “living in the back of beyond” and soon decided to return home. We did not escape the war in Counter Drain either and I remember we children were fascinated by visiting a huge crater which appeared overnight in one of the fields caused by a stray bomb that had been intended for Spalding station.

In 1941, we moved to Bourne and our home became rooms in South Street at a house on the double bend owned by the Coopers although Mr Cooper was serving in the army. It was a bit scary living so close to a dangerous road because troop convoys often thundered past our bay window a little too close for comfort. Across the road was Brook Lodge, Dr George Holloway’s home and surgery, and next door a small farm owned by the Grays, now demolished to make way for new houses.

While living there we witnessed the Eastgate plane crash one night in May 1941 and saw the German bomber passing overhead on fire before coming down on to the Butcher‘s Arms, killing eight people. Next door were the Wones family who had a Morrison shelter in the house so we children spent many nights sleeping in that, a huge metal structure with wire mesh sides which served as a table during the day and a shelter at night. Winter fun included skating and sliding on flooded frozen fields next to the Red Hall with the Gelsthorpe family then living at Cavalry House across the road.

Dad was now assistant stationmaster at Bourne and the booking office was then at the Red Hall. My school was the Abbey Road Primary in Abbey Road also attended by many children who had been evacuated from Hull, together with a teacher who remained in Bourne after the war and became Mrs Scotney. Everyone was issued with a gas mask which we had to collect from a central distribution point where it was specially fitted and we were instructed to always carry it with us wherever we went although I do not remember ever having to wear it.

Later we moved to a house at the junction of Austerby and Willoughby Road, originally a large property and divided into two, the other half being occupied by the Bloodworth family. Apparently it was formerly occupied by one of the town’s veterinary surgeons with the coachman’s quarters across the yard, now used as a washhouse. There was a paddock for the horses and stables, now replaced by bungalows, and a spring of icy cold water. There was no water in the house so every drop had to be bucketed from the spring which was quite a chore on washdays and bath nights.

The toilet was shared and located down the yard, an earth closet with two adult seats and one for a child although I cannot remember any communal family visits. Unfortunately, the contents had to be emptied twice a year by my father and Mr Bloodworth, a task which became a cue to the neighbours for closed doors and windows due to the smell but we did grow some astounding vegetables. Next door was the Sandalls’ house which was also a bakery and shop and rumoured to have a secret underground passage to the church although we never found it.

Dad became a member of the Home Guard during the war and he occasionally brought home a soldier for the night who had been stranded at Bourne station. He was also appointed secretary of Bourne Town Football Club, an association that lasted many years, and he joined Bourne Town Band, playing the big drum.

Practices were held in the hall above the Peterborough Co-operative Society store in North Street, now used by Paper Chain and the Nationwide Building Society, but in those days it was a two part shop, half selling groceries and the other half drapery, the two divided by a cash kiosk which received money from the counters by way of metal containers sent whizzing across the room on overhead wires, a system popular in large shops at that time.

The football club ran Saturday night dances at the Corn Exchange in those days, strictly supervised with no alcohol sold and so pass-outs were issued for the interval but with Dad on the door and Mum on refreshments there was no chance for me to pop out anyway. But these social occasions were lucky for me because it was here that I got together with my future husband who had just returned from doing his two years’ National Service with the Royal Air Force Regiment.

In September 1944, the lads of the 1st Battalion, the Parachute Regiment, who had been stationed in Bourne for the previous ten months preparing for the Battle of Arnhem, left and I vividly remember seeing all the planes going over on their way to the Netherlands with the troops on board. Not all of them survived but one who did later became my brother in law, having been captured and taken prisoner but came home when the war ended and married my husband's sister.

During this time Dad was a great influence on me, teaching me to play cards and instilling in me a lifelong love of reading. I had managed to pass the entrance examination and get a place at Bourne Grammar School and I know that this meant financial sacrifices for him and my mother for although an examination pass allowed me to attend the school without paying fees, there were many extra expenses involved such as uniforms, sports equipment and other necessary sundries.

These soon added up, especially after the first year when the old headmaster, Charles Pask Matthews, retired and his successor, Reginald Foster, decided to change the colour of the school uniforms from black to green. The school at that time consisted of old wooden army huts arranged in an H shape, one side was classrooms and the other laboratory, woodwork, cookery and other practical subjects with a small museum in the middle.

The winter of 1947 was particularly severe with deep snowfalls affecting all parts of the country and daily life in Bourne, as elsewhere, was seriously disrupted. No one from the villages could get to school but we in town struggled through the streets to make it. Schools did not close because of the weather in those days and every pupil was expected to make the effort to attend and so each of us battled through the snow as best we could. It was worth it too, because at the end of term, those who never had time off were rewarded with an extra day’s holiday.

The girls' hockey first XI - that's me on the right in the middle row

Leisure activities were a big part of my life, progressing from the Brownies and the Girl Guides to evening classes in dancing run by a well known Bourne character called Professor Homer. This tuition was not popular with the headmaster of the grammar school who tried to stop pupils from going, claiming that the evening sessions interfered with their home work, and although there was an attempt to ban us we always managed to sneak in. There was also a thriving youth club in the hall of the Congregational Church in Eastgate, now the Bourne United Reformed Church, which was attended by dozens of teenagers from the town.

When Bourne railway station closed in 1959, Dad went to work at the Blackstone’s engineering factory in Stamford as night clinical assistant and he stayed there until his death in 1970 at the age of 64. During this time he was credited with saving a man’s life with his prompt action after he had lost a limb in a terrible industrial accident. By this time, my parents had moved to a bungalow in Alexandra Terrace.

I was married in 1954 to Raymond (Scrim) Binns and given away, of course, by my proud Dad. Our first home was a flat above Hart’s grocery shop in South Street where our daughter Avis was born. Scrim worked for sixteen years at the Raymond Mays garage in Spalding Road owned by the famous international racing star and he was often called on by Mr Mays to drive his mother on shopping trips.

Another job was to deliver Rolls Royce cars to wealthy customers in London and on one occasion had the privilege of being driven from Stamford to Bourne by the Argentinian racing champion Juan Manuel Fangio, one of the many famous friends of Mr Mays who visited Bourne in those days. He then went to Fiat-Allis at Essendine and worked there until the factory closed when he moved to the Christian Salvesen freezer plant at Easton.

By this time we were living at a house in Kingsway and it was here, sadly, that Scrim died in 1999. My mother survived my Dad, living for some years at the almshouses in West Street and later, suffering from dementia, moved to Digby Court in Christopher’s Lane, Bourne, where she died in 1996.

Mum and Dad at the front gate of their bungalow in Alexandra Terrace in 1968

My own working career was varied but always rewarding. I had a job first with the auctioneers and estate agents, Hodgkinson and Son, who had offices in West Street, and I enjoyed attending their sales at the Corn Exchange. Unfortunately the pay was quite poor so I moved to the Eagle Star Insurance Company and this meant travelling to and from Peterborough every day and even with a weekly ticket on the Delaine bus which cost 7s. 6d. (37½p in today’s money), I had managed to double my salary.

After the birth of our daughter, Avis, I worked part time in the offices of T W Mays and Sons, the Bourne fellmongers and wool merchants, and finally I joined South Kesteven District Council in 1971 at their offices in Wake House where I stayed until early retirement in 1990 due to ill health.

Today, I seem to be as busy as ever. I am a member of the Friends of Digby Court where I also spend time as a volunteer. I also belong to Bourne Animal Welfare and the Dyke Women’s Institute and so there is always plenty do. I am lucky to have good friends and a lovely family of a daughter and son in law, Tony, with three grandsons and three great granddaughters, all based at Grantham. (Avis met Tony when he worked for Foster’s who built the original Budgens’ supermarket in West Street and renovated the Burghley Arms in the town centre).

I count myself fortunate in having had such great parents and to have enjoyed a very special relationship with my Dad, a quiet and unassuming man with a great sense of humour, and I hope he would have been proud of me. It was never my intention to write all this but following a request from our local historian, Rex Needle, to submit a “small article” about early events at the Counter Drain station, like Topsy it just grew and grew.

WRITTEN MAY 2010

See also

Counter Drain station     Tongue End     An encounter with Fangio