Magazine - FRIENDS HOUSING BRISTOL

£2.00
Friends Housing
Magazine
2016
June 2016
Hello everyone,
Welcome to our 2016 edition of Avenue House magazine with its
usual interesting mixture of comments and stories. After a wet start
to the year we then enjoyed a hot sunny time and lots of people were
enjoying sitting out in the garden. It is lovely with the roses suddenly
bursting into full bloom, the pond flanked by yellow iris – and the
birds and squirrels chasing around, and then the rain again – full pelt.
Ah well this is England ……
Caroline has been hopping around the house with increasing speed
but is now on two feet and much recovered. We are looking forward
to a trip to the zoo, drinks on the terrace if fine one evening and the
summer fete.
Let’s hope we have more good weather so we can get out a lot.
Thanks to Natalie for all her hard work and enthusiasm in helping to
compile this magazine and to all those who have contributed.
With good wishes to all,
Alison
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Do you remember larders?
I was encouraged by Alison to write about old fashioned
things in our lives.
We reminisced about our mothers pantries. Mine was
an angle across the corner of the kitchen with many
shelves full of bottled plumbs, Kilner Jars full of fruit,
victorious plumbs pink with juice and the green ones
which tasted sweet and glowed with goodness all set for the winter. The preserving
pot for salted beans was beautifully brown and rough surfaced with a pottery lid. The
idea was to layer the runner beans with salt between the layers of beans, thinly
sliced, very thinly, by my skilful mother. She kept the chocolate on the top shelf
which we climb up to. There was a certain smell of flour and sugar about the pantry,
not quite straw on the floor, perhaps wood shavings to complete the sense of
wholesomeness. The larder had a door with a fine wire grid to ventilate it and keep
out the flies. Inside were more shelves and butter dishes, cheese boards and
containers of raisins, sultanas and currents. These wonderful goodies were pinched
by the children to the extent that “Mum’s buns” were short of dried fruit when it
came to the point of cooking. (the dried fruit was about the only thing that we stole,
although I was partial to cheese). The bread bin was enamel with its name on one
side in black and white. It was surrounded by crumbs, swept clean by a dust pan and
brush. The bread was solid inedible brown supposed to be very good for us but it did
not appeal because it became so hard even though it was in the bins. The cake tin
was full of Mum’s buns. As a child I interfered so much with the weight ingredients
that she approximated the amounts of flour, fruit and lard which resulted in
marvellous, warm scented buns. Three tins, one dozen pans in each made thirty six
individual buns. At one memorable tea three of our cousins, great hero’s, challenged
us all to clean the plates in one go. We did, much to mother’s pride. Her handmade
egg box stood on top of the pantry. The compartments were egg sized squares. Fresh
eggs were put at the back of the box so that the older ones were taken from the
front. There were no free range eggs then. The eggs were all free range in hen
houses. Pan cake mixture had eggs broken and fell into the mixing bowl. They were
pale yellow with yolks and white making wonderful blend of pan cakes in
anticipation. The larder was a treasure trove of sweetly scented food. The heart of
the kitchen and mums industry,
Mary Friend
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Dining room Dialogue
Waiting for dinner to be served
A:
B:
A:
C:
B:
C:
D:
A:
B:
A:
C:
A:
C:
B:
D:
C:
What day is it?
I can’t see the day on the clock, as I’ve forgotten my specs.
I think it must be Friday
Fried egg, then it can’t be Friday as we have those with All Day Breakfast, so it’s
probably Thursday.
I wish we had a menu on the table as that would settle it.
Only if it was the right one.
What are you all talking about? I’ve left my hearing aids upstairs. Someone has
kindly gone to get them.
It’s the beginning of the week so it can’t be Monday….
What is it that’s so mundane about Sunday?
Continuing nor can it be Tuesday
Yes, it would be good to choose each day what you wanted to eat.
I said Tuesday, nothing about choosing
There is always a choice, it’s omelettes and I don’t like them.
Even if we had a menu it might be a Thursday or Wednesday one
Whose wedding is it? Is it your granddaughter marrying that nice young man at last?
No one said anything about marrying.
Pause
D:
A:
B:
A:
Oh here are my hearing aids I had them all the time. Now I can hear all the details. It
would be such a change to have a wedding party here instead of all those birthdays;
they only remind us that we are a year older.
It’s still the old year, tomorrow is the first of December, not of January.
This is apple sauce which goes with pork so it can’t be Friday, It’s probably Thursday.
Good we are being served first for a change so that will settle it.
Server hurrying up with two plates. It is fish today as……
C:
Interrupting triumphantly I said it was Friday
Server continues: as the ingredients for today’s meal didn’t arrive in time Darrel
cooked fried fish and chips instead and you’ll have today’s meal
tomorrow.
B:
I said it might be Thursday today, you can often tell by the sauce.
So please can we have tartar sauce.
Anne
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We lived in the inner city of Birmingham; my father
was a chemical engineer who needed to be near work. There were
many small houses nearby with small front gardens. On Saturdays men
came on bikes to watch Aston Villa Football and they always parked
their bikes for a small sum of money in the front gardens of small
houses nearby and then walked the last mile or so to Aston Villa
Football Ground.
Memories by Mary Johnson
Resident at Avenue House
A Cricketing Tale
By Frank Holroyd
I started playing cricket at school and subsequently at Oxford University where I was studying philosophy,
politics and economics with my tutor, the famous A.J.Ayer. He was quite a character and conducted all
tutorials under the table! He was brilliant, but touched!
I played cricket for many years and when we played in the Oxford Vs Cambridge match at Lords I opened
the batting.
When I went to watch England play Australia one day at Lords I was on a specially erected terrace and
down below people were going to their allocated seats. One particular fellow was well equipped for the
day with food and drink. This old boy set up his box of tricks on a beer crate and settled for the game with
his pipe.
Don Bradman was bowling for the Australian side and he was practising just down below and one of his
bowls went so fast it knocked the pipe clean out if the old boy’s mouth – Bradman ran down laughing and
saying “Sorry about that mate – what are you going to do with it?” The old man replied with “What’s
worrying me is what I’m going to do without it!”
Frank and his cricket team.
Let’s see how many people
can guess which one is
Frank??
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Norfolk Seaside
Hebe Welbourn
Many residents in Avenue House have connections with East Anglia. During the 1920
– 30’s my family were based in the midland where my father was a teacher in term
time. In the holidays we migrated to live in East Anglia within orbit of our paternal
grandparents. During most of my childhood they lived at a place called Sudbury in
Suffolk’s Constable country – this was when we lived not far away in the watermill at
Hoxne, which I wrote about in past years magazines. Before this, until I was about 8
years old they lived at Mundesley, on the Norfolk coast not far from Cromer, and we
had a little bungalow on the cliffs nearby at Bacton. Both houses have now gone into
the sea – when I revisited in the 60’s, the cliffs and part of Mundesley town had
disappeared and been replaced by sand dunes sloping down to the beach, Both
houses gone.
I can just remember my grandparents’ house – a big, flint Victorian house on the edge of the town
with a working windmill nearby. Our bungalow was built on brick piers with a space underneath, a
windswept balcony in front and a sheltered little back veranda by the kitchen. There was a high grass
bank smelling of red dead nettles and primroses along the side and access to the beach over the cliff.
There were steps for grown-ups cut in the clay cliffs but we children jumped down the 7-8 foot
straight into the soft white sand. Then we ran down the long beach with our shrimping nets.
Sometimes we caught shrimps for our tea. Once I caught a sea horse
which I kept in a jam jar for a few minutes before returning him to the
sea. It was often cold on the wind swept beach but in summer we
enjoyed swimming. Our neighbour had lost his leg in the war. He had a
wooden leg which he left on the sand and flopped straight into the sea
where he swam free as a porpoise! His little boy, Michael, and I used
to run about together naked when we were about 3 years old. I still
have his photograph. I met him again in adult life when he was
working as a broadcaster with the BBC.
Our other neighbours had a Morgan car. It had solid tyres which I
thought were a good idea because they didn’t have punctures. They
also had a donkey which I thought was lovely. On fine days we went for picnics in the woods. I wrote
a little poem about the bluebells which I suddenly found one day – I knew nothing about Herrick’s
daffodils but it was the same experience. We also occasionally went to the Norfolk Broads and to the
fen country: wide expanses with birds (booming bittern, drumming snipe) and all kinds of boats. I
longed to go sailing, sometimes we’d see a Norfolk wherry with brown sails travelling, apparently
over the fields along a distant dyke
Bluebells
I wandered wrapped in a happy dream,
The sun was hot and the wood was cool.
I looked, and lit by a sunny beam,
Were Bluebells, all in a pool.
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Memories
When I look out of the window in my room here at Avenue House, I see a
comparable Victorian house on the opposite corner of the road. This sight
often takes me back to the realisation that I am the
probably only person alive who actually saw the
explosion, during a German air raid on Bristol in the
war (1939 – 1945) that led to one part of my school,
Colston’s Girl’s School having to be demolished. This
led to the purchase of the house opposite me as
accommodation for the junior school classes.
I then lived near here in Redland, but a little more
uphill that gave a good view over the centre of the city. During raids my father
would watch from the roof for any incendiary device that could set fire to
property. He was part of the local A.R.P (Air Raid Precautions Team). On this
particular night my father took me up on the roof so I could watch the raid.
During raids the centre of the city received colossal
damage but a few bombs were dropped locally to try to
damage the railway line from Temple meads station to
Avonmouth, an important port then. My home and
Colston’s school were both near this railway line.
So, here on that winter’s night, the search lights were
scanning the skies to pinpoint the German bombers. One could hear the planes
and the sound of falling bombs that lit the immediate surrounding where one
landed. Suddenly … “Daddy” I said, “They’ve dropped a
bomb on my school”. I remember feeling very excited
about being there. Normally during raids I would be
sheltering in our cellar which had been reinforced to
make it safer for us. My mother was furious when she
found out my father had taken me up to such a
potentially dangerous place.
When I went to school I saw that the bomb had exploded next to the building
which contained the junior class rooms, the art department and the big library,
so this had to be demolished. I was maybe about 14 years old at the time. My
life went on and years later I left school, married and had a family. I returned
to Bristol in 1961 with my children ( I had 6) to bring up here. We lived in
Redland and where did the children go to school???? My Eldest who was about
13 went to Cotham Grammar School and all the others went to the school
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across the road, now Colston Primary School. Later we moved to Archfield
Road, around the corner from here. I then worked as a dinner lady at Colston
Primary School. My job was to take all the children across to the park after
their lunch to play and then back to the school again. The school playground
was not big like it is now. My youngest was too young still to start school, so I
took her with me. Now when I see the children playing at lunch and break
time I see there are several women keeping an eye on the kids. Back then it
was just me. There is now a zebra crossing to take them safely to the park and
so on. I was grateful to be earning even my small wage, I think it was about 5/
a day, and I had lunch given to me, but they wouldn’t give one to my daughter
so we shared a plate with 2 spoons. By this time I was aware of the existence
of Avenue House. I continued to live locally and later became aware of the
existence of Quakers. I first went to Redland Meeting half a lifetime ago now
and at some point started to have a connection with
Avenue House. Later I started to help here with the
Tuesday morning Card Making group. More years
later, here I am a resident and very aware that my
life has come around in a circle in this area of Bristol.
Nearly a lifetime ago my friend and I would play in
the park opposite and now I watch the next
generation of children playing in there. A fine
playground and exercise ground for so many adults,
children and dogs. The wonderful avenue of trees still
march down the hill towards Redland Court, (now
Redland High School).
Written By Cherry Harris, Avenue House
The Arcade 1940
&
Present Day
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Victoria Street 1940
&
Present Day
My Trip to Cornwall
Pat May
On Friday 27th May a lot of the family gathered to go down to Cornwall to
celebrate my sister in laws 70th Birthday which is due next month. There
were a lot of us and we stayed in a group of cottages near Bude. We went to
the beach, had lots of barbeques and the sun shone. We were out walking one day
when one of the cousins got bitten by an adder. Someone rang for an ambulance
and she was rushed into hospital and only came out recently. It wasn’t very funny – she
screamed the place down. She is now out of hospital and feeling better. We had a lovely
weekend and were lucky the weather was so nice and warm because as soon as we got
back it started to change.
The whole Family
How I met my Husband
My first teaching job was in Essex. After 3 years my sister became ill and needed
help. I was very fortunate to move to a teaching post in Dove court where she lived.
Her husband was a Trinity house pilot and often away for a week at a time. Life
seemed boring for my sister, so I decided a car would be useful for taking her out. I
was too nervous to drive my brother-in-laws large car.
My sister’s neighbour said that she knew a man that was mad about cars. She invited
him in to her house and I met him there and discussed cars. Afterwards he took me
for a drink and to meet his friends. We discussed cars and he found me a Morris
minor convertible. I loved it, and I loved him too. A year later we married.
Muriel Day
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The Art Group
The art group meets every Tuesday afternoon – we
have a group of ‘regulars’ and other residents
come and go. Some residents come in to join in the
chat and that covers a variety of
subjects! We have recently
Ron
combined to make a new frieze for
Hebe
the craft room with some jockeying
for places to work on it …….. What
is so good is that everyone has their own distinctive
style – no conformity here and it is always an
enjoyable afternoon.
Alison
Mary F
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Shall I put the kettle on?
I have been living very comfortably in Kirwin House now for just over
a month and yesterday I attended my second Tenants Meeting. It is
quite hard moving house at my age, but I have been met with a great
deal of friendship here. It is so lovely for people who live alone to
know that there are others around, but still to have your own quiet
space! The first thing I was met with at the meeting was a hug and a
cup of tea and I thought afterwards how important a “cuppa” is in
establishing a friendly atmosphere. It is such a normal part of our
everyday English life that we don't think much about it. But the
suggestion “Let’s have a cup of tea” often means so much more than
an invitation to take a drink! It frequently means “Let’s get together and have a
chat”. Most of us know what it is like to be lonely or to just spend a whole day
without human contact. Personally I don't like it very much. I enjoy talking to other
people, to try to understand what life is like for them and to share my own experiences
and problems. I think that being psychologically close to each other is a vital human
need. It seems a little strange that tea drinking has become so important in our
English social culture when the plant doesn't even grow in our cool climate! We can
find out exactly why this is so by looking at the very interesting history of tea
production which has developed over centuries. We have been drinking tea in Britain
for over 350 years!
According to legend, in 2737 BC, the Chinese emperor Shen Nung was sitting
beneath a tree while his servant boiled drinking water, when some leaves from a tree
blew into the water. Shen Nung was interested in herbalism so he decided to try the
infusion that his servant had accidentally made. Fortunately for us he decided it was
rather nice! The tree is called Camellia Sinensis and of course is now grown in great
quantities in many countries of the world. The Chinese had been drinking tea for
many centuries before it came to the west. Containers for tea have been found in
tombs dating from the Han dynasty (206 BC to 220 AD?) but it was under the Tang
dynasty (618 to 906 AD) that tea became established as the national drink of China.
Then tea was introduced to Japan by Japanese Buddhist monks who had travelled to
China to study. Tea drinking became a vital part of Japanese culture, as seen in the
ritual of the Tea Ceremony developed by Zen Buddhists and practised by Japanese
nobles. By imperial order in the year 816 AD tea plantations began to be cultivated in
Japan.
But here in the West at this time we were unaware of the benefits of tea drinking
either for its medicinal properties or just for pleasure. Luckily for us, in the
seventeenth century, sailors in the British East India Company began to bring tea
home. In 1658 it was offered in a coffee house in London as “China drink, called by
the Chinese, Tcha, by other nations Tay alias Tee.” So we can assume that it was very
new and interesting to the population of London. Charles 11 was on the throne at the
time and he married a Portuguese princess by the name of Catherine of Braganza who
was a tea addict. Her love of the drink then established tea as a fashionable beverage,
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first at court and then among the wealthy classes. Afternoon tea with cakes and
biscuits became a British institution, but it was not until much later that tea drinking
was enjoyed by the working classes.
So the history of tea in the West only began in the mid seventeenth century and
was defined by such topics as transportation, high taxation, smuggling and the
deforestation of large areas of land in India and Sri Lanka for the creation of tea
plantations. More compellingly, it was punctuated by such episodes as the Boston Tea
Party which took place in 1773 and was a political protest by the “Sons of Liberty” in
Boston. The Tea Party was the culmination of a resistance movement throughout
British America against the Tea Act which had been passed by the British Parliament
and which involved high taxation upon the importation of tea. About the same time
demonstrators, some disguised as Native Americans, threw an entire shipment of tea,
sent by the East India Company, into the water in Boston harbour. It was said that the
fish which had been caught and eaten shortly after this event, tasted of tea! These
events were significant in the growth of the American Revolution.
There are other fascinating stories and facts about the history of tea in the
western world. At first the tea trade was the monopoly of the British East India
Company so there were no competitors and therefore no race to get the tea from China
to Britain. Consequently the Company were quite content to use their old heavy, slow
cargo ships which were capable of carrying a large and heavy load. But in 1834 the
tea trade became free for all and it became a question of who was able to bring home
the tea the fastest and make the most money! This led to the design and manufacture
of the beautiful “clipper” which was probably named because it sailed close to the
wind and was capable of “clipping” fast through the waves. Anyone, especially those
who love the sea, must be thrilled by the beauty of these vessels which had three
masts and a vast amount of sails.
It is fascinating to study the way in which tea has been grown, traded and drunk
through the centuries. It has been an important part of the culture of
many different nations. We could look into the way people have
interacted with tea and all the aesthetics surrounding tea drinking,
including tea brewing, tea arts and ceremony, society, health and
ethics. But for ourselves it is simpler. We can drink our tea black or
green, hot or iced, with or without milk or sugar. Many of us prefer
the humble tea bag, but if we want we can buy all sorts of exotic
loose teas and serve our brew in china cups and saucers poured from
elegant china teapots. Most of us have wondered from to time to
time whether drinking tea is harmful to us in any way and a large
amount of studies have been carried out by scientists on this topic.
But it seems that none have been conclusive and we now hear that
drinking three or more mugs of tea a day may even be beneficial.
So let’s put the kettle on and have a lovely cup of tea and a chat.
Angela Vaitilingam.
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Olympics
In 2016 the country that’s hosting the Olympics is Rio de Janeiro. “Are
you excited?” In 2012 it was London that hosted the Olympics. Rio de
Janeiro might be good; well you never know do you….. What is your
favourite sport because mine is gymnastics? There are lots of
different sports in the Olympics which include running, long jump,
shot put, swimming and lots more.
Paralympics
This year there are 23 sports in the Paralympics which include wheel chair tennis,
judo and archery. There are 57 different countries taking part.
Sahra Agir
Aged 8
My Caravan & TIlly
I am writing to tell you all about my caravan and my dog Tilly.
Myself, Brian (my husband) and Tilly really enjoy going away for
weekends in our Caravan which we keep in Brean, not far from
Weston super mare. We both enjoy taking Tilly for long walks.
Tilly really enjoys the beach; in fact I would say it
was her favourite place. Both myself and Brian
enjoy nothing better than to sit outside the
caravan with Tilly when the weather is good.
From the photos you can see that I have put some
lovely lights up the path which you can see my caravan. One day my
husband was going out in the car and then guess what happened next
……… yes my husband drove right over my new lights, myself and Tilly
just sat there and watched. So now I don’t have any lights outside my
caravan but can laugh about it.
Joy Wales
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“HOBO” Trans – Africa 1986
Cherry Harris.
1986 was an important year for me; the one is which I reached
retirement age and in which I travelled for 6 months
in Africa. About 20 of us travelled in a big yellow truck
(with roll up and down PV sides as necessary) down
through France, Spain, over to Morocco, down over
the Sahara, through Timbuctoo then trough countless
countries through Africa. Camping & cooking over
wood fires made it cheap travel, sharing all necessary
work, but being without the comforts of home, we
had no kitchen, bathroom or toilet. Water was carried
in drums strapped to the sides of the truck; a lot of
non-perishable food we took with us and we brought
fruit and veg on the way & bread if and when it was
available. When water got into short supply until we
reached a well, then we only had vital water kept for
cooking & drinking, with a cupful each (if we were lucky)
for washing or whatever we needed it for. We travelled
much of the time off the beaten track, on less travelled
routes on tracks through dense forest, where we
sometimes needed sand ladders to help us out of our
muddy route. We passed over wonderful landscapes,
mountains & plains,
massive steaming forests,
over wonky bridges and
rickety pontoon ferries; through towns very
occasionally with their enormous markets:
villages sometimes, but mostly unoccupied
areas, over 800 miles of the Sahara desert. Africa
is huge after the small island of Britain
I loved it when I was with the local people;
all differing religions, modes of dress and tribal ways of life (which is fast
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disappearing): sometimes communicating without a shared language;
sometimes sitting with the mums and babies as they sat in the shade outside
their huts by the road side. I loved the intricate embroidery of the trinkets and
necklaces where they were worn, in Kenya for instance. Where there were
people there were goats wandering with their kids in tow.
We passed through the areas of
the National Parks, through massive areas
of migrating animals such as Wildebeests
and Zebra.
There were lions, giraffes, ostriches,
hippos’ and antelopes in the rivers and
the lurking crocodiles, vultures overhead
searching for their next meal; families of
elephants, water buffalos and not
forgetting the biting mosquito and occasional lethal snake. It was not wise to
bathe in the rivers because of the risks of infection by the bilharzia snail,
(which we did sometimes though due to the sheer need to get clean!!). We got
stuck in the middle of crossing the wide river Niger (at its lowest), having to
wait 2 days until another truck could help us out. I loved to see all the shapes
and sizes of the huts by the roadside, the huge
swarm of huge butterflies we saw one day in
passing through a forest, the pigmy people in
their villages. The local people and children were
equally interested in watching us strangers at
times when we stopped, say to make a meal or to
camp for the night.
As I write this I remember the life of roughing it,
living through rainstorms and hot sun, the lack of
privacy, the truck breaking down occasionally and all the small problems in
such travelling. The other side were all the wonders I experienced during that
time. They are such rewarding memories in the quiet sedate life I now live,
thirty years later, in Avenue House, Care Home for the elderly….
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Our trip to the zoo
On Wednesday June 22nd we were taken on a trip to the zoo. The trip was
nearly cancelled because it looked like rain, but in the end it was just right.
Not too hot with blistering sun, not chilly and not wet. We arrived while
they were doing talks with hands on contact with some of the animals: a
skunk and an armadillo. Both animals I had experienced in Uganda and also
in my father’s zoological department at Rugby School. I think several of us
had previous experiences with skunks. Unfortunately we did not meet the gorillas
personally, but we saw them pottering about in their quarters. Some people are upset to
see “wild animals” in zoo’s. It has to be remembered that nowadays no animal is captured
from the wild for a zoo. All have either been bred in captivity and couldn’t be returned to
the wild, or are rescue animals like we are sometimes shown on TV.
We wandered on through the beautiful gardens stocked with exotic trees and flowers which
some of us remembered seeing on holidays abroad. We wandered by pools
stocked with various familiar birds and plants including baby moorhens and
coots. For me the climax was the pool where we walked among the
penguins and seals – the path eventually goes through a tunnel with
transparent walls where we seemed to be swimming among the seals. We
finished at the restaurant where we had a delicious picnic. Under our table
we were visited by various wild birds such as starling, sparrows and
jackdaws which must have come over the wall from Clifton Downs on the other side. Both
myself and Mary wondered about the interaction between the wild life of the Downs and
that of the zoo and gardens. There must be other creatures apart from the birds which pass
both ways. We have not yet had opportunity to ask……
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Farewell
We said a fair farewell to Ollie last month. Ollie
has worked at Avenue house for nearly 5 years
now and will be truly missed by all the Staff,
residents, tenants and families. We held a
retirement party for Ollie with a beautiful cake
and gifts which had been brought with money raised.
Ollie would like to thank everyone for their support
throughout his time at Avenue House and has promised
to come back and visit us soon.
Welcome
As well as wishing Ollie farewell, we welcomed 2 new Babies to Avenue House.
This year both Kayleigh and Karen gave birth to beautiful babies.
Kayleigh had a little boy called Archie Cooper on the 22nd February 2016
weighing a healthy 8lb 4oz.
Karen had a baby girl called April Parkin weighing 6lb 10oz on the 16th May
2016.
All the staff and residents have enjoyed lots of cuddles and look forward to
lots more in the future.
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Donation of Blanket
Here at Avenue House we hold a knitting group every Friday morning. It’s a nice
social event where the residents come together to chat and have a cup of tea.
Over the past couple of months the residents have been working hard knitting
squares which have now been turned into a lovely blanket. It was suggested by
a resident’s family member that the blanket could be donated to a shelter. So
after some talking it was agreed that the Blanket would be donated to ‘Spring
Of Hope Night Shelter’. Spring of Hope is Bristol's only women's night shelter
run by women for women. It provides temporary safe and warm
accommodation, as well as emotional and practical support to homeless and
vulnerable women. Today a representative from the shelter came to Avenue
House to collect the blanket and explain a little bit about what the blanket will
be used for.
All the residents are pleased that their hard work is going to help someone in
need.
Spring Of Hope would like to thank all the residents for their hard work and for
donating such a beautiful blanket.
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The Queens 90th Birthday
We celebrated the Queens 90th birthday in style at Avenue House with the residents
coming together and watching the Trooping of the colours and then a banquet in the
dining room with Cream cakes and scones. It was a lovely day and the residents had a
great time celebrating.
Days Out
At Avenue house we have a lot of activities on each month and weather depending
trips out. Last month some of the residents have been for a trip to the Greedy Goose
restaurant and had a lovely meal. Here are a few pictures of the day out.
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THROUGHOUT THE WORLD THERE ARE MANY DIFFERENT
GARDENS THAT PROPLE HAVE DESIGNED. IN A JAPANESE
GARDEN, EVERY TREE IS PERFECTLY PRUNED WITHOUT A
LEAF OUT OF PLACE. NOTHING IS PLANTED WITHOUT FORE
THOUGHT AS TO THE EXACT PLACE TO APPROPRIATE IT.
THERE ARE ENGLISH GARENS THAT ARE FAMOUS FOR
THEIR ROSES AND PERFECT LINES OF SHRUBBERY.
ONE THING IS TRUE OF ALL GARDENS: IT IS A JOINT CREATION BETWEEN MAN'S
INTENTION TO CREATE A SPACE OF TRANQUILITY AND NATURE'S ABILITY TO
COMPLY.
HERE AT KIRWIN HOUSE WE ARE TRULY BLESSED WITH
SUCH A GARDEN WHERE RESIDENTS CAN SIT PEACEFULLY
SURROUNDED BY NATURE WHILST REFLECTING
INDIVIDUAL THOUGHTS WHILING AWAY AN HOUR OR
MINUTE OF THEIR TIME.
SUE NICHOLLS
We are so lucky to have beautifully kept gardens at Avenue, Kirwin
and Lansdowne house. Here are a few photos of the gardens.
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Working in Clay
I had been attending the School of Art, (opposite the Victoria rooms) for many years. In recent years
I began working with clay (mostly working from the models there). At some point I decided to make
a group of small models in clay in what I
felt was a fairly typical variety of attenders
of our silent Sunday meeting for worship.
They were about 6 inches high, sitting in
little chairs I had made for them. For
instance one model was a man studying,
perhaps our “advices & queries” booklet,
Another of a very elderly woman who has
fallen asleep; a young woman with plaited
hair; a pregnant woman; an older man
more formally dressed with collar and tie; a
little lad sitting silently, (he used to study
us all one by one in the short time that
children sat with adults); a young man in
jeans and of course many of us older
Quakers. The group was successful and the models are now housed in a shallow, glass fronted
cabinet in Horfield meeting house. Unfortunately the cabinet is too shallow to place them all in a
circle (or in circles in need be) as we sit in meeting.
Cheery Harris
Artwork produced by residents at Avenue House
Hebe
Judith
Eric
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Winter on the Farm
By Anne Oliver
Double Summer Time had ended to the great relief of us all. It had kept us working up to a 16
hour day, from 6 in the morning till 10 at night. As autumn turned into winter so the hours we
worked reduced. I had a hurried breakfast at about 7 then into the yard and to the barn where
the buckets were kept, clean and dry, and the bags of grain for the hens were stored. Then with
a bucket of food in each hand and a small bundle of hay under my arm I set
off down the lanes while they were feeding. I would use the old spade which
I kept there to scrape the droppings off the floor of the long hen house. In
the cold weather this had to be done several times each week as they kept
warm pecking at the hay, so had spread it on the floor. Next I got the pony
from the stable, harnessed him to the milk cart to take the full churn from the dairy to the road
to be collected by the lorry. Then it was lighting the fire under the old iron boiler to cook the
mash for the pigs. The two sows were quite a worry in the cold as they had little or no hair.
They could not go into the orchard but had to stay in the yard while I cleaned their sties and saw
that the doors of the barn and stable were kept shut. They had a thick layer of a mixture of
straw and hay to lie on and at night Hyman, the foreman, would cover each with a blanket.
When the mash was ready I would feed them, give them clean water and coax them back into
their sties, closing the door.
Several of the largest fields had been sown with sugar beet and now was
the time they should be harvested, about a fortnight before the leaves
died and the stored sugar began to turn to starch. To do this work, gangs
of men toured the country. They were mostly Irish as they were not
subject to call up for the army and they became exceedingly fast and
skilled at it. To show me how to do this work Hyman took me to one of
the parallel rows which was not being pulled. You had to gather all the leaves in your left hand
about two inches above the now swollen root, bang it against your leg to remove as much loose
earth as possible and with one deft movement cut through the leaves and toss the beet into a
pile. The special knife had a short wooden handle and a curved blade which was kept very
sharp. When I knew how it was supposed to be done I went to watch the men. They did not
stop, bend, kneel or sit on their heels but crouched, and in this position could not only do all the
work but move along the row, talk to each other and even sing. I of course could never manage
the crouch though I did get better at the cutting and tossing but I would be nearly in tears with
pain and exhaustion before Hyman called me to go for dinner or to do
my evening jobs. When most of the crop had been pulled the beet lorry
came. It was open on both sides with panels which could be notched up
as the lorry filled. As the lorry moved slowly between two rows, men
worked fast wielding special heavy forks with a knob at the end of each
tine and a long handle. I found it impossible to push the fork under a
load of beet and heave it into the lorry, so I put the fork aside and followed the men, picking up
the roots which had been left lying and throwing them in by hand. Some of the crop was left for
the farmer to use as he chose as winter fodder for the animals.
The next day Hyman told me to hitch one of the cart horses to a small cart and go with him to
the beet field where he helped me to gather a load of beet and lead the horse down a lane to a
field I had not explored before. Hyman told me that rats were the main problem as they were
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expert at gnawing their way through floors and walls to reach the food inside. So I saw that a
shed had been made of extra thick wood and raised on a low brick wall which had been covered
with cement which was continuous with the floor. I enjoyed this job as I could do it in my own
time. One day Captain and I went into the field and there, sitting on its haunches on an old tree
stump with a beet held between its forepaws was the most enormous rat I had ever believed
possible. It turned to look at me and deciding I was an enemy it could deal with, went on eating
until we got really close when it jumped onto the ground and strolled off. I found a stout stick in
the hedge and left it handy, but I never saw it again.
As the season got colder the grass became sparser and less nutritious for the sheep, I had the
job of taking food to the sheep each day. So I would go down the lane carrying the feed in
buckets and a stick to act as a shepherd’s crook. As I approached the gate the sheep would
come at speed to gather round me as I opened the gate as quickly as I could to prevent any
escaping. Sheep are herd animals who have a leader and I tried to spot which one was pushing
to the front and use the crook to gently but firmly turn her nose up the slight hill to the drier
ground where the feeding troughs were turned upside down to keep them dry. Right way up I
moved them a little and divided the food into them. When I moved away the flock became
quiet and allowed the leader to start eating before the rest of them began: Hyman had told me
that there was a weakling which often couldn’t get her nose in the trough, and to use to crook
to push the others aside to let her in.
When she was feeding I had a chance to read my Penguin book which I always had in a pocket
and would do so whilst walking up and down or crouched under the hedge. When all the food
was gone I would turn the troughs over again and go back to the yard to
report that all was well and be given the next job; this would often be to
deal with the muck. Behind the dairy were the two large sheds where the
cows were kept during the winter. One of these was in current use with the
floor covered with straw and hay the level of which rose higher up the
walls. The other shed had been left all summer and was now a compacted mass of cow dung
and urine which is the way mammals rid themselves of waste nitrogen. This is an excellent
source of nitrates for fertiliser. So I had to harness a horse to the muck cart and back it up to
the door of the shed then I and anyone else available would use a sharp spade to cut out the
muck and fill the cart which would then be taken to a fallow field where it would be emptied
into piles. Then would begin the muck spreading – using a fork, the muck would be thrown
around as evenly as possible to be ploughed in as weather permitted. Something I enjoyed was
sorting potatoes. These had been picked in the field and stored in a barn in thick sacks. They
had to be divided into those which had not escaped being nibbled by rats or badly damaged by
the machine that ploughed them loose in the soil or those that had not been fully earthed up
and so had turned green. All there were put aside to be fed to the animals, many to go into the
yard boiler. The good ones went into clean sacks, some for the farm kitchen and the others
were I believe sold to shops in the town. As it was under cover we could keep warm, sit on piles
of empty sacks instead of standing, work calmly instead of trying to keep up with the heeds of a
machine, and as a bonus time to talk. This was when I got to know the dairy girls and learn
about them and the organisation of the Land Army.
I had not been prepared for the worst winter horror. One day all hands including Hyman and
even the farmer swept clean the concrete patch between the back of the barns and the front of
the corn stacks. Then the sky was blacked out by the arrival of a huge munster which I was
informed was a thrashing (or threshing – depending on the county) machine being manoeuvred
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into place by a powerful tractor. I can’t describe this in detail as I can
only remember the parts that relate to myself. Several men travelled
with the thrasher, some of them stayed on the ground walking round to
see that all parts of the process were going well and fast enough, others
worked with us. I was again told to climb to the top of a steep ladder
where I had to move round picking up each sheaf and put it in a man’s
outstretched hand. He in turn had to feed nit into a constantly turning
wheel fitted with a shallow sloping trough that tipped onto a riddle which shook the trash from
the corn. The corn then came down a chute into the sacks that were moved to one side as
another one replaced it. The corners of the full sacks were tied and then neatly stacked in the
lorry. The whole thing was worked by a wide driving belt turned by the farm tractor and so with
a roaring noise, the air filled with dust and the shuddering of the very ground was enough to
make one yearn for it to stop. Luckily my prayers would be answered as sometimes the belt
would break, the tractor run out of petrol, or parts would need oiling. The farmer seemed to
hear this blissful silence and come to ask the cause of it. I would collapse and sit with my eyes
closed hoping my headache would eventually recover. Hyman told me that this for him was the
worst part of the whole year. I assumed, wrongly, that winter darkness would mean an early
stop, but the man produced lamps by which we had to do a few more hours.
One day Hyman said that the tow cart horses needed to go to the forge to have their hooves cut
and re-shoed. He would harness them in such a way that I could walk between them holding a
strap from each. He told me that the village was about half an hour down a hill and as the
horses had never been trained to walk down hill on tarmac I should hold them back from
slipping. I was to stay and wait there till the forger had finished and bring them back, hopefully
by lunchtime. I set off up the farm drive out onto the road in a direction I had never been
before. It was level, the horses behaved themselves and I began to enjoy the outing. But the
hill started to get steeper and steeper and the horses did not like it and tossed their heads
sometimes lifting me off my feet till I tugged at the straps pulling them down again.
We did get to the village street and here the forger, or smithy, who turned out to be a kindly
man, was on the lookout for us. He called me lassie and said I could wait
in the pub as the landlord was used to those who bought their animals
having a rest and a pint. As I had never in my life been in such a place, I
found a seat in the church yard by a gate and sat there reading the book I
always took with me. My grandfather had bought a house in a Welsh
village opposite the forge so I was used to the smell of burning hooves, to
the boy pumping air into a fire, the noise of the hammer on the anvil and
to sparks flying from the hot metal so I did not need to watch that.
The journey back up the hill was equally hard work for the three of us. It started to rain and the
horses would stop and I had to urge them on. It was with relief that we turned into the farm
lane and found Hyman waiting for us in the shelter of the stable. He said he would unharness,
feed and water the horses and I could go to my lunch which had been kept warm for me in the
kitchen.
This ends my account of winter work on a farm.
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Life Story
My Name is Jozef Skraba and I have been working at Avenue House
since the end of April 2016
I was born in March 1985 in Bristol and came from a Polish background
through both my parents. My mother’s side came to Bristol from
Eastern Europe without any choice. They were prisoners of war in the
soviet labour camps throughout Russia, better known as Russian
Gulags. Both my great grandfather and my grandfather served and took part in the Normandy
landings and D-Day.
Now a little bit about me. After college at St Brendan’s I worked in the Civil service in Bristol and
then as a volunteer at the British Empire commonwealth museum. Then suddenly my life had a
turning point after consultation and joined a religious order based in London. I started that journey
in May 2007 where I started my vocational journey in a new place in Hampton Hill, London. Then in
September 2007 I was sent to Spain for studying and formation at the only English seminary in Spain,
a place called Valladolid, which is in the region of Castile-Leon where I joined 20 other students who
were finding their vocation and building on that experience. As well as studying I also began learning
the Spanish language, theology and philosophy. I got to know the Spanish life and believe it was a
turning point in my life.
I used my musical skills alongside 2 other colleague’s which were in charge of the church liturgy plus
for a seminary choir where wan sung at important college events throughout September 2007 – July
2008 while also helping out with youth groups ministry during the same time.
Then finishing one part I carried on with formation with the missionaries of St Francis de Sales which
were based in London. I working in a parish and started my noviciate. I went through quite a lot of
psychological tests which was a very tough time for me. I helped care for people with disabilities
through HCPT which is a catholic organisation that took people to the south of France to Lourdes to
the religious shrine to our Lady Lourdes Pilgrimage which was also life changing. I also studied the
works of St Francis de Sales and participated in other qualifications as I worked in the parish.
Things’ changed in 2010 when I found that my path was not right. After a lot of thinking I decided to
work in a Residential Care home in London, working for Christian Fathers, sons of the divine
providence, where I worked for several months as a carer and a deputy activities co-ordinator,
helping out with the activities for a short while. It was getting expensive living in London so I decided
to move back to my roots in the West Country. It was strange coming back as I had everything
planned for my future in London but sometimes it’s not good planning your life because
circumstances can change. Since moving back to Bristol in 2011 I worked for an agency for 3 years,
looking after people in their own homes and also helping in in my local parish Polish Roman Catholic
church where most Sundays I am in charge of the music and play the organ which I really enjoy.
This is my life story………
Jozef Skraba
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A Near Disaster
Some years ago I lived in a village in Somerset, near Chard. Home was a lovely cottage which
came with the job of looking after a few animals and a small estate. One summer day I was
in the kitchen when I heard a rushing and roaring sound outside. Opening the door I was
horrified to see a rising tide of water rapidly approaching the sunken steps inside. Running to
the big solid wooden gate at the side of the garden (intended to keep the wolf
hound from straying) – I opened it to let the torrent cascade down the hill, hell
bent towards the village’s main street. It must have been a mighty surge.
I then ploughed through to the source of the near disaster: the large garden
adjoining mine – and on a higher level, had a big pond with an opening down
into my garden. This usually came out in a small waterfall down into a tiny
stream which almost immediately disappeared underground through a pipe. But the
weather had been very hot – and the weed had multiplied and exploded on the pond, only to
choke and block the exit, so it had then flooded at great speed into my garden. Thank
goodness I was at home to witness and be able to deal with it!
Written by Alison
Early Years in Inner Birmingham
Before we had a car we had a motorbike and sidecar. The motorbike had rear seats behind
the driver and the sidecar had two seats, one behind the other. It also had a hood for when it
rained. Both of them had solid tyres.
The first car we had was called a Jowett and it was made of a sort of leather material, we
and the doctor were the only people to own a car in the area. We had a large house behind a
really high wall. Birmingham in those days was reliant on small industrial industries – Guest
Keene and Nettlefold were well known factories
The men and girls in the factories worked long hours,
maybe about 10 hours a day including Saturday mornings
until 1oclock. There were a lot of diseases around. At 6pm
when work finished a hooter or ‘maroon’ sounded, the
gates would open and out came all of the workers on
bicycles by foot and some went and caught the train.
Written by Mary Johnson
Odds and Sods by Beryl Prestwich
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Who can guess which staff members these lovely photos
belong too??
7
8
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Some lovely pictures
donated
by Beryl Prestwich.
Donated by Ron Parsons
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By Mary friend
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