Kaga Simpson - his life and memories

When I was a kid the light of the evening fire, accompanied by the slow tick of the grandfather clock, how nice it was to be indoors with book and toys, But to be wakened in the night by the rain on the window is more friendly. There are few things more reviving and delicious than rain after drought, but at night there is a peculiar quality. The soft murmur in the darkness wakes you so gently, as you lie listening the beat of the rain increases, a gutter begins to gurgle, odd little splashes here and there. You wonder if the rain is steadily pouring all over Coventry. We are apt to grumble at the rain - but stop one moment and think where we should be without it. I was out walking one autumn afternoon, around the farm, gold and russet trees that looked as if they were blossoming, not fading and a sky of spring like blue, a background to the coloured foliage. As it grew dusk and the colours of the sunset dim to purple I felt fortunate to live in rural Coventry.

Country lore and tales were more common when I was a boy. I hated being taken to the cemetery when I was small. An aunt dragged me to Windmill Road cemetery to lay some flowers on a grave, we laid the flowers, she looked around said to a grave digger, "Why are there so many crosses laying at an angle?" He stared at her. "You don't know and you supposed to being a good Christian woman." She looked indignant. "Well either the husband or wife is laying here waiting for the other partner to join them, then the cross will be planted upright." I felt she had been told off and clapped my hands and received a cuff on my ear. A large house surrounded by trees close to the Crown (?) pub in Windmill Road was supposed to be haunted and local folk were not to keen to pass it after dark. A well-known braggart, after downing several pints and near closing time, was dared to enter the garden of the haunted house. The drunk walked in among the trees, shakily asked "Is anybody there?" "Yer'se oi be ere" said a nervy voice. The drunk fled, ran until he got home - of course he had been tricked, someone had slipped out the pub earlier. Made for many laughable tales after. One of the more pleasant stories of my childhood. The water from a spring on Sowe Common, the story was a lad in the 18th century had suffered from bad eyes, bathed them in water from the spring, was so successful that he enjoyed good sight for the rest of his life. I never did find the spring or even the boggy ground that would have surrounded it.

There was a man in Coventry I'll call Yampy Sykes, Yampy was to meet a man at the 'Elephant and Castle' public house. Yamp said "If you get there first place a brick on the wall, if I get there first I'll knock it off." Another time he asked my boss if he had any work, the boss said "You can go and count the sheep in that pen". He was gone a long time - when he came back, the boss said "Well, did you count the sheep?" "Yep I counted em, all except one, and 'e ran about so much, I couldn't count 'e". One day he was seen walking down the street, with a look of determination on his face and with his hands firmly in front of him. When asked the reason, he replied "Can't stop now, been sent to measure a door". His friend Joe was given the job of cleaning the pigs out, and paid extra money. Yamp was heard to say "T'aint fair, I do all the dirty work, and Joe gets to clean the pigs out." Another time he complained "There's ole Joe, gets three shillings a day for night work, and I get nothing - that's som'at, ain't it?" It was said when he was younger the lads of the village played a trick on him - they asked him if he dare walk through the graveyard one dark evening. When he nodded one of them slunk off, laid on a tombstone. As Yamp appeared he started to moan "I can't get in, I can't get in". Yamp gave him an almighty kick in the ribs, "Yer silly bugger, yer no business to be out".

Main Pit Farm, Foleshill, came in to the boundary of Coventry in 1926, a larger farm than Hawkesbury Grove Farm or Hall Green Farm (Manor Farm). It was a more pleasing and interesting building than both, in fact it would be in line with any building in Warwickshire for sheer versatility for its job, whatever its origins. It was built with all the main farm buildings as one building, in a large L shape - with huge beams and granary it was most impressive, comfortable for both animals and man to live in, work in. Even the loo was in a passageway, the rear wall being part of the cow shed behind it, so was never cold or draughty to enter. The buildings were enclosed behind two huge wooden gates. The house was on the south-east corner, surrounded on the outside by lovely gardens and orchard, it looked over a lovely meadow and down to the 'Slough Lake'. The inner corner of the L shape there was a large archway in beautiful brickwork design, that covered the kitchen window, on the right and inside the archway was the door entrance to the house, on the left a door that led down steps into the huge larder that was six feet below ground level. There was a tiled path that led between the thralls of the larder, huge hams adorned the walls, rows and rows of home made fruit jams and preserves stood on those thralls, and everything that was needed to feed a family. The archway gave shelter from the weather. Inside the door to the house, in the hall was a beautiful carved wooden staircase, to the left and right were the two main living rooms, so well-protected from draughts by the archway, within each room were great hearth-wide chimneys with magnificent fire-back casts, no doubt by famous ironmasters. On these casts were oak leaves and acorns, to the left as you stepped was a charming kitchen, an elaborate oak overmantle above the enormous range, carved oak supports on either side, dainty cupboards let into the panelling. Under the window, a sink with a solitary tap, the water fed from a spring by pipes from two fields away - the pipe also fed the water trough for the animals in the yard outside, two yards from the kitchen window. The yard also led to the passageway that ran the other side of the great larder, held the toilet and on into the gardens. The cowsheds and animal buildings on either side of the L shape, the cross that ran the length of the building. The far end was the mighty granary with its massive beams, horses below, tackle shop, etc., a huge and beautiful building that gave the farm character as well as the workings of the farm. There is so much more, I could fill a book. It was a great and wonderful building, the like I have never seen since.

Yampy asked the local jobbing gardener to call round and see him. Next morning the gardener called on Yamp - knocked on the door, wife opened the door. "Oh yes he's down bottom of garden, in the pig shed". Gardener turns. Wife adds "You'll easy recognise him, he's wearing his hat". "You want to see me, Yamp?" "Yeh, I want to move this plant, but don't know the best time to do it". Gardener looks at plant. "Yamp, it's dead". "You don't think I should move it then". "It's dead". Yamp eyes it for a minute. "Then oi'll let it be, the wife likes the flowers". Another time, Yamp couldn't sleep, so he went to the doctors - the doctor gave him some pills. "Take two half-hour before you go to bed". Evening - Yamp's not feeling well, says to wife, "I'm orf to bed". Few minutes later wife notices the pills on the sideboard, takes them to bed with a glass of water, but Yamp's fast asleep. Wife tugs his shoulder till he stirs. "You silly bugger, yer forgot to take yer pills". Yamp says to wife one morning "I'm going to be right down the bottom of garden this morning and my watch is broke so when it's lunchtime hang a towel outside the window - I can see it from down there". Wife decides to go shopping in town. As she goes out the door she remembers about the towel, so she goes back indoors and hangs the towel out the window.

Kaga, That is a wonderful description of Main Pit Farm. It is such a pity that it now lies underneath the northbound carriageway of the M6 motorway.

Not Local. Yes I was very fortunate, as my dad's uncle owned Grove Farm in the thirties, another aunt moved in to Hawkesbury Hall in the forties, which was on the opposite side of the road, and I also visited the farm along the same road nearer Bulkington that was the old Tolldish Hall, and my brother moved into Ansty Hall in the eighties. My thoughts about Main Pit Farm - it may have been the old Tackley Hall, Tackley was the old name for Hawkesbury way back. A guy named Parrott lived in Hawkesbury Hall way back, hence Parrotts Grove. Moneyed people around that area in the old days - Lapworth, Briggs, Pearson, Stoke, Green, Dugdale, Clifford, and Lord Tackley so you can see the tie up with the names and places we have today.

From British History: Also beyond the wastes of Foleshill were two districts, Tackley to the north-east (later called Hawkesbury), and Henley to the south-east, which seem to have been woodland settlements quite independent of Foleshill village. Three feudal tenants in Tackley were reserved to the manor of Cheylesmore in the Montalts' grant of 1250, and others held small estates there in 1275. John de Nuweres was called lord of Tackley in 1368. Thereafter the descent of the freeholds of Tackley is obscure. Fields there belonging to the priory were for a time in the hands of the Stoke family. Some fields were held by John Nethermill of Exhall, and these and others were held by Sir Henry Beaumont, the mine-owner of Bedworth, in 1618. Some of the same fields formed part of the holding of 300 acres built up after 1650 by the Dyer family, the Goodwin family, and the Lapworth family successively, but then split up about 1790. The two houses

Of the houses which formerly had some claim to manorial status, only three can now (1964) be identified: Hawkesbury Hall to the north-east of Foleshill and just outside the modern city boundary, Tolldish Hall, 600 yards beyond Hawkesbury Hall, and Foleshill Hall in Lythall's Lane, converted into a public house in the early 20th century. Tolldish Hall is a two-storied timber-framed farmhouse with a tiled roof. It is now in poor repair but structurally has been little altered since it was built in the early or mid 17th century. If the present external plastering were removed it might well prove to be a typical 'black-and-white' house of the period. The main block contains a hall with an entrance and cross passage at its north-east end and an adjoining kitchen. On the opposite side is a 'solar' cross-wing. The hall is entered by a two-storied gabled porch in the centre of the road front and there is a similar small gabled projection at the kitchen end. Several of the upper windows, some now blocked, are slightly splayed oriels supported on console brackets. Hawkesbury Hall, in 1964 partly occupied as a farmhouse, was the 18th- and early-19th-century residence of the Parrott family. It was probably built or enlarged c. 1760. The house is of red brick with stone dressings and consists of a central three-storied block with two-storied side wings, one of the latter altered in the 19th century. The principal entrance was on the north-west side, away from the road, where a three-sided forecourt, flanked by stable and service wings, overlooked the grounds and an ornamental lake. The court was approached from the road by a drive and lodge gates, but little survives of this lay-out. Inside the central block are the remains of panelled rooms, a fine staircase, enriched doorways and chimney-pieces. The style of the fittings suggests a slightly earlier date than 1760 for this part of the house.

Midland Red. Like I said my aunt moved into Hawkesbury Hall in 1940, so I visited many times, no idea if she died there. Between the two was the Blue Lady Pond (Ghost) but if you got your information from this internet be careful, I suspect there may be mistakes? The farm opposite Tolldish Hall was called The German Farm, no idea why. My biggest regret is that my brother was employed by Woollcombe-Adams of Ansty Hall in the eighties, given the east wing to live in.He showed me around a couple of times, but little time to take notes, this had to be one of the oldest and largest halls around Coventry, had not been altered for centuries to me. Truly magnificent.

Midland Red. Hi Just to keep things flowing. The article you quoted I believe said the Wyken Colleries ceased all production when the Victoria Pit seam ran out in 1880, no mention on the Craven Pit (named after Lord Craven) that closed in 1927? Couple of things about that area. It was the White Lady Ghost not blue as I said (mixed it up with one near Leeds). About 6 or 7 Coventry lads sat at a table jawing about Cov in a canteen in Palestine, 1947. A new boy walked up. "Hi you bunch from Coventry?" "Sure. You?" "Yeh, well outskirts, place called Parrotts Grove". "You know Cec Lawson?" "No". "You live in Parrotts Grove, don't know Cec Lawson. Whereabouts in Parrotts Grove?" "Grove Farm". "Wow! Larder below ground level?" We went on to discuss the outlay of Grove Farm. Me - "There was a great big grandfather clock, faced you as you entered the front door, back in 31". He - "Still there, my father bought the place lock stock and barrel" "Then he bought it off my relations". 1933/4 time there was a large grass verge on the opposite side of the road just past the 'White Lady' pond. Three kids on bikes noticed something in the ditch, a large paper bag - we looked inside. A new born baby. Two of us went to Tolldish Hall, the other stayed put. The guy phoned the police - after about twenty minutes the local policeman from Bulkington arrived on his bike, went with us to the spot. The policeman looked inside, took the bag to Tolldish Hall, told us we had done right to tell someone, then told us to go home, never asked one name. I believe the police asked for the woman to come forward (Coventry Telegraph).

Hilaire Belloc was a writer and Member of Parliament around 1900. I picked up his book "The Four Men" from a second hand book shop in Coventry - when I read it in 1949 it reminded me of a tale about a pub crawl made by my grandfather's brother and handed down to the family. I spoke to my granddad to re-tell the story. His brother had been in the Wyken Pippin, had a few pints, and with no horse he decided to walk home. He walked over Stoke Heath, everywhere covered in gorse, dog roses, long grass and dying wild flowers. He came to Bell Green Road, turned right, had a couple of pints in the Weavers Arms - from there over the fields by the Old Church of St Laurence to Windmill Lane and the Crown pub, down the little lane at the side of the pub, across the fields and waded through the River Sowe (now Longford Park) to the Fox Inn. A pint there and up Grange Road to the Boat Inn - here there were several boat people that he knew. Several drinks, he staggered to the Greyhound pub at Sutton Stop - more friends and more beer, until they closed. He now had to cross the lock gates of the canal - everyone watched with bated breath. Now he staggered across the gorse fields of Parrotts Grove to home.

That's quite a trek, no wonder he needed refreshment. It's about 3.70 miles and no easy going over scrub, gorse, and a river.

Heathite, that's a nice little map, thank you. He was a boatman, before they had engines, therefore he walked that distance most days driving the horse - as you can see he is close to the canal all the way.

Rob, hi. For twenty years a family of the same surname as me lived four doors away from us, their name was never ever mentioned or never came into our conversation at any time so I thought they were no relation until... paulguy mentioned them on this forum. Turned out my grandad and his grandad were first cousins, both born in the 1870's. Something in the past had split them wide apart. So, many thanks to you - mystery solved. Regards, Kaga.