Ansty and Shilton

What might interest some of you, ANSTY HALL. One of the oldest houses I ever entered. One of my brothers was asked by Woollcombe-Adams to look after the grounds in his spare time. Some of the rooms were converted into a small cottage that my brother could move his family into. I brought my family to Coventry on a visit, my brother then showed me round the house - dark and gloomy. I doubt it had been altered since it was built, carvings, paintings from centuries ago, truly magnificent. I also learnt that my brother was doing the same job I had done twenty years or so earlier, works fireman at Ansty airfield.

Been to Ansty Hall several times over the years and can recommend it for any function. Been also to Weston Hall and Bosworth Hall for wedding receptions but my choice now would be Coombe or Chesford Grange. Kaga, think your brother must have worked for Rolls Royce or Armstrong Siddeley as they took over the Ansty airfield shortly after the war. I remember the roar of jet engines being tested there in the early 50s, could hear them from Bell Green where I lived then.

Village of Ansty Ansty was once part of of the County of the City of Coventry (way back). It's strange how small events years and years ago, for years disappear beneath the surface of one's life, then like streams breaking out of the ground they re-appear. A lovely summer's morn in Sept 1947, I walked into the grounds of the great Ansty Hall that stood on top of a hill, the stillness of the country undisturbed, and looked over the water meadows to the canal, the soft sparkle of the sun on the meadows, and now and then the narrow ribbons of white mist lying over the canal. There are few more beautiful places than the meadows of England, a sense of ageless quiet and peace. I then walked through the main village towards the 'Crown' pub - here I should add, that my parents had moved to a house on the side of the canal about a mile away from the village whilst I was abroad in the forces, and I was here on six weeks leave and in uniform, exploring the village. I was within a few yards of the 'Crown' when the air was shattered by two military police motorcycles travelling very fast through the village and round the dangerous bend - I found the noise very annoying. I then heard the engines throttle back and knew they were turning back. As I opened the pub door, they roared up to the front of the pub - at the same time the landlord lifted the flap of the counter and ushered me into his lounge, closing the door behind him. He didn't know me from Adam - after about five minutes he opened the door and called me back into the bar. The cops had gone. There were only a couple of farm workers in there, I bought drinks all round, then plied them with questions. Hidden away behind the high wall was the farm, on the same side as the pub were a few farm workers' cottages - long ago a small whapple (bridle path) had passed between the farm and the cottages. Over the years it had turned into a cart-way, then a road, so they had built the high wall to keep the animals safe. At the end of the cottages, close to where I had stood, was the Vicarage, now a private house. There were other farm cottages, but when they built the canal it separated them from the village. A few months later I was shown around the old farmhouse and buildings that dated back to the eighteenth century.

Nice story, Kaga. What were the police doing? I used to eat in the Rose and Castle every now and then. Used to do excellent food. Went there with Marconi folks quite often.

Flapdoodle, Just passing through, during the war it was the main road for military traffic between Coventry and Leicester, but by 1948 had quietened down a lot - I was most surprised to see them. I had done nothing wrong so had no idea why they should think I needed checking out. The village pub was the Crown, is it now the Rose and Castle? Is that great wall still there that hid the farm? About two weeks after that incident, the army sent me a telegram, but no one could find the house so they got the local 'cop' to deliver it, that created some concern for my mother.

Flapdoodle, I found it strange for you to ask about the military cops, but I suppose anyone that missed the war would have little idea about what went on in this country. We had millions of young men and women flood this country, they came from countries we'd never heard of before. Small pubs like the Crown, the bar room had for centuries only seen 4-5 farm workers, now had to cope with dozens of forces, uniforms and hats of all colours and shapes, different languages - the roads full of lorries with men, military cops that had to keep them in check roaring about. Singing was loud, swearing, tall stories, occasional fights, if Landgirls appeared then even the ugliest girl was an angel. Every one of them thought today is my last day, and with most, it was. You could hardly find two fields together without tents or huts full of soldiers, walk down a country lane and it was 'up two three four', a squad of soldiers more likely than a hay cart. Buildings turned into dance halls, and ragtime was with us. Country lanes we used to walk down could suddenly be out of bounds, road signs were removed, haystacks were now in the centre of the fields - one could go on for ever about the changes and bore you to death.

You are never boring Kaga, on the contrary, fascinating I would say. We are all travelling back in time with your posts.