MORE TEA VICAR?   Life at Hoar Cross Hall was always busy but during the long summer holidays it was easy to get bored.  As there was no public transport from Hoar Cross and no other families living nearby, we three children had to make our own entertainment and we were always having adventures and getting up to mischief – a bit like the Famous Five but without a dog!  We would roam around the village or explore the basement.  My dad was a hoarder and had kept all sorts of stuff over the years including his own gas mask and some field phones from World War 2.  He had served in the army as a dispatch rider during the war in North Africa, mixing with Americans and Arabs alike and always had lots of interesting stories to tell. 

The old Servants Hall was now my dad’s workshop and he spent a lot of time down there restoring antiques to re-sell.  He had one of the field phones in his workshop and the other one was in our kitchen at the opposite end of the house.  To operate them you would wind a handle on the side and a bell would ring on the phone at the other end.  This was how my parents communicated especially when my mum wanted to tell my dad the dinner was ready!   But we also had fun playing with them too and would often ring each other up or call my mum from the basement.

In the grounds was The Church of the Holy Angels.   Mrs Meynell Ingram commissioned Bodley to commence work on the church in 1872 in memory of her husband who had died the previous year.  It was generally regarded as one of the finest Victorian churches in the country and was known locally as the “Cathedral of the Midlands”.  It was indeed a huge church (for a village) and always open to the public so we would sometimes go and have a look inside.  On one occasion there was no-one around so Gavin and I lit all the candles in the church as we thought it looked really pretty and brightened the place up a bit.  Oh dear – that was definitely not the right thing to do!  A strongly worded letter was sent to my dad from the vicar telling him in no uncertain terms that he should be disciplining his children a lot better than he was.  My dad hit the roof about this as he didn’t like people telling him what to do and he was by no means a religious man and couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about.  We still got a telling off from our mum though.

The church was also where the remains of our ghost was buried – the small child whose cries we often heard.  She was buried in the churchyard and we had found her grave after hearing the noises and stories about her.  I think she was about 9 years old and the grave belonged to a Rose Meynell.

Because we lived at the Hall the vicar expected to see us at church every week; however, weekends were our busy time so we didn’t go every week but managed to attend at Easter and Christmas.  I have to say we were non too keen on going to church as we had to be on our best behaviour (something which didn’t sit easily with us as you’ve probably guessed!).  Afterwards though we all went across the road to the vicarage for tea and biscuits.  There was always plenty of other food too so we were happy to go on special occasions.  However, the people that attended the church were all incredibly old (or so it seemed to us) and very posh and well spoken so for some reason this would set our minds to impish thoughts!  We decided to swap all the sandwiches round one time, putting different tops to different bottoms; we also licked all the ‘cream’ out of the custard creams and other similar type biscuits then put them back together on the plates.  We would watch with great delight from a short distance away while old men and ladies in fancy hats munched on their biscuits totally oblivious to what we had just done!  

At Christmas time there would be lovely carol services and again we would go back to the vicarage afterwards to hear a group of hand bell ringers.  They would stand all down the staircase and ring out various carols on their bells.  It did sound quite nice and as usual there would be a lovely spread of food on the table.  One of the posh ladies asked me once if I would “be a dear and pass some of the food around”.  “What did your last slave die of?” I thought and as we were in the middle of a game I didn’t want to do her bidding so we hid under the table and undid the shoelaces of people standing nearby!  We were so naughty – hopefully the vicar forgave us, as vicars should!

People of a certain age may remember that in 1973 there was a big campaign to plant trees in this country and the catch line was “Plant a tree in 73”.  Towards the end of the year my mum and we children went down to the bottom of the village near the Meynell Ingram Arms pub and helped to plant about six trees along the verge near the roadside.  Afterwards we went back to someone’s house nearby for a cup of tea and some food.  We always found these social occasions very boring, as children are want to do, but as there was food involved we gladly went along.  However, after a little while, standing in the lounge and gazing idly out of the window, I realised with a sudden dread that this was the garden that we had dared each other to run into and take some fruit – scrumping I think it’s known as!  I looked across at Mrs Harris and she looked back at me – and smiled!  Phew, we’d got away with another bit of mischief but I wasn’t sure for how much longer - I was getting too old for this sort of thing.

The year finished with our annual New Years Eve Ball which was always enjoyable.  This particular year we had booked a steel band and they were amazing – they didn’t stop playing until 3.30am as everyone was dancing to them so much.  At midnight we had a Scottish piper who would walk down the Long Gallery in full Scottish regalia complete with bagpipes to pipe in the new year.  Once this was done everyone would sing Auld Lang Syne and then my dad would release a net full of balloons onto the crowd and everyone would set off their party poppers.

My brother Gavin’s birthday was New Year’s Day so he was allowed to come down just before midnight and everyone would sing Happy Birthday to him.  Not many youngsters of that age had 500 people singing birthday wishes to them and a huge party in their house!

Don’t miss next week’s instalment:  Skool’s out for summer!

If you would like to follow my story from the beginning, click here and please feel free to share with your friends.

 

 


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Hallowe'en Hauntings #100

| 29th October 2025 | Growing Up In a Stately Home

Hallowe'en Hauntings  #100

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| 24th September 2025 | Growing Up In a Stately Home

Hoar Cross Hall meets Downton Abbey  #99

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| 19th August 2025 | Growing Up In a Stately Home

Skools out for Summer  #98

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Anyone for Tennis? #96

| 25th June 2025 | Growing Up In a Stately Home

Anyone for Tennis?  #96

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