… about Broomsquires?
The traditional ‘witch’s broom’ or besom has been around for a very long time and actually derives its name from the Old English word for a broom, besema. Everybody used them, and because they needed only the simplest resources probably every village once had someone who could make them when required. As towns grew, and householders lost access to materials, a specialist craft emerged in places with open heath and woodland – the broomsquire. In the south-east there were clusters of broomsquires in the New Forest, on the Surrey heaths and into the High Weald. It was ideally suited to cottage production, requiring no complex machines or expensive materials.
Locally, the first evidence for an industry dates to the mid-1700’s when the word broom-maker starts to appear in records. There was a surprising number of them; in 1841 there were about fifty spread around the Surrey side of our greensand ridge and a dozen more in Headley parish. In Surrey, they clustered in the Lion Common area, up on the high ground around Pitfold, in Hammer Vale and along Kingswood Lane towards Waggoners Wells. In Grayshott, broomsquire land was down in Stoney Bottom, from Hill Road along to Waggoners. William Hill, Widow Winchester, John and Amos Lawrence, William Belton, John Voller and William Morrey all operated in this area during the 19th century. Some of these were old families, in the parish for 300 years or more.
They must have been tough, wiry folk, weatherbeaten from a life outdoors and with the iron grip of those who wrestle with nature. The commons were alive with them, dozens out there gathering heather, birch and hazel coppice by their commoners’ rights. Officially only those with copyhold or freehold houses in the manor had such rights, and many broomsquires did. Even so, manor records note complaints of ‘encroachment onto the waste and building a hut thereon’. Many of these were the work of broomsquire squatters, cheekily fencing off a compound and throwing up a little heather-thatched shack to work in. Enforcement was sporadic, and probably dealt with by evasion whenever possible. Despite the area’s reputation for lawlessness, the broomsquires don’t seem to have been the perpetrators. As far as we can tell, they married legally, baptised their children, traded openly and were a visible part of society; not at all outlaws. No doubt they enjoyed a game of cat & mouse with any outsider’s portable possessions that weren’t nailed down but that was just normal rustic sport.
Production was a family affair. With birch, long, feathery branches were cut when the catkins were out, then stored until winter to season. It was then woman’s work to trim the branches to size. Heather was cut in full bloom, towards the end of August. Ernest Boxall describes doing this as a child on Bramshott Common, fuelled by his grandmother’s sandwiches of home-cured pickled pork between thick slices of new bread from the wood oven. At the end of the day, heather bales were tied with tarry twine and taken home by wain, with Ernest installed on top of the pile.
To assemble the broom a handful of small twigs was used as the core, around which was gathered the birch or heather. It was then bound tightly with two damp withy bands, which pulled firm as they dried. The handle, of shaved birch or hazel coppice, was pushed in, careful to be dead centre, then located with a crosswise peg. The finished brooms were bundled up at thirteen to the dozen for sale, at a rate of 3/6d (17½ p) a dozen for best quality birch, and 2/6d (12½ p) for heather.
Some were sold to locals, but broomsquires occasionally embarked upon surprisingly long road trips. Young Boxall remembered that his uncle, around 1900, would hire a cart, horses and boy assistant, pile it high and then tour around the stables, country houses and gardens as far afield as Kent and Salisbury. When stocks ran low he telegrammed grandma who despatched further goods by rail from Liphook. The trip would take three to six weeks, lodging at inns with sturdy food, first-class ale and clean beds.
Inevitably some broomsquires would have spent time close to poverty, working hard for little return and occasionally going hungry through illness or misfortune. And yet, this was a well organised industry. Broomsquires were skilled workers and their products were not easily made by machines. The craft passed down through families and there is evidence of apprenticeship and syndicates. Some, such as the Beltons, accumulated enough cash to purchase their own freehold property. In his will of 1794, John Bull of Bramshott described himself as ‘Broom Maker to His Majesty’s Yard in Portsmouth’, meaning the Navy. He left properties in three parishes and £300 in ‘lawful money of Great Britain’. There was a good living in brooms, for some.
Industrialisation and enclosure eventually took its toll but the craft survived remarkably long; there were full-time broomsquires in the 1950s. You can still buy besoms at country fairs, hand-made with traditional materials by local woodsmen.
JC, May 2020
… about Kingswood Firs?
Nowadays Kingswood Firs is a very pleasant residential area of the 1960s, but its history is richer than might first appear. The Perambulation of the Tithing of Headley, in 1552, mentions Kinges Wodd Bottom. This refers to Stoney Bottom, which until 1932 was the boundary between Headley and Bramshott. Around the year 1200 all of Grayshott and Headley were within Woolmer Forest, a medieval royal hunting estate. Nearby, Bramshott Chase derives its name from those days. It seems that during the 13th century the forest shrank a little and the Kingswood area was left behind, a little remnant of Bramshott sandwiched between Headley and Pitfold, the name just a memory of its origin.
This shrinkage may have happened as a consequence of the Charter of the Forest of 1217, a little-known complement to the Magna Carta of two years earlier. The boy-king Henry III conceded that ‘All woods made forest by king Richard our uncle, or by king John our father, up to the time of our first coronation shall be immediately disafforested unless it be our demesne wood’. Not all royal forests dissappeared of course, but it does seem that Woolmer retreated beyond Grayshott. Probably at the same time, the county boundary was adjusted to leave a tapered spit of land so that people on the dry, high ground of Pitfold manor could drive their livestock to water at Waggoners, or Wakenors as they would have known it, without trespassing on the land of Bramshott or Headley.
In the 16th century the area of modern Grayshott village was a mixture of wood and heath. It’s likely that Kingswood was the same, and a map from 1774 seems to show it within an enclosure. Certainly, there is no indication of settlement in those days.
A map from 1826 shows us more detail. Appearing rather like a duck’s head, Kingswood is clearly woodland, a promontory dipping down into Waggoners Wells, and distinct from the heath and scrub of Grayshott to the north. Some fields have been cleared at the west of the ridgetop, tracks connect the fields to surrounding lanes, and the first smallholder plots have appeared in Stoney Bottom. It was owned by John Neale of Hewshott Hill; he leased the fields to the Lawrence family, who also farmed in Whitmore Bottom and built Yew Tree Cottage on the corner of Mowatt Road, in 1809. In the 1860s timber out of Kingswood was taken via Stoney Bottom to Liphook station by 4-horse waggon.
Mowatt Road remembers the name of James Mowatt, a lawyer, who in 1884 purchased the entire Kingswood Firs Estate. Perhaps he’d seen the advertisement in the July 28th edition of The Globe for ‘an Estate … of ornamentally-timbered land, well adapted for the erection of a Family Residence’. He built his mansion on the old fields, equipped it with a billiard room, nine bed and dressing rooms, a ‘lofty dining room’, library, tennis lawn, walled kitchen garden, pleasure grounds, stables, coachhouse and farmery. This is now the house of Hunters Moon, named by a later owner after Sir Robert Hunter, a founder of the National Trust. Down in Waggoners Wells he built a pump-house to supply fresh water; it’s there now, empty and roofless, but with its reservoir still visible.
Mowatt was one of the growing villages’ benefactors, a role for which one suspects there was an element of competition with his contemporaries of Whitaker and I’Anson. He was, however, touched by bad luck. In 1890, having offered a lift in his carriage to a guest, Mrs Margaret Bell, the horses bolted down the drive, dashing the carriage against a tree and overturning it. Mowatt and his two sons were injured, Mrs Bell was killed. During the First World War Mowatt allowed the estate to be used for army training. His son Osmund was a soldier, a decorated officer of the South African Campaign, who died of wounds on 22nd April 1917. A cavalryman, Osmund probably rode with the Chiddingfold Hounds when they met at Kingswood, an echo of their Norman ancestors seven centuries earlier.
Upon his death in 1932 Mowatt left the estate to his old college, Gonville and Caius of Cambridge. They promptly sold it, in lots. The sale brochure of 1932 clearly signposted its future: ‘Lovely Pinewoods and Meadows … Offering some of the Finest Building Sites in this Favourite Residential District, facing South and Ripe for Development’. Fortunately the mansion and grounds remained intact and are a family home to this day. The land to the west found its way to the National Trust, where we can all still enjoy its natural beauty.
The rest, having transferred from Bramshott Parish to Grayshott, has fulfilled the auctioneer’s prophecy. After a failed attempt in 1938, plans were approved in 1958 for 80 building plots. Mowatt, a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society, cared about the village and its landscape, and his spirit found its way into the sensitive design of the new estate. The valley slopes are not built upon, old footpaths are preserved, plots are generous and the roads have pleasant green verges.
To this day the estate still has a sylvian feel of being embraced by woodland. The houses may be only 60 years old, but when walking the area’s roads and paths you are in the steps of Great War ‘Tommies’, poor old Mrs Bell, Victorian woodsmen hauling timber with their magnificent horses, Pitfold’s medieval stockmen and, maybe, the ghosts of a royal hunting party.
… about Grayshott and the Home Front – the Autumn of 1939?
Eighty years ago, the talk of war had been on everyone’s lips for some time, as it became obvious that another world conflict was about to result from the events then taking place throughout Europe.
People gathered round their radio sets on that fateful Sunday morning of 3rd September at 11.15am and listened to the Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain, make his speech, cracking with strain, stating that “this country is at war with Germany”. It came as no great surprise to most people.
Preparations had been put in place gradually over the months and years preceding. In Farnham, in March 1939, the Town Council converted the Town Hall in South Street to a Control Room, with staff nominated as officers in charge, with plotting officers, women telephonists and dispatch riders. The tables, maps, plotting flags and the switchboard plugs were all in place. The town was ready.
The MP for Farnham, Sir Godfrey Nicholson, gave a stirring speech at Frimley Warren, declaring that Britain was prepared for every eventuality.
As the conflict erupted, in Grayshott the village began to take on the looks of a community at war. All the street lamps in Headley Road, Crossways Road and elsewhere were covered, and houses became subject to the blackout, which was rigidly enforced by the local ARP Warden, who had charge of the Air Raid Precautions Hut, located in what is now the estate office of Messrs. Peter Leete & Partners, at the bottom of Headley Road. The hut was equipped with a full emergency switchboard, as well as a good supply of gas masks, fire extinguishers and stirrup pumps. Air Raid sirens were located at the Fire Station, next to the Village Hall, and were to become a familiar sound in the months to come.
The Village School reopened on Monday, September 11th, after the summer holidays. One of the first effects of the declaration of war was felt when a large number of children, evacuated from London and elsewhere, came to stay in the district. An extra 35 children were admitted that September, out of a total of 157 pupils, an increase of some 20 per cent over the previous term. At one time in 1941 there were 87 evacuee children from London and Portsmouth attending the school as a direct result of the Blitz and other terror bombing raids. The School struggled to cope and, among other measures, this led to some pupils being transferred to an overspill of classes in the Village Hall.
Also, most rooms in the School building had their windows painted over as a protection against flying splinters in air raids, and, in addition, the children had frequent air raid and fire drills. At the same time, the Government made it known that there was a real possibility of highly poisonous gases being dropped on the village and elsewhere by enemy bombers, and accordingly everyone was issued with gas masks, including babies and children.
Rationing began in September 1939, when petrol was rationed. Following this, in January 1940 butter, sugar, bacon and ham were rationed. Tea was rationed from July 1940, as were jam and marmalade from March 1941. This was followed by cheese rationing in May 1941 and, later in that year, eggs and milk as well.
The world was changing, and Grayshott quickly adapted to the restrictions that were seen to be necessary. Also, in the months and years to come, the area was to become a temporary home to thousands of troops and tons of equipment, and the Village played its part in supporting those who were fighting for the preservation of our homes, our families, and our way of life.
Written by John Hill
… about The Fox & Pelican and the Titanic Connection?
Charlotte Holme was the wife of James Ashbrooke Holme, who was the Manager of the Fox and Pelican Pub from 1914 to 1919.
She had been one of the few survivors of the tragic sinking of the Titanic in April 1912, along with her daughter Marjorie Lottie. Her then husband Harvey Collyer drowned when the ship went down, leaving them both to be rescued by the SS. Carpathia and taken to New York with other survivors. Harvey’s body was never recovered.
Friends of Charlotte and Harvey had emigrated to America some years earlier, and had made a success of a fruit farm in Payette, Idaho. They wrote enthusiastically of the warm weather, and as Charlotte was a tuberculosis sufferer at the time, they decided to join their friends in the same valley and buy a farm.
The family sold up in England , with Harvey Collyer taking the drastic decision of putting their entire savings, in bank notes, in the inside breast pocket of his jacket for the journey. The remainder of their personal possessions was kept in the Titanic’s hold, representing everything else the Collyers owned in the world.
Charlotte was in bed in their cabin at the time of impact with the iceberg, feeling nauseous due to some over rich food they had eaten in the restaurant. Her husband went to investigate and reported back that “there is no danger- an officer just told me”. This was not to be, as we now sadly know, and Charlotte and Marjorie were, shortly after, rescued in Titanic’s lifeboat number 14. Her husband was never to be seen again, presumed drowned.
She arrived with Marjorie in America, completely destitute, with no clothes, other than what they were wearing at the time . They were forced to survive purely on charity, and also on Charlotte writing occasional articles for newspapers and magazines about their ordeal. Interestingly, one of the articles written by her was used by the writer Walter Lord as source material for his successful book “A Night To Remember”, later turned into an Oscar winning film of the same name in 1958 ,and starring Kenneth More.
Charlotte and Marjorie were sadly not able to settle in the United States, but decided to return to Leatherhead in England and to her dead husband’s family. The hymn “Nearer my God To Thee”, famously sung by crew and passengers as the ship went down, was her favourite when sung in Leatherhead Parish Church , where Harvey had been the church sexton and verger before they decided to emigrate.
Later on, in 1914, she met and then married James Holme, the landlord of the Fox & Pelican, and settled down in Grayshott, as a publican’s wife.
By all accounts her time in Grayshott was a happy one, although she never really recovered from her ordeal. She sadly died of Tuberculosis on 28th November 1916, at the early age of only thirty five, and it can only be imagined how her weakened system must have suffered from enduring more than seven freezing hours in an open lifeboat in the middle of the icy Atlantic. She was buried in the churchyard of St. Mary’s, in Bishopstoke, near Eastleigh, where today her gravestone is still prominent.
Her second husband, James, himself died less than three years later, on March 22nd 1919, leaving little Marjorie to be brought up by her uncle Walter Collyer, a gamekeeper.It is understood that there are still descendants of the family living in Leatherhead today.
Written by John Hill
… about Grayshott’s Old Placenames
In olden days places were named by the people who lived there. They were directly connected to how the landscape looked, or was used. This selection of old names from around our village gives many clues towards how our predecessors saw the everyday world around them. The number in brackets is the earliest date at which the name occurs.
Baeran Forda (965): Barford, baer being Old English (ie Saxon) for woodland swine pasture.
Boscum de Whytmore (1552): Whitmore Wood, the heath and trees covering the area of the modern village. In the 19th century known as Grayshott Common.
Brokes Bottom (1552): The valley in which now runs Waggoners Wells Lane.
Bull Lane (1552): The ancient byeway into Whitmore Bottom from Hammer Lane, now designated as BOAT 13.
Brydelades Forda (965): The watersplash in Whitmore Bottom, first recorded in a charter of 965AD which described the bounds of Farnham manor. It means Gushing Stream Ford.
Bryghtnesse (1552): A field in the Ladygate area, perhaps derived from Old English Bryts Naess – the Briton’s Peninsular – referring to the spur of land projecting into Stoney Bottom.
Cane’s and Holloway’s Coppices (18th century): The Hanger, north of Waggoners and Applegarth respectively.
Cow Lane (1950s): The bridleway from the B3002 to Ludshott, around the west end of Grayshott Spa. So called because the farmer at Bulls Farm opposite used to drive his cattle along it to graze on the common.
Grausseta (1164): The earliest recorded form of Grayshott, which mutated through variants such as Graveselate, Graveschete and Graveshote. It means something like Grove Corner.
Gravett Lane (1552): the northern sunken part of Hammer Lane. Graef is Old English for a trench, from which our word grave derives, and indicates how old these sunken lanes are.
Grayshott Corner (1572): A landmark on the road called Farnham Way, at the south-west corner of Grayshott Spa, now called Bridleway 5.
Hawdene (1552): An area of Ludshott Common to the south-west of Grayshott Spa, derived from the Old English for an enclosed woodland or hunting reserve.
Horeapeldore (1200): Old English meaning The Grey Apple Tree (that is, lichen-covered), a boundary landmark at the east end of Stoney Bottom. At the same spot in the 19th century was the Big Apple Tree, an ancient crab-apple, counted at over 300 years old upon its death in 1919.
Kingswood Firs (19th century): Although associated with the modern housing estate, Kingswood is an old name and was first recorded in 1552 as Kynge Wod Bottom, the name then for Stoney Bottom. It’s possible, but not proven, that Kingswood and Hawdene are remnants from when Grayshott was briefly part of the royal hunting ground of Woolmer Forest in the 13th century.
La Porte de Graveschete (circa 1200): The Gate of Grayshott, in the area of the Village Hall, perhaps referring to a crossing place on the ridge rather than an entrance way.
Lez Marke Okes (1552): A row of oak trees, a boundary marker running from Hurstmere along Boundary Road to Stoney Bottom.
Low Leg (1552): The Low Ledge, a medieval squatter plot in the north of Whitmore where the houses of Hope Springs and Greenacres now are. Its boundary bank and ditch still exists.
Old Land Lane (1552): The Grayshott end of Hammer Lane. It led to Old Land itself (now Flat Wood), an area of medieval fields which was some of the hamlet’s original cultivated land. Earthworks are still visible in the woods.
Orchard, Stable, Lower & Upper Kiln (1822): Field names in the Waggoners estate area.
Pytfold Way (1552): A medieval road linking the head of Whitmore Bottom to Pitfold, via Stoney Bottom. Avenue Road follows part of its course.
Southwater (1552): The stream in Whitmore Bottom.
Sturley Dene (1552): Meaning Cattle Clearing Valley, towards the head of Whitmore, now the fields belonging to Whitmore Vale Farm and once again being used for cattle pasture.
Underwoods (1433): Another squatter’s plot, in the Hammer Lane area.
Waggoners (1260): More properly Wakenors, it’s Old English for Wacen Ora, the Watching Place Ridge.
Water Hall Field (1822): The area of the new children’s playground at Applegarth Vale. Hall means a hollow, indicating a dew pond.
Wulfredes Beame (965): Wulfrede’s Tree, a boundary landmark on the corner of the parish boundary behind Hurstmere. Around 1200 the same spot was known as Wolpette, The Wolf Pit. The valley here leads up to the top of Hindhead Common, which the Saxons called Wulf Horan – Wolf Ridge.
John Childs, 2018
… about The Seven Thorns – A Landmark From the Past
About a mile South of the Hindhead Tunnel, on the side of the A3, we find the ruined remains of what was The Seven Thorns, a roadside hostelry dating from the early 1500’s.
It obtained its name originally from seven ancient trees, some of them holly, some hawthorn, which grew on the other side of what was then a rough, single track road. For over several hundred years it has been a well known feature on what has become a major trunk road, but it is now in the last phase of its life, scheduled for demolition in the coming months, to be sadly replaced by a car showroom.
During its heyday, it was a well known and popular coaching inn and hotel, situated on the main London to Portsmouth trunk road, and said to be equidistant between the two cities.
Run by a family by the name of Butler from 1814 for about thirty five years, it was used extensively by travellers as well as locals for its hospitality and comfort, providing accommodation as well as food and drink for all visitors. And it also gained a reputation of having a link with a local highwayman called “Captain Jack”, who carried out robberies along the Portsmouth Road, as well as a group of body snatchers, who were reputed to secrete bodies in the cellar of the inn before moving them on to prospective buyers.
Right up to the 1960’s and 70’s, it was a busy stop off point for coaches coming out of London en route to the south coast, but after this, it became known as “The Spaniard”, operating as a nightclub, with a sunken dance floor being built in a large hall on the side of the building.
It was during this period that the large black shed at the rear was used as a practise room for a group called Fleetwood Mac, then an unknown local band, but later to become very famous.
With some alterations, “The Spaniard” later changed to a nightclub called “The Ravens”, but by this time its reputation was suffering, and it was becoming known for occasional rowdy scenes and general unsocial behaviour.
One story relates how a local lad wanted some tyres for his Austin A40. He sneaked into the nightclub car park in the dark, with a wheel brace and a pile of bricks. Returning to his car, he met two irate policemen who showed him the car he’d stolen the tyres from. The car was a pale blue colour, with “Police” written on the side.
During the late 1980’s, the whole building was given an extensive makeover. Sadly, shortly after it reopened there was an altercation between two customers, and when the owner stepped in to settle the problem, he had a heart attack and died.
Later, in the 1990’s, a serious fire devastated the building, some say under suspicious circumstances, but whatever the story behind it, the insurance money was never used on resurrecting the building. It has now stood forlorn and abandoned for the last years, but was sold in 2016 as a development site.
New buildings should be appearing on the site in the months to come, and with it a relic from our local past will disappear forever.
JH – 2018
… about Refreshments at Hindhead?
The recently demolished ‘Golden Hind’ was the last of the original refreshment establishments on the Portsmouth Road at Hindhead.
Traveling north from Liphook on the road, the first cafe to be encountered was at Radford Bridge , serving tea and a wad for 6d. very much the preserve of lorry drivers who had braved the arduous climb over the south downs and continuing up to Hindhead.
Next would be the ‘Seven Thorns’ probably dating from the 1500 as a road house now imminent of demolition after being derelict for many years. A short distance further on the ‘Blue Jug’ would be encountered at Bramshott Chase which for many years also served as Bramshott post office. On then to Hindhead itself, past the Moorlands Hotel on the left where at a price ‘afternoon tea’ could be taken. Next came the Royal Huts Hotel (this will feature in a later web article), catering in particular for the needs for refreshment of the many coach trippers as a half way halt between London and Portsmouth on summer Sundays and the official stopping place for the Southdown express coach services. The other side of the traffic lights on both sides of the road numerous cafes could be found including ‘The Queen of Hearts’, ‘Gibbet Cafe’ , ‘The Hindhead Cafe’, ‘Sally Lunn’ , ‘ The Golden Hind’ and The Punchbowl Inn.
Increased traffic on the road in the 1950s made parking difficulty for some but with parking on the rough ground at the top of the hill ( now the N.T. car park) the enterprising proprietors used on old single deck bus driven up from the Golden Hind each day to serve refreshments there .
RP, May 2018.
… about the Battle of Ludshott Common?
Most people probably do know that during both World Wars Grayshott was host to various army units. Billets at the Village Hall and Grayshott Hall, the military hospital in Heather Lodge, the Canadian army at Camp Superior and tanks training on Ludshott Common all brought the wars close to the minds of local people. But even in the 19th century Grayshott was famliar with the sight of men in uniform.
During the 1850s the government bought up thousands of acres of cheap land around Aldershot and started to build a new army camp. By the 1880s the Aldershot District Command was formed, its southern boundary running close by Milford, Haslemere and Liphook and thus encompassing Grayshott. Through the late Victorian period the heaths around our village were prime training areas and were regularly visited by the army’s summer manoeuvres. One such, in August 1894, was dubbed by the press as ‘The Battle of Ludshott Common’.
To set the scene, on Monday 20th August an invading Southern Army under the command of Major-General Lord Methuen had been advancing from the coast. It was composed of the 1st and 3rd Grenadier Guards, 1st Scots Guards, 2nd Coldstream Guards, 41st Field Battery of Artillery and half a squadron of the 9th Lancers. Opposing them, the Northern Army under Major-General Gregorie was a mobile ‘field column force’ including the 4th Hussars, Highland Light Infantry, Sutherland Highlanders, Leicestershire Regiment, Cheshire Regiment, two batteries of artillery, a field company of Engineers and a balloon section. The Chief Umpire was the Duke of Connaught, who was General Officer Commanding at Aldershot.
When operations began at 11am – a very civilised hour – Colonel Lord Falmouth, commander of the Guards Brigade, had established the main body of his troops in bivouac on Ludshott Common, with the 3rd Grenadiers deployed as outposts to the north on Headley Common (which we now know as the area north of the B3002, roughly from Hammer Lane down towards Land of Nod).
Major-General Gregorie had received intelligence of his enemy’s dispositions and was instructed to attack the outposts, drive them from the common and secure it for himself. In other words, occupying the high ground of Ludshott Common was the day’s objective for both sides.
Having marched across Frensham Common, via Barford Mill, Gregorie’s column made contact with the invaders by Upper Hearn Farm. Having driven back the Guards’ scouts, the Highland Light Infantry advanced across the outposts on Headley Common and succeeded in forcing their withdrawal to Ludshott Common. Gregorie pushed his Highlanders across the common, supported by the Leicesters and Cheshires, and simultaneously launched a left flank attack by the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders through Headley Wood, skirting the road (possibly Hammer Lane). Not to be drawn, Falmouth withdrew his right flank and retreated his entire force to the ridges south of the common (probably Bramshott Chase). Gregorie brought his artillery onto the common in support of the infantry and both vigorously pressed the attack until ‘cease fire’ sounded.
After the battle the umpires conferred and his Royal Highness declared that the Guards ‘could not be expected to have the experience and dash of Aldershot troops, but their appearance, high efficiency and high discipline could not be too highly praised…‘ Then the troops marched back towards Aldershot, camping for the night at Frensham where they had ‘a great camp fire sing-song’.
So runs the chain of events. In reality, this would have been a fantastic spectacle for our villagers to enjoy. These manoeuvres were advertised in the press, and permission had to be sought from landowners, such as Alexander Whitaker to tramp across his hunting estate at Land of Nod. Everyone would have known about them. It was in the school holidays so most likely every schoolchild for miles around was getting in the way, and everyone else too if they could slide unnoticed from work. Thousands of spectators turned out in fine weather – ‘passably fine…decidedly warm though somewhat muggy’ on the day at Ludshott. They sometimes became a major problem, running alongside the cavalry and cluttering up the battlefield until the Military Police were called to clear them away.
This was before the days of khaki battledress. Gregorie’s Northern Army wore full parade dress, no doubt bulled to perfection knowing that the eyes their commanding officer could fall upon anyone; red jackets for the infantry, tartan on the Highlanders, and the Hussars in blue with sparkling gold braid. The Southern Army was more restrained, in drill uniform, but the Guards still magnificent in scarlet tunic with white lacing and bearskin hats.
The event was reported by the Special Correspondent of the Daily Telegraph, seemingly a somewhat excitable gentleman who’s report causes confusion rather than clarity as he frequently gets the two sides mixed up. Thus we know of artillery batteries posted on Ludshott Common, outposts extending from Headley All-Saints to the Land of Nod, a triple line of trenches on the common and two Maxim machine guns close by the Greyshott Road. There were ‘Heilanman … sprawled along the sandy roads or among furze and heather’, the result of the ‘snap and howl’ of magazine rifles and artillery salvoes directed by ‘Royal Engineer aeronauts…800ft aloft’.
An incredible spectacle, although sadly poignant when the correspondent unfavourably compares the British assault tactics to those of the contemporary German army. His words were prophetic, written almost twenty years to the day before the Battle of Mons.
Now, it’s as fantastical for us to imagine thousands of redcoats camped on the common and columns of cavalry jingling along the country lanes as it would be for them to see Chinooks woompa-woomping low across their old battle-ground on route to Longmoor.
There is nothing left to see on the surface, the subsequent manoeuvres of two world wars have swept away any surface evidence of that day in 1894. But one little survivor from beneath the soil is this blank cartridge, recently dug up in a garden which was once a field next to the battleground. It’s a .303 Mark II cordite-filled blank, manufactured for the War Department by the Royal Laboratory, Woolwich. This was the type of round used in the army’s new Lee-Metford rifles, and this particular version was only used between 1892 and 1894. The primer was unreliable, and indeed this one has been shot but misfired. Quite possibly, a redcoat taking cover at the corner of Bulls Farm pulled it from his weapon and without a second thought tossed it away over the hedge, there to lie for 113 years. There must be thousands more sprinkled across Ludshott and its surroundings.
JC, April 2018
… about the local bus?
For those who see the local Stagecoach bus service passing through the village or even have to use it may wonder how we all managed before mass car ownership took place.
As early as 1905 a horse bus service operated between Grayshott and Haslemere. By 1909 this had been replaced by a motor bus owned by Ben Chandler, proprietor of the Royal Huts Hotel, Hindhead. Also in 1905 a motor bus service was started by the London and South Western Railway Co, linking Haslemere and Farnham stations and taking in Hindhead Golf Club and Frensham Ponds. During 1913 these services were taken over by the Aldershot and District Traction Co, who were by then rapidly expanding, radiating out of their Aldershot headquarters. The ‘Tracco’ as it was known locally bought Clay Hill garage at Haslemere, which became their operational base for the district. (Latterly the premises were used by Clement Metal Window manufactures and is now a vacant site on the right approaching the railway arch at Haslemere station.)
In 1931 a new garage was opened at Hindhead (on the left hand side going up the hill towards the Punchbowl and now housing) which held over 40 buses and provided major employment in the district. Back to the 1920s, with improved mechanical reliability and all weather coachwork services were opened up to Guildford, Aldershot, Bordon, Midhurst and during summer months even Bognor Regis was reached via Chichester.
So, from this period until the 1960s from Grayshott the hourly service no. 17 using a small 20 seat bus locally known as the ‘Whippet’ took you to Farnham via Beacon Hill and Tilford; hourly service no. 24 to Guildford via Godalming and Petersfield via Liphook and service no. 18 to Haslemere / Grayswood and Bordon / Whitehill every 30 minutes. The no.18 even would wait to bring late night Rex cinema goers home if the film was running late from Junction Place, Shottermill.
All a world away from today’s service, passengers carried by the ‘Tracco’ peaked in 1950 at about 52 million generating a revenue of some £ 1,015,000 with 345 vehicles.
RP, February 2018
…about the winter of 1962/63?
Now some 55 years ago probably the worst winter in this area that most of us now recognize in living memory, the previous being in 1946/7. I remember that a hard frost set in with clear days from early December and by Boxing Day Frensham Great Pond was entirely frozen over. A family visit to the pond with my godparents on that afternoon and with many others it was possible to walk the length and breadth of the pond on the ice. Skating was also in vogue. Returning home around dusk light snow began to fall, immediately settling on the dry ground, by the time Grayshott was reached the snow had really set in, to many younger ones it just qualified for a ‘White Christmas’!
Snow fell on and off for the next few days , the last on New Year’s eve which put an end to most celebrations that evening including the popular annual Grayshott Fire Service party and dance at the Fox and Pelican public house. Walking up Headley Road that morning, the snow had drifted into huge banks along the shop fronts, nothing was moving.
To make matters worse rain fell on January 4th which immediately froze. Telephone and power cables became coated in ice and broke, branches of trees also broke under the weight. In those days gritting the local roads comprised of a couple of chaps spreading grit from the back of an open lorry by hand shovel, the only mechanical means was Arthur Johnson’s ‘ Midhurst Whites’ American built Chevrolet four wheel drive former army lorries from Liphook under contract, usually being used for lime spreading which ideally lent themselves for grit spreading and snow plough duties. The electrified main London to Portsmouth railway line was brought to a standstill with the ice on the conductor rail causing havoc with the current pick up shoes, one train broke in half ascending Witley bank north of Haslemere station. For many days a steam locomotive was sent from Guildford shed to Haslemere to assist electric trains in difficulty over the hilly section.
Temperatures dropped to below 10 F in early January with about 380 mm of lying snow, diesel fuel froze. There was almost no improvement during all of January but gradually temperatures lifted and a long but gradual thaw set in , heaps of snow were still to be seen into early April.
…about the Sailor’s Stone at Gibbet Hill, Hindhead?
Most facts surrounding the murder of a lone sailor walking back to Portsmouth to join his ship are well known locally. The murder committed on September 24th, 1786 is commemorated by a stone standing by the route of the old road near to the top of Gibbet Hill.
On the back of the stone is this inscription:
“This stone was erected by order and at the cost of James Stillwell, Esq., of Cosford, 1786. Cursed be the man who injureth or removeth this stone”.
It is believed that the stone was originally in a similar position to where it is today. In 1826 considerable alterations took place to the road and a ‘new’ road was constructed round the punchbowl at a lower level (what came to be known latterly as the A3 Portsmouth Road, and recently filled over as part of the Hindhead Tunnel re-landscaping). An interesting letter is printed in ‘The Table Book’ published 1827.
“Ten Guineas Reward. Whereas some evil-disposed person or persons did, in the night of Tuesday, the 17th instant, maliciously BREAK, DEFACE and INJURE the stone lately put up at Hindhead, by the Trustees of the Lower District of the Sheetbridge Turnpike Road, to perpetuate the memory of a murder committed there, in the place of the one removed by John Hawkins, Esq.
Whoever will give information of the offender or offenders shall on his, her, or their conviction receive a Reward of Ten Guineas, which will be paid by Mr. James Howard, the Surveyor of the said road. Witley, 26th July 1827.”
This ‘new’ stone was placed beside the new road near the apex of the Punchbowl bend. The letter holds a few mysteries. It implies that this was not the original stone. Was the first stone so damaged that it had to be replaced? And was the curse added at this time to deter further vandalism of the stone? Who was John Hawkins? And what happened to the ‘original’ stone ?
The present stone was again renovated, in 1889, by members of the Stillwell family. Further to all of this, with more road improvements the stone was once moved in the early 1930’s ( contradictory dates previously published of 1930 and 1932) to its present position. It is related that this time many asked to move the stone refused because of the curse. Two did actually handle it, and during the seventh year after this Rupert Chandler became ill and died at the age of 50 and Charles Harris (who was a member of the Grayshott fire brigade ) fell from a ladder and did not work again (Sunday Express, 31st October 1937) .
To quote : William Cobbett – ‘Rural Rides’ 1822 : Hindhead, That miserable hill, the most villainous spot that God ever made’.
RP, June 2017
…about Grayshott’s famous postmistress, Flora Thompson?
Most people probably do know that the author Flora Thompson worked for some while in Grayshott’s Post Office. Although people took her as the postmistress, she was actually the clerk and telegraphist. The official postmaster (and wife-murderer to-be) was her employer, Walter Chapman, whose concentration on his trade of cabinetmaker caused Flora to become the daily face at the Post Office’s counter and led to her unofficial promotion in the minds of her customers.
None of those customers would have known a Flora Thompson, but a Flora Timms, since she didn’t marry until after leaving Grayshott, to John Thompson, in 1903. John was also a post office clerk/telegraphist and I sometimes wonder if the two of them spoke together in Morse code.
Flora’s best known books, the Lark Rise to Candleford trilogy, were a lightly fictionalised autobiography of her own youth in the Oxfordshire countryside, where she first took employment as a Post Office assistant upon leaving school at age 14. Her book about Grayshott – Heatherley – was completed in 1944, three years before her death, and not published until 1979.
Flora arrived in Grayshott, it is thought, in September 1898 and left in autumn 1900. Those two years had a profound effect on the rest of her life. In Heatherley, Flora describes her semi-fictitious character Laura as having been ‘a cat in a previous existence’, for she was more attached to places than people. From the moment she arrived ‘One hot September afternoon near the end of the last century a girl of about twenty walked without knowing it over the border into Hampshire’ the wild and alien scenery became deeply imprinted upon her. Having grown up amidst the gentle farmland of Oxfordshire, which was beautiful in many small ways but otherwise ‘plain and homely’, she had never before encountered the fragrance of gorse and pine, or had long views across heather-clad commons to ‘a wavy line of dim blue hills’.
Flora found making friends of her own age and temperament difficult. She hints of Grayshott as having something of a multiple personality, not a village ‘but a settlement of recent growth’, with a mixed population of shopkeepers, holidaymakers, retirees and bohemian artists, and where the original country smallholders lived in the valleys in their ‘little low houses’. Whilst she made many acquaintanceships with all of those types, she was not part of any of their worlds so it seems that few lasting personal bonds were formed. Instead, she took to long walks in the country, a suspicious pastime in a society where a young woman disappearing alone onto the heath for hours on end was cause for gossip. Upon these walks she appears to have been at her happiest, and often resentful when others insisted on offering her their company.
Of the village, in 1899 she would have seen the openings of St Luke’s and The Fox and Pelican, from which she bought her ninepenny dinners of ‘a thick cut off the joint, two or more vegetables, and a wedge of fruit tart or round of roly-poly’. She noted that of the working people, few who lived in Grayshott had been born there, most having come to the village to earn a living from the area’s growing tourist trade. George Bernard Shaw was a frequent customer at her counter; she described him as a tall man, with a forked red beard and quick, searching eyes. Arthur Conan Doyle she judged as ‘probably the most popular man in the neighbourhood’. She also wrote little character sketches of ordinary residents, such as an unpopular builder who nobody could entirely snub because ‘one half of the villagers were employed by him and the other half employed him’.
Heatherley is presented as fiction, and not everything and everyone in it are traceable to facts, but it’s nonetheless a valuable record of social history at a time of rapid change and contrasts. Grayshott was a place where Flora operated her modern telegraph machine whilst broomsquires, by then outnumbered by incomer celebrities, still fashioned besoms on their ancient homesteads in the long, narrow valleys. It was a village where the stuffy morals of late Victorian England still expected all respectable young women to wear a sailor hat, but progressive thinkers such as Shaw drew crowds to his talks on socialism, vegetarianism and disarmament.
Flora left Grayshott in the autumn of 1900, the result of her reduced workload following the opening of a new telegraph office at Hindhead. She spent short periods in Yateley and Twickenham, then until 1916 in Bournemouth, after which she settled in Liphook. It was after the Great War that she began writing in earnest, surrounded by the nature she had loved since first walking out from the sunken lane at Pitfold twenty years earlier to see her new home before her ‘set with small slender birches just turning yellow, with red-berried rowan and thickets of bracken, the heath lay steeped in sunshine’. Tennyson, Shaw and Conan Doyle may have blessed our village with their presence, but it is to Flora that we owe the most enduring and personalised images of Grayshott’s character.
Flora’s books are generally available in Grayshott at the Post Office and Pottery.
On the Trail of Flora Thompson by John Owen Smith traces the factual basis of many of Flora’s local places and people. His republication of Heatherley (1998) has footnotes on the true identity of people and places she mentions in the book.