Roaming the countryside

Over a relatively long life there are a lot of things that have changed. Some for the better,some not.
I don't have much contact with young children these days but I get the impression that they do not have the freedom that we had. Not surprising perhaps with parental concerns about safety, but a bit sad.

Although born in the east end of London I spent several years as a evacuee in Guildford. There from about ten years of age, boys like myself were free to roam about,alone or with just a few mates.  The woods of Stoke park, the downs above the town, stolen train journeys to Clandon or Horsley and the walk back or the bus if we had the fare.

The woods in the park were enemy territory, Sherwood forest or just a place to make camps or climb trees. There was also a old tramp who camped there during the summer in a makeshift tent and cooked his food over a camp fire. There were beech trees in the woods with nuts in the autumn and in the park itself there were several walnut trees.  The taste of a fresh walnut is completely different to the ones bought at Christmas time.

Up on Pewley down there were different attractions: wild apples, crab apples, blackberries and other edibles from trees in the hedgerows like nuts and berries. And of course there were more woods with protection from enemy aircraft or places to ambush the sheriff of Nottingham's men.

Along the footpath alongside the River Wey,  there was a small rock pool below a clear water stream running down from St. Martha's hill.  After a drink from the pool by lying on your stomach, climbing up alongside the stream, at the top of the hill there was a small plantation of bamboo canes. Ideal material for boys with their penknives to fashion bows and arrows.

Three centuries of one Family in a Sussex Village

When the second world war came, thousands of London school children were evacuated and we went with our school from Wapping to Brighton. 

The Baker family that we were billeted with had an allotment out at Moulscombe and we went there many times.

We didn't know then and not for many years that the small village of Falmer which was just a couple of miles up the road from the allotment was the birthplace of our gg-grandmother Rebecca Baldy.
Rebecca had been christened in the parish church in 1797 and was a direct descendant of William Baldie who had been christened there in 1676.

Whilst we were learning to "dig for victory" on the allotment, still living in Falmer in 1940 was Harriett Wilson whose maiden name was Baldey. She also was a direct descendant of William Baldie. She had two sons George and Henry who was also still living in Falmer so they were our cousins that we had no knowledge of. George married and had a daughter who did not marry and Henry did not marry.  So sixteen years short of three hundred years, with the death of Harriett in Falmer in 1960 there came the end of the Baldy family in Falmer.