This website gathers together photographs and memories of people related
to the Smiths of Wyre Forest. The stories currently come from Nellie who was the youngest in the family. The two old photographs are of Lodge Hill Farm house which sits deep in the forest. Fred was the last of the Smith's to leave Lodge Hill farm in 1965. Many of the family still visit the forest to this day and have many happy memories of the forest and of the people who lived there. |
William Smith, was born in 1833 and worked as a miller in the Wyre Forest near Bewdley, Worcestershire UK. He was married to Sarah Groom in 1858. They had 16 children, six of whom died. The surviving children, six daughters and four sons were Will, Ted, Harry, Louie, Emmie, Florrie, Annie, Jennie, Fred and Nellie.
The Smiths became tenants of Sir Edward Pease in 1881 and held Lodge Hill plus its ground, also Coventry Mill (Knowles Mill) with the cottage and ground attached. William worked the mill until his death in 1901. He and his wife and most of their children are buried in Dowles Church graveyard. |
Memories of my childhood in the Wyre Forest
Ellen (Nellie) Smith wrote this around 1965/6. She was the youngest daughter of William and Sarah Smith who kept Lodge Hill Farm and Knowles Mill
On a visit to my brother Fred Smith at Lodge Hill in the forest, I turned off the lane at Brock Cottages, crossed the railway line to see the bungalow that Peter Adams had built for the entertainment of his family, friends and work people. As I approached the bungalow, a young man left his tractor to tell me that I was trespassing on Miss Adams' property. I then explained that I was very eager to see that part of the forest I remembered so well from my childhood. He told me that precautions had to be taken because of vandals. The bungalow had been broken into and damaged. I assured him I should do no harm. On passing the building itself, I thought of the time my sister-in-law and I helped at the parties held there. I then came to the grotto and noticed a change there. The thatched roof was intact but a lot of the beautiful trees and shrubs had gone, also the blue clematis.
As children we played around that area but we had been taught to respect other people's property. I sat and rested for a while in the grotto and looked across to the rifle range, wondering if the old cedar tree was still alive, with its huge branches covered with little cones. Unfortunately due to old age, I was unable to walk along the seven pools, along the valley from the railway to Uncllys Farm. The lower end of the pool was a fish hatchery. We were taken there as children by a Mr Iseeble who was head keeper at Forest Lodge. My elder brother was under keeper. I remember much about Forest Lodge; the large wired pens for game hatching, the silver and golden pheasants, sporting spaniel and retriever dogs, orchards full of narcissi and daffodils and the gun room in the house.
Harking back to the pools, they were well cared for, each surrounded with shrubs: azaleas, rhododendrons, and beautiful white and yellow water lilies too. One pool had a diving board and a few boats. There were several seats along the pathway leading to the boundary fence dividing Hirral estate from Mr Bakers of Beau Castle. He had his side planted with scots pine trees. My father had said there were also some thorn acacia trees and I noticed that there were still a few there. Another double row of large firs facing the railway, were at the top end of Lodge Hill ground. More fir trees that were growing near the railway crossing were said to belong to the Crown.
Referring to Dowles Brook, I often wondered where it started. My nephew Ted Smith of Sycamores, told me its source was the spring in a field at Breakneck Bank. I know there were quite a lot of small tributaries from the hills down the valley and I call to mind the bridges across the brook: Taylor's bridge, Spigette's was another, Cooper's and finally the bridge at Coventry Mile. The various names of sections of the forest were interesting too: Spion Kop, Chumberlain and Species.
At my age I find it marvelous to wander through such a garden of memories; of cutting bracken in the autumn for bedding the animals, of gathering mushrooms, of making gallons of cider, of picking and packing fruit. As many as forty pot hampers which held seventy 2lb of apples have gone into Kidderminster Thursday market. We usually killed a pig for the house. This made quite a lot of work, making pork pies, brawn, pig's pudding, salting the inside parts and curing the flitches and hams that used to hang in the kitchen in bags. The bacon was lovely, not like that being sold today.
Trouble did arise from time to time with the animals mostly; a torn udder on barbed wire or one would eat some poisonous plant or yew, one might get hogged. I remember the occasional visit from the vet, a Mr Wright from Station Hill, Kidderminster. In those days time never stood still. On summer evenings we worked 'til bedtime. In winter time the evenings were spent cutting swedes in slices for the cows and my brother Ted's sheep. We had no proper 10 o'clock, we retired and arose at 6 o'clock. Fred and I carried cans of milk on yokes to Hop Pole lane where Mrs Lewis used to retail all the milk. I never knew loneliness in those days. We had a friendly postman ready for a cup of tea if handy. Letters were delivered daily and he also brought anything we needed. Mr Tonks the Vicar of Dowles called for tea; freshly baked bread and butter.
Friday was Mothers busiest day. The huge bake oven was heated with wood until white hot. The small loaves were baked first and then the pies and cakes. When my father had the mill the bread was made of half white and half brown flour and balm from the brewers. One pub in Bewdley sold balm and what a lot of public houses there were there, I could easily name a dozen. Another thing I recall, there were always two or three groups of men old and young, standing about on Bewdley bridge. I don't know if they were out of work or couldn't work. I used to wonder how they lived as there was no dole in those days or any public assistance. There was parish relief and I heard of folk being buried by the parish. There wasn't much trade in Bewdley but plenty of casual work on farms. Bewdley was a lovely little town to my mind, I knew most of the people and all the shops. Mintons, Harcourt had the shoe shop, Owen the grocer supplies and greengrocer, Dudfields and Oxley ironmongers, Plevy harness and leather, Reeves the post office, Shrimpton the grocers and Lawleys the blacksmith at Wribbenhall. I've spent hours outside the smithy at dinnertime, hoping my father or brother would bring a horse to be shod so as I could ask for ha'penny or a penny.
I remember Miss Langley and believe she was the first woman to have a motorbike in Bewdley. She was a resident at the Elms Hotel. Dr and Mrs Miles I remember coming to Bewdley. I think they lived in a house close to the Royal Hotel first. He followed Dr Pennington who took over from Dr Webster, I remember him coming to Lodge Hill. I think Hemingway the solicitors are still in Bewdley and I have a vague memory of a plaque in Dowles Church with the name Marcy Hemingway. It's a pity that Dowles Church had to be demolished – it was a lovely church.
Sunday wasn't much of a rest day for us. As children we went to Sunday School and joined the family for the service then home for dinner and Sunday School again in the afternoon. Miss Green with an assistant used to teach us, I think Miss Tonks did so later. The select from Bewdley had reserved pews. Mr Dowding from Dowles had his pew as did other farmers from around Button Oak and Kinlet. I don't know if we children went for the service or the sweets that were passed around to keep us quiet. Some of the local people read the lessons. My brother Fred was often invited out to dinner, I was much more robust than he – perhaps folk thought I might eat too much. Once a year we had a grand party on Brown's Bank opposite the church (I never remember rain on that day). Barny Mole was the grave-digger, church yard attendant and bell ringer. My father favoured the Quaker's religion and once took me to a small meeting house at Lower Park, which brings my thoughts to Ribbesford. I've been to the farm lots of times, a Mr Hinton farmed it then. Father used to deliver the grain and meal from the Mill to him. I think of the lovely avenue approaching Ribbesford Church and farm, such huge trees on either side. I've been told that recently they've been felled (why?).
I remember the Whitcombe family too. My brother Ted did the garden for some years and one of my sister's was the cook. I wonder if any of the Humphries are still about, they sold tobacco and fishing tackle. I bought some fish hooks to fish in Dowles Brook – I think I did more wishing than fishing. I haven't noticed the name Winters in the Bewdley News for ages. Mr Winters had the excise office in Load Street, he married Mrs Ransome's daughter and often went courting around Dowles and Lodge Hill. I hear there's only two of the Coldricks left. I went to school with them.
I had seven years schooling at Wribbenhall and was the only child of ten that my parents didn't have to pay for, as free education came into force the year I started going to school. I could write page after page of those happy years of my life. As Lodge Hill was the farthest distance to go to school, we started first and the other children followed us. We used to saunter along Dowles Road with no fear of motors, farm tractors or the like. We started the journey at 7.45am and arrived home between 5 and 5.30. Our food we took in satchels or bags and sometimes we ate it on the way to school and then had to starve until we got home. We usually had to make a dash to arrive at 9 o'clock, going down Parrots entry and Pewterers Alley. I don't remember much caning at the school. There were other forms of punishment. Once a teacher corrected my brother for some trifle and I told her I'd ask mother not to send him to school again. For that bit of cheek, I had to stand in the corner holding six slates on my head for ten minutes. The slates we used were horribly scratchy but we were taught to use a pen during the last term. We had ten minutes of scripture each morning. Our schoolmaster's name was Mr Birtwhistle, he was followed by Mr Millington.
The railway ran through Lodge Hill ground. Trains were so punctual that we didn't need clocks. The line was a great attraction for the assortment of wild flowers growing on the banks. Stone bridges spanned the railway and the Park Brook ran beneath where we spent many happy hours challenging each other to crawl through the tunnel underneath. Often I think of the cotton grass which grew where the boring for coal took place during the year 1910. One of the engineers boarded with us at Lodge Hill, an Irish man named Kelly. There was quite a commotion when a diamond was lost around there. Great solid rocks were stacked along the side of the line and I noticed a chunk of this in my nephew's garden at Far Forest.
Another attraction in the Wyre Forest was an old house in the Parks, reached by a pathway from Dowles Brook. Albright and Wilson of Smethwick and Oldbury had the fishing rights and we were allowed to watch them. There were huge willow trees the orchard side of the brook but age and floods have taken their toll. Dowles valley was a noted place for butterflies and rare moths. Collectors used to come from around the Midlands – Birmingham chiefly. We children used to tag along with them, brushing rum and treacle on the trees. If anything was interesting, we were straight there and in those days, people were all very friendly. In the past, country children were thought to be backward but that was a fallacy. Children are very impressionable, none more so than those who lived in the country. They would notice all the natural things around, seasonal changes etc. There were no cinemas, fairs, mechanical devices or toys to distract them.
More Memories from Nellie 1969/70
A short time ago my daughter and granddaughter (Nell Tansley and Christine Tansley) suggested taking me round my old haunts at Dowles. We started from Abberley through the village and then through Heightington to the main Cleobury Road, turned right and then left at the Hophole and through the lakes, which is now all built up. We then drove down Dry Mill Lane, much more enclosed with trees and high hedges than I remember.
We pulled up at the gateway into the old footed road and the Manor House. I pondered on the times I played with other children under the large oak trees just in the field. Then we came to the bridge over the brook and the cottage which I understand has been modernised. 70 years ago it was a very dark and gloomy little cottage. An old lady lived there alone, name of Weavers. On rare occasions she would ask us schoolchildren to bring her small items on our way home.
My daughter and I got out of the car and leisurely walked to the next house. I thought of the Walls family who were our neighbours for years. That holding has changed almost past recognition; no fruit trees anywhere, the fold is a garden now. I did notice three cows there and some pigs the other side of the brook, also several dogs but not the sheep dogs of my day. I stood and gazed at the holding that was known as Town Mill. The house is vacant I believe and the old mill gone. I remember the garden there in my uncles time; scented moss roses, pink cabbage roses, tea roses and such. There's an attic in that house with a very small window which we named the priest hole! There were no fruit trees in that orchard, everywhere looked desolate.
The lane along the brook was known as Dowles Bottoms. The Smiths at Lodge Hill were the only people with any kind of transport. The constant carting of grain from the Coventry Mill my father worked, as well as carrying produce for neighbours along the lane caused ruts in the soft surface. One part of the lane we called Paradise. It was always damp and dark owing to the thickness of the trees. We passed the little field we called 40 acres. There were several caravans in the next orchard. As we approached the Coventry Mill, (Knowles Mill) I stood on the footbridge spanning the brook. I noticed the huge fir tree had gone from the corner of the garden belonging to the Mill House, where my brother Ted lived for many years.
In those far off days my father was the main user of the road along the side of Dowles Brook in Wyre Forest. He was the miller at the Coventry Mill (Knowles Mill) and he carried the corn and flour to customers that way. He also transported produce for neighbours who were without any means of transport. I remember the busy life of my father and brothers at the mill. The stone structure of the mill has not much changed. The only movement we saw was turkeys at the window of the second floor. The sight of it all revived hosts of memories of childhood days; the noise of the grinding of wheat and maize. We children often played with the kibbled corn sharps and Indian meal in the huge bins. I also remember the chart coming in the post prohibiting children inside such places. The mill had three storeys and the main work was on the second floor. It's thirty years or more since I was in the Mill and the figures and dates my father recorded were still to be seen on some of the posts (possibly late 1920's when the writer would have been mid thirties herself). We used to watch Mr C Peckets, the wheelwright for Wribbenhall, dressing the stones.
Part of the old iron wheel is still there – everything else was just a tangle of rough growth, even the Mill pond where we fished for roach, watched the moorhens with her brood and see the occasional heron. The flourishing orchards had apparently gone to waste – no gates or fencing anywhere.
In 1881 there was a severe flood which destroyed the weir and stopped the mill working for good. It is beyond me to describe the flood damage on the Dowles Brook, I've seen trees, animals, poultry, fowl pens and debris of all kinds and I've heard of a recent flood when my brother Fred's horse was carried down the Brook until it found a footing in a neighbours orchard.
My father William Smith rented the Mill and Lodge Hill farm in 1880 from a Squire Pease. There were two large rooms built onto the house to accommodate my parents and seven children – three more children were later born there. The squire attended to all requirements needed; new gates, doors, many fruit trees were planted and stone walls built around the fold yard. Mr Coldrick's firm attended to drains and what brickwork was required inside and out. Bowket did the decorating and a Mr Hunt the woodwork. The two men who rebuilt the stone wall were known as Yorky Potter and Pretty Dick. The smith made the road from the mill to Lodge Hill which was originally a foot track.
Finally I reached Lodge Hill - the place that had been tenanted by the Smith's for over eighty years. The place had a bare, derelict appearance. The beautiful fruit trees, neat hedges and tidy aspect of the house and surroundings all gone. How sad to see the state of such a beautiful holding as Lodge Hill and the valley of Dowles Brook. I also deplore the circumstances which led to my brother, Fred, from ending his days in the only home he'd ever known.
Fred was a great character and a very gentle man at heart. His only fault, if it can be called a fault, was his generosity. He worked hard and achieved very little, suffering hardships and distress unknown to anyone. He kept the home going and cared for his old mother. He worked for many farmers around the district and I'm sure they respected him.
Fred spent four years on his own after mother died, then he married Lizzie and things improved for him. Unfortunately she developed an incurable complaint, they were both nearing old age, she couldn't look after the house (who can, who is old and ill?) and things went from bad to worse. For years there was no clean water - it had to be carried from Ruskins Mill and water for other purposes such as cattle and cleaning, from Dowles Brook. Fred traveled miles for lost cattle as there were no fences to keep them in the fields.
The Smith family is very large and Lodge Hill has always been a holiday playground for all the children, a place of love and laughter. Each child knew Fred's qualities and they adored him.
Ellen (Nellie) Smith wrote this around 1965/6. She was the youngest daughter of William and Sarah Smith who kept Lodge Hill Farm and Knowles Mill
On a visit to my brother Fred Smith at Lodge Hill in the forest, I turned off the lane at Brock Cottages, crossed the railway line to see the bungalow that Peter Adams had built for the entertainment of his family, friends and work people. As I approached the bungalow, a young man left his tractor to tell me that I was trespassing on Miss Adams' property. I then explained that I was very eager to see that part of the forest I remembered so well from my childhood. He told me that precautions had to be taken because of vandals. The bungalow had been broken into and damaged. I assured him I should do no harm. On passing the building itself, I thought of the time my sister-in-law and I helped at the parties held there. I then came to the grotto and noticed a change there. The thatched roof was intact but a lot of the beautiful trees and shrubs had gone, also the blue clematis.
As children we played around that area but we had been taught to respect other people's property. I sat and rested for a while in the grotto and looked across to the rifle range, wondering if the old cedar tree was still alive, with its huge branches covered with little cones. Unfortunately due to old age, I was unable to walk along the seven pools, along the valley from the railway to Uncllys Farm. The lower end of the pool was a fish hatchery. We were taken there as children by a Mr Iseeble who was head keeper at Forest Lodge. My elder brother was under keeper. I remember much about Forest Lodge; the large wired pens for game hatching, the silver and golden pheasants, sporting spaniel and retriever dogs, orchards full of narcissi and daffodils and the gun room in the house.
Harking back to the pools, they were well cared for, each surrounded with shrubs: azaleas, rhododendrons, and beautiful white and yellow water lilies too. One pool had a diving board and a few boats. There were several seats along the pathway leading to the boundary fence dividing Hirral estate from Mr Bakers of Beau Castle. He had his side planted with scots pine trees. My father had said there were also some thorn acacia trees and I noticed that there were still a few there. Another double row of large firs facing the railway, were at the top end of Lodge Hill ground. More fir trees that were growing near the railway crossing were said to belong to the Crown.
Referring to Dowles Brook, I often wondered where it started. My nephew Ted Smith of Sycamores, told me its source was the spring in a field at Breakneck Bank. I know there were quite a lot of small tributaries from the hills down the valley and I call to mind the bridges across the brook: Taylor's bridge, Spigette's was another, Cooper's and finally the bridge at Coventry Mile. The various names of sections of the forest were interesting too: Spion Kop, Chumberlain and Species.
At my age I find it marvelous to wander through such a garden of memories; of cutting bracken in the autumn for bedding the animals, of gathering mushrooms, of making gallons of cider, of picking and packing fruit. As many as forty pot hampers which held seventy 2lb of apples have gone into Kidderminster Thursday market. We usually killed a pig for the house. This made quite a lot of work, making pork pies, brawn, pig's pudding, salting the inside parts and curing the flitches and hams that used to hang in the kitchen in bags. The bacon was lovely, not like that being sold today.
Trouble did arise from time to time with the animals mostly; a torn udder on barbed wire or one would eat some poisonous plant or yew, one might get hogged. I remember the occasional visit from the vet, a Mr Wright from Station Hill, Kidderminster. In those days time never stood still. On summer evenings we worked 'til bedtime. In winter time the evenings were spent cutting swedes in slices for the cows and my brother Ted's sheep. We had no proper 10 o'clock, we retired and arose at 6 o'clock. Fred and I carried cans of milk on yokes to Hop Pole lane where Mrs Lewis used to retail all the milk. I never knew loneliness in those days. We had a friendly postman ready for a cup of tea if handy. Letters were delivered daily and he also brought anything we needed. Mr Tonks the Vicar of Dowles called for tea; freshly baked bread and butter.
Friday was Mothers busiest day. The huge bake oven was heated with wood until white hot. The small loaves were baked first and then the pies and cakes. When my father had the mill the bread was made of half white and half brown flour and balm from the brewers. One pub in Bewdley sold balm and what a lot of public houses there were there, I could easily name a dozen. Another thing I recall, there were always two or three groups of men old and young, standing about on Bewdley bridge. I don't know if they were out of work or couldn't work. I used to wonder how they lived as there was no dole in those days or any public assistance. There was parish relief and I heard of folk being buried by the parish. There wasn't much trade in Bewdley but plenty of casual work on farms. Bewdley was a lovely little town to my mind, I knew most of the people and all the shops. Mintons, Harcourt had the shoe shop, Owen the grocer supplies and greengrocer, Dudfields and Oxley ironmongers, Plevy harness and leather, Reeves the post office, Shrimpton the grocers and Lawleys the blacksmith at Wribbenhall. I've spent hours outside the smithy at dinnertime, hoping my father or brother would bring a horse to be shod so as I could ask for ha'penny or a penny.
I remember Miss Langley and believe she was the first woman to have a motorbike in Bewdley. She was a resident at the Elms Hotel. Dr and Mrs Miles I remember coming to Bewdley. I think they lived in a house close to the Royal Hotel first. He followed Dr Pennington who took over from Dr Webster, I remember him coming to Lodge Hill. I think Hemingway the solicitors are still in Bewdley and I have a vague memory of a plaque in Dowles Church with the name Marcy Hemingway. It's a pity that Dowles Church had to be demolished – it was a lovely church.
Sunday wasn't much of a rest day for us. As children we went to Sunday School and joined the family for the service then home for dinner and Sunday School again in the afternoon. Miss Green with an assistant used to teach us, I think Miss Tonks did so later. The select from Bewdley had reserved pews. Mr Dowding from Dowles had his pew as did other farmers from around Button Oak and Kinlet. I don't know if we children went for the service or the sweets that were passed around to keep us quiet. Some of the local people read the lessons. My brother Fred was often invited out to dinner, I was much more robust than he – perhaps folk thought I might eat too much. Once a year we had a grand party on Brown's Bank opposite the church (I never remember rain on that day). Barny Mole was the grave-digger, church yard attendant and bell ringer. My father favoured the Quaker's religion and once took me to a small meeting house at Lower Park, which brings my thoughts to Ribbesford. I've been to the farm lots of times, a Mr Hinton farmed it then. Father used to deliver the grain and meal from the Mill to him. I think of the lovely avenue approaching Ribbesford Church and farm, such huge trees on either side. I've been told that recently they've been felled (why?).
I remember the Whitcombe family too. My brother Ted did the garden for some years and one of my sister's was the cook. I wonder if any of the Humphries are still about, they sold tobacco and fishing tackle. I bought some fish hooks to fish in Dowles Brook – I think I did more wishing than fishing. I haven't noticed the name Winters in the Bewdley News for ages. Mr Winters had the excise office in Load Street, he married Mrs Ransome's daughter and often went courting around Dowles and Lodge Hill. I hear there's only two of the Coldricks left. I went to school with them.
I had seven years schooling at Wribbenhall and was the only child of ten that my parents didn't have to pay for, as free education came into force the year I started going to school. I could write page after page of those happy years of my life. As Lodge Hill was the farthest distance to go to school, we started first and the other children followed us. We used to saunter along Dowles Road with no fear of motors, farm tractors or the like. We started the journey at 7.45am and arrived home between 5 and 5.30. Our food we took in satchels or bags and sometimes we ate it on the way to school and then had to starve until we got home. We usually had to make a dash to arrive at 9 o'clock, going down Parrots entry and Pewterers Alley. I don't remember much caning at the school. There were other forms of punishment. Once a teacher corrected my brother for some trifle and I told her I'd ask mother not to send him to school again. For that bit of cheek, I had to stand in the corner holding six slates on my head for ten minutes. The slates we used were horribly scratchy but we were taught to use a pen during the last term. We had ten minutes of scripture each morning. Our schoolmaster's name was Mr Birtwhistle, he was followed by Mr Millington.
The railway ran through Lodge Hill ground. Trains were so punctual that we didn't need clocks. The line was a great attraction for the assortment of wild flowers growing on the banks. Stone bridges spanned the railway and the Park Brook ran beneath where we spent many happy hours challenging each other to crawl through the tunnel underneath. Often I think of the cotton grass which grew where the boring for coal took place during the year 1910. One of the engineers boarded with us at Lodge Hill, an Irish man named Kelly. There was quite a commotion when a diamond was lost around there. Great solid rocks were stacked along the side of the line and I noticed a chunk of this in my nephew's garden at Far Forest.
Another attraction in the Wyre Forest was an old house in the Parks, reached by a pathway from Dowles Brook. Albright and Wilson of Smethwick and Oldbury had the fishing rights and we were allowed to watch them. There were huge willow trees the orchard side of the brook but age and floods have taken their toll. Dowles valley was a noted place for butterflies and rare moths. Collectors used to come from around the Midlands – Birmingham chiefly. We children used to tag along with them, brushing rum and treacle on the trees. If anything was interesting, we were straight there and in those days, people were all very friendly. In the past, country children were thought to be backward but that was a fallacy. Children are very impressionable, none more so than those who lived in the country. They would notice all the natural things around, seasonal changes etc. There were no cinemas, fairs, mechanical devices or toys to distract them.
More Memories from Nellie 1969/70
A short time ago my daughter and granddaughter (Nell Tansley and Christine Tansley) suggested taking me round my old haunts at Dowles. We started from Abberley through the village and then through Heightington to the main Cleobury Road, turned right and then left at the Hophole and through the lakes, which is now all built up. We then drove down Dry Mill Lane, much more enclosed with trees and high hedges than I remember.
We pulled up at the gateway into the old footed road and the Manor House. I pondered on the times I played with other children under the large oak trees just in the field. Then we came to the bridge over the brook and the cottage which I understand has been modernised. 70 years ago it was a very dark and gloomy little cottage. An old lady lived there alone, name of Weavers. On rare occasions she would ask us schoolchildren to bring her small items on our way home.
My daughter and I got out of the car and leisurely walked to the next house. I thought of the Walls family who were our neighbours for years. That holding has changed almost past recognition; no fruit trees anywhere, the fold is a garden now. I did notice three cows there and some pigs the other side of the brook, also several dogs but not the sheep dogs of my day. I stood and gazed at the holding that was known as Town Mill. The house is vacant I believe and the old mill gone. I remember the garden there in my uncles time; scented moss roses, pink cabbage roses, tea roses and such. There's an attic in that house with a very small window which we named the priest hole! There were no fruit trees in that orchard, everywhere looked desolate.
The lane along the brook was known as Dowles Bottoms. The Smiths at Lodge Hill were the only people with any kind of transport. The constant carting of grain from the Coventry Mill my father worked, as well as carrying produce for neighbours along the lane caused ruts in the soft surface. One part of the lane we called Paradise. It was always damp and dark owing to the thickness of the trees. We passed the little field we called 40 acres. There were several caravans in the next orchard. As we approached the Coventry Mill, (Knowles Mill) I stood on the footbridge spanning the brook. I noticed the huge fir tree had gone from the corner of the garden belonging to the Mill House, where my brother Ted lived for many years.
In those far off days my father was the main user of the road along the side of Dowles Brook in Wyre Forest. He was the miller at the Coventry Mill (Knowles Mill) and he carried the corn and flour to customers that way. He also transported produce for neighbours who were without any means of transport. I remember the busy life of my father and brothers at the mill. The stone structure of the mill has not much changed. The only movement we saw was turkeys at the window of the second floor. The sight of it all revived hosts of memories of childhood days; the noise of the grinding of wheat and maize. We children often played with the kibbled corn sharps and Indian meal in the huge bins. I also remember the chart coming in the post prohibiting children inside such places. The mill had three storeys and the main work was on the second floor. It's thirty years or more since I was in the Mill and the figures and dates my father recorded were still to be seen on some of the posts (possibly late 1920's when the writer would have been mid thirties herself). We used to watch Mr C Peckets, the wheelwright for Wribbenhall, dressing the stones.
Part of the old iron wheel is still there – everything else was just a tangle of rough growth, even the Mill pond where we fished for roach, watched the moorhens with her brood and see the occasional heron. The flourishing orchards had apparently gone to waste – no gates or fencing anywhere.
In 1881 there was a severe flood which destroyed the weir and stopped the mill working for good. It is beyond me to describe the flood damage on the Dowles Brook, I've seen trees, animals, poultry, fowl pens and debris of all kinds and I've heard of a recent flood when my brother Fred's horse was carried down the Brook until it found a footing in a neighbours orchard.
My father William Smith rented the Mill and Lodge Hill farm in 1880 from a Squire Pease. There were two large rooms built onto the house to accommodate my parents and seven children – three more children were later born there. The squire attended to all requirements needed; new gates, doors, many fruit trees were planted and stone walls built around the fold yard. Mr Coldrick's firm attended to drains and what brickwork was required inside and out. Bowket did the decorating and a Mr Hunt the woodwork. The two men who rebuilt the stone wall were known as Yorky Potter and Pretty Dick. The smith made the road from the mill to Lodge Hill which was originally a foot track.
Finally I reached Lodge Hill - the place that had been tenanted by the Smith's for over eighty years. The place had a bare, derelict appearance. The beautiful fruit trees, neat hedges and tidy aspect of the house and surroundings all gone. How sad to see the state of such a beautiful holding as Lodge Hill and the valley of Dowles Brook. I also deplore the circumstances which led to my brother, Fred, from ending his days in the only home he'd ever known.
Fred was a great character and a very gentle man at heart. His only fault, if it can be called a fault, was his generosity. He worked hard and achieved very little, suffering hardships and distress unknown to anyone. He kept the home going and cared for his old mother. He worked for many farmers around the district and I'm sure they respected him.
Fred spent four years on his own after mother died, then he married Lizzie and things improved for him. Unfortunately she developed an incurable complaint, they were both nearing old age, she couldn't look after the house (who can, who is old and ill?) and things went from bad to worse. For years there was no clean water - it had to be carried from Ruskins Mill and water for other purposes such as cattle and cleaning, from Dowles Brook. Fred traveled miles for lost cattle as there were no fences to keep them in the fields.
The Smith family is very large and Lodge Hill has always been a holiday playground for all the children, a place of love and laughter. Each child knew Fred's qualities and they adored him.