This week's theme is ancestral homes.
My Danson ancestral home - but not quite what I envisaged!
Trap Farm, Carleton, near Poulton-le-Fylde Lancashire, c.1998.
Trap Farm, c.1998 |
My first knowledge of Trap Farm as my ancestral home came from obtaining the birth certificate of my great grandfather' James Danson. I found the farm on the current Ordnance Survey Map and set out to find it on a visit to the Fylde c.1998.
Situated amidst fields on what is now a busy road, it was a sorry sight - dilapidated and overgrown.
By the time of the 1851 Census, it was a household of 13. Henry was described as a farmer of 31 acres. Eldest daughter (now married) Elizabeth was there with her three sisters and her husband Thomas Bailey, whilst second daughter Grace had left home. But there were now two sons - John and Henry plus Henry's brother Peter and two servants. How did they all fit into what looked a small farmhouse? My great grandfather James, born 1852 at Trap Farm, plus another daughter Jane, later completed the family.
By the time of the next census in 1861 the Danson family was no longer at Trap.
Two years ago I returned to Carleton, fully expecting Trap Farm to be wiped off the map and replaced by a modern housing estate. To my surprise it was still there, but was undergoing a transformation into a modern home.
I recently made contact with a third cousin whose great grandmother Elizabeth Danson, eldest daughter of Henry and Elizabeth, was born at Trap Farm, and he sent me a more recent photograph.
Trap Farm in 2011 ****************** |
I am the baby - with my Dad in our back garden, |
My first home was a rented end-terraced house on the edge of Blackpool, Lancashire. My memories are of open fires, and an icy front room used for special occasions (birthday parties, Christmas plus my piano lessons) when the fire was lit. The living room at the back was the hub of family life.
The kitchen was small and basic, It was rather dark and gloomy with a solid back door and little light getting in. A pantry with a cupboard with a mesh door was the primitive fridge! Washing (always on a Monday when my mother donned a cross-over overall and put her hair in a turban), was done by hand and then put through a mangle to dry either outside on the clothes line or on an overhead pulley. The other alternative was a steaming clothes horse around the open fire.
It was an event when we heard the rag and bone man passing by on his horse and cart. We also had a lorry coming around selling drinks and it was a treat was to get in a stone jar sarsaparilla- a forerunner of Coca Cola?
We were one of the first people to get a television in 1953, so the house was crowded around it to watch the Queen's Coronation. We also got a phone then, largely because my father worked away a lot and it was a way to keep in touch - so we felt we were living a modern life in the new Elizabethan age.
My "second" home was my grandfather's house, (right) which he bought in 1924 - I have the receipt for the deposit of £67. It looks quite big, but, with only three small bedrooms, it must have still been a squash for parents, 3 daughters and two sons who all lived at home until they married. The front door had a round stained glass window which I thought was very posh.
Half way up the side wall was a small door which revealed the coal chute where the coal men emptied their sacks down into a small cellar under the stairs. My uncle later took on the hard task to clear it all out to create a much needed "glory hole". The side trellissed gate was later taken down and a driveway created to take my uncle's car. The former hen house at the back then became the garage.
The large gardens were my grandfather's and later uncle's joy - with floral displays in the front and vegetables and fruit grown at the back and the scene for many a family photograph. There was one surprising feature about the house, though - it did not have electricity until the late 1950's, because my grandfather refused to have it installed. I remember my aunt standing on a chair to light the ceiling gas lights, and ironing with a heated flat iron, and the flames from the gas cooker frightened me.
Half way up the side wall was a small door which revealed the coal chute where the coal men emptied their sacks down into a small cellar under the stairs. My uncle later took on the hard task to clear it all out to create a much needed "glory hole". The side trellissed gate was later taken down and a driveway created to take my uncle's car. The former hen house at the back then became the garage.
The large gardens were my grandfather's and later uncle's joy - with floral displays in the front and vegetables and fruit grown at the back and the scene for many a family photograph. There was one surprising feature about the house, though - it did not have electricity until the late 1950's, because my grandfather refused to have it installed. I remember my aunt standing on a chair to light the ceiling gas lights, and ironing with a heated flat iron, and the flames from the gas cooker frightened me.
In 1954 we moved to our own semi-detached house not far away and my mother was delighted to have a Rayburn - a solid fuel cooker which she loved for making stews, soups, casseroles and baking - our home for two years before we were on the move again.
The village of Upper Poppleton (try saying it quickly!) was the scene of our next home, near York when my father was transferred with his work from Lancashire to Yorkshire.
This home (left) was going up in the world - a new build and detached. Instead of the two small downstairs rooms we now had a through lounge (all the fashion), fitted carpets, our first fridge and cumbersome storage heaters to get at least some background heating. From the outside it hasn't changed much when this photograph was taken a few years ago.
1961 saw another move, this time north to Edinburgh to a lovely bungalow and our first central heating - bliss! The colour scheme was rather strong - red units in the kitchen and a bathroom with a yellow suite and black tiles, which my mother could not wait to get rid of. This was the last of my childhood homes - but all left me with happy memories I am pleased to share here.
The village of Upper Poppleton (try saying it quickly!) was the scene of our next home, near York when my father was transferred with his work from Lancashire to Yorkshire.
Home 1956-1961 at Upper Poppleton, near York. |
1961 saw another move, this time north to Edinburgh to a lovely bungalow and our first central heating - bliss! The colour scheme was rather strong - red units in the kitchen and a bathroom with a yellow suite and black tiles, which my mother could not wait to get rid of. This was the last of my childhood homes - but all left me with happy memories I am pleased to share here.
In our garden at Edinburgh - a family group photograph taken
before I set off for a year in the USA.
Adapted from a post of 2011
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