Some of the early Childhood memories of the Greyhound District, Oakengates from 1910 - 1918 written over a period of several years. Now collected and dedicated to my daughter Marion and grandchildren Sarah, Emma and Hannah.

By "Farve", Gwan Gwad and Dr. Bom Bom

These childhood memories could easily have been called "Life Begins at 70". For this is really what happened to me as I approached that age.

Having had to retire from work at about the age of 60 I became interested in local history. With the development of the Telford New Town, I made notes of familiar land-marks being demolished, to be seen no more. This is how my childhood memories came to be written. The purpose being to let my daughter and grandchildren know something of what life was like in this district when I was a child. How I regret not having listend to my parents when they tried to tell me of their childhood. Now it's quite possibly my family won't be interested in what I could tell them. However, the desire persisted to leave a written record of what experience had made known to me.
I make no claim to be a writer, this is just an honest attempt to express what I know and feel. I am so indebted to so many people who have given me unstinted help and encouragement that I say, most gratefully. Thank you all, very very much.

Here is the poem "The Childrens' Hour" by Longfellow which inspired these thoughts. I well remember one of my sisters reading it to me from my earliest years. How I used to ask her to read it or recite it again and again! I did not understand it then, but at 74 I know it and all that it means. The last verse of this poem concludes these memories.

Between the dark and the daylight
When the night is beginning to lower
Comes a pause in the day's occupations
That is known as the Childrens' Hour
I hear in the chamber above me
The patter of little feet
The sound of a door that is opened
And voices soft and sweet

From my study I see in the lamplight
Descending the broad hall stair
Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,
And Edith with Golden hair
A whisper and then a silence
Yet I know by their merry eyes
They are plotting and planning together
To take me by surprise

A sudden rush from the stairway
A sudden raid from the hall!
By three doors left unguarded
They enter my castle wall;
They climb up into my turret
O'er the arms and back of my chair
If I try to escape they surround me;
They seem to be everywhere

They almost devour me with kisses
Their arms about me entwine
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen
In his mouse-tower on the Rhine
Do you think, oh, blue eyed Banditti
Because you have scaled the wall
Such an old moustache as I am
Is not a match for you all?

HOW I CAME TO WRITE MY CHILDHOOD MEMORIES

It started when I saw the long disputed Greyhound Cross Roads being altered and the New Town coming into being, Wright's Building had already disappeared so had Greyhound Terrace, Forge Place were derelict also The Fodder Plant. Soon all the familiar places which I had known since my earliest days, these too would disappear. It came to me rather like a revelation that a new district was being created, so silently, with no advertising to herald it's approach.

One part of the old district still remained, untouched as yet, it was one of the earliest walks I can recall. It was with one of the Shepherd family who lived nearby, who had to take lunch to their grandad who was the crossing keeper in the watch box (cabin) at the Station Hill Crossing. Starting from Forge Place we went down the railway lines, on the left hand side was a gutter in which water flowed from the Snedshill Brickworks to the pool near the Snedshill Forge (about 200 yards). Here was the entrance to the works, opposite was the Forge Office, continuing down the line on the left hand side was a kind of filter bed about six feet wide and twelve inches deep, filled with water which came from the Wood Pool. This too flowed into the nearby Forge Pool. Next, we came to two back to back cottages, these were part of Forge Place. Here was a branch line which crossed Canon Gate Road and formed a wharf in which trucks of coal and slack were for use at J. Maddock and Company, just before the line crossed the road was the water tower, a tall building with a big water tank on top. It was here the locomotives filled up with water. At the end of the wharf was another two cottages of Forge Place, beyond these was a small shed used as a stone place by the plate layers (navvy) men who maintained the railway line. This branch line continued to about half way to Station Hill. It was usually crowded with wagons which were full with coal or slack, these were taken to the weigh bridge alonside the line and checked by the check weighman Walter Barrow.

The single line now continued to the Station Hill Crossing and the beehive shaped watch box manned by Mr. Grice.

The return journey was always the one I liked. Turning to the right and going down Canon Gate was the entrance to the Forge, (on the left hand side) while the right was the flag plant which made concrete products. Then I was taken through the Forge to see Mr. Dudley (a neighbour) who was in charge of the boilers. Nearby were the fitting and steel testing work shops. The came the exciting part. A path alonside the embankment at the bottom of which was the LMS railway line, on the left were wagons of scrap iron and coal or slack. I did not like this dangerous way but it led to the puddling furnaces and scrap yard which I liked to explore. Taking a left turn we came to the "Rickerty Bridge" over the railway line up a path about fifty yards, and back to the entrance opposite the Forge offices and then to where I lived.

Now all this has gone, but I do have an aerial photograph of part of it which I got from J. Maddock and Company. Down below it shows the foundary yard and the Co-op Bakehouse. This led me to consider why not record what you know of this once busy district.

Copyright:  Estate of  Moses Evans