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Memories of My Childhood and Teens in Kibworth 1953-1970

By Ann Jones (formerly Probert, nee Fisher)

Dover Street

As a family we moved from Birstall, Leicester, in 1953 to reside at 5 Dover Street, Kibworth

Beauchamp. I was just over 4 years old. Our family consisted of Sheila and George (who

was away in the RAF most of the time), Audrey, myself and Julie, plus mum and dad. My

dad was a builder by trade and bought the

house consisting of two plots, from Ward's

who were butchers. When we moved in,

there was a side of bacon hanging on the wall

in the kitchen. The living room had the old

enamelled fireplace with built-in oven. The

front room had some kind of plant growing

through the floor; both rooms were brick

flooring and uneven. The kitchen had the old

copper-lined tubs for washing, an old

enamelled range to cook on, a walk-in pantry

and a cupboard under the stairs that we

called ‘crab hall’ as it had big spiders in it.

Upstairs had three bedrooms. One had a

huge hook that ran through the length of the

house, which dad told me was there to hold

the house together (scary for a youngster!).

We had a lean-to outside that housed the

toilet and coalhouse. We did have plans to

have a bathroom built on, but dad never got

around to it. Our baths were in an old tin bath which was kept in the outhouse. I think that

old Mr Ward had not been able to bother too much with the house and when he died it was

sold just as it was.

The garden had loads of fruit trees. The pear tree attached

to the side of the house was a winner; I won the Whitbread

tankard for the best fruit exhibit at the Kibworth Working

Men’s Club annual show. I was a keen gardener; we also

kept chickens, two dogs, cats, rabbits and a couple of geese

at one point.

Number 3, which was part of the property, had our garage

on it where dad kept his motorbikes, one to ride, the other

for spares. Our neighbour was Mrs Croson who lived at

number 1. After she died, and a few occupants later, the

top of the land was sold to build a bungalow. At the other

side of us was Ticker (Billy) Badcock and his wife and son

young Billy. Then there was a gap, later sold to the Smiths,

then Mr and Mrs George Knott (Mrs Knott was a piano

teacher), then the Peberdys. Further down were the

Holyoaks, Tom and Lesley, who I went to school with;

there were other siblings too, and Raymond Iliffe next. At

Ann Fisher, at front, with sisters Sheila and

baby Julie in garden of 5 Dover Street c1954

Ann Fisher holding trophy for

best fruit exhibit c1965

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the bottom of the street coming back up towards Fleckney Road, there was an elderly couple

who drove around in an old black car, like a model T Ford or something. He wore a bowler

hat and she a bonnet, very Edwardian. The other families I can remember were the Simons,

Bromleys, Dave Arnold, Aggie Dewick, the Grants and French's Michael and Geoffrey who I

used to torment.

The Johnson and Barnes’ factory

extended from the top of Dover Street,

down to two cottages, and then on to a

large gateway leading to the loading bay

and yard; the surface was covered with

coal slack or cinders. I always remember

the swishing noise of the machines in the

factory, especially if I was laid up with

measles or such like. After the factory

closed, it was used by some sort of

plastics’ company for a while. Some of

the land nearby was sold to the Butteriss,

the family of my future brother-in-law,

who had a road contracting business. A

house was built (later demolished) with a

yard behind to park the rollers and trucks. During the construction of the driveway, part of

the house next to it collapsed, the residents having to move out. I am sure that this was

covered in an article in the Harborough Mail. No one was to blame, just nature.

At Christmas, Kibworth Brass Band used to tour the streets, playing carols on Christmas

morning, which was lovely, but my dad drew the line when the milkman stopped outside our

house and decided to rearrange his crates every day. Dad told him that he didn't mind during

the week but at the weekends could he go and rattle his crates somewhere else.

Dover Street was a cul de sac during those years.

Schooldays

I went to the infant school set back from the square, in Paget Street, then to the junior school

opposite the village hall, until the new school was built at the Hillcrest Avenue estate. When

that opened in 1959, we were all transferred there.

Dover Street, Gladstone Street and Prospect Road were all blocked off by hedges. In the

summer we used to take short cuts through the hedge and across the fields, to the tin bridge,

and then up to the school. Otherwise I would have to go through our back gate, where

allotments backed up, then up White Street to the main footpath to the Hillcrest estate and

school. All those fields were farmed by a farmer called Welton, whose brother Eddie was

also the school headmaster. We played a lot in those fields; there was a brook and further up

almost opposite Dover Street was a small reservoir enclosed by fencing that was on railway

property, where steam trains used to fill their water tanks up (or so we were told). Also there

was a small hut for the railwaymen on the trackside. We used to climb over the fence, and in

the reservoir were the biggest tadpoles I had ever seen, newts and big water beetles which I

caught in a net made out of an old stocking to take home and put in my pond, made out of an

old Belfast sink or into the big tank at the bottom of the lean-to. Although we were

Beauchamp kids, we did go sledging up ‘Top Kibbuth’, as we called it, to the Munt. I always

knew it was a burial mound, but it was damn good sledging and beat Welton's hill near the tin

bridge. A pity it's been fenced off. We also went to the Old House which we knew as

George Fisher arriving home at 5 Dover Street:

note side walls of the Johnson & Barnes’ factory

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General Jack's, as it had the best conkers in the village; we tried to get them without being

seen.

When the time came to end our time at junior school, we all took our 11 plus exams. I was ill

with chicken pox, so I missed mine and had to go to Church Langton to re-sit them when I

was better. Not all of us were destined to join the ‘elite or snobby ones’ as we called them -

those who went to the Grammar School up School Lane. I was relieved to find that I was to

join my mates at Hanbury Secondary Modern School at Church Langton. We all caught

buses provided free by the education authority to get there from all over the surrounding

areas: Fleckney, Saddington, Mowsley and Laughton hills, both Kibworths, Gumley, Smeeton

and Foxton, Billesdon area, Medbourne, Hallaton, Slawston, and Welham. The kids came

from all over, until the school was transferred to Kibworth High School formerly the

Grammar School. I think we were the last year to leave school to go to work before the

transfer. My sister Julie was due to leave the juniors then, but she went to the High School

and not to Church "Lang".

We did have some fun and made new friends from other villages. One I have to this day is

June Hill (now Grey) who emigrated to Western Australia many years ago. We used to go

everywhere together, to village dances, when we were older and to Finney's in Market

Harborough to see the Walker Brothers and other groups or to the pictures, both no longer

there.

During our summer holidays we amused ourselves with various things. I went to my friend’s

farm, on a hill between Smeeton and Gumley, the Cooley’s. Sometimes I would help to get

the cows in for milking or I would ride their horse, a cantankerous beast that waited until you

got near with the bridle, then would gallop to the other side of the field, or I just used to play

hide and seek with Pat and Michael Cooley and the Scattergood's Jackie and Paul. Sometimes

I just went fishing in the brook for sticklebacks with a bent pin and worms.

The cricket field was near Dover Street so I used to go there a lot. At the back of the fire

station was the bowling club, so there was plenty to watch in the summer. I was a busy child

wandering everywhere, so I knew a lot and went to many places out of the way, sometimes

walking or on my bike. I was a great nature lover and took note of plants and animals I saw.

The Calverts, John and Richard (Nipper), lived opposite the Johnson & Barnes’ factory.

Others were Connie Warren and on the corner of Imperial Avenue lived Cecil Berry (I think

his name was), who was the W.M.C. secretary. The Lees, Taberers, Vears and Wetheralls; I

went to school with the Lee twins and Michael Wetherall. The others I knew all lived on

Imperial Road. Gambles wood and builders’ yard was on the corner, with Winkie Oram's

chip shop next door, which looked as if it was in a converted front room. I was sent there to

get fish and chips for tea as a treat, some of the best I have ever tasted.

More Memories

Across the road at the top of Dover Street was 1A, then Charlie Simons, who I think at one

time was a parish counsellor. His bottom garden backed on to the side of ours; the fence was

made of railway sleepers. My dad had a running battle with him. Charlie kept chickens and

pheasants. One day Charlie was hammering wire netting on to our fence: dad went out to see

what was going on and asked him what he was doing. Charlie told him he was putting the

netting on to keep the birds in, so dad asked him if he had permission to do so, to which the

answer was “no”. "Well this is my fence, so you can just take it off” said dad. Charlie

thought he was kidding, but dad was adamant and told him to take it off or else. It was taken

off. When this was done he told him to ask for permission, which he did; he then told Charlie

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he could put it back on, but not to take liberties again. I thought he was a strange man, as one

day he stood on the fence throwing stones at the dogs making them bark, then when dad was

arriving home from work, he came round complaining that the dogs were barking. I'd already

met dad and told him what I had seen; dad had words and chased him down the street to the

shed that Charlie had at the bottom of Dover Street and let him stew there for a bit.

Next door to him was the entrance to the old Johnson and Barnes’ storage shed. This made a

brick side to Charlie's garden, with windows at the top. His lad was firing airgun pellets at the

windows; I told dad this. So when Charlie came round to tell dad that I had broken them

throwing stones, dad said that if the frames were not riddled with airgun pellets, he would

replace them free of charge. Of course they were full of holes!

The house in front was let to American servicemen stationed at Bruntingthorpe; also some on

Fleckney Road too. After they moved on, it had others in it, including the Cannons from

Fleckney who I knew. Next to the club were the Holyoaks, relatives to those down Dover

Street.

The Working Men's Club was

where my dad spent a lot of his

free time, as a committee

member and in the darts’ team,

where he was known as the

"shark". He won a lot of cups so

maybe he made short work of his

opponents. We loved the club

outings, as children. We got up

very early, skipping down to the

station, to catch the train the club

had booked for the day to take us

to the seaside. The train would

pull into the station, to be loaded

with all types of beer, pop and

crisps, then off we would go.

Great Yarmouth, Hunstanton,

Mablethorpe, and Cleethorpes

were some of the destinations.

This was until the station was

closed under the Beeching plan,

then we had to go by coach to less exciting destinations. This was a popular annual

occurrence and it was such a shame that the station had to be wrecked completely, as the club

train was usually full of eager villagers and it brought us all together.

Dad sold some of his bottom land to the club to extend their car park, at the back of the club,

after they got rid of the allotments. He wasn't particularly worried at this stage, as he still had

the bottom gate. It was only when he sold number 3 plot and moved his garage to the bottom

of the garden with nice steel ranch gates that the problem arose. He came home from work to

find a 6ft fence blocking our access. According to our land deeds, we had access rights to use

it as an entrance. He went to the committee to ask them to agree to it under those

circumstances but they refused, saying if they allowed one, everyone would want it. He was

really annoyed about it and felt totally betrayed. After a bit of a dispute, they agreed to

pedestrian access as a compromise; some deal as not long after they allowed Smiths to use the

access route to park one of his coaches, a bit different to a motor-bike or car.

Kibworth Working Men’s Club, Darts Competition

Left to right: Roy Underwood, Sal Marabella, Tony Eales,

Eric Grant, Albert Muggleton (presenting prizes), Cyril

French, Brian Ablett, George Fisher (receiving cup),

Fred Hollingsworth, Arthur Coleman

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Next to the club was a shop owned by a little old lady, later sold to Tom and Ivy Goldhawk;

their son Christopher was my first boy friend at 5 years old. They sold up and moved to

Hampshire. After them it changed hands a few times.

Across the road on the corner of Halford Street was White's electrical shop. My brother in

law John Gibson, who married my sister Sheila, worked for him as an electrician. I was

friendly with Diana White. The band hut was at the top: my other sister, Audrey, had her

wedding reception there. The Pells and Bill and Madge Pinnock, who were the club's

steward, lived on this street too.

This end of Fleckney Road going towards Garners the greengrocers, later to be converted to a

launderette, had the Deacons on both sides I think. Then there was another shop on the corner

of Harcourt Road, I can’t recall what it was. Opposite was Terry Sedgley’s the butcher,

where dad had a weekly account. Ravenhills was on the corner of Buller Street. I also

remember Billings the builder. Newtown bakery - I used to love their cakes and the smell of

fresh bread from the ovens situated at the back of the shop, down Kimberley Street. It was

later owned by Geoffrey Lee, the brother of the Lee twins, my mates. Across the road was a

hairdresser.

Fox's was next to the entrance to the ‘recky’ (recreation ground). I remember one carnival

when they put in a polar bear in a glass case as part of the procession. The other side was the

scout hut which I remember was not used much, more for some kind of storage at the back.

Down the ‘jitty’ was the recky, with swings and things. At the bottom was the tennis court

and below that was the old speedway track which my brother used to go to. He came back

one day complaining that someone had pinched the old ‘sit up and beg’ bike that he used; dad

told him not to tell anyone in case they brought it back. Barker’s fair stood there, a circus and

the village bonfire on November 5th.

Balfour Beatty had a yard going down towards the Co-op. There was a row of houses I used

to hide behind when I attached cotton to Miss Morrison's door knocker at Grey Ladies

opposite. I pulled it, the knocker rapped, she came out, had a look around, muttered, then

went back in again.

Welton’s farm was next to the Co-op, with entrances either side. Then St Wilfrid’s Hall: I

went there to get mum’s divi on divi day (divi = dividend); I still remember the number, 3096.

We also went there for jumble sales. The shoe shop was further down, and then Alan

Timson’s; he was disabled, rode a big 3-wheeler bike and lived on Rosebery Avenue. The

next shop sold all sorts of things, wallpaper material and knick knacks.

The chip shop was opposite, my last port of call on my way back home from youth club held

at the village hall on Mondays and Fridays, with a dance every month with a live band. I was

on the committee and sorted out any female disputes, which usually started in the toilets. We

went pony trekking in Wales, which I enjoyed.

Next came Olivants and then Worthingtons on the corner of Smeeton Road. Opposite was

Arthur Tomlinson the barber solely for men; I knew Myra Tomlinson. Callaghans the baker’s

were next door with their daughter, Belinda. Then there was the Seat; it was a place where

we all used to meet up; my dad thought it was funny and used to tease me about it. The

‘electric’ building was set back and I seem to remember Balfour Beatty had some kind of

connection, if not there, then at the yard next door. Rowe’s the newsagent then Dr Barker’s

surgery were opposite. I think the old fire station used to be there before the newsagent. It is

now a news shop.

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The square is where we caught buses to Leicester or Market Harborough areas. Past the old

junior school in Station Street was the Railway Inn and then a ‘jitty’ that led up to the

Grammar School; the chemist was next to that.

Across the road going back up towards the square was the village hall, then a greengrocer that

sold cakes and flowers. Next was the Post Office, how could I ever forget that!!! I left my

first child, Natalie, asleep in her pram outside it; I got home thinking ‘I'm sure I have

forgotten something’. In sheer horror I realised I had left my two week old baby down at the

post office. I ran like the hounds of hell were after me to find she was still fast asleep. I

pushed her back home, in a rather guilty but relieved manner (her husband now says, are you

sure she wasn't swapped).

George Lynn’s was next and around the corner was a draper’s shop which I seem to

remember being converted to the Midland Bank. The Old Swan pub came next, and across

the road on the corner of Weir Road was Stanbridge’s farm and opposite lived Bill Gibson

and his wife, one of the sons of PC Gibson.

PC Gibson was related to my eldest sister Sheila, by marriage; her husband John was one of

the sons, along with Bill, Violet, Christopher and Arthur. They were all quite tall. Arthur and

his wife Mary lived in Buller Street. PC Gibson was buried in Kibworth cemetery, with quite

a big turnout and a comprehensive obituary in the paper. His grand-daughters Nicola and

Joanna emigrated to Australia along with their children; some were born in Australia. His

grandson Craig remained in England with his wife. I am sure he would have been extremely

proud of them all.

My sister Sheila worked for Gent’s at the Leicester Road site and knew a lot of the girls there.

A summer occurrence was the occasional appearance of the ‘French’ onion man on his bike.

The old style Gypsy caravans pulled by horses visited and also on a regular basis the rag and

bone man, who we used to follow with his horse and cart down our street, waiting for the

horse droppings, which were good for the garden.

These are a few of my memories

of my time in Kibworth. In all I

had a full life as a kid and the

freedom to do it. Times seemed a

lot safer then as people looked out

for each other. I am pleased to be

able to share some of these

memories with you and have

more if I think about it. These are

the main ones.

As an after thought, 5 Dover

Street was haunted - but that’s

another story.

February 2011

Wedding at St Wilfrid’s Church, Kibworth 1968

Left to right: George Fisher (Junior), Craig Gibson (child at

front), Cliff Butteriss, Audrey Butteriss (nee Fisher),

Jane Butteriss (child at front), John Gibson, Sheila Gibson

(nee Fisher), Joanna Gibson (bridesmaid at front),

Geoffrey Probert (Groom), Ann Probert (nee Fisher, Bride),

Susan Butteriss (bridesmaid at front), George Fisher,

Juliet Fisher, Renee Fisher, Nicola Gibson