I returned last night from a weekend in Bedfordshire. Although Hampshire is the county where I was born and I now happily live, I will always feel a strong attachment to Bedfordshire. We moved into the village of Clophill when our children were two and six years old and I think because it is the place where we raised our family it will always remain special. Clophill is situated on the A6 part way between Bedford and Luton, the small market towns of Ampthill and Shefford a few miles on each side of the village and the places you had to go to see a Dr and do a bigger shop. In the seventies the population of Clophill was 2,000 but had steadily raised with the building of new properties, no big housing estates, mostly infill. The village consisted mainly of the high street stretching a mile from the main road with an assortment of properties, at one end the village green, which as Village greens go was rather small and insignificant. We were very lucky to have an exceptional village school, It's head a very small demure woman who headed a very small dedicated team who nurtured and encouraged their pupils. My two sons were probably not their easiest of students, but their strengths were recognised and valued in this small community. This was a church school, so the whole school were crocodiled down to the church for each holy festival. (While in the village yesterday I spotted small children in the very familiar uniform heading off to the Mothering day service).
When we arrived in the village there were three shops, a large general store and post office, a butcher and a bicycle repair shop! By the time we left in 2004, only the shop and PO survived and that was under threat of closure.
On our first full day in the village I wandered up to the top of the village to find the 'playgroup' with Matthew to put his name down. As he wasn't yet three he was able to attend if I stayed with him, so a couple of mornings a week we would drop Ian at school and wander up the lanes to join in the fun. For the next few years our lives were instringently tied up with the communities of the school and playgroup. Each summer a large fete and carnival procession was held along with an air show! yes an air show, it was such a unique occurrence for a small village that people would come from a very long distance to see it! It had come about because of a villager's involvement with the RAF, an arrangement was made and for many years the sale of the 'fete programmes were donated to the RAF benevolent fund and the fete was fixed on the day of large air shows and the planes were diverted to fly over our small village. I remember the children maypole dancing while a hurricane flew low over the show ground and the times we watched at the end of the day as the red arrows flew down the High street! Friends were made, mainly parents of other children, we joined in social events, summer BBQ's, quiz nights, barn dances and many more events.
The children had to go out to Shefford, Ampthill, or Flitwick for Cubs, Scouts, swimming lessons etc. We were surrounded by farms, country lanes and woods so we were able to walk in the surrounding countryside. Maulden Wood was our favourite place to walk and the annual Christmas eve walk to wear the children out became a ritual! The boys at nine had to travel further a field for school, making friends in other villages and we became a' taxi' service' transporting to parties, school events etc. In senior school years, school was ten miles away in Bedford and the boys soon learnt to use the bus services with parental back up when the limited bus service wasn't in operation!
We were sixteen years in Clophill and it was quite a difficult decision for me to leave, though Steve was very keen. I still have the memories of happy family life, the friends who we are still in touch with and the ones who have left. The new village shop is now situated on the Green, in a bungalow which has been built up and which had belonged to a very special and perhaps unlikely friend, Margaret. I knew Margaret for a few years, her husband had died shortly after she had come down from the Lake District and I would spend time with her, she was nearly blind, had fascinating stories to tell and baked scrumptious cakes! I'd help by taking this wonderful lady to the Dr's or shopping and in return my life was enriched. Margaret died a year before we left the village and this weekend I went into her 'home' the new shop, I thought I would feel sad, but realised that she would have been delighted that the 'village shop' continued to be the centre of village life!
I stayed with friends Jane and Barry and had a really nice time, we went to Jean's for a meal and went for a lovely walk on Sunday morning.
Reading back through what I have just written, it seems too 'Rosie' life wasn't always perfect, I wouldn't want to go back and live, but its nice to have visit and to remember.