DORIS FROST: In 1910 and today

Edwardian scene is living memory to Doris

A PHOTOGRAPH captures an often quite ordinary moment in time. As the decades pass fashion changes and the simple things featured can became the most interesting.

A picture I published in the Evening Star recently, of a group at the junction of Finchley Road and Cemetery Road, Ipswich, was from a period I thought beyond living memory.

After all, this picture (below) was taken in 1910, two years before the Titanic sank in 1912 and four years before the First World War.

I thought we would never know much more about this charming view taken by a photographer producing postcards to sell to those featured.

But Doris Frost, of Mitford Close, Ipswich, now nearly 94 years old, is a lady with a sharp memory for detail.

Doris spotted herself as a small child in the photograph, along with her mother and grandmother and some of their neighbours.

This grand lady is able to give details of everyday life in the town when cattle were driven along Cemetery Road.

The protests when rent was increased by three old pence (just over a penny in today’s money) and how she would be paid a farthing for collecting bread from St Margaret’s Church.

“Your recent photo has brought back many memories of my early life in Finchley Road,” says Doris.

MILK-O! Doris Frost remembers milk deliveries by horse-cart. This picture was taken in Ipswich in the 1920s. Do you recognise the street?

“In the photo is myself at about three-years-old. I am the little girl on the far left, next to what looks like a basket on wheels. I am holding my mother’s hand.

“My mother’s name was Ada Roberts and we lived at 120 Finchley Road. The lady on our left could be my aunt Harriet Roberts who lived at 122 Finchley Road (top of the picture on the left-hand corner).

“The old lady with the shawl over her head, I am fairly certain, is my grandmother Emily Ward. She lived in Barham but often stayed with my Aunt Harriet and my cousin Cyril Roberts.

“The reason some people are wearing aprons in the photo could be because in those days we all wore aprons or pinafores to protect our clothes. We usually had two or three, the white ones were for best and special occasions, like having your photo taken.

“Having a photo taken in those days was a novelty and a special occasion, as families very rarely had cameras. The landlord who owned many of the houses in Finchley Road was Mr William Piper, I believe he lived in Rushmere Road.

“Our rent was six shillings (30p) a week and when he put them up by 3d everybody created and called him all sorts of names, but he did do all the repairs.

“When my parents first went into 120 the only lighting we had was an oil lamp; this was followed by a gaslight hanging from the ceiling. In the late 1920s Arthur Bolding, my sister’s husband, who was an electrician, wired the house up for electric. Arthur’s father, who was an inspector with the electric board, passed the work.

“In my school days I first went to Argyle Street, then to St Helen’s School when it first opened.

“As a child I can remember seeing cows being herded along Cemetery Road on their way to the slaughterhouse in Norfolk Road.

“I can also remember from my childhood days the soldiers’ funerals from the 1914-1918 war.

“I can still see the gun carriages carrying the coffins along Cemetery Road.

“During the First World War many of the families, including mine, had to have soldiers billeted with them. As a youngster I often used to sit in the shelter just inside the cemetery and play games.

“Milk in those days use to come round in a churn on the back of a cart. I used to take a jug out to be filled up.

“I would go as a child to the grocer’s shop at the top of Samuel Road to buy 2d worth of beef dripping, which originally came from the White Horse Hotel. The dripping was lovely on bread.

“Some mornings, about seven o’clock, a baker would come round on his bike selling hot rolls. He would ring a bell to let you know he was in the road.

“In the afternoons the shrimp man would come round on his bike selling Harwich shrimps at 4d a pint.

“Every Sunday dinnertime the Co-op horse and cart would come round selling paraffin oil, soaps and cleaning material.

“When I was about ten years old every Saturday afternoon I would go to St Margaret’s Church to fetch a free loaf of bread for Mrs Barber, who was a widow who lived in Finchley Road.

“Mrs Barber would give me her basket with a clean tea loth in and the man at the church would wrap the bread in it. Mrs Barber would give me a farthing for going.

“I can remember Doctor Adams, of Christchurch Street, doing his rounds carrying his bag on foot, as he had no car. The local midwife in the 1920s was Miss Ditchman, who lived in Cemetery Road.

“When I was a child my mother, like many other women, used to take in washing for the people who lived in the big houses in Christchurch Street and Tudden-ham Road. I would have to get up early in the morning and help my mother with the washing.

“I would turn the mangle and help her fold the sheets and later that day, after school, I would deliver them to the big houses.

“The iron we used was a box iron. My mother would heat the flat iron on a coal fire and put it into the box.

“As children some of the games we played in the street were rounders, stick-and-hoop, which we would roll along the road, and spinning tops which you would whip along the road.

“On Sundays we would go to church twice, morning and afternoon Sunday school.

“On a Tuesday evening we would go to the Band of Hope at St Michael’s Church in Upper Orwell Street, where they would give us a text for good attendance.

“On a Sunday afternoon my father, James Roberts, who worked at Ransomes and Rapiers in the foundry, would go along to religious meetings at the Social Settlement in Fore Street.”

“I lived in the area most of my early life, until we were bombed out during the Second World War.

“I married my late husband Charles Fisher in 1930. We moved to Bramford, where we lived until 1933. We then moved back to Finchley Road, number 77; this was a two-bedroom house with a living room and a small kitchen.

“In 1935 we moved to 27 Hayhill Road. Then in 1938 we moved back into Finchley Road, this time number 54 next to the Kemps.”

“There are other names I recall in the photograph. Fourth from the left is Mrs Blake ,who lived at 136. Her husband was a printer at Cowell’s. The lady in the centre of the photo, with the apron tied round her waist, holding the little boy who is wiping his eye, is Mrs Barham. She lived at 134.

“The lady second right on the front row is Mrs Haws. We called her Aunt Georgie, although she was no relation. Her husband was a postman, they lived at 112 Finchley Road.

“I can remember many more people from the road such as Mrs Studd, who lived at 14. She had two daughters, both older than me, their names were Bessie and Vera. My parents lived in Finchley Road until 1951.”

Ernest Farrow grew up in the same part of Ipswich as Doris Frost.

He writes: “Your recent articles, pictures of Finchley, Cemetery and Hayhill Road, plus Doris Frost’s memories of days gone by, sent me back to my box of memorabilia and a search for any photographs taken prior to World War One.

“I immediately recognised the first pictures you printed of Finchley Road, having lived at number 65 until I was 13 years old. Next door to us on the corner were Mr and Mrs Arthur Scott – Mr Scott played a cornet in the Salvation Army band.

“On the other side, number 63, Mrs Brown, and next to her Mr and Mrs Prime.

“A little further down was a small sweetshop and general store, run by a family named Withers – very useful when mother ran short on something.

“I remember our house was lit by gas in my early days. Oh! how the ceiling used to get a dark ring from the fumes.

“We had a meter in the front room, which took the large pennies and was emptied once a month by the meter man, who could wrap a roll of pennies very, very fast; we used to watch fascinated at his performance.

“That all stopped in the late 20s or early 30s when we were converted to electricity.

“We used to play football at the end of Finchley Road, a practice not encouraged. Every afternoon a policeman used to come down the passage connecting Hayhill and Finchley roads, at which time we scarpered.

“One day he changed routine, came up little Finchley Road and caught the lot of us. We received a good dressing-down and told next time our parents would receive a visit. After that we always had a look-out.

“As youngsters we used to look though the fence of a stonemason’s called Saunders to see if we could catch sight of Dammo Green, centre forward for Ipswich Town in their amateur days.

“Dammo was a prolific goalscorer and was our local hero. We often saw him chiseling away at a chunk of granite, it made our day!

“Well-known local tradespeople included Hall’s the newsagents and general store, where we used to buy our fireworks in the back room. Hall’s was located between Samuel Road and Cemetery Road.

“Then there was Smith’s the pork butcher in Blanche Street and a small sweetshop on the corner of Little Cemetery Road. We were regulars there when we had a halfpenny to spend.

“Then at the junction of Suffolk and Norfolk Roads, now Tuddenham Avenue, there was an off-licence and a bakery named Ixworth’s. For many Christmases my mother made a large cake, which we would take over to Ixworth’s to be baked.

“On a hot night, in the summer, my father would send me over to the off-licence for a jug of beer.

“As a youngster I was a keen collector of cigarette cards, a popular pastime back then. I still have many sets with me, stored in red and blue tenner packets. Anyone remember those? Each packet contained ten cigarettes made locally by Churchmans.

“We moved to 46 Prince-Thorpe Road in 1937, but still maintained contact with several of our Finchley Road friends. My brother and I went down there to see the damage done by the landmine in World War Two. Cemetery Road was cordoned off and guarded by a policeman.

“We witnessed an amusing incident. A gentleman well known to our family was determined to gain access to his house in Finchley Road – he was so persistent that eventually this big policeman told him that if he tried to get in there once more he would arrest him.

“My parents couldn’t understand his behavior as he was a very quiet man and this was completely out of character. The mystery was solved several years after the war when he died – his son found a tin full of pound notes, cushions were lumpy, also stuffed with notes!