Buckden - a Huntingdonshire Village

BUCKDEN: A CLOSING MISCELLANY 217 a few extra pennies to my shop but as I sat in my chair after dinner with my feet up, Katie on my lap (that’s my cat by the way) and reminisced about bygone days I wondered whether our chapel with its friendly congregation and new look and our own minister would be as successful as it is now if the population of the village had still been around 1250. I think not, so you see good does come out of something evil. During the war our parents ran a dance each week to raise funds for what was called ‘Forces Homecoming Fund’. They raised about £5000—a lot of money in those days. It was decided afterwards that a more permanent memorial for the boys who didn’t come home would be more appropriate. After a lot of meetings and talks it was decided a Playing Field would be long lasting. The Vineyards had always been used as a sports field for the school and this was leased from the Church Commission and was eventually purchased to be called Buckden Memorial Playing Fields. A Children’s Corner was fenced off and toilets built. The field sloped towards the Valley and a hard kicked ball would end up in the water. When the By- Pass was being built the foreman was approached and agreed to take the top soil to the field and level it. He was pleased to do this because of the short distance to cart the soil. My gripe: this field is now called The Millennium Playing Field and The Valley is called The Pond. This is not what our parents raised the money for but a memorial to the boys who didn’t come home, and had it not been for their hard work this field would, today, be another housing estate. While a search was being made for a suitable field it was suggested that somewhere nearer the centre of the village would be better. The field where Manor Gardens is now was suggested. The help of the Cambridge Playing Fields Society was sought and they decided that the area was much too damp so the Vineyard was purchased. Why were Bob and I asked to tell you about Buckden as it was? Well, there are not many of us left who remember Buckden as it was—peaceful and quiet. I don’t need an environmental economist to tell me what is happening to rural Britain. You can see it in most villages in Huntingdonshire. I was born in Buckden in 1923; when I don’t know as I have lost my Birth Certificate. Water came from the well and was drawn up on a rope. The lavatory was twenty yards away at the bottom of the yard. There were hens at the bottom of the yard (at the time we didn’t realise they were free range). There was always a Cock as it was said that if there was no cock then the eggs could have a blood spot in the yolk. I found out that was wrong when deep litter houses and hens kept in cages came about. Milk was delivered by horse and cart from several small herds of cows. The milk was never pasteurised. The cows were milked by hand into the bucket and this was tipped into a churn and loaded on to the cart and delivered daily. The milkman brought the churn to your door and measured your requirements into your jug. Sure it went sour sometimes in the hot weather but Mum put it in a muslin bag and made cream cheese. The horse didn’t need to be told to move on it just knew where to go and where to stop. We never fell ill with e-coli or other diseases. When a cow gave birth to a calf the first milk was thick and when heated in the oven with a little sugar it set like egg custard and was delicious. Now such foods are labelled unfit for human consumption. Where the cows grazed in season the field was full of cowslips and dandelions which were picked to make wine. Have you heard the Cuckoo or the Barn Owl? I haven’t. Farming and nature seemed to walk hand in hand and it’s not so now. I hadn’t to walk to school, it was just next door, but other boys and girls walked-across the fields from Diddington in all weathers. Did I hear you ask about a bus? The houses I passed on the way to school were all unlocked all day. Burglary was unknown in the village as we had our own Bobby who was seen biking round the village. On the way to school we passed the church and chapel. God still played an important part in the village, local farmers did not cut their corn on Sunday. Buckden was a still sleepy village with hardly any traffic. The horses from the farm were taken to the football field in the Summer (that’s the field next to Park Road). After a day’s work they went on their own and would wait at the gate while the Horse Keeper caught up to let them in. In the morning, they would be waiting at the gate to be taken to the farm for their breakfast before starting day work. HH Deejays: the early days October 1905. It was, the members said afterwards, one of the most enjoyable evenings they had ever spent. A slap-up supper in the Lion’s new club room, followed by songs, toasts, more songs, more toasts, a report from the Hon. Sec. on the most successful season in the group’s history (cheers), and as the icing on the cake, the proceedings much enlivened by selections on the phonograph by young Sid Hardwick and Bob Hales, Jnr. As the members dispersed into the autumn night, did none of them feel a slight guilt at having so much enjoyed the enthusiastic young men and their recorded tunes? A chill of foreboding that they might have been listening to the future of music: not live, but simply plucked from a pile of discs or cylinders, requiring no rehearsals, no interplay between musicians and audience, no after-the-show camaraderie over a pint?