Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Getting back to my roots in Gloucestershire, England

Once upon a time at the turn of the 20th century, there was a boy named Christopher and a girl named Gussie who lived a few houses apart on Pearcroft Road in the village of Stonehouse, Gloucestershire, England. They literally grew up together and fell in love.....when Christopher (Gussie called him "Jack") moved to Canada for a new adventure Gussie followed him a couple of years later in 1913 and they got married.  Christopher and Gussie were my grandparents.  Sadly my grandpa died when I was just four years old and I don't remember him at all.  My grandmother however was in my life until I was 34 years old and we were very very close.  I could talk about everything with her.  We would have a meal together every week - through her I tried new food that wasn't served in our home such as lamb, veal, broccoli (how exotic!), cauliflower and her peach pies have not been equaled to this day..she was an excellent cook.  As the years went on I still fit in an evening meal with my grandma every week but more and more I helped and finally did most of the cooking even though we pretended that she did it.  I worked shifts for many years and sometimes I would drop in unannounced  late in the evening after my shift as she would still be up reading her beloved detective magazines (we both loved a good crime story!) and she would put on the kettle. Needless to say I grew up hearing about her life in England and loved the stories..of course as a teenager I patiently listening but would mentally roll my eyes and think to myself "here goes story number 29" as all teenagers do (lovely creatures that they are...)  Oh how I would love to hear her tell me some of those stories now....From the time I was a tot I wanted to go to England but didn't make it there until I was 22 (and my babysitting money as a teenager paid for the airfare) and fell in love with the place.  Sadly my grandma never got a chance to return to her beloved Cotswolds.  By the time I was working and earning a salary a trip there would have been too physically difficult for her (she was 85 then)...how I would have loved to have taken her back.  Although the Stonehouse she remembers and the way it was when I visited it in the 70's (let alone now) was so different it's probably better she remembered it as it was....

I've visited my grandparents' home village (now a town) a few times - one time in particular was very special as it was with my mother who was thrilled to see where her parents grew up.  The last time I was there was in 2002 and I was a blubbering mess - it was my grandma's birthday (October 3rd) and earlier that year I had lost my mother.  My aunt (her other daughter) had died two years previously so I thought about all three of them and was very emotional.  This time I was much calmer....so let's go off to the village of Stonehouse...now pretty well a suburb of the city of Stroud.  When my grandparents lived there it was a quiet village of course - now the high street (main street) has vehicles rushing through constantly on their way to Stroud which is three miles away or Gloucester which is seven miles up the road. 

I headed out on Tuesday May 19th for the day from Paddington station.  Very handy that the train stops at such a small place as Stonehouse...and every time I step on or off that platform I am always the only passenger who does! 



This nice new shelter hasn't been here in other years...as it turned out I didn't need it as I took the train back from Stroud...but more on why later...

I wandered down to the high street and things started to look familiar - I double checked I was heading in the right direction and I was...before long I was at Pearcroft Road...

House where grandpa grew up

The house where my grandma grew up made with the beautiful Cotswold stone

The front garden of what was known as "Egremont" now known as "Graystones".
As you can see the houses were beautiful - especially my grandma's home.....I walked around the town and had tea and cake in a little tea room.  While there are a couple of cute shops and cafes Stonehouse is not a tourist haven and bears no resemblance to the more famous towns in the Cotswolds.

Local church - did my grandparents attend that as children?  I will never know. (neither one was born there so no baptism records)

One of the three local pubs

War memorial

Local elementary school

Another pub

Never did quite figure out what this is

The high street
I then caught the bus from the point above into Stroud (a rather dismal city) and changed onto the bus to Nailsworth.  (there is only so much time one can spend in Stonehouse - not the most exciting place in the world!) This is a town my grandma used to talk about and I had never been there..on the bus to Nailsworth I chatted wit a woman who was meeting up with a walking group.  A year ago I'd have asked if I could join them but I knew I could not keep up now sad to say and I had very worn out trainers on my feet (that happens when you wear them pretty well daily for over five months) that would not be suitable for climbing hills or walking paths.   I wandered around there for a couple of hours...



The Quaker Meeting House in Nailsworth



There were many mills in Nailsworth - this one is now a fancy hotel
Nailsworth had a few more shops than Stonehouse so was worth a look around...I had planned to go to Painswick as well but ran out of time.   The heavens opened on the bus between Nailsworth and Stroud and I found myself wandering in the rain trying to find a place to eat.  I made do with a meal at a Nicholson pub chain - so unmemorable that I can't honestly say what I had! 

Then I caught the train back to London full of lovely memories of the wonderful woman who was my grandma. 


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