Memories of my Mother
Amelia M. Gurr
{Woodley}

In the words of my twin brother Charles when referring to our Mother in 2004 he stated, “Well she was a bit wonky” and in the words of my cousin, “Auntie Millie was before her time, she should have been around in the 1960s as a hippie”. Yes this is perhaps the best description of a loving Mother who cared much for her family and was not treated very well in return, sad to say I include myself in this. Unfortunately we did not recognize her many talents or her good intentions as children.

The family and surroundings; Stanley George Gurr, {father} Amelia Gurr, {mother}, Michael Charles, {twins} Stephen, and Peter was the youngest. We lived at 54, Wimbourne Avenue, Redhill, in Surrey. A nice area south of London with the main London–Brighton railway running behind the house and the A23 at the end of the avenue, there was also a small stream on railway property at the end of the garden, Mr. and Mrs. Clarke lived at No 52, and Mr. and Mrs. Webb at 56 Wimbourne Avenue.

Right: Charles W. Woodley my Grandfather

Early memories of my Mother; she was a tall lady and perhaps a little overweight with glasses, and a large round face, a large nose which was also a feature in her three sisters. My mother was the eldest and was 10 years old when her father Charles W. Woodley was killed in the 1st world war, I cannot remember her talking about this when we were children. This tragedy must have affected her, her mother and sisters who were all so young. One of my very early memories was just after the 2nd W.W. We had German children
who had been orphaned staying in our road, the good people of Wimbourne Avenue had them over for a holiday from Hamburg which had been heavily bombed. They seemed to pick on me, hold hands and dance around calling out “monkey face–monkey face” which upset me at the time, but my Mother said never mind go tell them, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me,” come to think of it I do look a bit apish, but she was kind and consoling that was her way with many things.
However she was not soft, and I can well remember when a local lad who was a bit of a
bully {towards me} and over confident, he gave my mother a bit of lip, she straight away
gave him a good slapping on the legs( his name was John Forbes, ) unfortunately his parents did not quite see it that way and she ended up in court, I think it cost her a £5—00 fine which was about a weeks wages for my Father and I guess he would have paid the fine. There may have been other factors involved in this incident of which I no nothing about.

Right: My Mother and Father; Stanley G. Gurr
Amelia M. Gurr
C 1938

For many years she claimed to hear night time prowlers in our garden, {other members of the family slept well}, she was sure in her own mind that it was young offenders from a local residential school absconding and on there way chose to pass through our rear garden, over the garage and out through our front garden. This was highly unlikely as they would have to cross the main London– Brighton railway which had a high power third rail. This would have been very difficult to negotiate at night.
However sometimes we did read in our paper about “Local Boys Absconding.”
My Mother should have been a farmer, but the best she could do was hire a plot of land from the Railway and keep geese, chickens, and bantams. Within this area was a small stream or culvert, I think this was put in by the Railways when the line was built around 100yrs before. As children we often had many happy hours playing in this area fishing for sticklebacks and other small amphibians.

I recent days I have quite by chance learned that my mother kept a pet goat in the garden shed; this news to me was amazing. My Mother used to walk this goat up Wimborne Avenue, cross over the main A 23 road walk along about 100 yards and turn left into a field where a Mr. Allen had some spare land and he kindly let the goat graze. This area is where the Double Seven Club had its building at that time. Apparently either my brother Charlie or I used to ride on this goat as it was let up the road. Unfortunately I do not remember this. This story was brought to my attention by Pat Lutt and confirmed by Charlie Gurr (chopper) Thank you Pat and Charlie.

My cousins Gerald John and Elizabeth sometimes stayed with us and Gerald related this story; One day mother asked Gerald to take a live chicken up to the butcher to have its neck wrung. Wood’s the Butchers was near Prince Albert Square set in a row of shops just off the main road about 5 minutes walk away, Mother put this unfortunate chicken in a small sack and Gerald set off. The butcher was a Mr. Martin who soon dealt with the bird and handed the sack back to Gerald. On his way back to our house Gerald noticed the chicken still moving around, he promptly returned to see Mr. Martin to report the fact that the chicken was still alive, Mr. Martin reassured him “don’t worry son by the time you get home it will be dead”, and it was.

When a bit older I also was given this task however, I was given a rather angry Goose to take and have put down, perhaps it may have been the Gander either way I hated the job as I was always a bit frightened of them, things were fine when I knew the animals were dead and we enjoyed helping to pluck and draw on the kitchen table. There was also the plus side of plentiful good quality eggs from those still alive, and there was always great joy when we cracked a double yoked egg. When in the garden area I always kept a close eye out for approaching geese, and left a way for a quick exit as one had attacked me when I was very small.

One day Mother also decided it was time to buy a piglet although we had no place to keep it; however she went ahead and purchased one. As a overnight home and until something better was built she decided to put the poor animal in brick built outside toilet. On that day we all went out for the afternoon perhaps to get materials for a sty but when we returned the piglet had drowned trying to get a drink. Rather a sad story, I know my mother was most upset, we all were.

At one time when we were quite small Mother also kept bees and had a hive on railway property at the end of the garden. I do believe she meant well and tried so hard at all her ventures but acted on impulse without looking into or studying the subject well enough. Needless to say the bees did not survive long but the hive seemed to be around for years. I do not remember ever getting stung by the bees.

There’s no doubt about the fact that she was extremely kind hearted, soon after the 2nd world war Uncle Jack Elphick and his family were posted to Germany as part of the British occupation force, and I know that times were hard for us in the U.K. but just as we had received food parcels during the war from kind people in Canada, Mother sent a food parcel to her sisters family in Germany. As children we always had a very high regard for Uncle Jack as he was a in the Army and a soldier.

Sometimes Mother would do quite unexpected things often on the spur of the moment and perhaps not planning things as she should. One must bear in mind that we were brought up in a Christian household and by today’s standards it was very strict, with plenty of do’s and do not’s. Mother and Father did not really celebrate Christmas as most people did and on reflection I imagine that Father Christmas was a bit pagan to them. However that said, one Christmastime whilst staying with her Sister she decided to dress up either very late or early one morning and visits the children’s rooms. Using things to hand, a red leather tea cosy on her head, cotton wool for a beard, and a red coat, she entered the room and gave my cousins a real fright. I can imagine a few screams in the night and a few terrified children, I am sure she meant well, On another occasion she turned up unannounced at there home in Cirencester {Quite a journey from Redhill} and when they opened the front door she presented a large cooking apple, no doubt a Bramley from our garden.
They were always very sour as I well know and I often had tummy ache after eating them when we plucked in late September. However our next neighbour’s apple trees were
Excellent eaters they belonged to {Mr. and Mrs. Web at No 56} and we always helped ourselves to all those that fell on our side of the fence, plus some that did not.
Soon after one of my cousins was married Mother sent him a letter, I do not know the contents, perhaps it was to congratulate him and his new wife on their marriage, but pinned to the top of the letter was a Safety Pin, only Mother would be able to explain this, but it will have to remain a mystery as many of her actions were unexplained.

A rare picture My father and mother
Stanley G. Gurr Amelia M. Gurr

I have heard Mother referred to as “Mad Millie” but I would be more inclined to call her eccentric, and that’s no bad thing, perhaps I may be a chip off the old block as I have also been given the same label at times as well as being called an enigma, rather a complement I think.

Mother taught me many things, such as basic cooking skills, how to recognize different birds in the garden the names of flowers and their colours which in turn taught me about the seasons, she pointed out the stars at night and how and when best to see them, the cloud formations, the dawn and the sunset all the beauty of nature and the creation. How best to pick the fruit in the garden, and I loved climbing the apple tree to pick the apples so as not to bruise them. It always pleased Mother in the springtime when my brother Charles and I used to go up on to the railway embankment and collect wild flowers such as primroses and violets.
Often we would stay out for hours on the embankment, it was steep and thick with bushes and trees, although technically we were trespassing on railway property very few people would have ever seen or found us as we knew our way through the bushes and long grass so well. We often searched for slow worms and knew where to find them. Often we saw grass snakes but we were a bit more cautious with them being never sure if they would bite. We regarded this area as our own bit of territory and we loved watching the trains speeding by, these were the happy days of childhood and a Mothers love. I do remember telling my Mother that one day I would go to all the places the trains were going too, I did, and that’s another story that will appear on other pages of this of my writings.

24th September 1934 Amelia, Edith, Elsie, Linda.
Learning Lessons and Memories

The following is firmly entrenched in my memory. I was about ten year’s old and visited Earlswood Lakes. It must have been in the school summer holidays; I was on my own. A man with an orange racing cycle got into a conversation with me and invited me to go for a ride, I foolishly accepted. He promptly sat me on the crossbar and set off around the lake, I was a bit concerned as I thought he meant would I like to ride it. At a quiet part of the lake he tried to molest me, I was horrified and frightened but I managed to struggle and get free from him. I ran away as fast as my legs would go, not even daring to look back. It was about a mile home; I ran all the way and immediately informed my mother and father as to what had taken place. My father phoned the police and within twenty minutes we were touring the area in a police car, but the man had disappeared. It’s true to say I was a bit naive about this sort of thing and explained to a few friends what had happened. “Oh you met the old q.****” they informed me.

As well as the Railway line at the rear of our house, beyond that was Redhill Aerodrome and I can remember two Hurricane Aircraft performing a Victory Roll high above, either on, or soon after V.E. Day. As we got older we would often walk to the Aerodrome and watch the Aircraft taking off and landing. On the way there we would pass the Canadian Road which had been built by the Canadians during the war. It is now the approach to the East Surrey Hospital. On past Charlie Harbor’s scrap yard, and then the bit I hated. We had to pass the Gypsy camp on Masons Bridge Road. The dogs always barked and some were loose. Old ladies with long hair and dark eyes looked at us. I in turn hurried by the camp often wondering what it was like inside those dim horse drawn vans, once at the top of the hill it was an easy walk to the Airfield. By now the war was over and there were just a few planes, mainly small Tiger Moths and a few Auster aircraft.

1941 at Redhill Aerodrome

The year 1947

1947 was a bitterly cold snowy winter which has always remained in my memory and thought to be one of the snowiest of the century. With snow falling across the country from 22 January to the 17th March, there’s no doubt about it, times were hard when I think about the mornings getting out of bed and seeing the ice on the inside of our bedroom windows in cold light of day. However, the interest was to see the beautiful patterns that were formed in the ice on the windows. And when we exhaled our breath this froze onto that ice. Walking to school on cold frosty mornings was a delight especially seeing the frost on the spider webs and the hedgerows sparkling in the bright morning sunlight.
One day we had a great opportunity, and that was to go on the ice at Earlswood Lakes, to a small child and being as restricted as to the things we could and could not do this was truly wonderful. Later that week after a fresh snowfall we went to a hill nearby named by locals as Sewer Hill. This was near the golf course just near the Brighton road with a sled, well not really a sled, more like a small cupboard door with two runners nailed in place.
I was first to have a go which was unusual, my brother Charles (My twin Brother) usually insisted on being first at everything. I went down the hill and at the bottom crashed into a pile of snow. I was frozen and wet; Charlie took one look at me and decided we best go home.

Peter and Marian

Mr and Mrs Webb were our next door neighbours with their two daughters Pam and Marian. It was on Saturday 30th June 2007 when I met up with Pam and Marian for an open day at our old school St. Johns situated on Earlswood Common Redhill. Weather wise it was a terrible day with constant rain. We soon retired to the Plough a local Public House for a meal. I was astonished to hear the following story, and although on reflection what is set out below is exactly the sort of thing my mother would have asked, and I believe she would have swapped. I am most grateful to my friend Pamela Radcliff nee Webb for writing the story so that it can be included in my writings.

Port and Lemon
By Pamela Webb
December 2008

At the beginning of January 1948 Gladys and Charles Webb invited their next door neighbours Mr and Mrs Gurr to come in for a drink to celebrate the New Year! Both ladies enjoyed a PORT and LEMON. Not being used to drink they must have got rather merry! Including their husbands! Nine months later on October 15th both ladies found themselves in the Maternity Ward of the old Redhill General Hospital!

Both given birth within hours of each other! Mrs Gurr was delivered of a baby boy called Peter. Mrs Webb gave birth to a baby girl called Marian. Mrs Gurr was desperate for a girl because she already had three boys at home and she knew Mr Webb wanted a son! So she leaned over to Mrs Webb and asked if they could swap babies! Needless to say there was ‘NO SWAP’.

Mr Webb was told by phone that he had a baby son and he was so excited that he fell in a ditch rushing to get to the hospital that evening. He was so disappointed when he arrived to be told it was a mistake! The moral of this story is you have to have what nature gives you! Or – if you drink port and lemon – watch out!

Happy Adventures

Summer holidays were mostly spent at Earlswood lakes; however we did visit Lymington in Hampshire where one of my mother’s sisters lived, we stayed a few days and it was really a nice place with plenty of water and things to occupy us, they were really happy days. Crab fishing was my favourite from a small jetty just down by the rivers edge, In 2002 I paid a return visit and young children were still fishing in the same place 50 years later.

Earlswood Lakes. This is where I learned to swim. 

Now back to Earlswood and 54 Wimbourne Avenue. Sometimes during the summer school holidays, and weather permitting, we were allowed to put up a small tent in the garden to camp out overnight. This was always a great adventure for me. We had a friend living in the avenue, Peter Maynard, his nickname was Banger. He also camped out in the garden; we often arranged to meet in the night after the adults had gone to bed. This meant staying awake until well after midnight.

Then going out onto the railway embankment walking along the back gardens of neighbour’s houses until we came to one that had no garage at the side of the house, we would then climb over their fence, walk carefully through their back garden and out into Wimbourne Avenue. Often this was complete darkness, especially if we did not have the benefit of moonlight. There was no street lighting after midnight; we had to be so quiet and very careful. We would either meet Banger in the street, or go through his garage {which he left open} to meet up. Or he would come to us taking the reverse route. Either way we really had some children’s adventures. One summer night we met up in the usual way. Banger decided we should go fishing, he had a rod but we had nothing. However we decided that it was a good idea so we made plans.

Everything went fine; we met in the usual way and walked out of Wimborne Avenue and along the Brighton Road, into Three Arch Road, then to a local pond situated in the white bushes area, (now dried up) this pond was on private property. Nothing was caught and we decided to give up and return to our tents in the garden. We returned by the same route, well that was the intention, as we walked along them Brighton Road I noticed a movement like a shadow moving towards us, it was my father. We had made prearranged plans for this type of event, they were that we would all run in different directions therefore reduce the risk of all of us all being caught. RUN! Shouted Banger, I took a roundabout route back home and arrived before my brother Charles, the plan worked well. But what a walloping we got, in the garden at about two in 2am with my fathers leather belt.

I was bruised but it could have been worse, in the darkness he missed a few times, and there were two of us dodging about the garden. He soon got tired and the neighbour’s lights were coming on he gave up and went to bed; I did not sleep well that night. Nothing much was said in the morning about our night time outing and it was soon forgotten. I went out as soon as I had eaten breakfast; I thought it best to keep out of the way. At these times I was always happy and our adventures seemed well worth the risk of being caught and the odd punishment we received.