Visiting Hankerton

A Letter to my Children : Visiting the ancestors in Hankerton.

2
Dear Children,
Today I went to Hankerton, in Wiltshire. It’s a hamlet, a scattering of houses and a tiny church set in the Wiltshire countryside. It’s where my granny was born and raised, and is full of family history. It is your history too, so I will tell you about it, because one day you might visit on your own.
Granny was born in Pear Tree cottage. She lived there with her parents, Mark and Mary Woodward. Mary washed clothes for the surrounding houses, and there was a well in the back garden, and a wash house next to the cottage. Mark was a busy man. I think he built part of the roof for the church, so maybe he was a builder. Mainly he was busy, because, it was later discovered, he actually had two families – my granny’s mother and another wife and children in the nearby market town of Malmesbury. Not sure which one was first, and therefore the legal wife. I have no idea what became of the other family, or if they resemble us or know of our existence. But Mark Woodward died in his fifties, and there is no stone to mark his grave. His wife was buried alone.
The story I grew up with, was that when he died, both wives went to claim the body, which is how they discovered the other existed. I have since been told that isn’t true, and that Granny’s mother was shopping in Malmesbury, when she overheard someone talking about Mark’s other wife. I’ve no idea which is correct, so believe whichever you like. It makes for an interesting bit of family history though.
I visited the cottage once, when I was very young. I remember the big room with the fireplace, and the well in the back garden. When I went back today, I met the people who now live there, and they invited me inside. The ‘big room’ is now their lounge, and they’ve extended the cottage on both sides. The well is now at the front, as the original cottage faced away from what is now the road, so when they extended they made a new front door (at the back, which is now the front, if you see what I mean).
The church is where my granny was married. It is also where many of the family are buried, and as you wander around the graveyard, lots of the stones belong to Woodwards. One grave is for Frank Winwood. I never met him, though I know he had a heat attack while driving, and his wife, Nell, had to grab the wheel. I did meet Nell. Aunty Nell lived in Peartree cottage after everyone else had left. She went a bit nutty towards the end, and had to be put into a home, which she didn’t like, so she used to turn the fire hose on the nurses and phone 999, asking to be rescued. She was buried with her husband Frank (her real name was Eleanor).
Granny’s other sister, Elizabeth, died before I was born. She had two sons, David and Ken, and we used to meet David and his family when I was little. Elizabeth died when Ken was born, so I think my granny helped to care for the two boys. Certainly they feature in lots of the stories my father told.
Inside the church, is a document showing all the vicars. In the 1600s were two vicars named Beale, who are also our ancestors. Some of my cousins have Beale in their names (not sure why my brother doesn’t, guess my mum didn’t like the name).
Next to the church is the old school house. When my granny’s mother was dying, Granny went to nurse her, and so my dad (your Grampy) went to school there for a few weeks. You will find his name in old registers.
You never met my granny, but you’d have liked her. She had a wicked sense of humour, and she told stories. I wonder if that’s where me and Aunty Ruth get our love of stories from. Most of her stories were ghost stories though, and tales about people in the village. I’m not quite sure now which ones were true, and which ones she made up. When her father died, when she was fourteen, she had to leave the grammar school in Malmesbury, and join her mother washing clothes. I sometimes wonder what her life would have been, if she’d been able to choose.
So, that’s a little family history for you, an eighth of who you are. If you ever go through Hankerton, remember to stop and visit the church. It’s a lovely place, and has a comfortable feel to it. It’s where our roots are, and I think you’ll like it.
I don’t know much about my Grampy’s family, but I do know about my mother’s relatives, who seem to have owned most of Huntingdon. Now there are some stories for you – but that will have to wait until another day.
Have a good week. Take care.
Love,
Mum xx
****
Thank you for reading.
anneethompson.com
****

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Mary’s Story

Image
Mary’s Story Mary’s Story by Anne E Thompson “I travelled to Bethlehem in a small cart. Every bump (and there were many) was agony. As I was jolted along, I was racked with pain. The baby’s time was near, you see and the pain was almost unbearable. Later, they would sing songs about a cute donkey carrying me. Nice thought! I don’t think there’s any way you could’ve got me on a donkey. As each contraction cramped every muscle in my torso, I huddled up like an animal, and prayed for it to be over. I could see Joseph, watching me as he walked alongside. He really didn’t have the first idea what to do. Oh, how I wanted my mother. I yearned for her to be there, holding my hand, telling me everything was alright and would be over soon. When we arrived at Joseph’s uncle’s house, the women folk came and helped me inside. The room was crowded. All Joseph’s male relatives from miles around had come to the house, for shelter and food. The women were busy cooking supper and the m...
Read more

Was St. Paul a Psychopath?

Image
Was St. Paul a Psychopath? When I was researching JOANNA, I discovered what it meant to be a psychopath. Born with an under-developed frontal lobe in the brain, a psychopath was destined to live their lives unable to experience emotional empathy, unable to feel guilt, unable to love. I listened for many hours to psychopaths talking, I read copious studies by neuroscientists, and I even managed to find two mothers of psychopaths who were prepared to talk to me. By the time I came to write JOANNA, I knew how a psychopath would think and behave, and I could imagine what it would be like to live with one. However, the whole time I was writing JOANNA, striving to make an interesting story that would also show the reader everything I had learnt, I had a nagging doubt. If someone was born a psychopath, were they doomed? What did the disorder mean from a spiritual point of view? Psychopathy is a mental disorder, not an illness. It cannot be cured. It is a genetic condition, it cannot ...
Read more

Mary's Story continues

Image
Mary’s Story continues “… After eight days, Joseph came and circumcised the baby. We were in the main part of the house by then, and when Joseph appeared with the sharpened knife, I knew what he was going to do. How the baby wailed! It felt cruel, though I knew it was the right thing to do, even in this strange place we must obey the Jewish laws. We also formally gave him the name Yeshua, the name we had been told to give him by the angel, all those months ago.  I wondered if Joseph minded, people would know it wasn’t a family name. (I also had no one called Yeshua in my own family, though I did know a boy from my childhood with the name.) After forty days, we had to travel to Jerusalem, to pay for redemption at the temple. As Joseph was from the tribe of Judah, we had to pay five shekels of silver. We couldn’t afford a lamb, so bought two pigeons to sacrifice. It was nice to leave Bethlehem and to have some exercise at last, to see people and to take my baby into the world. ...
Read more