St Denys roots

When I set out for a walk on 11 April 2022, St Denys was my aim. It was warmer than it had been and the sky was pleasantly blue, but the colour really capturing my attention was pink. In part, this was down to blossom bursting out on many of the trees I passed, but there was also an intriguing pink shop I wanted a closer look at. We’d passed it in the car on our way to the supermarket a few times and the bright pink made it stand out. The sign said, The Whimsical Kitchen, but, from the car, it was hard to see what it actually sold.

I crossed Cobden bridge full of curiosity. Whatever the shop sold, that bright pink paint was certainly a good advert. It could hardly be missed. Neither could the flowers hanging above the window. Whimsical was the perfect word. It wasn’t long before I worked out that The Whimsical Kitchen was all about cake. Very colourful and saliva inducing cake as it happens. The business began as a Facebook page created five years ago by Jackie Neat to sell her baked goods. It was so popular that she opened this shop on 4 February, selling filled cupcakes, blondies, street waffle sandwiches, fudge and much, much more. I had to shimmy past with my eyes half closed to avoid temptation, but I least I now know where to go if my longing for cake becomes unbearable.

If this had been the only purpose to my walk it would have been over very quickly, but I had other things I wanted to see in St Denys. I might have stopped at the church, but the door was closed. Besides, I’ve visited it before, and very interesting it was too. Although, I wouldn’t have minded another look at the block of encaustic tiles from the floor of the priory that gave St Denys its name. Still, it wasn’t to be, and the church wasn’t really what I’d come to see anyway, so I walked on.

St Denys Board School, right opposite the church wasn’t what I’d come to see either, although it’s rather a beautiful building. It was built in 1881, as part of William Forster’s Education Act and I’m glad it’s still standing and still being used as a school. The Victorians really did know how to build an attractive school, I’ll give them that much.

What I had come to see, or at least part of it, was on the next road I came to, Adelaide Road. There were, in fact, three things I was hoping to see and they were all houses with history. The first was number 144, an unassuming little cottage with a small front garden and a porch over the door. It was once the home of Norman Clifford Brewer, the inspiration for one of the characters in my current Work In Progress. His story is both interesting and sad.

He was born in October 1925 and he lived in this little cottage with his parents, Maurice and Mabel and his elder siblings Clarence and Elsie. He almost certainly went to the board school. The interesting part of his story happened in 1941, when he was working as a bakers boy for Lowman’s bakery in Portswood. This was the same bakery my grandfather, Thomas John Haley, delivered bread for, and he must have known Norman. You see, Norman’s sweetheart was Dolly Hopkins, the girl who rode in my grandfather’s van with him. I’ve told Dolly’s story before, so I won’t go into it again, but she and Norman most likely met at Lowman’s.

In April 1941, Norman was only 16, but, on top of working for Lowman’s, he had been a messenger for the ARP for a year. Messenger boys rode around on bicycles during air raids to deliver messages to the rescue services. It was dangerous work, especially for such young lads. On 11 April 1941, Norman and his friend Brian Reginald Vaughan (who lived across the road at 137 Adelaide Road) were some of the first on the scene when a parachute mine fell in the back garden of 204 and 206 Priory Road. A neighbour told them that a mother and child were trapped inside the wreckage of one of the houses. Despite the danger, both boys crawled into the damaged house and, with the aid of a saw and some common sense, rescued both mother and child. For their bravery and quick thinking they were both given awards.

Thanks to Brian and Norman, the mother and baby had a happy ending. Unfortunately, Dolly and Norman did not. In 1943, when Norman turned eighteen, he joined the 1st Hampshire Regiment. By this time, he and Dolly were engaged. A year later, on 5 October 1944, he was killed at Arnhem. He is buried in the Oosterbeek War Cemetery in the Netherlands. According to her daughters, Dolly, never forgot him.

To reach the next house on my list, I had to cross the Adelaide Road level crossing. Luckily the gates were up, but, no sooner had I got across, than they closed and a train came through on its way to Bitterne, and ultimately, Portsmouth. Timing is everything for the residents of Adelaide Road, but at least there is only one train in each direction every hour.

The house I was looking for was just beyond the level crossing. Number 73 Adelaide Road to be exact, the home of Titanic fireman Arthur Peckham Burroughs. Arthur was actually born in Lewisham, London in 1877, but his mother came from Lymington and, in 1903, he married a Lymington girl, Harriett Jane Howells, in St Denys. They set up home at 73 Adelaide Road and had three children, Arthur, Harry and Gwendoline. Arthur was likely down in the boiler room shovelling coal to keep the pumps and lights working when Titanic sank. His body was never identified but he has a memorial on a headstone in the Old Cemetery. Since my last visit in April 2019, a plaque has been put up on the wall of the house to make it even easier to spot and this was what I’d come to see.

The next house on my list was further down the road somewhere between The South Western Arms and the Junction Inn on the corner of Priory Road. This one was more personal. It was the house where my mother, Laura Gladys White, was born on 25 December 1920. This was something I hadn’t known until my sister sent me a bundle of old documents a while back, now I wanted to see if the house was still there and what it looked like.

Mum’s parents, Laura May and Leonard Arthur White, must have been lodging in Adelaide Road, because the Kelly’s Directory for 1920 lists the house under a Mrs Frampton. It was also nice and close to Laura May’s parents, Frank and Emma Maria Hebditch, who lived at 44 Kent Road.

As most of the houses on Adelaide Road date from well before 1920, I’d been quite hopeful of finding the house still standing. Unfortunately, this was where my luck ran out. The house that is now 18 Adelaide Road was definitely not the one my mother was born in. It looks as if the original was one of the casualties of the Southampton Blitz, although I haven’t been able to find any definitive information. The bomb map does show an unexploded bomb in the back garden of the house next door, but I doubt this would have done any damage, and the map only covers the worst nights of bombing in November and December 1940. St Denys was hit many times during the two years of bombing raids. All I can say with any certainty, is that no one in the house was killed in the blitz and my family were long gone from St Denys by then. Before I carried on, I did look at the houses nearby to try to get an idea of what number 18 might once have been like. It was the best I could do.

My Adelaide Road explorations may have ended in disappointment, but my walk was far from over. The next items on my agenda were on the other side of Horseshoe Bridge and outside St Denys though . . .

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