From Joan Pulham
Formerly of Burton Green now living in Cyprus
Joan Pulham writes:
My late husband and I met during WW2 when we were both in the Royal Navy and stationed in Scotland. His home was in Berkswell and mine in South Wales. We married in '44 and our daughter was born in '46. So we were not in Coventry during the Blitz but my mother-in-law told me of how people came out of the city to sleep in her house at night at this time. Also people came out to Burton Green to live in caravans on spare land. Some of them built pig-sties and kept a pig to eke out their meat ration. Eventually, after the war, they were granted permission to build homes but only to a certain price level.
So, I will jump to 1956/57 when we were living in Tile Hill and dearly wanted to get out into 'the country'. We saw an advert for Highfield House in Cromwell Lane and went to see it. Highfield House was next door but one to the shop - kept then by the Dockers -and opposite the gardens of the Peeping Tom. It had 2 bedrooms, bathroom, large living room and kitchen and it stood in half-an-acre of land (with a little pig-sty at the bottom of the garden which was cleaned and made into a playhouse). It cost 2,500 pounds - an enormous sum of money for us when you consider that my salary as a primary school teacher (Templars', Tile Hill) was 900 pounds p.a.and my husband earned about the same. We had to find a 25% deposit and the mortgage interest rate then was twelve and a half percent. However, we managed it and spent 11-12 very happy years there.
It was a good time for us to move as our daughter was able to start the next stage of her education at Leamington College for Girls. She was able to catch a bus at the end of Hodgetts' Lane with other children going mainly to Kenilworth to school. It was known as the School Bus but would take other passengers as well. It brought them back in the afternoon.
Within a short time my husband had tackled the garden and we were getting fresh vegetables and soft fruit. There were already fruit trees at the bottom - apples, pears, plums and lovely greengages and damsons. Soon I was bottling fruit, making jam and pickles and salting down kidney beans (no freezers those days). Then came the big upheaval - we were to get the promised Main Drainage. Previous to that, Cromwell Lane residents had septic tanks or cess pits in their gardens. We had inherited a cess pit which had to be emptied about once a month. We had to order a 'Honey Wagon' from the County Council and when it was due you alerted your neighbours so that they could shut up their windows! Need I say more !! There were 2 men aboard - the driver and George, who lived down Red Lane somewhere. When they had fixed up the pipes they would get out their sandwiches to eat with a cup of tea that I made them - can you imagine the scene? It was quite a problem - laying the pipes for the main drainage - a deep ditch right across the middle of our precious garden - but well worth it, of course, in the long run.
Our next project was to extend the house by having a garage with a bedroom above built on the side of the house. Then my husband decided to build us a swimming pool. How strong he was - digging out the hole and wheeling barrows full of concrete down from the mixer. He built us a little summer house down there underneath which was the filter and the heating unit. It is surprising how, if the pool is there, the number of times the English weather is good enough to swim in it. We had some lovely summer parties down there.
The years rolled happily by. Our daughter went off to college in Edinburgh.. I moved to a school in Kenilworth. I got my very own car - a pale blue Ford Anglia - and how I loved it! Before we knew it our daughter was planning to get married. The date was fixed for early August.The garden was a blaze of flowers. We had a marquee on the lawn and caterers came in, the sun shone (at least until late evening!) and we all had a wonderful day.
Crime was unheard of in Burton Green then - the only thing I remember was when we came home late one evening to find a man syphoning off petrol from my husband's car which was parked near the front gate. By the time we realised what was happening his companion had started the engine and they were away in their car.
I have to end on a sad note. Early in 1968 my husband became ill and in the December he died of cancer of the lung. I could no longer cope with the garden and, regrettably, had to sell my lovely home. I sold it for 8,500 pounds in the summer of 1969 and moved to the north of Warwickshire coming back eventually to Cannon Park.
I have now lived with my partner for 12 years in Cyprus.
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