Norland in 1966

We moved into 52 St James’s Gardens in August 1966. I am writing about what I remember of Norland thirty -three years ago with some temerity as I know there members of the NCS and other residents who have memories (and better ones) of much longer ago. If it would inspire anyone to write further about this in future editions of the News letter, we would all be delighted.

We got possession of our house just after Easter and proudly took my brother with us to show off our new acquisition. But we found the door locked and bolted on the inside. Our dear neighbour, Claire Kemp, now lost to us through love and marriage to Bobbie Melville and W.8., told us that the bohemian owner, an actor, was still camping in the house, sleeping in the bath. So Clive, my husband, called the owner’s name through the letterbox, challenging him to “Come out”. Luckily, the ex-owner did a quick bunk through the back of the house, escaping over the garden wall. The Police helped us to gain access. We were very surprised to find that there was a huge area of broken glass in the French window of the drawing room overlooking the garden. Once again, Claire elucidated that there had been a long drinking binge over the whole Easter holiday and that finally the ex-owner had taken a header-dive directly through the french window over the balcony and into the garden below. Luckily, being completely relaxed by intoxification, he survived without breaking anything. In the process of clearing up the house, after his departure, we found caches of empty bottles all over the house and hidden in the waist-high grass of the lawn.

Our house at that time had no railings either around the area or dividing our steps from those of our neighbours. We discovered that Mr. Burcher, who owned two houses in the square, but lived in a shack in Princes Place (a house that was mysteriously burnt several times) had managed to “get hold of” quite a few of the original railings when they went to be melted down during the war. He brought them round in a wheel-barrow and we were able to buy them back again for a sizeable sum. I think Mr. Burcher did a good trade with his railings to new owners in St. James’s Gardens. The square gardens then were still surrounded by a chain-link fence, only to be replaced in the early seventies with railings.

We put up a card with Eric (newsagent, ice-cream, cat-and bird-food) in Clarendon Cross and found a wonderful “daily” for 4/6d per hour. Clarendon Cross was then a cross-roads (later to be pedestrianised through the activities of the NCS). There was a butcher where “Fired Earth” now is; Mr. Jenkins, the greengrocer, instead of what now is “The Cross”. There was another, inferior greengrocer in the place of

the posh Kitchen shop. “Julie’s” was then occupied by two dairies. The post office was of course always there.

Other general groceries and almost everything else could be bought at the splendid “Carolan” on the corner of Queensdale Road and Princedale, which also delivered to one’s door on a bike. On the next corner of Princes Place and Princedale Road was Monty Wimbourne, a hardware store. There was also Norland Road market of fruit, vegetables and wet fish.

If anyone was ill in the family, one went first to Mrs. Winsley, the chemist in Queensdale Road, with her lovely atmospheric old shop of mahogany cupboards, shelves and glass bottles. She would give sound advice on sore throats, croup, bicycle accidents and other children’s ailments.

Brennan, the electrician, was on Holland Park Avenue, roughly where “99” cleaners and the newsagent now are. The younger Brennan was a red-headed albino and very “ can-do” in all he undertook. The “Esperanto” show-room, Sketchley the cleaners and Lidgates are eternal. Flower Power was then a hair-dresser, under the same management, and Meriel Tegner reminds me that there was another butcher (Harries?) who operated in that part of Holland Park Avenue. As you can appreciate, with this largesse of shops, we didn’t need to sally forth from Norland. Certainly we never went to a supermarket. But Moore Brothers of Notting Hill would deliver, if necessary, a weekly box of groceries. In those happy days both the no. 12 and no. 88 buses ran regularly along Holland Park Avenue, going to the centre of London and Trafalgar Square.

The rag and bone man came round often with his horse and cart, singing his rather melancholy cry “any old rags and bo-ones” (a musical minor third) . I couldn’t understand why our daughter,Camilla’s first words were “O Boy” until I realised she was imitating the rag and bone man.

Coal was delivered round the area through the coal-holes of people’s cellars.

Clarendon Cross (and the whole area in general) was shabby and down at heel. Cabbage leaves and old newspaper lay around. One of my family’s old cousins said of us “Poor dears, to have to live so far out ....”. But we fully realised how lucky we were.

Catherine Wilson, April l999