Hersey’s Watercress Beds

I was born in Holly Avenue in 1941, as a child I can remember the man with the watercress, I used to go on a Sunday and buy a bunch he had in his wicker basket on his trade bike, lovely and hot tasting. He used to cry out to let neighbours know he was there. As a child this is how he sounded “Eau delay ou pease” and I think he rang a bell and wore a French looking berry. I went to New Haw infants school ( now demolished with houses built where it stood next to the working men’s club) across from the school the last house before common lane, not counting the plot with the Gypsy caravan on it, I believe is where the ‘watercress man’ lived. Now what I write, I may be in some way incorrect but is in my memory. I understood that he had returned from the war and brought with him a lady whom he married, they had a child who was born with physical disabilities, (I used to talk to him over the fence after school), his mum made a drawing that became the poster for the Spastic Society, now termed as cerebral palsy. It was so long ago so ‘ The watercress man’ could well be your great grandfather, his cress was down the bank of the Basingstoke canal past the White Hart near the swimming club. These are my memories of some 70 years ago, I have some happy memories of my life in New Haw. I hope this have been of help, Mick Clark

Ahh yes, that was bill, his son. He took it over. He fought in Dunkirk & met his wife whom he smuggled back to the Uk dressed as a solider, I never met them but I did meet their son Billy, he was lovely.
Thank you so much for sharing

Yes that is how I understood his extraordinary action. Edith Street makes reference to Hersey’s Watercress and to Bill’s cry ‘ Morning Gathered’ however ‘c’est de l’eau’ suggests water and ‘recueillies’ can mean gathered and such a call in French from a man wearing a ‘ berray’ I see it as tribute to his wife. That’s how it sounded to a young child.
May I now use your post to recall some of my memories from my life in New Haw. Many of the post on here I can make reference to. Let me start the year 1939 my father and my brother Charlie then aged 17, did what Norman Tebbit insultingly told unemployed workers to and got on their bikes and cycled from Middlesborough down to Surrey. My father worked at Vikers and was there on that fateful day in September 1941 when it was bombed. How did the Germans find such a camourflarged place? They came over to reconnaissance on a bright sunny day as the workers were going home to lunch on their bikes on the roads leading out like a spiders web seen from the air, pinpointed back they came on the 4th. 1941 saw the arrival on the earth of myself. Other people have had real influence on my life. 1946/7 the harsh winter was also to enjoy time on the frozen Basingstoke canal as it stretched under the bridge not yet declared as unsafe for heavy vehicles in Scotland Bridge Road, kicking a tin can on the ice substituted for Heathervale rec. no teams just chase the can, that’s what I did as it ricocheted
off the lock gate, a loud crack I am through the ice into the freezing water a man passing by grabbed me and saved my life, I was returned to hospital for a 3rd dose of Pneumonia.
People referred to in posts or actually posting their experiences, may I make reference, Michael Isaac’s, he was a evacuee from London, he lived across the road from us in Holly Avenue, they were Jewish family my mother who didn’t have ‘ 2 happenies to rub together’ used to help them out. He mentions Bernie Church, he encouraged me to read ‘The Ragged Trousered Philanthropist’ it ha a great influenced on my view of the world we live in. Joe Kennedy what a skilful footballer, he took no prisoners as I found out when trying to be too clever as a youngster having a kick about, I’ve still got the bruises. I too remember going over the fields to Rowtown, two routes, pathway that was eventually fenced or Dark Alley, the way to the Bourne, Farmer Vine allowed us access to his cow field to Devil’ Bend where We would learn to swim. I never termed it as Scrumping as en route across the fields at the turning to Coomlands, there were 2 rows of fruit trees, apples, peaches, plums, green gauge, pears how they got there was strange as they were in the middle of nowhere. We use to help ourself. The shops in New Haw mentioned Brightwell’s withe the sawdust, my brother Brian was the delivery boy, he would spread his ‘tips on the dining room table on a Saturday evening and buy my mum a box of chocolates. Kendall’s did have a strange aromour, a neighbour used to send me on an errand to buy her purple methylated spirit which I had to to’tell the man it’s for the heater’ the naivety of a child . Yes Dear old Bob Cole, after late night footballs at the rec, a bag of chips and a bottle of American Ice Cream soda. The ritual greeting, ‘Have you any chips left Bob? ‘Yes’ would come the inevitable foil ‘It’s your own fault for cooking so many’ or the reply to the same questionn, ‘They won’t be long’ a reply with politeness attached ‘That’s alright! I don’ like long chips’ as youths we would find delight in our stupidity. ‘I am having a fag’ now takes on a new. visual effect. The Black Prince Was our weekly rendezvous for all activities, many a great time there.New Haw had the world champion tug- of-war team. with originally ‘Chic’ Crossan at anchor, later my great friend Tony Sewell, ( if anyone reads this and knows where he is, I would appreciate it if they have any news of him) He was later nicknames ‘Cheyann’ the used to train down along the canal new the watercress beds, pulling a tractor across the branch of a tree. I will finish by making reference to 2 lads I used to play football with on Saturday mornings Patrick Baker why him, because he was an incredible mile runner, he used to train with the Milner Twins at Walton A C, and when they raced he would win every time, and Peter Shannon Harris of The Nashville Teens, He had that ability but sadly never saw it, he had a sister Anne , demure like Ingred Bergman, his Dad was the Lock keeper at the White Hart . I wish all that read this post with the kind permission of Jenna Peace Mick Clark mickclark1941@gmail.com