John Stacey wrote an account of his early life not long before his death in 1926. My aunt Margaret, (Audrey Margaret Smith), in notes as AMS, who was born and brought up in Chelsfield where John Stacey spent most of his childhood annotated this document to explain where some of the places were and the topography of the district and these are included as plain text in the italics. Since the late 1800's these places are now buried in urban sprawl.
The adventures and pranks of a Kent Lad and two or three of his chums.
About the years 1855 to 1860 my father and mother and family lived at St Mary Cray. I was the youngest then. At that time I was about 3 to 5 years old. (John was born in Shoreham about 5 miles SW of St Mary Cray, December 1854. St Mary Cray is the village north of Orpington on the Cray River. It was then known for its breweries and paper mills along the river).
My father worked on a farm at Orpington. Being very fond of horses, he made a good horseman and used to break in a good number of colts for farm work. He used to take me with him to the stables very often, and I naturally grew fond of them too. I well remember how he used to put me on their backs to ride a short distance down the road to water, and I also remember the rides I used to have in the hay and harvest wagons, and rides with Ned Hollands in the hop van fetching hops from the hop garden to the kiln to be dried.
About this time a sad accident happened to one of my father's team horses. He was in the woods up above Derry Downs (where the Cray Recreation Ground is now) after a load of timber, and a piece of timber the horse trod on flew up and cut his stomach open and injured him so much that he had to be shot on the spot. I can remember how it upset me, because I was so fond of that horse.
I commenced my schooling at the National School. St Mary Cray. The master's name was Mr. Cox and his daughter Julia Cox was the teacher of the infants to which I belonged. I remember they had red cloth tongues which they used to tie on our chins and stand us on a form when we talked. One day I swallowed a short piece of slate pencil, and Miss Cox took me out into the school yard in the middle of which was a big pump where she gave me some water to wash it down.
My brother William worked in Joynson's Paper Mills at the time; I remember going with Mother and one of my sisters (I think it was Eliza) one night to meet him coming home from work. Occasionally a circus visited the town and used to pitch on a piece of land near our house. The clowns used to walk on stilts in the streets and up the garden paths and peep in at the bedroom windows. How it used to frighten us youngsters. (I don't believe they are allowed to do that now) On the 1st of May. "May Day", Jack-in-the-Green used to come round and perform in the streets.
At this time the L.C.D. Railway (London, Chatham & Dover) was being made. I remember going with my father for a walk one Sunday afternoon to see how they were getting on with it. We went to a point near Sheep Coats Farm between Cray and Swanley. I can see that spot now just as I did that day, the navvies' trucks, wheelbarrows, picks. shovels, crowbars etc. laying about all over the place, (it being Sunday no-one was at work). I can also remember it was a beautiful sunny afternoon sometime in the summer of 1860 (about September).
In October of 1860 we removed to Rounds Green, Chelsfield, then a snug little farm yard and buildings full of cows and fowls and horses owned by Mr. William Hills who then also owned and lived at "Cross House", the present Post Office, and was at that time the P.O. and dairy where the dairy produce of Rounds Green Farm was sold.
In those days there were no postal deliveries. An old man, Mr. Cudd. with a grey horse and cart used to bring the letters from Chislehurst to the P.O. about 9 a.m. and the inhabitants had to fetch them, which was very awkward especially for the outlying ones, at that time as far away as Northstead on the south; Tripes Farm, north; Skeet Hill and Park Gate, east; and Green Street Green, west. Letters used to lie at the P.O. two or three days sometimes. In the centre of the triangle in front of Rounds Green gate there used to be a small green with a finger post in the middle. The green gradually got wiped out by agricultural engines and machines.
Note by AMS & MJ. The house where the Staceys lived at Rounds Green was called simply "Rounds". It was a square red-brick house, probably built at about the same time as Cross House (mid 17th century). Both these houses had some similar features. 'Rounds' was demolished in the mid 1980's. Cross House still stands and features in Frank Jefferies' early memoirs too.
My Uncle Tom Titchener was the Waggoner at Rounds Green Farm, and it was he who moved us from St Mary Cray. I remember that day very distinctly a beautiful sunny one in October. I sat on the wagon among the chattels. with the cat tied in a sack by the side of me talking to me now and then.
There were one or two quaint old chaps working at the farm then. One, Bob Hayes. was the cowman, a typical old Kent farm man. a man who knew his work and did it. He used to wear the typical smock frock and top hat, and for milking and cleaning the cows etc. he would hang his top hat on a peg and wear a red worsted cap similar to those the brewers wore.
The other, Harry Poplet. very much the same type but taller. like Bob Hayes he wore the smock frock and top hat. He was a fine typical farm hand; one who could plough, sow, reap and mow, and could thatch a barn or stack, kill a pig or sheep and dress them and cut them up into joints, thresh corn with a flail, make a hedge, in fact I think there was not much he could not do on a farm. How many men like that would you find working on farms in Kent today? There were several others as well, one of which was the public Land Measurer, and in after years, the Parish Clerk.
Later on in the memoirs, John recounts hearing the explosion of about 46 tonnes of gunpowder on barges and stores on the banks of the Thames near Erith, about 16km or 10 miles to the north of Chelsfield on 1 October 1861. This was heard over a large area of SE England and caused a large breach in the embankment that stopped the Thames flooding a large area as far as the outskirts of London at high tide.. There is a very comprehensive account of the events on-line including a reproduction of the account published in the Melbourne paper, 'The Age on 12 December 1864 on the Trove web site of the Australian Library.
About this time, in the summer of 1861 or 1862, I had my first trip to London (Covent Garden). My Uncle Tom, being waggoner. had to take the fruit, vegetables etc. to market. They used to load up the van or wagon (this night it was a van, open). (The distance from Chelsfield to Covent Garden is 15 miles or 25km as the crow flies).
I was then somewhere about 7 years. I remember one or two incidents on the journey. When we crossed Waterloo Bridge I thought it was the sea. I don't remember anything about the unloading. but remember putting up the horse and van at stables near the market, then going back to the stand and Uncle saying, "Now you had better have a sleep" and he covered me over with some sacks. When I awoke I could not see me uncle and cryed. One of the men said. "Here cockey Eat this plum, he'll be here directly." On our way home Uncle Tom pulled up at a toyshop and said, Would you like a toy?" I said, "Yes please." "Come on then" and he lifted me out of the van and took me into the shop and said "Now then, what do you want?" I remember pointing to a cart with blue body, red wheels and grey horse, with the butcher boy sitting on the seat in the cart, and BUTCHER painted on each side. My word! I was proud of that cart! Another trip I had with Uncle Tom was to Dartford. I remember we had a wagon and two horses that day.
All our drinking water at R.G.F. had to be fetched from Well Hill. Father had a big barrel fixed on a pair of wheels which he used for this purpose. I used very often to go with him to push behind. If it happened that father could not go for water we could buy it at 1 penny a pail at the village stores.
I used to help him saw up logs in the cellar winter evenings. We had an old-fashioned brick oven in the scullery heated by faggots. where Mother used to bake once or twice a week. She used to make our own bread a good part of the year and didn't the things have a lovely flavour from the wood.
About this time I had been out in the fields with some of the men; some of them were not satisfied with smoking tobacco, they chewed it as well. and this day they persuaded me to try a bit. Oh my. I did feel bad! When I got home it was tea-time. I did not want any. I remember Mother saying. "Poor boy. he has a bilious attack."
After we had settled down at Chelsfield I had to make acquaintance with the school and schoolmaster. The old school used to stand a few yards nearer the old houses. The present one was built about 1862 or 1863. The schoolmaster was a nice kind man, Mr. Beale by name. and I liked him. Unfortunately he left soon after we got there. Then another came who was a nice easygoing sort of fellow. which suited me. He was rather fond of his drops, and having a Public House opposite was rather a temptation to him, and he used to step out frequently. Sometimes by dinner time he would be getting a bit muddleheaded.
I remember one day a steam plough came through the village and stopped at the pub for refreshment. This was rather an unusual sight at the time. I had never seen one before. The schoolmaster called out. "You may all go out and see the steam plough." Of course while we were overhauling the steam plough he was busy oiling up in the bar. But he was rumbled at last and had to clear out sharp. The school could not be left without a master, so a local man was appointed for the time being, the man I mentioned above as local Land Measurer. After a time a man, Mr. Baber, was found and appointed. As far as I know he was a very good schoolmaster, but I did not like him, he was too spiteful. He used cobnut suckers long enough to reach all round the class from where he was sitting, and for the least offence would give the boys a swish across the face with the stick, the point of which would cut like a whipcord and leave marks across the face. One day he left two gashes across mine, bleeding. I don't think I liked school much after that. I suppose I was about 9 years old at that time. I remember one day he locked a boy in an upper room for punishment. When he went to let him out, he was clean gone. He had got out of the window and climbed down the stack pipe and cleared off.
Some time before this I had rather a narrow escape from being suffocated in a field close to our house. After dinner on my way to school I met a big boy whom I knew, with a horse and cart. He called out, "Hi - Jack: coming for a ride? "Yes, if you like. Where are you going?" "So and so". So off I went. Instead of going to school I played truant. During the afternoon's work this boy had to pick up a big load of rubbish and take it into the field near our house. The big boy got the cart to the spot where he wanted it and called out to me, "Pull the tail-board out." Before I had time to get out of the way, he pulled the trap stick and let it tip on top of me. Fortunately two or three men were working not far away. They rushed to the spot and pulled it off. This happened about October 1863 or 64.
The following winter we had some sharp frosts and some good fun sliding on the ponds, the Rounds Green was our favourite one. We used to be up there the moment we were out of school. This afternoon the same. We were going to and fro in fine style when bang went the ice and about half a dozen of us went in nearly up to our shoulders.
Somewhere about now - oh, it was before this I remember -we all had measles. Mother had us all upstairs together. There was a big cupboard in that room where father used to keep his apples. We used to slip out of bed and get one now and then.
About January 1865 I left school and went to work at "pimp making". I did not seek the job. I was in the road trundling my hoop when a man came along and said, "Hi, you ought to be at work." I said, "Did I?". "Yes," he said, "What does a great fellow like you want bowling a hoop about?" I was just 10 years old then. So I started "pimp making" with Mr. Brooks as he said he wanted me.
(Note: "Pimp making" - Old local dialect expression for making up bundles of brushwood etc. for sale as kindling for household fires. AMJ)
About July 1867 I left Mr. Brooks and went to Mr. Fox. (Farmer in the village).
On a Saturday in 1869 or 70 I had four journeys to do to Cray River for water, three loads for the sheep and one for the thatcher. It was the second journey at about 9 o'clock in the morning and I had Jupiter that day for my horse. We always had to do an extra load on Saturday when it was hot weather because the sheep used to get so thirsty. My master was a very kind humane man and did not like his animals to suffer from thirst on Sundays. On the second journey this Saturday morning with Jupiter we stopped and had a look at Pettengrove as we passed. I said, "Jupiter, now then, what about it? This load is for the thatcher you know. He hasn't got to drink his, but the sheep have, and this water is rather dirty. So Jupiter. if we are to save you about four hours hard work this hot day, I think it must be this load. Only you know that big hole is in the middle, as well as I do. so none of your tricks. What about it? Shall we have it?
His looks were very straight, as much as to say, "All right, I know about the hole, come on ! That'll be all right." So in we went. We were in the pond, carefully turning round, at least as far as I was concerned. when Mr. Jupiter spotted a small piece of white paper in the water. He was afraid of it and ran back right onto the hole and almost tipped the cart over. The rascal knew the hole was there as well as I did. The pond had been cleaned out earlier in that summer, consequently the hole was full of water instead of mud. I think he thought it his fault; he had one or two looks round and a little trample about and several desperate tugs, and out we came. "Now," I said, "we have wasted all this time, we must have it somehow or we shall be 2 1/2 or 3 hours late. So we went in again and were successful.
Another little episode occurred with Noble. It was haymaking time and I was horse-raking with him. About 20 acres a day was our day's Work at that job; we used to have beer and bread and cheese 10.30 a.m. and 4.0 p.m. After that we had to work till dark except for half a pint of beer once or twice. We were just sitting down to lunch at 4 p.m. I had given a lump of hay to Noble for his lunch when by some means or other, just as I was going to sit down, he shook his bridle off. There are some horses that cannot be trusted without a bridle. He was one of them, and was soon off. He galloped halfway across the field nearly raking me up. I just escaped. Then off came the near wheel. That let the teeth down and they tore into the ground a good bit, and that checked him considerably. After another two or three hundred yards the other wheel broke off, and then he was done.
The rake had to be remade almost. after that. I was very sorry to cause my master all that expense, but it had not even scratched the horse.
At this point the memoir ceases, perhaps due to ill health.
Updated June 2026.