Woods Ware China at the Serving Hatch

Needlepoint Gossip They wanted to call it the Stitch and Bitch session But the parish council wouldn’t let them So instead they called it Sew and Tell And they meet at the village hall extension To embroider bags and purses for the Women’s Institute to sell. In the hall next door, the toddlers run riot Cross stitches are produced between giggles at Joyce Grenfell cries From the Tiny Tots’ leader, who wrangles potties and fights and mangled words They always pause to listen, needles afloat Mingling “aahhh” with splutters at the overheards. In the attic room, a local charity meet To offer tea and tissues To those in need of propping up and leading The Sew and Tells talk quietly about these They all know someone, and where their own lives might be heading. Sarah Miller Walters Download one of my books today!

The above view shows the main hall of Ruddington Village Hall. Reminiscent of both an upturned boat and the gym from 'Carry on Teacher', it boasts very high windows that let in nice shafts of light but are impossible to see out of. Less distraction I suppose if the Women's Institute speaker is particularly dry. I enjoy the window that looks like transparent parquet flooring. Some facts about Ruddington Village Hall: Constructed in 1912 on land donated by the Misses Paget.  Public subscription paid for half of the building It was opened on the Coronation of George V by the Duke of Portland's brother (presumably the Duke was at Westminster Abbey, showing off his ermine) During WWII it was used for recreation for troops stationed nearby Maximum capacity is 120 To find out more visit  https://ruddingtonparishcouncil.gov.uk/about-ruddington/history/village-hall/ Some reviews from Google: Perfect for Pilates Could do with doing up a bit Too hot t...

Maud When the squire of Bradbridge Manor finally took the decision to sell up and move to Eastbourne, it came as a great relief to his wife. Several of their genteel neighbours had already taken themselves off to milder climates, putting their heirloom furniture up for auction and selling their homes off to the Youth Hostelling Association, or to private schools. The Dukes of Devonshire and Rutland kept their Derbyshire residences going, but it had been a strain – Chatsworth, Hardwick and Haddon were all millstones around their necks.   The Hooper-Dakindales of Bradbridge however were ready to throw in the towel. Maud Hooper-Dakindale, the squire’s wife, had a great friend in Gertie Lampton, late of Wye Grange. Gertie had taken off to the New Forest six months previously. Her husband had developed gout and their son and heir had been last seen in a Belgian trench in 1916. Wye Grange, previously a burden with no new generation to pass it on to, was shortly to become an agr...

In 1938, the villagers of Ewelme in the charming Chiltern Hills seemed to be having a disagreement about whether they needed a village hall or not. One resident wrote to the local newspaper, setting out the reasons why a village hall was needed. As well as a requirement for young people to be able to have recreation under supervision of their elders, the anonymous scribe railed at certain matron types in the village who displayed an “astounding attitude”. “Are not these women the very ones who either loudly deplore the fact that they cannot keep maids because there is nowhere for the said maids to go in an evening? And also the ones who condemn their granddaughters for wasting bus fares to go to the cinema in Wallingford?” Fair point, I would say. But the following point was even fairer: “Who stood between ourselves and death 20 years ago? The lads of this brave little village…who would we call on again in like danger? Those same lads to whom a shelter for a concert or danc...

No village hall and really call itself a village hall until it has hosted a whist drive. Stalwart of local fundraising initiatives, whist drives have paid for all kinds of items, from spitfires to social outings for pensioners. Before television took over our lives, whist drives were also a reliable form of entertainment where the whole village could come together. It was a chance to win something and have a look at your neighbour’s new hat, maybe even settle old scores. So it came of a surprise to read of one churchman’s severe disapproval of this once ubiquitous activity. In 1936, the Reverend F Donkin Roberts, a former soldier, was vicar of a village near Barnsley. It was in the parish magazine that he vented his concerns: “I think it an insult to God’s house that its maintenance should depend upon profits from whist drives…I do not approve of any other means than free giving for maintaining the church and its services. I do not favour whist drives at all…I look on them as...

In 1948, the Kent Courier reported on a village fete wardrobe incident.  A young girl was staying at a local guest house, and was eagerly anticipating pony rides at the highlight of the village hall summer programme of events. She went to the cupboard and found that the jodhpurs that she sought to wear had mysteriously disappeared. Changing into a different, less horsey type of garment, she went along to the fete anyway.   While wandering around what should she see but her own jodhpurs covering the legs of the guest house maid. The maid eventually admitted to being a kleptomaniac and was bound over for two years. My new download and book is all about crime in British cinemas from the 1920s - the 1950s.  Click here to go to Amazon.co.uk

The village hall stool with the steps attached Brings nearer those bits that are out of reach, Provides a spot for the worker to rest And ponder the floor’s need of a good bleach The blue vinyl top has battered edges But the chrome legs and hinges still give shine, It’s the sturdiest tool in the kitchen Its inventor among the divine. https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08D4SJWRZ/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=