Looking around Guernsey 1972 – Part 4

Looking around Guernsey 1972 – Part 4

Gateways to Guernsey

WITH over 3,000 private yachts visiting St. Peter Port each year, not to mention thousands of tons of commercial shipping, today's islanders have reason to be grateful to their ancestors who laid plans for the harbour over 100 years ago.

Today it represents a mixture of the old and the very new. Deep water berths for cargo ships have been provided — this means they no longer have to wait in the roadsteads for convenient aides — and container handling facilities have been built.

Work on the two great breakwaters — the southern one ended Castle Cornet's long history as an island — began in 1853. Ever since much of the prosperity of Guernsey has depended on the smooth functioning of the harbour.

At the White Rock, a signal station is manned at all times by trained staff who keep in radio contact with most in-going and out-going vessels.

Moored in the harbour are two boats of constant interest to visitors — the R.N.L.I. lifeboat and "Flying Christine II" St. John Ambulance's fast rescue and ambulance launch.

St. Peter Port harbour, apart from its spectacular day and night views — when Castle Cornet is floodlit —holds other attractions.

The Castle Breakwater lighthouse is a good spot for fishermen while placed at strategic points are seats for those who just want to sit and watch the never ceasing activity.

Launches ply in and out from Herm, small sailing craft bob about near the Guernsey Yacht Club, inshore trawlers mingle with larger vessels which carry over 50,000 tons of tomatoes to the UK each year.

St. Sampson's harbour, although smaller is also full of interest. It deals with private boats, gas and fuel tankers and "timber" boats. Its outer Ladies' Breakwater is another favoured angling spot.

Farther north, in a former quarry, a private company has established a yacht marina with restaurant, clubhouse and re-fuelling facilities.

On the highest part of Guernsey — some 350 ft. above sea level — the island's only airport, one of the busiest in the British Isles, has been sited. There are observation facilities on the roof of the terminal buildings which themselves contain bar and snack-catering sections.

Town on the hill

St Peter Port is the most attractive harbour capital in Europe. The houses rise tier upon tier up the hillside on which the town is built so that fine sea-views can be glimpsed from nearly every building, reached by narrow winding steps or quaint, cobbled streets.

Behind the blue waters of the harbour, bobbing with yachts and small craft of every kind, there are no proms or piers to spoil for visitors the unselfconscious charm of St. Peter Port, which still keeps something of its earlier character of a fishing village.

St. Peter Port is quite a small town, although it has — like most capitals — outgrown its original boundaries. These used to be marked by a series of barrier stones, all dated 1700. You can see one of these barrier stones outside the Post Office in Smith Street, and there's an explanatory tablet to tell visitors what it's all about.

Nowadays, the legal boundaries of the town extend outwards to include the residential belt that has grown up during the last century-and-a-half. This belt touches on the parishes of St. Sampson's, St. Andrew's, Castel and St. Martin's.

If you want to get a really good bird's eye-view of St. Peter Port, you must climb up Cornet Street and Hauteville. At the top of Hauteville, the road forking to the left leads to Fort George, and then on to St. Martin's. On the right, between two pillars is the carriageway of the Montville estate, now public property. From the carriageway, a splendid panorama of the town unfolds beneath you.

Now you can see that St. Peter Port has developed in a valley. The sides of the valley are very steep in places, and nowhere is the valley very wide. It narrows considerably towards the sea, and at the very mouth stands the Town Church, parish church of St. Peter Port.

It is the finest church in Guernsey, and, indeed, in the whole of the Channel Islands. The chancel is 12th-century, the portion to the east of this is 13th-century, and the south chapel is 15th-century. The present interior arrangement of the church is as recent as 1886. Look out for the memorial screen to one of Guernsey's illustrious sons, Sir Isaac Brock, who fell in the battle of Queenstown Heights, in Canada,

St. Peter Port shops and scenes

SHOPPING in the main streets of St. Peter Port is a special delight to visitors not only from the UK, but also from Belgium, France and other European countries — because the shops are filled with goods of every kind that often cost much less than in their own country.

This is because there is no purchase tax in Guernsey, and the duty on tobacco, spirits and other luxury goods is much lower than in the VK and many other countries. Guernsey, for instance, is said to be the cheapest place in the world for reputable makes of clocks and watches.

For shopping of a rather different kind, pay a visit to the markets, where all sorts of local produce is on display. In the fish market, many kinds of local fish — including live lobsters and crabs — are on sale.

You will probably notice the peculiar shells with a mother-of-pearl appearance which are offered for sale on some stalls for a few pence. This is the shell of the ormer (oreille-de-mer, or sea-ear, because it is shaped like a human ear). Channel Islands waters are the only part of the British Isles where it is to be found. It is looked upon as a delicacy and is protected by law, it being illegal to take ormers except during certain periods from December to April. It is also illegal to take any less than three inches in diameter.

The oldest of the covered markets is the French Halles, built as a private venture in 1780. Originally used as a meat market, it was purchased by the States in 1817. When the present meat market was built in 1822, the French Halles was turned over to the sale of eggs, butter, poultry and fruit from Brittany — hence the name of the market.

Later on, the present vegetable market was built as part of a scheme to widen and improve the adjacent Fountain Street. The States of Guernsey Dairy is also in the market, where you can buy the thick cream, rich butter and milk for which the golden breed of Guernsey cattle is famous.

Just above the French Halles, you will find the Guille-Alles Library and Museum, and in Cornet Street, the Island and Lukis Museum — which contains many interesting local exhibits

The Story of Lucy Card and her descendants

Camberwell

I have always been fascinated by the case of Lucy Card. Part of her story is almost like the plot of a novel by Charles Dickens or Charlotte Bronte.

The Tragic Family

Her father, Henry Card, was born in Camberwell, part of the London Borough of Southwark, in 1813.. he remained in the district and married his wife, Lucy Ann Panther at St George’s Church, St George’s Parish, Camberwell in 1836.

 In 1836, Camberwell was a rapidly growing, semi-rural suburban parish in Surrey that was transitioning from a quiet country village into an exclusive, upper-middle-class retreat. Situated just a few miles south of London, it was highly celebrated for its clean air, natural mineral springs, and scenic views.

When she was only four years old, her father Henry Card died in 1846. We don’t know the cause of death, but he was only 33 years old. Dying at that age tragically common in Victorian London, where the average life expectancy for a working-class male was under 40. The most likely causes for a sudden death at his age include Cholera and Typhus Outbreaks and Endemic Consumption (Tuberculosis).

His wife, Lucy Ann was left alone with five children under the age of 10. Without a male breadwinner in the 1840s, the family likely plunged into severe poverty. This crushing financial stress undoubtedly contributed to his widow's early death just three years later in 1849, completely orphaning the youngest children.

 

Samuel Card: 12 years old (Born 1837)
Sophia Card: 10 years old (Born October 1838)
Thomas William Henry Card: 8 years old (Born 13 September, 1840)
Lucy Card: 7 years old (Born June 1842)
Mary Anne Card: 5 years old (Born October 1843)

This breakdown reveals the devastating reality the family faced. All five children were completely orphaned before reaching their teenage years. Because Lucy (7) and Mary Anne (5) were the youngest, they were completely dependent on adult care.

It is highly likely that the three older siblings were either taken in by different households or sent to work immediately, while the two youngest girls were identified as the most critical candidates requiring specialised institutional shelter

Enter the Orphan Working School at Haverstock Hill, London.

The next record of significance is an 1850 newspaper announcement detailing the election results for children to enter the Orphan Working School at Haverstock Hill, London.

In Victorian Britain, spaces in prestigious charitable orphanages and schools were extremely limited. To decide which children would be admitted, institutions used a competitive ballot voting. People became "governors" or subscribers of the charity by donating money. Their financial contributions granted them a specific number of votes. The numbers next to the children's names represent the total number of proxy votes they accumulated from donors. Out of all the applicant families who campaigned for support, only the top 20 children with the most votes were granted admission.

Relatives, neighbours, or a local parish church would have stepped in to provide temporary shelter for Lucy and Mary. If no one could take them, their default, terrifying destination would have been the local parish workhouse. Workhouses were intentionally designed to be harsh, punitive, and deeply stigmatised. 

Charitable individuals or extended family would have desperately tried to rescue Lucy and her sister by applying to private, subscription-based charities like the Orphan Working School. 

Because entry into the Orphan Working School was determined by a ballot system, a sponsor (likely a sympathetic local clergyman, relative, or employer of her late parents) had to formally nominate Lucy. Between August 1849 and February 1850, her sponsors had to "canvas" and beg wealthy donors for their proxy votes, leading to her landslide victory of 9,143 votes.

What Happened to Mary Ann?

The Orphan Working School at Haverstock Hill was designed for children who could immediately begin basic vocational tasks and schoolwork. Lucy was 7: This was the ideal minimum age for admission into a Victorian institutional environment. Mary Anne was only 5:

At age five, Mary Anne was considered too young for the "Working" aspect of the school. She would have required intensive nursery-style care, which the school was not staffed or designed to provide. While Lucy was at Haverstock Hill, Mary Anne was likely looked after by an aunt, uncle, or a local charitable neighbour in Camberwell. The strategy worked. Her birth records show she survived her childhood and lived a remarkably long life, passing away in 1923 at the age of 80.

A Look at the Orphan Working School at Haverstock Hill, London

When Lucy won her election in 1850, she entered a state-of-the-art building. The school had outgrown its cramped city premises and moved to Haverstock Hill in 1847. It was designed by architect Thomas Little as a grand, imposing Jacobean-style brick building featuring tall ornamental gables and a central clock tower. 

It loomed over the neighbourhood, physically symbolising both charity and strict societal control. The massive structure was designed to hold 240 orphan children (divided into boys' and girls' wings) along with a schoolmaster, a matron, teachers, and domestic staff.

The school functioned as a self-contained world. The architectural layout was intentionally designed to isolate children from the perceived "vices" of the outside working-class streets. The school grounds were entirely enclosed by walls, and children were rarely permitted outside the gates unless walking in two-by-two formation to church.

Boys and girls were completely separated in different wings of the building. They ate in the same dining hall but sat on strictly segregated sides. Since the children were technically wards of the charity, extended family members had to obtain rare, written permission from the Board of Governors just to visit for a brief, supervised hour.

The 1847 Fundraising Book Campaign

The most famous intersection between Charles Dickens and Lucy's orphanage happened just three years before she entered. In 1847, to celebrate and fund the school's massive relocation from cramped city quarters to the new Haverstock Hill building, the governors published a special fundraising book.

The subscriber and donor list for this charity drive reads like a "Who's Who" of Victorian high society, featuring Queen Victoria, Prince Albert, and the famous wealthy philanthropist Angela Burdett-Coutts.

Rather than just writing about the plight of Victorian orphans in novels like Oliver Twist, Charles Dickens was passionately involved in real-world philanthropy. He personally backed over 40 different charities across London, with the Orphan Working School at Haverstock Hill being one of his regularly supported causes.

Charles Dickens—who was a close personal friend of Angela Burdett-Coutts—directly donated financial aid to the school alongside them to help build the exact facilities Lucy later lived in.

Dickens had a deep, personal reason for funding this specific institution. Unlike standard government workhouses, which Dickens publicly despised and satirised for their cruelty and starvation, the Orphan Working School actively focused on preventing intergenerational poverty.

By donating his own money and using his massive celebrity platform to urge other wealthy Victorians to give, Dickens championed the school's core mission: giving fatherless or abandoned children an education and a reliable trade so they could survive independently. When donors bought votes for Lucy Card in 1850, they were participating in the exact system of social activism that Dickens spent his entire life building and promoting.

The Average Day

Historical records from the mid-19th century highlight the unyielding, clockwork schedule. A typical day for Lucy inside Haverstock Hill looked like this:

5:30 AM – The Awakening: Children woke up at the ring of a central bell. They slept in long, unheated dormitories on narrow iron frames with straw mattresses.

6:00 AM – Rigid Ablutions & Labour: They washed their faces and hands using communal troughs filled with cold water. Before any food was served, girls were assigned to sweep, scrub floors, and make beds.

7:30 AM – The "Dreary" Breakfast: Meals were eaten on backless wooden benches in complete silence. Breakfast was strictly regimented: a piece of coarse, dense bread and a bowl of water gruel (thin oatmeal).

8:30 AM – Religious Devotions: The school was heavily supported by Protestant Dissenters. Religion was the core weapon used to instill obedience. Lucy sat through long daily prayer sessions and Bible readings focusing on submission and hard work.

9:00 AM to 4:00 PM – Education & Manual Trade: True to the name "Working School," academic learning (reading, basic writing, and arithmetic) was kept basic. The real focus was manual labour. The school operated factories inside its own walls. While boys made shoes or nets, Lucy spent hours mending uniforms, doing bulk institutional laundry, and cooking.

Life at the Orphan Working School at Haverstock Hill, London

While being voted into a private charity school was considered a stroke of immense good fortune compared to a government workhouse, life inside was strict, routine-driven, and designed entirely around moulding working-class children into obedient labourers or servants.

The Orphan Working School operated like a "total institution". Children wore identical, drab, institutional uniforms to strip away individual identity. Strict military-like discipline and rigid timetables governed every minute of the day.

It was a highly austere environment with little to no individualised affection or emotional warmth. The school prioritised moral rectitude, constant religious devotion, and absolute obedience.

True to its name, it was a "working school." While Lucy learned basic reading, writing, and arithmetic, the priority for girls was intensive training in domestic chores. Girls spent hours cleaning, scrubbing, doing laundry, sewing, and preparing meals.

Food was highly regimented, repetitive, and strictly efficient (mostly gruel, potatoes, coarse bread, and bulk starches). However, it kept her fed and insulated from the deadly cholera and typhus epidemics raging through London's slums.

The school's charter explicitly stated that children were to be kept only until age 14. The school acted as an employment agency to transition them directly into manual labour so they would never cost taxpayers money

Boys were officially apprenticed out to city manufacturing firms. Girls were carefully placed into positions as domestic servants for middle-class household.

The institution's entire purpose was to prevent orphans from becoming financial burdens on the state. By training Lucy meticulously in domestic chores, the school successfully launched her into independent survival—which is exactly why we find her working as a self-sufficient domestic servant by age 19.

 

When Lucy turned 14 around 1856, the school would have provided her with a basic set of servant's clothing and sent her out to her first placement. This training is why her 1861 census record explicitly notes her occupation as a self-sufficient servant in Hertfordshire.

A Major Change

This record marks a major triumph for Lucy's life trajectory. In Victorian England, an orphaned girl without a family dowry or parental connections faced an incredibly high risk of falling into destitution or exploitation.

By successfully utilising the domestic training she received at the Orphan Working School, Lucy maintained steady employment as a servant in her teens, built a respectable reputation, and ultimately achieved long-term stability by marrying and establishing her own independent household.

The Hanwell Household

This handwritten document is the official 1871 UK Census return for Lucy and her family, recorded on April 2, 1871. It provides a fascinating, detailed snapshot of how her life changed 7 years after her marriage. At this time, they were living in Charlton, Kent (part of Greenwich, London) at Woodham Cottage.

By 1871, Charlton was effectively split into two entirely different worlds, heavily dictated by the local topography. The old village but  along the banks of the nearby River Thames, massive industrialisation was exploding. This area was dominated by noisy, smoking manufacturing centres, Siemens Brothers telegraph cable works, iron foundries, and the intense quarrying of the local sand and chalk pits. . 

Instead of living down by the smoky, industrialised Thames riverside, a cottage with this profile would have been located up on the high ground near Charlton Village or bordering Hanging Wood. This means Lucy’s immediate surroundings were still surrounded by ancient trees, open lanes, and large market gardens, insulating her family from the worst of the lowlands' industrial pollution.

 A "cottage" at this time was typically a small, two-story structure, often built using local red brick or traditional Kentish weatherboarding.

Looking closely at the handwritten lines under the address "Woodham Cottage", we can decipher the exact details of her household:

George Hanwell (Head, Married, Age 34): His occupation is recorded as a "Clerk to an Ironmonger" (an ironmonger sold hardware, tools, and metal household goods). This proves he held a stable, literate, middle-class office job. He is listed as born in Turnham Green, Middlesex.

Lucy Hanwell (Wife, Married, Age 28): Her status is listed as a housewife. Crucially, the far-right column confirms her birthplace as Camberwell, Surrey, tying this record directly to her family origins.

Lucy S. Hanwell (Daughter, Age 5): Their eldest child, named after her mother. She is noted as a "Scholar," meaning she was already attending school. She was born in Islington, Middlesex.

Edith Martha Hanwell (Daughter, Age 2): Their youngest toddler, born right there in Charlton, Kent.

A Surprising Guest: "Mary Panther"

Just above Lucy’s name in the household list, there is another highly significant relative staying with them: Mary Panther (Visitor, Unmarried, Age 22)

This is Lucy's younger sister, Mary Anne Card! She is listed under her mother’s maiden family name (Panther). Her birthplace is recorded as Camberwell, and her age perfectly matches her birth year. This tells us that even though the sisters were separated as children when Lucy went to the orphanage, they successfully reunited as adults. Lucy took her younger sister in as a house guest to support her.

After Ten Years

This handwritten document is the official 1881 UK Census return for Lucy and her growing family, recorded on April 3, 1881.By this time, the family had relocated to Hornsey, Middlesex (North London) and were living at 3 Osborne Road (Schedule 90).

 Moving to Hornsey, Middlesex, meant relocating to one of the fastest-growing commuter hotspots in late-Victorian North London. Between 1851 and 1881, Hornsey’s population exploded from 7,000 to 37,000 as developers aggressively chewed up the old Middlesex forests and farmlands to build residential suburbs.

The most striking detail in this census is George Hanwell's new occupation. He is no longer working as an office clerk. He is now listed as a Plasterer (Age 44). In late-Victorian London, the suburbs were experiencing an unprecedented building boom. Transitioning into a skilled trade like plastering would have provided steady, manual contract work in rapidly developing areas like Hornsey.

There is now a bustling Household: Lucy (Age 38) and George now have five children filling their home. We can trace the growth of their family over the last decade:

Arthur Geo [George] (Son, Age 14): Born in Islington. He is listed as an Office Clerk, meaning he has already left school to start working and bringing in a second income for the family.

Lucy Sophia (Daughter, Age 15): The eldest daughter (listed as Lucy S., age 5, in the previous 1871 census). She is still living at home and is listed as a Scholar.

Sidney Wm [William] (Son, Age 7): A new addition born in Hornsey since the last census. He is attending school (Scholar).Beatrice Mary (Daughter, Age 4): Born in Hornsey, noted as a Scholar.

Ernest Wm [William] (Son, Age 11 months): The baby of the family, under a year old, born in Hornsey.

Their second daughter from the 1871 census, Edith Martha, who would be around 12 years old, is missing from this household list. We will return to her later!

Looking at this lively, full house in 1881 highlights how completely Lucy broke the cycle of her tragic childhood. Having lost her own mother at age 7 and facing the cold halls of the Orphan Working School, Lucy succeeded in building a stable, long-lasting household where her own five children could grow up safely together under one roof.

A Tragic Ending

January 1884 (Age 41): Lucy gave birth to her final daughter, Eva Dora Hanwell, in Hornsey. Sadly, Eva would grow up to face a similar fate as her mother, losing her mother at a very young age.

April 1888 (Age 45): Lucy passed away in the Edmonton registration district (which covered Hornsey at the time). Just like her father Henry (who died at 33) and her mother Lucy Ann (who died in her 30s), Lucy died tragically young, leaving behind a household of young children.

May 28, 1888: She was officially laid to rest and buried in Islington, London.

When Lucy died in 1888, her youngest daughter Eva Dora was only 4 years old, and her son Ernest was just 8.Because Lucy knew firsthand the heartbreak of being a young orphan, it is incredibly poignant to look back at her story.

However, unlike Lucy’s childhood where her family completely collapsed, her husband George Hanwell survived her by 25 years (dying in 1913). Because their eldest children like Arthur and Lucy Sophia were already working adults by 1888, the family was strong enough to stay together and raise the youngest siblings without them ever needing to face an orphanage ballot.

 

A Very Young Marriage

This timeline completely solves the mystery of the missing daughter, Edith Martha Hanwell, and reveals why she was absent from the 1881 family census.

January 1888 (Age 19): Edith Martha married Leonard Arthur Joseph Bellows (1867–1907) in Islington, North London. Because she married just a few years after the 1881 census, it is highly likely that by 1881 (at age 12), she was already living away from home—potentially working as a young domestic servant or nursemaid elsewhere, which was common for eldest daughters in large working-class families.

The year 1888 was an incredibly intense, emotional rollercoaster for the Hanwell family, containing three massive life milestones in a matter of months:

January 1888: Edith Martha celebrates her wedding and begins her new life with Leonard Bellows.
April 1888: Just three months later, her mother Lucy Card passes away at age 45.
May 1888: Her mother is buried in Islington—the exact same district where Edith had just been married.

The Bellows Household Breakdown

To find out what happened next, we look at the official 1901 UK Census return for Edith Martha (Hanwell) Bellows and her husband Leonard, recorded on March 31, 1901.By this time, they had been married for 13 years and were living in Islington, North London (Schedule 125).

By 1901, Islington had shed its former identity as a dairy-farming village and had become a massive, heavily built-up urban centre. The neighbourhood was incredibly loud and lively. The streets were filled with horse-drawn omnibuses, hansom cabs, costermongers shouting out their wares, and the constant clatter of iron-rimmed wheels on stone paving.

Listed were:  

Leonard [A. J.] Bellows (Head, Married, Age 33): His occupation is recorded as an Accountant's Clerk for an Electrician. The turn of the century was the height of the electrical revolution in London; transitioning into working in modern, highly skilled technological trade as a clerk provided him with excellent, steady income. He is listed as born in Islington.

Edith [M.] Bellows (Wife, Married, Age 34): Managing the home. Her birthplace is confirmed as Charlton, Kent, perfectly matching her identity as Lucy Card's second daughter from the 1871 census.

Durward J. (Son, Age 12): Born in Tottenham. He is listed as a Scholar.
Olive G. (Daughter, Age 9): Born in Tottenham, Scholar.
Raymond Norman. (Son, Age 7): Born in Islington, Scholar.
Eric Norman (Son, Age 3): Born in the City of London.Adelbert K. (Son, Age 2 months): The newborn infant.
Jesse N. Bellows (Son, Age 2): Born in Tottenham.
Adelbert K. (Son, Age 2 months): The newborn infant.

This 1901 record shows a beautiful contrast to the childhood of Edith's mother, Lucy Card. While Lucy was completely orphaned and institutionalised by age 7, Edith Martha succeeded in maintaining a stable, safe urban household. Her husband’s career as an accountant's clerk to an electrician shielded their children from the crushing poverty that had fractured previous generations of the family. However, this was not to remain the case.

The Downsized Household Breakdown

By 1911, Edith Martha had faced a major crisis, and the family has downsized.

In 1907, Leonard had died aged 40. The family is now living at 31 Cornwall Road, South Tottenham in a small home consisting of just 3 rooms.  Edith is running the house alone.

The reason we know the exact room count is due to a specific political shift. The British government in 1911 was deeply concerned with urban poverty and public health. By forcing families to declare their room counts against the number of inhabitants, the government was systematically measuring urban overcrowding in working-class neighbourhoods like Tottenham for the very first time

South Tottenham by 1911 had completely transformed into a bustling, heavily built-up working-class industrial hub. The air would have been thick with coal smoke from local factories and the locomotives passing along the nearby railway lines. The street was a lively, noisy place, packed with children playing on the cobblestones and vendors selling goods from handcarts.

Listed living there:

Edith Martha Bellows (Head, Age 45): Under the marriage columns (Columns 5–9), she is officially marked as "Widow." She states she was married for 24 years before her husband passed away. Her occupation is "Mantle Making" (sewing women's cloaks/coats) working from home for an outside manufacturer. 

Olive Gertrude Bellows (Daughter, Age 19, Single): She is also working in the garment trade as a "Mantle Machinist."

It seems that Edith and her eldest daughter, Olive, are forced to convert their small 3-room rental flat into a gruelling home-based garment workshop ("Mantle Making") to scratch together enough money for food.  Women sewing cloaks in their own tenement rooms averaged 7s. to 9s. per week. They had to pay out-of-pocket for their own thread, needles, and the rental/maintenance of their sewing machines.

Most home and workshop mantle makers used heavy cast-iron sewing machines, prominently manufactured by Singer. Because electricity was not yet widespread in working-class homes or backstreet workshops, the operator had to pump a iron foot pedal continuously to power the needle.

Raymond Noel Bellows (Son, Age 17, Single): Working as a "Chemist's Assistant"

Adelbert Kenneth Bellows (Son, Age 10): Listed as a schoolboy, born on City Road, London.

Leonard's sudden death completely derailed the household, stripping away the primary income right as the twin boys, Eric and Jesse, hit 12 years old. This immense loss explains why Edith Martha had to turn to the Orphan Working School and King Edward's School to keep her sons fed.

Jesse (Age 12) was sent to the Orphan Working School in London.
Eric (Age 12/13) was sent to King Edward's School down in Surrey.

 

King Edward's School

In 1911, 12-year-old Eric was registered as an Inmate at King Edward's School for Boys in Witley, Surrey. Although described as a school, it was originally founded as the Bridewell Royal Hospital, and  was in fact a massive charitable boarding institution for "destitute children" or fatherless/vulnerable boys from London.

The school Eric knew underwent a massive ideological shift during the 20th century. It became co-educational in 1952, shed its strict industrial-training model, and gradually transitioned into King Edward’s School, Witley into the thriving, premium independent boarding school it is today. The grand Victorian brick buildings Eric walked through still stand, but the austere dormitories have been replaced by modern, comfortable boarding houses.

Because private Victorian and Edwardian charities had strict vacancy caps, a single institution rarely took multiple siblings at once. To survive a crushing financial collapse, Edith had to apply to two entirely separate charities simultaneously to get food and shelter for their young sons.

Eric’s Routine at King Edward’s School (Witley, Surrey)

King Edward’s School was much more institutional, regimented, and physically demanding than the Orphan Working School. It was designed to reform boys and prepare them directly for the Royal Navy, British Army bands, or colonial emigration.

Eric would have worn a distinct, naval-style or military-style uniform, complete with heavy boots that had to be polished to a mirror shine. The picture (not of Eric) gives the kind of attire. 

The bugle or bell rang at 5:30 AM or 6:00 AM. The boys immediately marched to the washrooms. At Witley, physical fitness was a religion; early morning often featured a mandatory, brisk run or outdoor calisthenics in the cold Surrey morning air regardless of the season. 

Eric’s day was split strictly in two. He spent half the day in standard school lessons (reading, writing, basic math) and the other half in industrial training workshops.

A massive portion of Eric's day was spent on the parade ground. He had to learn complex marching manoeuvres, rifle drills (using wooden dummy rifles), and gymnastics. Disobedience or a failure to salute staff resulted in swift corporal punishment (the cane or birch).

Evenings were spent cleaning equipment, mending uniforms, and attending evening prayers. Eric would be physically exhausted by the time lights-out arrived.

The Great War

Despite King Edward’s School (Witley) frequently channeling boys directly into the Royal Navy or maritime service, Eric went into the army into Royal West Kent Regiment when he came of age during the height of the Great War.

The Royal West Kent Regiment saw heavy infantry action on the Western Front. Being transferred from an active front-line infantry regiment like the West Kents into the Labour Corps, while simultaneously being promoted to a Temporary Sergeant rank,was a common track for experienced, literate soldiers who were selected to manage, supply, and police labour battalions behind the lines

He originally served as a Private (Service Number 31040) in the Royal West Kent Regiment before being transferred to the Labour Corps (Service Number 211441), where he rose to the senior rank of Temporary Colour Sergeant (T/C/Sgt)

A Temporary Colour Sergeant was a wartime appointment given to an experienced non‑commissioned officer who was needed to fill the duties of a Colour Sergeant but had not yet received a permanent promotion. In the First World War, battalions expanded rapidly and suffered heavy losses among senior NCOs, so the Army frequently elevated capable men to temporary rank to keep companies functioning. These temporary appointments carried the authority, responsibilities, and pay of the rank, but they could be removed if the original holder returned or if the company was reorganised.

The role itself was a senior administrative and disciplinary position within an infantry company. A Colour Sergeant oversaw stores, equipment, training, and day‑to‑day organisation, acting as the Company Commander’s principal non‑commissioned assistant. A temporary holder performed all these duties, often for long periods, and many were later confirmed in rank once their competence was proven.

He was listed as being awarded (as seen above) a British War Medal or a Victory Medal. Unfortunately we don't have it.

After the Great War: 1921

This document is the official 1921 UK Census return, recorded on the night of June 19, 1921. It reveals a major, bittersweet milestone: Edith Martha Bellows is now a widow, and her family has dramatically transformed following World War I. 

By 1921, Eric had left the strict confines of Surrey's King Edward's School behind. His new home was  with his widowed mother at a substantial, multi-story Victorian semi-detached or terraced property,  61 Buckingham Road, Hackney, London, N1. 

We can see the kind of building from similar houses. This an an AI generated reconstruction of what it might have looked like. Post-1945, this area was redeveloped and houses pulled down.

Given the housing pressures of post-WWI London, 61 Buckingham Road was likely multi-occupied. Large Victorian houses like this were frequently split up or took in lodgers to help cover the rent, as we can see from the Household Breakdown:

 Edith Bellows (Head, Age 54 years 7 months): She is explicitly listed as a "Widow" performing "Household duties.". 

Eric Bellows (Son, Age 22 years 5 months, Single): This is the son previously found inside King Edward's School for Boys in 1911! He has successfully returned home to support his widowed mother. He is working as a Timber Clerk for a company called Bamberger & Co. Ltd. on Creek Street, Deptford. His birthplace is listed as City Road, London.

Sidney Garnham (Boarder, Age 22 years 4 months, Single): A young man renting a room from Edith to help her pay rent. He works as a Shorthand Typist for Trollope & Colls Ltd. in Westminster.

Ernest Hanwell (Brother, Age 41 years 2 months, Single): This is Lucy Card's youngest son (Edith's younger brother)! He was the 11-month-old baby from the 1881 census. He is living with his sister and working as a Plasterer with "No fixed place" of work.

For leisure, Eric was just a short distance from the famous Hackney Empire theatre and the bustling Kingsland Waste market. The streets would be roaring with early motor buses, trams, and horse-drawn delivery carts.

In 1921, the Hackney Empire was a thriving music hall and variety theatre in London, hosting world-class acts like Charlie Chaplin and Stan Laurel (before they found fame in movies) under Oswald Stoll's ownership and Frank Matcham's architectural design.

Later Life

This 1960 photo by Tom Bamsey is of Depford Creek. It shows the bridge and warehouses along Creek Street; timber yards visible on the right bank.

Eric was employed by Bambergers (Timber and Plywood) Limited on Creek Street, Deptford. This was a prominent, massive British timber merchant. The company specialised in importing and supplying large-scale timber, hardwood, and manufactured plywood to the building, manufacturing, and pianoforte (piano) industries.

This stable, administrative career in the raw materials trade allowed him to provide a reliable income for his family, directly shielding them from the desperate garment-working poverty his mother had endured. He eventually elevated his career from a company clerk to a full-fledged timber merchant.

By 1936, we know he was driving a car!  We know this because the Wood Green and Southgate Weekly Herald of Friday, 14 February 1936 says: "Eric Norman Bellows of Park Drive, Grange Park, Enfield was fined 40 shillings (40s.) at Tottenham Police Court for exceeding the 30 m.p.h. speed limit while driving.". The 30 m.p.h. speed limit in built-up areas was reintroduced to Britain under the Road Traffic Act 1934. 

We don't know what the car was, but the Morris Eight was Britain’s bestselling car of the 1930s, produced by Morris Motors between 1935 and 1948. The car had a top speed of around 58 m.p.h. and cruised happily at 40 m.p.h., making it incredibly easy for drivers like Eric to accidentally breeze past the new 30 m.p.h. limit.

His wartime experience would have been useful, as in 1939 he was a voluntary ARP warden. "Put that light out!" was not just the phrases used by Warden Hodges in Dad's Army, it was a commonplace of the war years! The picture shows typical clothing worn.

My connection!

Suffice it to note that Eric Norman Bellows was the father of my father, Raymond Eric Norman Bellows, and my paternal grandfather!

Lucy Card where this story begins, was my great-great-grandmother!

A Short Story: Darkness Rising — A Tale of the Near‑Future

Based on an old poem on mine, which I have woven throughout, this is a cautionary short story. For once this is not based around a hymn.

Darkness Rising — A Tale of the Near‑Future

Softly, my darling, hear the daylight falling
As our light flickers; now the engine stalling
Stops, and at once becomes most still
Until silence so sharp that it might kill;
Then howling frenzy starts its rage
At loss of air-conditioned cage

The blackout began quietly, almost politely, as though the city were clearing its throat before speaking its final words. At 19:42, the lights dimmed, screens blinked out, and the air‑conditioning sighed into silence. Mary felt the stillness settle over their apartment like a velvet shroud. She reached for Luke’s hand. The power had run out.

“Softly, my darling,” she murmured, recalling the old poem, “hear the daylight falling.”

Outside, the towers that once glowed like constellations now stood as black silhouettes against a bruised sky. The hum of drones ceased. The neon advertisements faded. Even the distant thrum of the city stuttered and died. A world built on circuitry had become, in an instant, a mausoleum.

The power of renewable energy had not been sufficient to replace the old fashioned gas, oil or nuclear power. The heat had caused a spike in demand, and as night fell, cloaked under a blanket of sweat and misery, the cool air pushed out through the air conditioning had been the final tipping point. All over the country, power failed, town by town, city by city. The machine had stopped.

Luke moved to the window. “It’s not just us,” he said. “The whole grid’s gone.”

The silence sharpened, becoming a blade. Mary felt it press against her ribs. In the hallway, someone screamed, raw, panicked, animal. Then came the rising chorus: doors slamming, feet pounding, voices cracking under the weight of sudden fear. The city had lost its air‑conditioned cage, and the frenzy began.

In the streets, people driven by panic would start looting. Shop windows would be broken. And the law, fighting within the darkness, would be powerless to stop a mob driven by fear and desperation. What was it C.P. Snow had said? Civilisation is only a coat of varnish upon the savage underneath.

“Now, my darling,” Luke whispered, “comes the darkness rising.”

It was true. The dusk outside thickened unnaturally, as though the sky itself were collapsing. Without the towers’ lights, the horizon was swallowed whole. Mary imagined idols of modernity crumbling, those sleek devices, those glowing screens, those whispered promises of convenience and control. All gone. All prised open like Pandora’s box.

Only hope remained. Small. Unseen.

Now, my darling, comes the darkness rising
As a dusk of idols crumbles in prising
Open Pandora's box; left alone unseen
Is hope. Alas That which might have been
Was not to be: the silken web falls lightly
But firm; no space here for the sprightly

They lit a candle. Its flame trembled, casting a fragile halo across the room. Mary watched it dance, thinking of the poem’s silken web, of how lightly it fell, how firmly it bound. The city was caught now, ensnared in its own illusions. No space left for the sprightly, the careless, the unprepared. The heat enfolded the population like a shroud before burial.

Luke rummaged through a drawer and pulled out an old radio, analogue, battered, stubbornly obsolete. “Maybe,” he said, “we can find a signal.” But only static answered him. Endless, indifferent static. “Only pray, my darling,” Mary said softly, “for a wizard’s spell.” He smiled faintly. “A wizard, or an engineer.” But neither came.

Hours passed. The candle burned low. Outside, the frenzy ebbed into a strange, exhausted quiet. People huddled in stairwells. Cars sat abandoned in the streets. The city, once a titan of light, now lay prostrate beneath the rising dark. Great was the fall of the city, once so proud, brought down by that lifeblood of modern life, energy, draining away.

Luke tried the radio again. Nothing. He set it down gently, as though it were a wounded animal. “They said the grid was resilient,” he whispered. “Redundant. With spare capacity.” Mary rested her head on his shoulder. “They said a lot of things.”

The flame guttered. Shadows stretched across the room, swallowing the last traces of the light. Mary felt the weight of the poem’s final lines, tears of rage, dying light, darkness softly rising. She wanted to believe in fresh tomorrow, in hope waiting unseen at the bottom of Pandora’s box. But the silence outside was too deep, too absolute. Luke’s hand tightened around hers. “We’ll wait for morning.”

Mary nodded, though she knew the truth: morning would come, but the world that greeted it would not be the one they had known. The darkness had risen, and it was not finished. The candle died. The room fell into perfect black. Hope that once flickered in a candle flame was extinguished. And the darkness was rising once more.

Only pray, my darling, for a wizard's spell
To break the enchantment of our hell,
And call forth hope for fresh tomorrow,
That failing there should be no sorrow
But tears of rage against the dying
Of the light, the darkness softly rising.

Harvest of First Fruits

Another August one noting that August is the first harvest. We tend to think of harvest in September but that is in fact the second harvest of the ancient year.

Harvest of First Fruits

The sun rises, as breaking dawn
Arise, arise, come now the light
This day will be so very bright
From the good soil, life is born

Cockerel sounds an end to night
Darkness fading, now so slight
The sun rises, as breaking dawn
Arise, arise, come now the light

First fruits harvest of the corn
Ceres, protect against a blight
And shadow of an evil wight
Corn dolly thresholds do adorn
The sun rises, as breaking dawn
Arise, arise, come now the light

1986 - 40 years ago - August - Part 1

 

1986 - 40 years ago - August - Part 1

August 4-10

A SITE for an 18-hole golf course using land of little agricultural value on both sides of the Prison at La Moye is identified to the Island Development Committee by Advocate Michael Voisin.

The Island's Working Party on Need recommends to the Finance and Economics Committee that non-natives should have to live in Jersey for ten years rather than the present five before they qualify for welfare benefit.

Some 50 people are involved in a brawl after a replayed football semi-final in the Mateus Rosé tournament between Le Masurier's and Modern Hotels. Le Masurier's striker, John Steel, is banned for life from the Mateus tournament because of his involvement in the incident.

There is confusion surrounding the role of Jersey's only deaconess, Mrs June Gurdon. The Dean, the Very Rev. Basil O'Ferrall, and the Rector of St Saviour, the Rev. Jeffrey Hollis, say that Mrs Gurdon is on sick leave but is still licensed to the Parish of St Saviour, but Mrs Gurdon says that this is not so.

Senator John Le Marquand criticises the Housing Committee's policy on housing for the elderly. He says that old people need accommodation units big enough to allow them to entertain friends and family.

Falles Garage applies to the Island Development Committee to use a field and a garden in Plat Douet Road to park cars in spite of a recent statement by IDC president Constable John Le Sueur saying that he is "horrified" by the large area of the Island occupied by hire cars.

August 11-17

TOURISM Committee president Senator John Rothwell says that holidays in Jersey are too expensive. He makes the claim after gathering information from travel agents and tour operators during a two-day whistle-stop tour in and around Manchester.

Battle of Flowers day is another huge success, the weather breaking in time to ensure that the carnival atmosphere of the new-look event is enjoyed by the thousands who line the Victoria Avenue parade circuit. Cab driver Mr Reg Hawkins is commended for hanging on to a drunken driver's hire car to prevent it from leaving the scene of a motoring incident. The hire car was driven by 26-year-old Londoner Kevin William Bagshaw the wrong way up Colomberie and along a pavement before crashing into a telephone kiosk with two people inside. The Guiton Group, which includes the Jersey Evening Post, acquires a share in a UK company which is to launch an English newspaper in Spain.

Mrs Ada Louisa Breen, who says she was still riding a bicycle when she was 87, celebrates her 100th birthday at the Alexandre Home for the Aged.

Jersey Zoo looks for £45,000 to build a new laboratory. The money is needed because the laboratory currently in use — a prefabricated building put up in 1976 — is collapsing.

Residents of Trinity plan to fight a proposal to site the new Animal Shelter at a farm in the parish. They say that incessant noise and disturbance would be brought to a peaceful area.

Looking around Guernsey 1972 – Part 3

Note: the glasshouses and the tomatoindustry no longer exist. Flowers have largely gone as a large market as well.

Looking around Guernsey 1972 – Part 3

How we make our living

Contrary to the belief of some mainlanders, Guernsey receives no grant of any kind from the British Government.

The island has a self-supporting economy based primarily on its tomato and flower exports, its tourists industry and — increasingly over the past decade — its international banking business.

In the past Guernseymen earned their living in many ways from privateering and entrepot trade to growing dessert grapes for the tables of Victorian England.

The famous "Guernsey Tom" began to appear about a century ago under the name of "love apple". The tomatoes were grown in the glasshouses previously used for grapes, which is why a tomato nursery is known here as a "vinery".

Some of today's glasshouses are as large as aircraft hangars with automatic controls that allow up to 10,000 plants to be tended by two men. The industry now has a producer-owned central marketing board that grades, packs and ships about £10 million worth of "toms" a year, predominantly for UK markets.

Flowers are grown both under glass and in the open. They include roses (Guernsey is now one of the British Isles' major rose-growing areas), carnations, chrysanthemums, freesias, irises, orchids, daffodils, gladioli, tulips, anemones and fern. About £4 million worth a year are exported.

Guernsey's centuries-old fishing industry is far from extinct — in fact, new methods of fishing and marketing are emerging. Local fishermen and divers sell substantial quantities of shellfish, especially scallops, crayfish and lobster, to France, Jersey and the UK.

Dairy farming, too, is still vital to the economy because the island endeavours (and, except sometimes in mid-winter, successfully) to be self-supporting in milk. Only the world-famous breed of Guernsey cow is allowed here and, as you will see, many farmers still tether their animals in the fields to "ration" grazing. Experiments are being made to develop a Guernsey-Charolais cross-breed for beef production.

As a tourist resort Guernsey has grown steadily in popularity since World War II, but the authorities have been watchful to see that the island does not become too commercialised. Under the 1948 Tourist Law all hotels and guest houses — and nowadays self-catering units — have to be officially registered and are inspected and graded annually. Guernsey was pioneer of hotel grading in the British Isles and the policy has helped to develop tourism into a £9 million a year industry.

Guernsey's favourable tax climate has attracted many well-to-do settlers (known locally as rentiers), who have benefited the community by bringin4 money into the island. An important step to encourage more settlers was taken in 1961, when the States sold Fort George — a 54-acre former UK War Department property to the south of St. Peter Port — for development as a "millionaires' estate.

Partly to serve the rentier community, and partly because of rising taxation in other countries leading merchant banks began to move into Guernsey during the 1960s and have made the island an important offshore finance centre.

Guernsey's largest manufacturing industry is run by an American company, Tektronix, who set up plant here in 1958 and now employ over 400 people. The firm makes electronic measuring equipment which is exported to European and Commonwealth markets. The main factory is just north of the airport.

The island has several other small light industries that contribute usefully to its prosperity, but it is generally agreed that the economy still needs to be broadened.

Stamps and all that

TWO everyday items which tell a traveller he is abroad are the island's postage stamps and its distinctive currency.

For nearly three hundred years mail carrying it the Bailiwick, and to and from the UK, was ; protected monopoly of the British GPO and it predecessors. Until October 1st. 1969, when both Jersey and Guernsey governments became responsible, for their own postal systems, there were no Channel Islands postage stamps as such.

However, there are philatelists who will argil that the Channel Islands Occupation stamps — issue( when supplies of GPO stamps ran out — were in fact the islands' very first "own" stamps.

But true postal independence came on October 1st. 1969 when the former British GPO was turned into a public Corporation. A pledge was also give] that eventually the UK would hand over to the island responsibility for their own trunk telephone link with the mainland. They had already been running their own local telephone services for some decades.

Guernsey has issued two sets of definitive postage stamps. The first — in old "sterling" denominations — came out on takeover day 1969 and the decimal value replacements — new stamps, not overprints — were issued in time for D-day, February 1971.

Each year the island has issued up to three sets of "special" stamps which are valid for exactly one year from the date of issue. So far they have commemorated, among other things, the Liberation, Thomas de la Rue — the famous Guernsey born printer — agriculture and horticulture, local churches and old mail packet ships.

So great has been the interest from philatelists in Guernsey stamps that a specially built Philatelic Bureau in Smith Street, St. Peter Port, deals with thousands of orders each year from collectors all over the world.

Guernsey notes and coins date back much further than stamps but numismatists will be extremely lucky to find any but the current denominations in circulation. The coins are in the following values —50p, 10p, 5p, 2p, 1p, and 1/2p. Guernsey also produces £5 and £1 notes. Ten shilling notes were discontinued because they wore out so quickly.

One of the finest coins ever produced by the island was a four cornered 10/- issued in 1966 to commemorate the island's 900 years of association with the British Crown. Examples are hard to come by these days although many dealers have some stocks.

Another sign of domestic independence is the island government's lottery.

Profits have been pledged to a project which would please islanders and visitors alike. A multi-purpose recreation centre for wet weather and all-year-round use is envisaged.

Every lottery draw is open to the public and each 50p ticket has two chances of winning a prize. It could be as much as £10,000 in a periodic "Snowball Draw" as well as one of many lesser cash prizes in the more frequent "ordinary" draws.

Bernard Place on Healthcare.

 Bernard Place argues in the JEP that charging patients for non-urgent Emergency Department (ED) visits to reduce overcrowding addresses the wrong issue. While Health Minister Tom Binet suggested this to deter "inappropriate attendance" and redirect patients to GPs, data shows that crowding is actually driven by "exit block" rather than excessive inflow.

The main points of the article include:

• The Complexity of Demand: Modern EDs do not manage simple cases; they handle an ageing population with complex, long-term conditions (like dementia, frailty, and sepsis) requiring extensive assessment and systemic flow.
• The Flaw of "Inappropriate" Labels: Classifying a visit as "minor" is a retrospective clinical judgment. Patients make prospective decisions based on a rational fear of symptoms (e.g., chest pain) without the benefit of diagnostic tools. Good public policy should not penalize people for acting rationally.
• The "Exit Block" Reality: EDs struggle primarily because too few people are able to leave, not because too many arrive. When inpatient beds are full, or community care packages and nursing home placements are unavailable, the entire hospital system backs up like traffic on a blocked avenue.
• System-Wide Solutions: Narrowing the front door via fees does not create sustained reductions in demand. Instead, the solution lies in optimizing the whole system to achieve "zero length of stay". This involves aligning beds, diagnostics, and discharge planning so patients move smoothly back into the community.

Place concludes that Jersey's Health and Care Partnership Board and Advisory Board must focus on systemic integration—such as affordable same-day primary care and better discharge pathways—rather than penalizing the front door.