The Old Schoolhouse

by Jo Rundle

I was appalled to see the state of The Old School house for I was born there in 1915, and when we left my Great Uncle Arthur Bradley and his wife Alice moved in from the old Post Office in Hillfoot Road. They were there for a number of years, raising a family whilst Uncle Arthur became the Under-Head-Gardener and keeper of Gillfield Wood, breeding pheasants and other birds for days of shooting. 

He was constantly looking-out for the village lads who couldn’t resist a little bit of devilment, particularly when old crippled Hob Marshall was around showing them how to lie on their bellies, with one arm outstretched, the other hand full of seeds nicked from the bags in the store further up in the wood. A discreet handful quietly flung in front of the prostrate scavengers never failed to attract a couple or so Pheasants to be immediately grabbed by the other hand, neck quickly squeezed before it could squark then into the bag and home. Uncle Arthur knew what was going on but it wasn’t only pheasants he was worried about. I was thirteen years old when Aunt Alice died and needed a bit of help. My mother always baked bread on Friday and soon she was baking a second batch for Uncle Arthur and it was my job to deliver it after school and soon had the job of cleaning the huge living room and kitchen to be ready with table laid ready for what he had already made for tea; sometimes it was a rook pie, other times a starry- gazy pie. Whatever it was I always learned something, like you use only the breast of a rook because the back is bitter or when making the starry- gazy pie made with the little white fish from the river you always place the fish around the edge of the crust so that they are gazing up to the stars, not wallowing in their own juices. 

It was always a silent meal, eating, not a lot of talking, whilst the old 6ft. high Grandfather clock kept on ticking, and the cricket behind it kept on rubbing it’s legs together until Uncle Arthur seemed suddenly to be aware of the continuous peep-peep and shout, and I mean shout, "Ya b ----—- r Ya b -—--—- r shurrr-up" and guffaw when it did just that. I shall never forget the cricket behind the clock. Sadly there came the day when I came home from school to find my mum very near to tears when she told me that Uncle Arthur had had a stroke outside in the garden. He had not turned up for work so Mrs Milner came up to the School-house to find out why when she found him behind the door of the outside toilet, having had a stroke. My father was told immediately and had gone down to the schoolhouse to take charge, and now I had come home I must take charge here and see that the boys had their teas, already set on the table, and I realised that I would never see my Uncle Arthur again. 

Our neighbours - the Smiths were the next inhabitants of the old Schoolhouse, by which time it had been improved with a new staircase, and bedrooms and very soon Nellie Smith was married from there in the church just around the comer. Louie was later married from there, and Billy stayed on for a number of years. By this time I was miles away, at Gleadless but there may be someone in Totley who can continue the Smith story. I believe, but am not quite sure, but I think that Mrs Turner’s daughter, who lived opposite at some time lived in the school·house, in what rotation again I am not sure, but I am sure that there is somebody who can fill the gap. 

The last time I happened to be in Hall Lane, a few years ago, I remarked to the person I was visiting about the condition of the old name board for, even then it was obvious that some repair was required immediately, I hope now that the house and it’s grounds can be rescued for posterity, such memories are priceless.

September 2011

From Erica Hillman

I was interested to read the article on the Old Schoolhouse in the September edition of 'Totley Independent' as my mother, Dorothy Simons (nee Williams) lived there as a small child. Mrs. Rundle asked if any one knew who had lived in the Old Schoolhouse after her Uncle Arthur Bradley and mentions Mrs. Turner who lived in the cottages opposite and a family called Smith. Mrs. Turner's daughter Elsie and her husband, Jack Williams, together with young Dorothy moved in to the house after Mr Bradley died. They subsequently moved to Aldam Road in about 1932, at which point the Smiths moved into the house. Since her eyesight has declined my mother now lives with us in London. My husband or I read The Independent to her each month. 

November 2011