(28) 'Goodbye to Shamley Green'

[Ken]

                         
                                                           I said goodbye to 'Shamley Green'
                                                                  its river and its woods,
                                                           And in between, the cricket green,
                                                           where 'Seymour Glew' once stood.
                                                          When to the cry of "Hows that Dad?"
                                                                  he'd reply "Out my Son,"
                                                               All this happened long ago,
                                                             When old Ken Tuffs was young.

Before one can say goodbye to a place, you first have to say 'Hello', and I said my first hello to both Shamley Green and Planet Earth in the June of 1946.  I was the ninth and last child of the family Tuffs, who had  arrived in that wonderful village some fifteen years earlier.  When people hear I'm one of nine children, I'm often asked what it is like to come from such a large family.  I always give the same answer, "With my family, it's wonderful".  I then say that by Shamley Green standards we're actually quite a small family, and I go on to explain. Our village once had two sisters who both got married, one wed a Mr. Jarrad and they were blessed with fifteen children, the other married a Mr. Stevens, their children numbered sixteen.  That meant there were soon a lot of young people who called each other cousin and, as time passed, a surprising number of them remained living in the area.  When my parents, Walter and Ruby Tuffs arrived in 1931, they found a village full of Aunts, uncles, Nephews, Nieces, cousins and second cousins, truly a village of relatives.  A very old friend, Chris Bushell, is a descendent of the Jarrad line, and I once asked him if there was any sort of bond between the relatives?  His reply was there were too bloody many of them to be close.  That was never the case with the family Tuffs!

Thankfully, amongst that huge multitude of kin folk, the Tuffs' fitted in, and the three families became team mates in countless village activities.  Games of football on winter Saturdays, mid week games of darts in the Red Lion pub, and, most significant of all, those wonderful atmospheric cricket matches on that beautiful village green.  Every Saturday and Sunday from May until September, sometimes midweek too, the sound of that hard leather ball connecting with the willow of big Sid Stevens cricket bat could be heard. I can picture my brother Len thundering up to bowl yet another batsman out,  I recall Harry Jarrad watching and hoping not too much harm would come to the pitch he cared for throughout the week.    My brother Bob, always a brilliant fielder, going into bat, and no one having a clue if he'd do well or badly, the young me sitting on Miss Locketts wall, watching my hero brother nervously.  On a good day he'd hit 'fours and sixes' around the green, sometimes breaking the roof tiles of the nearby houses.  On a bad day I'd watch him return rather quickly with his head in the air, and that familiar half grin on his jutting jaw.  

There would be the immensely tall Seymour Glue, standing proudly in his white umpire's coat, responding to his bowling son's shouted question, "Hows that Dad?", with an "Out my Son",statement.  There would be the opposing sides batsman, walking back to his his team mates, astonished by the words he'd just heard. There would be Les Hollingsworth, sitting in his wheelchair, keeping score, there would be tea between each side's innings and there would be the almost inevitable Shamley Green victory.  Later there would be a gathering at 'The Red Lion' and the match would be re-lived as the ale flowed, later still the piano lid would be lifted and the singing would start.  Those cricket matches, and everything that went with them, highlight what was wonderful about growing up in the village of Shamley Green.  The forever friendships that built up between both individuals and their families, the fun, the pranks, the caring and the hard to define sense of belonging.  The pride in being what some called,  'A Shamley Green-ite'!

That was what I said goodbye to on June 13th, 1970, but it wasn't a sad goodbye.  Not like the time, years later, when I said goodbye to Guildford town.  I was happy for I was starting a new life with Jenny, my beautiful young bride, in our first ever home.  Jenny was happy for me to keep close ties with my friends in fact she encouraged it.  At first I would visit the Red Lion pub every Tuesday and Friday evening as well as Sunday lunch times, but within weeks I was so enjoying life in our little flat that I stopped my Tuesday visits.  Shortly after that I started enjoying my Sunday pre-lunch pint in some Guildford pubs and so my trips to Shamley Green became just once a week ones, mainly to visit Mum at her home.  They were grand evenings for my brother Wally also visited on a Friday and Bob, who lived with Mum, would also be there. Often Len and Pam would join us and sometimes I would be delighted to see the door open and Gordon arrive.  Three or four times a year my cup would truly runneth over, for Phyl and Lou would add to the clan gathering.  Needless to say we'd all spend the later part of the evening in the Red Lion, all except Mum, who would go to bed happy, but tired out from so much talking.

So that was how my goodbye to Shamley Green occurred, slowly, over a number of years, and happily, because my ties with that wonderful village are still strong.  My physical health means I will never again re-trace the footsteps of my daily paper round but I can still walk it in the memory of my healthy mind.  I have recently, by using the magic of Google Earth, stopped outside the two village pubs and gazed wistfully at them, recalling happy events of bygone decades.  On a small table in my dining room I have our constantly looked at copy of, 'The Tuffs Family,' album, and beside that sits the, 'Shamley Green Tuffs Reunion,' a small book of photos given to me by my Daughter, Kathryn.  On the windowsill of my bedroom I have a small framed picture of cricket being played on that famous village green, It was given to us by the Bushell family and it is a gift I treasure.  It is the last thing I see when I draw the curtains each evening and it's the first thing I see when I open them to start my new day.  On reflection I've never truly said goodbye to Shamley Green, I don't think I ever will!              

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[Ken]

This is a selection of many memories of my growing up years, culminating in my leaving home.  It tells of a unique place and of special people, I am forever grateful to have once lived there.