MARSH FAMILIES OF KENT

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Words and Pictures from the past - a little Nostalgia.

Visit this page regularly. Items will be replaced or added to often. Most of the pictures currently shown on this page include my relatives. Perhaps you have pictures of interest in your family album. E-mail me if you have something you would like inserted here.
Bill Marsh

HOP PICKING IN KENT



Hopppickers are always a happy bunch.There are three Marsh family members in the group above. The picture was taken at Weddington Farm, Ash in 1937.
Photo Courtesy Vince Marsh.



Evelyn,Charlie Cloke (Win's husband),Win
Dad
Photo Courtesy Evelyn E (Marsh) Gilbert

Hop picking in Kent used to be an annual ritual for some people, they came from near and far. Some came for the cash and others came for the experience. Members of the Marsh family shown with a basket of hops were obviously enjoying themselves - read the novel description of this visit in the poem  below. Melenie Marsh writes after seeing the photo "I was interested in the hop pickers photo as we have similar photos from both sides of my family. My grandfather, Albert Marsh, was a stilt walker in the hop gardens. He was a short man, 5' 3", and I am sure that Freud would have a lot to say about his employment! As children, Alice and I played in abandoned and derelict hop huts. Dad tells me that my Uncle Bernard received an award for rescuing people from the huts when they caught fire."

If you have an interest in hop picking I strongly recommend that you visit the Web site Hopping

Publications about Hop Picking (Courtesy Vince Marsh)
"Voices of Kents Hoppickers" - ISBN 0 7524 1130 6
"Voices of Kent's Hop Gardens" - ISBN 07524 2090 9
"The Annual Hop London to Kent" - ISBN 0 7524 0379 6
All three above by Hilary Hefferman. Publisher Tempus Publishing Ltd
"Pull No More Bines" - ISBN 0 7043 4229 4 by Gilda O'Neill. Publisher Women's Press (member of the Namara Group)

Hop Picking
by Evelyn (Marsh) Gilbert
Years ago it was,
With our Dad alive and kicking,
Win and I, Fed up with things
Thought we'd go hop picking!
Arrangements were made we'd go to Bridge
Hop Fields, we knew no other.
Still for our needs it was OK,
It saved us going further.

Off we went on appointed day
With chairs and pots and bedding
A stock of food, and little kids,
Our Household chores forgetting.
I forget which day we actually went-
I think it was a Saturday,
Dad said "You won't last a week -
I'll come and fetch you Wednesday!"

Our tin hut, no home from home,
But just a weather shelter,
In which when cold you'd freeze to death
Or, in heat just swelter!
But never mind! we grit our teeth
And vowed to stick it out,
Up at Dawn and late to bed -
No time to get a stout.

With hops to pick and grub to cook,
The pots and kids to clean,
We had our work cut out for sure,
No holiday makers dream!

True to his word, old Dad came up
In his best 'Bib and Tucker,'
Sat right down and helped us fill
Our baskets made of wicker.
The weather happened to be good,
The old man, he was happy,
Said he would like it fine if he
Could stay - the game old chappy.

Off I went to find the Boss
To see if he was willing,
"All right by me," he kindly said,
"As long as BINS you're filling!"

The problem was, where would Dad sleep?
There were no empty huts,
"Well can't I sleep with you" he said,
No time for 'ifs' or 'buts.'
By this time it was getting late,
We knew we'd have to hurry,
Water to fetch and fire to light,
Before to bed we'd scurry.

So there we were, kids, Win and I,
Straw and bedding sharing,
Till to Folkestone we could go,
Dad's working gear collecting.

Dad had a nasty turn or two.
Which scared us quite a bt.
He wouldn't hear of going home -
Said he was enjoying it!
Well, I suppose he must have done,
We hadn't long lost Mum'
It gave him something new to do,
When all is said and done.

He joined in all the choruses
When we all began to sing,
And he did enjoy his food -
Especially Beef Pudding.

Now the tin hut I have mentioned,
Was only one of many.
More like cubicles they were -
And Privacy? hardly any!!!
The murmerings and 'noises off'
Questionable Entertainment!
From 'CHAMBER MUSIC' in the night
To amorous endearment!

One night a little boy next door
Mislaid his rubber dummy,
Pandemonium reigned until
He piped "I DOT IT MUMMY"

This tickled Dad a lot I know,
He often spoke about it.
In later years, in fact he said
The whole thing - he'd repeat it.

We never went again of course,
Found other things to do.
But we ARE glad we went THAT time,
And stayed to see it through!

 
 

Copyright Eve Gilbert

CREAM ICES

Do you remember trips to the seaside in England during the 30's? There were always stalls selling ice cream cones - they were known as cream ices then. Arthur Marsh in Folkestone made his own ice cream - the real stuff - and his wife Frances (Durban) manned the stall on the Lees. This photo shows Frances with her grandson Albert. Sadly, Albert died very young of meningitis.

BUTCHER SHOP & MILK DELIVERY

George Marsh was a brother of Arthur (preceeding picture). The picture shows George and his family,including mother-in-law in the doorway, as it was about 1892/93. Note the manner in which milk was delivered at that time - no waxed cartons or even bottles. It is believed that the store was at the lower end of Black Bull Road, Folkestone. In 1891 George and his family were living at 2 Garden Place, Folkestone.