Family History
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Family History |
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William CHAPMAN 1866 - 1945 |
Compiled from different incomplete notes by his daughter Louisa PARKER (nee CHAPMAN)
My father was a big heavy man, but not flabby, fair to chestnut hair and blue eyes. One eye was faded through an accident in boyhood when he fell onto a heap of lime; despite this he could shoot acurately (was a gamekeeper), and played cricket until he was too old, when he became an umpire for the games between the Estate team and the village boys.
He rode a bicycle which was made especially strong for him and specially strengthened with regard to his 16 stone weight (one note says by Gamage's, other note says by Selfridge's of London). He made up bicycles for my brother Will, sister Dorothy and myself from the necessary parts brought from a dealer at Englefield Green; our nearest shopping place to Virginia Water. Egham was further on down the hill to the Thames valley, and Staines with its market was another mile or two further on still. Sometimes dad would take us to Chertsey to visit his sister and as it was such a long walk we always stopped for a rest halfway at a public house called The Golden Grove, which had a wooden house built in a large tree - a wonder to our eyes as we sat on wooden benches and drank shandy or lemonade, we preferred to have ginger beer in the shandy.
Father smoked small clay pipes, lovingly tendered till they became an even golden brown; I dropped one once while dusting and hid from him because it shook me so, but as mother said although he shouted he never raised his hand to us, and I was not punished. In fact although he was not highly educated, having left school at the terribly early age of 11 to help his widowed mother. Not that he liked school as it had at that time a tyrannical master who made life miserable and caned him for playing truant.
A sensible well balanced countryman who could have been trained for a responsible job. He taught us country lore and I soaked up knowledge of trees, plants, soil, animals, birds and insects. As the one at home once Will and Dorothy started work, it fell to my lot as the youngest to keep father company outdoors and in (dominos or whist).
My love of woods and gardens has lasted all my life, though I have forgotten some of the wildflowers names I'm sorry to say. His attitude to birds was unsentimental and he regarded townspeople who fed sparrows and pigeons as absolute cranks, but he would bring home a young jackdaw or jay for my mother to bring up and keep as a pet. We always had a dog and cat, besides guinea pigs or rabbits, while he kept hens and a pig or two.
He would cut us children a rosebud for our button holes on a summer Sunday; cut wafer thin bread and butter for tea with thinly sliced cucumber (with the skin left on for easy digestion); roll our umbrellas up with tight pleats; crack walnuts in his hand; sharpen pencils against his palm; break apples into halves with the hands that could wring a chicken's neck or break a rabbit's with one quick merciful blow.
He died as he would've wished, in his garden, digging out a stump. The little girl next door ran in to her mother crying out that Mr Chapman was lying in the snow and a robin was perching on his boot.
