Ireland Stores

In the summer of 1997, we moved out from Underley Farm and across the valley to Barbon. The 'cottage' we rented was actually just behind the village, a little way up the hill, on the lower slopes below Barbon Pike. It was far more modern than the farmhouse, with double glazing, carpeted floors throughout, and TWO bathrooms.

To reach the cottage you could take the lane east across the bridge over the old railway line and follow it up past the turning to a farm or you could approach from the other direction, from Banneriggs Brow. The lane was prone to flooding and one spring I put both our cars in the garage, trying each direction along the lane to get from the cottage to work. 

In the village there was a pub called the Barbon Inn and a church - where Milly was christened - and a shop called Ireland Stores run by a nice older Liverpudlian chap called Peter. The girls all liked the store, not least because of its comprehensive collection of sweets and ice lollies. Milly would have only been seven or eight months old when we moved in but the older girls were big enough to peruse the shelves under their own steam.

Charlie would have been six years old when we moved in and I'm guessing that it was the following year when she announced one Sunday afternoon that she'd like to walk down to the shop ON HER OWN. There was a little footpath just along the lane toward Banneriggs Brow that we would take sometimes to walk down into the village. It was quite safe but her mum and I found we were reluctant to let her go.

At her age, I would walk home from Burlington Road school in New Malden to our house on Eton Avenue. It was comfortably a mile and involved crossing two major roads. My mum would give me 2p each day and I would stop at the sweet shop on the way back. At the weekend, I would go out on my bike and be gone for hours, sometimes bumping into my folks and my grandparents' house. So, it seemed a little daft not to let Charlie simply walk to the shop.

I gave her some money, and Katherine and I spent several minutes telling her to be careful whilst not being entirely sure what she should be wary of. We helped her with her shoes, made sure she was warm enough, and then let her go on her way.

I think we lasted about two minutes before we cracked; I put on my shoes, and set off after Charlie, following her at a distance of about a 50 yards. She didn't look back once. She just pottered along - I wonder what she was thinking about - treading carefully down the steeper bits of the path, letting herself through the gate at the bottom, and walking along the little lane past the houses, before cautiously turning along the (quiet) road that led to the shop.

All the time, my heart was bursting with love for my plucky little daughter. 

She went into the shop and, a few minutes later, having, I guess, taken her time choosing her shopping, came back out to see me waiting for her. "I came down to meet you!" She delightedly showed me what she'd bought, took my hand, and we walked back home together.

(As you'll have guessed, today's photo is the top of that footpath. Abi and I were going out for a walk along Barbondale and I took her past the cottage so she could see where her older sisters once lived.)

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