Author: Eric Streeton

Eric Streeton contributed maritime and local-history research about Rye, Winchelsea and the Romney Marsh coast.

It Was Hitler’s Fault

By Eric Streeton.

Over the years in conversation with friends and acquaintances some had been surprised to learn that I was born in Rye. How come then Eric? Was the usual comment, I thought you were a Winchelsea man. Well it’s like this, it was Hitler’s fault. During the Second World War my Mother, Father, and Sister Pauline’s home was in Winchelsea, at No 4 Salutation Cottages in Castle Street. On the 13th of January 1943 a German plane passed over the town and dropped two bombs. One for some reason allegedly bounced and finished up in the Tan yard, but the other one exploded on the cross roads of Mill Road and Castle Street. The blast sent a cloud of debris along the rest of Castle Street, andSt Thomas Street shaking plaster from the School ceiling, and just reaching Friars Road. One youngster picked up a lump of shrapnel for a souvenir, and then received a reprimand for taking it to school with him. Another family living in North Street had their breakfast ruined when glass was blown through the kitchen window while porridge was still on the stove. The time was approximately 8.50 am. Castle Cottage, The Post Office. Five Chimneys, Boundary House and the Salutation Cottages were the worst affected. Number 4 Salutation Cottage, was no more. On the casualty list of that day was my Mother and my Sister Pauline. My Sister was just about six weeks past her second birthday; both were buried in the rubble. The reason they were able to find them with comparative ease was my Sisters screams could be heard for miles. According to one old lady, my mother was toasted Hero of the day for her selflessness when she was heard to say to their rescuers, don’t worry about me, please save my child. (This would have been typical of Mother) Mother was taken to Rye Hospital with her injuries but I have no documented evidence of this, but I do have a first hand account of Mother being in Hospital. A chance meeting and conversation one day with a local Rye woman bought another tale to light. As a five year old she was machine gunned by a German plane as she was crossing the school play ground in Ferry Road, on the 15th of January and taken to Rye Hospital. She told me how the older women had looked after her, and that it was my Mother who had taught her to play whist. I do know that Mother was re admitted to Hospital again in November, I still have in my possession her release papers from that spell in Hospital. Father was still over seas in the Army and powerless to help. Mother and Pauline moved into temporary accommodation above the Queens Head in the Landgate and from there down to number two Western Place over the Sluice with Grandma Streeton. Very soon they were on the move again, this time to Ferry Road, at number eight, in a flat over the Butchers Shop, and it was while living there that I was born.

Bomb Damage at Winchelsea
Bomb Damage at Winchelsea

Up until my Mothers death in 1964, it was not uncommon for her to pick shards of glass from off her body; it was quite common place to see Mother with her leg up on a chair in front of her self picking glass from it. Many times I watched my Father picking glass from her scalp.

Lily Streeton
Lily Streeton

I have always felt that with so much glass in her body for all this time it must have contributed to the Cancer that finally ended her life aged just fifty four.

Earlier on last year I was looking at a B. B. C. Web Site which contained people’s reminiscences of World War Two. Here I found another woman’s account of this day in Winchelsea. She was around the same age as my Sister at this time, and also lived in the Salutation Cottages. (She also had a very interesting story to tell.) So with the help of a local Winchelsea family who had contact with this woman I was able to arrange contact between her and my Sister. If it had not been for that bomb, on that day, it would have been quite probable that they would have become acquainted. So now after sixty four years they have at last become acquainted. (Check her story out on the B.B.C Web site it’s well worth a read. The story can be found by using the following link.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/stories/45/a2050345.shtml)

“Rye’s Own” February 2008

All material and pictures on the Rye’s Own Website are subject to strict Worldwide copyright.

Local Dialects and Sayings

By Eric Streeton

Ham strung Rabbit. To slit the lower part o a rabbits hind leg,
and to pass the other hind leg through it. Used for carrying purposes.

Handballing. Work done by hand, with out any mechanical aide.

Happen I will happen I won’t. I may or may not.

Harbour duck or shark. A Rye Harbour man.

Harping on. To keep on about something. (Don’t keep harping
on about it)

Has the Vicar been. A cup of tea that is not filled right up.

Having a head like a bushel basket. Having a severe hang over, it
could be a reference to taking a bushel of Hops but in liquid form.
Hedge brishing. Cutting a hedge.

Hedge Brishings. Hedge cuttings.

He’s in a bad liver He’s in a bad mood.

Hodgie pig. Hedgehog.

Hog wash. Some one talking complete and utter rubbish. (Talking
hog wash)

Hop dog. Metal bar for removing hop poles

How yer diddling. How are you. (Reply to how are you.) Bit better
than worse off. ( Could be better). Or, Not to dusty. (not to
bad.)

Howe’s his liver to day. How’s his mood or temper today.

Idden-it. Isn’t it

Jack it in. Terminating your own employment. Or stopping work.

Jad-ick. Jacket.

Jake. Good.

Jasper. A wasp.

Jipper. Gravy.

Jook. Dog.

Kenna. House.

Kettle broth. Bread in hot water with pepper and salt. (I
promise you that this dish really did exist, and I live to tell the
tell) Kettle wedges. Fire wood.

Kifer. Girl or Woman, Who was that bit of Kifer I saw you with
you last night.

Kindling. Fire lighting wood.

Lapsy Lazy, Slow.

Larruping. A good hiding.

Latcherty. Unsteady or not working properly.

Layed up. Unwell and in bed.

Lay up. Hiding.

Lazy wind. A strong cold wind that feels as if it’s blowing right
through you, rather than going round you.

Lew In shelter from adverse weather.

Little Man. Wooden tool shaped like a Electricians bolster, made
of wood. Used to clean sticky soil or clay from, a spade, graft,
or shovel.

Lob To throw.

Lodged Stuck. My kites got lodged up in that tree.

Long net. A net for catching rabbits. (Favoured by poachers.)

Long tail. Pheasant.

Looking like a bit of scolded pork. Severe sun burn.

Mas. Mrs.

Midge. Gnats.

Mort or Mault. Older woman.

Mudlark. Rye Fisherman.

Mung. To cadge

Mutton westkit. (waist coat.) Mutton cloth on a sheep’s carcass.

Mus. Mr.

My ole dogs aint arf barking. My feet are hot and throbbing.

Navvies wedding cake. Bread pudden (pudding.)

Nah. Disbelieving No.

Nettle rash. Reference to any severe rash.

Nitty gram. Avery small amount.

Nifty. Good or nice.

Pug. A ferret.

Pugging. Catching rabbits with the aid of ferrets.

Pun. To compact soil.

Punt. Open decked fishing boat (Hastings.)

Raw throat. Sore throat.

Raw. Cold.

Raggedy arse. A Rye man.

Rake. A lot of something.

Rides. Iron gate hinges.

Roader. Tramp.

Rook. Vicar or parson.

Rook. Defraud.

Roons. Mushrooms.

Rooning. Picking mushrooms.

Sart-er-noon. This afternoon.

Screws. Rheumatism.

Scran. Food.

Scollop. Scallop

Set. Obstinate. He’s very set in his ways.

Sewer. Ditch.

Sham lock or locked. A padlock giving the appearance of being locked
but in reality it is not.

Shant. Drink of beer.

Sheep treadles. Sheep droppings.

Shite Hawk. Seagull.

Slake. To quench.

Slaughter. Mass termination of employment. (Building trade.)

Slummocky Untidy.

Smorning. This morning

Sosseld. Drunk.

Spaddle. Walking on a clean floor, making it dirty.

Spadgers. Sparrows

Sparticles. Glasses

Pea measure. A container filled to capacity.

Slips. Small Soles.

Spile. Fence post.

Spose. Suppose.

Sprog. Child.

Shell. Coffin used by undertakers to collect a corpse immediately
after death.

She’s got more now than my ole Grandmother died with. Description
of a young lady with ample proportions.

Splines. Prongs on a fork.

Snatch. Undertakers collecting a corpse.

Snatched. Being very cold.

Starter. Baby rabbit.

Stab. Where a doe gives birth, not a borrow,

Standing twenty minutes before casting a shadow. A skinny person.
Stalker. Fish too small for market.

Strod. A Y junction in young wood. A catapult strod, a clothes
line prop.

Stretch it’s neck. To break a Rabbits neck. (To dispatch a
rabbit instantly.)

Stuffing your kite. Eating.

Stun. A stone in weight, 14 lbs.

Shelve it out or up. To tip something out of a wheel barrow for
instance. Shelve it out there.

Shucky. Unsettled weather.

Swimey. Sick or giddy.

Swimmers. Dumplings.

Swapping turds for a baked potato. Some one who wants something
for nothing.

Tin tan. Unsteady – rocking about.

The channel. The river Brede.

The sun’s casting long shadows now. On-set of Autumn.

The love of a good woman, will draw you further than gunpowder will
blow you.

The sound of Rye’s Quarter boys, will draw you further than gunpowder
can blow you.

Thick of hearing. Slightly deaf. Are you listening to me, or
are you a bit thick of hearing.

Thistle spud. Tool for removing thistles.

Trashed. Scared – Frightened.

Tree Rat Squirrel

Truck. Backchat. Don’t put up with any of his ole truck.

Truck. Ferret.

Trucking. Rabbiting with a ferret.

Truss. Part of the tomato plant that the tomatos grow on. (Now
called a vine)

Twang. Unpleasant taste.

Twittering on. Relentless chatter.

Web. A long net.

Webbing. Rabbiting with a long net. Favored by poachers.

Willockey. Unwell.

Westkit. Waste coat.

Yole. Hello.

Yog. Fire.

You will never have money as long as you have a hole in your back
side. I remember my Father telling me as a young man, that I was
a bad manager of money.

Last but not least is this one. I have seen this in print, but my
very first employer on leaving school was Bob Collins at Winchelsea
and very often quoted this one to me. One boy is a boy. Two boys
is half a boy. Three boys is no boy at all.

Foot-note: I got a lot of pleasure putting this little lot together,
and will be putting together a small selection of Building Trade Words
for a future edition. Eric
Streeton

Lessons from History

By Eric Streeton.

Rye has had to repel many attempts on its Freedom. One good instance is the many assaults by our then French foes on the Town over the centuries. Then we were able to strike back and bloody their noses for them. If something was taken from us against our will we would just take it back, just as the men of Winchelsea and Rye did when the French stole our Church Bells. Even Hitler could not bring the Town to its knees; it rose like a Phoenix from the ashes.
Continue reading Lessons from History

History in a Church Yard Near You

 By Eric Streeton

287 Lost in Shipping Disaster at Dungeness Approximately 15 years ago I was given an old Guide Book for Rye and Winchelsea which was printed at the start of the last century. Although a bit tatty it was more than readable, and read it I did, from cover to cover. Continue reading History in a Church Yard Near You