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by Henrietta Cresswell
Chapter I : FIFTY YEARS AGO
The famous book by Henrietta Cresswell is reproduced here by N21.net. In the first installment she describes the beautiful coach journey from Bishopsgate to Winchmore Hill in the days before the railway. This book has inspired many local people to re-discover the past in N21.
Read it for yourself here.
Each chapter added fortnightly from 15th March 2010.
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Winchmore Hill : Memories of a Lost Village
by Henrietta Cresswell
Chapter II: IN THE VILLAGE
The old gabled house between the village pond and Hoppers Road was the baker’s. It was very picturesque, built of weather-boarding and roofed with mossy tiles, and had an extensive yard and huge barns and granaries. There was a bakehouse of the old sort with an oven heated by burning faggots within, and there were long kneading troughs under the window.
Winchmore Hill : Memories of a Lost Village
by Henrietta Cresswell
Chapter III: SKETCHES
I.—ELDER BLOSSOM
It was Coronation Day, and the great elder bushes in the carrier’s garden were a mass of bloom. It was the Doctor’s wedding day. His wife said that though there were no bells at St. James’, Pentonville, where she was married, every bell in London should ring, so she chose Coronation Day.
Winchmore Hill : Memories of a Lost Village.jpg)
by Henrietta Cresswell
Chapter IV: BIRDS' NESTS
The children of the old village knew nothing of the duty of “making Nature notes,” or of “taking an intelligent interest in the wild life around them,” but they were taught the old story of “ Eyes and No Eyes,” and would have been ashamed not to know the trees and flowers, birds, nests, and eggs, the common butterflies and moths, and the fishes in the New River.
Winchmore Hill : Memories of a Lost Village
by Henrietta Cresswell
Chapter V: REMINISCENCES
In this chapter we learn more about Henrietta Cresswell, and the sort of person she was. She refers to herself in the text as Winifred.
Winchmore Hill : Memories of a Lost Village
by Henrietta Cresswell
Chapter VI: THE WOOD
That forbidden pleasures are the sweetest in universally acknowledged. No doubt that was the reason that the private parts of Winchmore Hill Wood were the most attractive places in the world.
Winchmore Hill : Memories of a Lost Village
by Henrietta Cresswell
Chapter VII: THE HIVING OF THE BEES
Under the eaves of the stable were a long row of straw bee hives, old-fashioned skeps, dome-shaped and buxom, and ranging in colour from bistre to ochre. There was nothing new-fangled or modern.
Winchmore Hill : Memories of a Lost Village
by Henrietta Cresswell
CHAPTER VIII: ROUND BY THE WORLD'S END
“The World’s End.” The very name suggests the “Back of Beyond.” To reach it the village was left by Church Hill. It was an April day, but as warm as summer, the young leaves on the lime trees at Uplands were still small, and bright apple-green. The lilac bushes were in bud, and the horse chestnut spikes little pagodas of unfulfilled promise.
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