The article by Geoff Courtney in last month’s issue on the Kent & East Sussex Railway’s hop-pickers’ gala in September brought back memories of when I went down to Kent for many years as a youngster in the early 1950s.
From the age of six to around 11, when I lived in Walworth, I travelled by train with my mum, grandmother, two sisters and an aunt, from London Bridge to Tonbridge, where we were met by the farmer who took us by an open-back lorry to Golden Green, near Paddock Wood. It was our annual holiday and we stayed for three weeks from late-August, and dad came down at weekends.
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We stayed in huts on the farm with hundreds of other pickers. There was no electricity or gas, and we cooked on open fires, had oil lamps, and slept on straw-filled mattresses on a concrete floor. There was a washhouse with baths.
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We kids helped with the picking – which was very messy and stained our hands – but we were also free to roam and play. At the end of each day the tally-man came round to weigh what each family had picked, and the hops were taken off to the oast house by horse and cart. If we wanted a cuppa during the day we built a fire in the hop field.
If you add bad weather to the living conditions it could be grim, and I wouldn’t say I recall the times with fond memories, although occasionally it was fun and I have retained some nostalgia for the area.
Carole Lambert, email
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