Living in Bowers Road in the 1950s & 1960s

Steve Davis
Steve Davis
Steve Davis
Steve Davis
Bowers Road and surrounding area

During 1938 the prospect of a 2nd World War was looking increasingly likely. My granny decided she didn’t want to stay in Dalston and risk the dangers of air-raids, so moved the family to a rented bungalow in Bowers Road. Consequently, my mother lived there for the next 77 years until she died in 2015.

Our home was one of 4 semi-detached bungalows at the junction with Gifford Road. Initially they simply had names; ours was “Doric” which eventually was given the number 30. These bungalows were originally owned by Mr. Joplin, a local builder.

Adolf Hitler introduced my mum to my dad and they married in 1942, just before dad was posted to North Africa in support of Operation Torch.

After the war, mum & dad purchased the bungalow for £500, which would have been a huge amount of money at the time. By this time, grandad had died, and mum’s brothers had moved out to start families of their own. So by 1952 there were just 5 of us; mum, dad, granny, my elder brother and me, the last to arrive.

At this time Bowers, Gifford and Kents Hill roads were unmade. So when I arrived in February 1952, an ambulance carried me and mum back from Rochford hospital and dropped us by the side of the London Road (A13), leaving mum to carry me up the part cinder/part muddy path of Gifford Road and across the muddy track that was Bowers Road. It was a dark, cold, damp winter’s night.

We didn’t have a proper kitchen all the time we lived in this bungalow. We only had a scullery, which was the smallest possible space that you could fit a cooker, a “copper boiler” and a sink into.

In the 1950s, our home was heated by 2 open fires; one in the front room (which was granny’s bed sitting room) and one in the back room (which was our living room). When you were in front of the fire in the winter, the side facing the fire was too hot, while the other side was too cold. It was also freezing cold in any other rooms because they were unheated, including the bedrooms, the hall and the toilet/bathroom. I can clearly remember putting on 2 sets of pyjamas and 3 pairs of socks, and then running across the hall into bed with a stone hot water bottle. Stone hot water bottles were much better than modern rubber ones, except if they rolled out of bed and dropped on the floor in the middle of the night!

Our ill-fitting single glazed bedroom window would be running with condensation most mornings throughout the winter, except when the outside temperature was below zero. Then the condensation stopped running and simply froze to the inside of the windows.

We had a tin bath which my brother & me used in front of the fire in the winter (don’t know what mum & dad did). Eventually dad installed a second-hand gas instant water heater above the bath, that seemed to explode when you turned on the hot tap, but at least it meant that we could finally run hot water straight into the bath.

Mum washed clothes in a gas powered “copper” boiler. This was an upright tank that you put water into via a bucket or hose, then lit the gas to heat it up. Mum had a “copper stick” which was just a wooden stick that she used to poke and stir the clothes to help wash them clean. She used to threaten us boys with this “copper stick” if we were naughty. But as we got bigger, the stick got smaller as (I suppose) the end slowly rotted away due to the effect of the hot soapy water. So it soon became a huge joke. She had never hit us with this stick, and now that we were bigger and the stick seemed to be not much bigger than a large lolly stick, we all shared the joke.

Our hot daily meal was served in the evenings Monday to Friday, and mid-day at the weekends. It was often cooked in a pressure cooker, with separate sections for vegetables. As a small child I used to sit on the scullery floor, under my mums feet, and play with wooden spoons and pots & pans, putting small toys into the pots and tipping them out.

In the living room (I guess like most houses in the 50s) we had lino over floor boards, I think with maybe a short gap between the edge of the lino and the wall. And then a large rug or piece of carpet leaving much of the lino exposed. I used to like playing with my Dinky Toy cars, following the lined pattern on the lino. Of course by the mid 60s we had a fitted carpet (all hail Cyril Lord!). But looking back, the lino+carpet combo was probably healthier than the fitted carpet option.

I remember there was an old detached house opposite us which was owned by Mr. Headland (not sure about spelling). It had a long garden that ran along Gifford Road down to a group of 1920/30s bungalows which are still there. At the end of the garden (next to the first bungalow) I’m sure there was an old stable with a horseshoe nailed above the door. To the east of this house in Bowers Road there were either 2 or 3 old houses. All were knocked down and new properties, mostly with tiny gardens, built probably in the late 1950s (certainly before the photo of me on the Norton was taken in 1961, as this shows the view down Gifford Road).

Diagonally opposite us (the westerly Gifford/Bowers Road corner) were fields which contained a few horses. And at the west end of Bowers, on the opposite side of St. Clements Road, were fields but with a lot of bushes. I remember that my elder brother and his mates made a secret camp there by crawling into a cluster of very dense bushes and digging a shallow pit. They would sit around in a circle with their legs dangling in the pit, invisible to passers by.

Walking south through this area I seem to remember crossing a track (which would have been the end of Albion Way) and going through an opening into (what seemed like) a large green grass field.

Along the easterly end of Bowers Road (the other side of Kents Hill Road) there were more fields on the south side of the road with bushes and trees (no schools). Following Bowers up the hill and then turning left led to a field next to Bread & Cheese Hill with a ‘bomb’ crater’. Was this really made by a German Bomb? This was a great place to take a home made sledge when the field was covered in snow.

Then across the A13 we could access Combe Woods ( At a certain age my brother and his gang carved out a circular cycle race track at the highest point in the woods (apparently now called “The Kop”). I wonder whether any of these ‘earth works’ are still visible or has it been completely reclaimed by nature?

I remember the “Rag ‘n Bone man” who used to come around the streets with his horse & cart, ringing a hand bell and calling “ ‘e rag bone?“.

Two doors down lived Albert (“Alby”) Bell. He seemed like a larger than life character. He owned his own tipper lorry (a Ford Thames Trader) and took me to work once or twice when I was maybe 5 or 6 years old. By “Work” I mean he drove to the sandpits where sand/aggregate was dropped into his lorry via some kind of hopper, and then he drove off around the local area delivering it. Naturally around this time I wanted to be a truck driver when I grew up.

Despite the state of the unmade roads, it was nice and quiet due to the lack of traffic, and there was plenty of wildlife. I used to sit on the back doorstep and watch the lizards running around the yard. But by the mid-1960s these had completely disappeared; a combination of more houses, more cats and less open space.

By the late 1950s both Gifford and Bowers roads had been made up. Dad had a Norton C500 motorbike with a modified sidecar to take mum & me, so the 4 of us could journey down to Dorset together in the summer to visit dad’s family.

I remember we had an Anderson Shelter which housed a few garden tools, and for one winter only, my hibernating tortoise. It never woke up.

During the 1950s we had many animals including chickens, rabbits, a cat with a politically incorrect name, a budgie called Willy, and (briefly) two tortoises (one escaped the very first afternoon) and two racing pigeons (one swooped down too low over the garden and was grabbed by the cat).

The plan for the chickens was to select a victim for the pot every so often. I think this may have started out ok, but although dad was a country boy, he to became too fond of them, so they became tame and lived to a ripe old age. We could walk into their chicken run and they would squat down and let us pick them up and stroke them. But at least the eggs were a useful supplement to our diet.

Dad also dug out and built a pond. He used galvanized iron sheet to ‘shutter’ the sides before tipping in tons of concrete, built submerged brick planters at the sides & middle for irises and installed an old Butler sink to create a deep area for a water lily.

I loved our pond and spent hours fishing out newts. I remember dad came back from work one day with a small terrapin. We slipped it into the water, it swam to the bottom, and was never seen again. “Well that was a bloody waste of 5 shillings” was my dad’s only comment.

Dad was always mixing cement for some project or other, and in the early 1960s he built a splendid garage on the site previously occupied by the Anderson Shelter. Car ownership really took off in the 1960s, and in 1962 dad bought his first car, a Renault Dauphine.

I think it was Boxing Day 1962 when we had our first dump of snow, courtesy of a ‘low’ depression moving in from Siberia. Then 2 or 3 days later, another ‘low’ moved down from Iceland, and that was it. We had deep snow, frozen rivers, prolonged sub-zero temperatures, and a pile of snow in our front northerly facing garden which stuck around until April, by which time the ice was almost completely black. For young people who think us oldies exaggerate, check this link:

Our standard of living really improved during the 1960s as dad had found a better job, working for the Gas Board as a Sales Engineer during the conversion from “town gas” (coal gas) to North Sea Gas. Dad built a small lean-to conservatory (mostly out of salvaged windows, doors and odd pieces of wood) which all but stopped the cutting cold draught entering the scullery. And with help from me & Phil, dad installed central heating and loft insulation to our little home, and we were never cold again.

The Bowers Road of 2020 is full of houses and used as a rat run by motor vehicles. So its quite difficult to image just how different it was, back in the early 1950s.

From the late 1950s to the mid 1960s, dad would occasionally bring home second-hand wirelesses (radios) and TVs whenever our existing ones stopped working. Around 1967, dad brought home a Bush wireless which was manufactured in 1955. He probably bought it from one of his drinking pals who had replaced it with a new fangled transistor radio. By this time, my DIY electronics skills were good enough for me to be able to tune it up, and it was in regular use for almost 40 years.

I few years ago I fully refurbished it, and it now takes pride of place in our lounge. Unfortunately, there are very few stations left on MW, so I also had to make a small transmitter that streams Radio Caroline from the internet and broadcasts it on 199m Medium Wave. The same frequency they used way back in 1964.

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  • Does anyone have any recollections of some old, possibly 1930’s or older, riding stables/stalls at the end of Bowers Road going (I thought) into the glen area. I remember in the early to mid 1960’s going up there and we found them with a nissen type hut all with all old army saddles and finding a book with all the horses names and who would be riding them. A Capt Barton rings a bell but I cannot find anything about him and the riding stables. I bet it was bliss back then riding all over the area.

    Editors note: This new article may answer your question.

    By glen cameron (30/06/2022)
  • Hi there,

    Can anyone tell us when Alby Bell died and where he was buried? He was my great uncle and my mum is wondering!

    My email is

    Thanks so much

    By Dave O'Leary (13/04/2022)
  • Good to hear from you Dennis.

    What was the relationship between my mum and your dad, were they 1st or 2nd cousins?

    I remember Rodney, he was a lovely guy, seem to remember he played guitar.

    By steve davis (23/05/2021)
  • Hi Steve
    Great to read all the memories which of course some is shared with me and my family being one of your cousins living round the corner at – Son of Rose and Alf Harvey at Rodney, St Clements Road. Fond memories of you all especially your parents and related neighbours. I have seen Pat, Polly and Marina recently.

    By Dennis Harvey (20/05/2021)
  • Hi Marina,
    I couldn’t remember the name of your bungalow (kept thinking it was Apple something) but do remember “Winifred” and I thought the Bell’s was called “Colorcoats” (with an “s”) but you are probably right, my memory is not as sharp as it once was.
    Whenever Alby Bell was in our garden talking to dad, he used to glance over his shoulder once in a while and say “Coming dear!” as if Mrs B was calling him back…such a funny guy, and died way too soon.
    I also remember “First Footing” for Mrs Bell one New Years Day (a tradition that may go back to Viking times). I should have been tall, dark and carrying a piece of coal (well, 2 out of 3 is not bad).
    I remember the name “Miss Jameson” but can’t picture her, her dogs or where her house was. (I remember some woman down Gifford Road who used to take her Siamese cat for a walk on a lead, but that wasn’t Jameson).
    I do remember the Bearman’s. Gerald and his parents lived in Kents Hill Road, but on the corner with Bowers. And granny Bearman lived in the detached house next to Winifred. I once told Phil that old granny Bearman had said she used to drive a car, and he (rather unkindly I thought) said I should tell her that the hand brake was now INSIDE the car!
    It seems strange to me now that so many of the houses in Bowers Road were knocked down (including granny Bearman’s) and replaced (usually 2 where there had previously only been one!) because my understanding is that Bowers was a relatively new development. Maybe they were not very well built.

    By steve davis (13/03/2021)
  • I remember all of what you wrote. Our house was called Athelstone, next door to you the other way was Winifread and Mr. and Mrs. Bells was Colorcoat (she came from Mexico so colour was spelt without the u). Do you remember Miss Jameson, she lived in the big house with all the dogs, her house was The Croft. She sometimes showed her dogs at Crufts, they always had the show name of Bowers Croft and then whatever the dogs name was. I remember the cats, my Dad fed them from new born on condensed milk when the mother disappeared. Ours was ginger and called Sandy, you had the black one, can you imagine the uproar if he was called that now, Sandy lived till he was 15. The old copper used to be lit up every Monday no matter what the weather, I used to love the soapy smell. So many memories I could go on for ever. It’s lovely to hear about them.

    By Marina Birt (12/03/2021)
  • Gosh! This brings back memories. My grandparents moved from London to Underhill Road just before the war and I was born there in 1946 and spent most of my childhood in that house and went to the village school when I was five. I remember all the unmade roads, fields, the mud, Anderson shelter full of coal, lean-to, freezing house with fireplaces in the living room and bedrooms. We had a bath, but it was mainly used for dirty clothes. We also had rabbits, chickens and a variety of other animals. My aunt, Pam Bannister kept horses in various fields in the area, notably Bread and Cheese Hill. I vividly remember Jordans and Mrs Atkins little shops and buying sweets there. I remember the day I forgot to say “Thank you” and was made to feel like a low-life! (How would they deal with this generation?)
    I also remember going to the cockle sheds near the Crown, swimming in the creek and getting a rash, and the delight I felt walking on the Downs for miles. I also used to go to Sunday School at South Benfleet Baptist Church near the very tiny library.
    My grandfather had a vegetable garden where I enjoyed watching him digging up potatoes, etc. and my picking gooseberries from the bushes while he did so. I loved our chickens and was so traumatized when my grandmother prepared either them or a rabbit for dinner that I have been a life-time vegetarian!

    By Dawn Werneck (11/03/2021)
  • Marvellous detail, and a great credit to you, Steve. A valuable source of information for current, future generations, and for social historians.
    Whilst resident in the area since 1976, (at one time living in New Park Road), I was born 1950 in North Staffordshire, and vouch for the length and severity of winter 1962-3. In my experience a winter like none other. My elder sister, however, told me that winter 1947 was comparable in severity, but not duration.

    By John Plant (10/02/2021)
  • I was born during world war 2 and lived in South London, your story brought back great memories of my childhood, the tin bath in front of the fire etc. we did not have a lot, but we made do with what we had, it made us what we are today. They were such carefree and happy times.

    By Bob Stanley (02/02/2021)
  • Oh, your childhood home sounds divine! Your memories will now be mingled with mine. I am 3 years older than you, and from the US, but things were not that different. Thank you so much for sharing your childhood recollections.

    By Miss Peabody (02/02/2021)
  • Lovely personal history. Real history. The description of the dad’s feelings for the chickens says a lot about him.

    By Bob Huber (30/01/2021)
  • I enjoyed reading your message wonderful memories.
    Thank you for sharing.

    By Ellen (30/01/2021)
  • Great story.

    By Steve M (29/01/2021)
  • My gran was Catherine Harvey (nee Platt).

    By steve davis (09/01/2021)
  • Hi Steve, Was your Grandma’s name Kate?

    By P. Yorke (08/01/2021)

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