A wonderful reminiscence from Brian Lee who was born and brought up in and around Adderley. Brian shares his memories of his father ‘Bob Lee’ with us in this article below written in 2024 when Brian is 85 years old.
My Father – The Man. Christened Robert John Lee known as Bob.
My father was the most wonderful Dad anyone could ever have. He was unique and a ‘one off’. I loved, admired and respected him as did everyone who knew or met him.
He was born in 1905 to a large family on a medium sized farm. I have a very early photograph of him, aged about two, dressed in girl’s clothing He told me there were two reasons for this – for large families it was cheaper to hand the same clothes down or – gypsies would steal baby boys but not baby girls?
He went to the village school in Adderley but lost a lot of time at school as he was often needed to work on the farm from a very early age. He left school at 13 with a very rudimentary education to work on the family farm. The family farm was lost, I understand, because of his father’s drinking and gambling?
My father was regarded as very good looking and handsome and there were girls queuing up for him. He chose my Mum, Gladys Evans, daughter of George Evans of Adderley.
He then rented a small farm for several years and in addition to this had to become a farm labourer starting work at 6.00 am and finishing at 6.00 pm, Monday to Friday. On Saturday and Sunday 3 hours milking, morning and evening which he did all his life until he retired.
I am aware, as his son, I was a big disappointment to him as, whilst he was a big strong, healthy, physical man, I was regarded as a sickly child and suffered from ill health all my life. Despite this, as was the custom at the time, I was hired out to work on local farms in my childhood which damaged the ends of my fingers which now makes it very difficult for me to use small keyboards – texting etc.
I think he realised together with my Mum, that, whilst I was lacking in physical health, I had good mental abilities. Fortunately, at that time the village school was excellent and I was regarded as a keen student. I was entered into the Grammar School entrance examination a year early and passed. To assist me financially at this time, looking back, I realised Dad, with Mum, made enormous sacrifices to help me – working all hours for extra money, he in the church, being warden, sextant and gravedigger and I used to help him all I could. He also had a huge allotment and sold his surplus vegetables. He and Mum helped to look after the village hall. I was so glad that in later years I was able to look after and help and assist them, financially and otherwise.
During the War his occupation was regarded as ‘reserved’ which he felt guilty about but he did everything he could to assist the war effort.
He was in the Home Guard and at night we often heard German planes going over presumably on their way to bomb Liverpool.
The German Airman
Dad and Mum told me of the time he was on ‘Patrol’ late one night and heard a shouting and discovered a German Airman hanging in his parachute from a tree. The man did not appear to speak English. Dad disentangled him and, pointing his gun,, indicated he was to go with him. He didn’t know what to do with him but the man seemed very quiet and acquiescent so he took him back to his farm and sat him in a chair in the kitchen by the large open fire. I had problems with my ears at the time and was very tearful and unsettled. Whilst Mum was getting the late evening meal and Dad was bedding the animals down the Airman looked after me, sitting me on his knee, keeping me amused, and feeding me. They shared their meal with the Airman and went to bed and the Airman slept in the armchair with me in his lap. In the morning Dad took the Airman, at gunpoint, down to the local guardroom where he handed him over to the Officer in charge. Apparently, when Dad was leaving, the Airman, after shaking hands with him, said, in perfect English, words to the effect ‘Thank you very much sir and perhaps, in future, you should remove the safety catch from your rifle’.
Home Guard in Adderley
To test the home guard, as an exercise they were all blindfolded and put in an army lorry and deposited about 10 miles away in different locations in pairs, my father was paired with Joe Butter. The object of the exercise was to get into the village hall which was the headquarters of a regular army group and capture it. My father and Joe easily got back to the outskirts of the village and borrowed a large child’s carriage pram. Joe, being smaller than Dad, was put in the pram wrapped in some sort of baby clothes with a dummy. My father dressed in woman’s clothing, waited until evening when the blackout was in operation, and bluffed his way into the Hall where he and Joe produced their guns and captured the ‘Enemy Headquarters’!
Bob Lee’s Sense of Humour!
Catching a rabbit
During this time sometimes families were evacuated out of cities and rehoused in our village. My Dad had an unusual sense of humour, which I think I have inherited, and apparently couldn’t resist playing jokes on them. Meat was strictly rationed but this did not apply to rabbits and my dad was an expert at trapping, snaring and catching them. Any surplus Mum would take to the local town on market day and sit on the pavement displaying and selling them. One of the ‘townies’ asked Dad how to catch them. Dad explained that you obtained a piece of round drainpipe and put a carrot in it and covered the carrot in pepper. He explained that the rabbit would start to eat the carrot, sneeze, jerk it’s head up and knock itself out on the top of the drainpipe and could be collected in the morning unconscious. The man made the trap as instructed. Dad went during the night and put a dead rabbit in and the man found it in the morning! His wife apparently tried to pluck the fur off as in the same way as plucking a fowl.
Milking a cow
Another of his jokes. Some of these evacuees, and also prisoners of war, were expected to try to work on the farms and Dad and his fellow workers would have to try to instruct them with varying degrees of success. When it came to milking cows, Dad would place a pail under the cow’s udders and instruct the novice to hold the cow’s tail and pump it up and down and watch the milk pour down into the pail. Despite all these tricks he remained well liked and never had to buy himself a drink!
An explosive treasure!
After the War when Dad was out ploughing, he unearthed, what appeared to be a metal chest or box. He tied it onto the plough and took it back to the farm when he had finished ploughing for the day. It was thought to be something that had fallen off a German plane and the authorities were alerted. It appears it was some kind of unexploded bomb and the whole area was evacuated for several hours!!
The Church Accounts
He was, for many years, the church warden and Parish Clerk and part of the Parish Council and held various Offices including Treasurer. Whilst he was Treasurer, I remember he became very worried as there seemed to be money missing. He asked me to check his figures and the only answer we could come up with was that the Parish Priest was misappropriating money which was unbelievable. We eventually went to the chairman and were proved right and the Parish priest was taken to court and found guilty. The whole thing really upset him. (NB The magistrate hearing the case, according to records, then gave an absolute discharge)
The Smithy
My father stood in for the village blacksmith when required. One day whilst he was engaged in these activities a passing car stopped to look on as often happened. The man told Dad he was a precision engineer and informed him that he had to work to within thousandths of an inch. Dad carried on working on the anvil and said ‘I have to be exact’!!!
For many years a lot of people thought my name was ‘Bobslad’. It had to be explained this was a mispronunciation of Bob’s lad!
Bob’s Retirement years
After Dad retired, I helped them move into the nearby town and he became even more well known locally and was regarded as the ‘local character’ willing to do anything to help anyone. He was a member of the Bowling Club and looked after the green and the surrounding grounds without any financial reward.
He also worked as a gardener for several local people, the only stipulation was that they had to do as they were told. He moved flowers and bushes and other items around these gardens as he wished which of course provided them all with an ever-changing variety of flora/fauna etc at no charge!
With the large garden I arranged for him he had a lot of surplus vegetables which I suggested he sold but he insisted on giving them all away to people he felt needed them. He also bartered some with local shops for items he needed. Some local children then started to jump over the three-foot fence round the property and vandalised some of his garden and crops. He then put barbed wire along the top of the three-foot fencing to deter them and apparently some of these children cut themselves on this and their parents complained to the police. The local Police Sergeant, who Dad knew well, would call on him, knock on the door, and officially reprimand him and tell him to remove the barbed wire. Dad would then invite him in, on first name terms, for a beer or a cup of tea and a chat. Until the next time!
He adored his grandchildren and they adored him. He liked nothing more than talking to them and taking them for walks when he would expound his extensive countryside knowledge to them.
Fundraising
Because everybody knew him, he was the first choice for ‘flag charity days’ which were allocated by Market Drayton Council to various organisations each Saturday. The rules were that they should not approach passers-by verbally or otherwise directly in any way for donations. Dad, who was always given the prime spot, ignored this rule, and loudly demanded attention and money from all passers-by. The local policeman would occasionally go to him, tell him off, and reprimand him, these instructions he cheerfully ignored and got away with it!
These are just a few of the anecdotes that I can still remember.
His funeral, at the Parish Church, I was told, was attended by the largest congregation that anyone could ever remember – it was standing room only.
My Father – the greatest man I ever knew.
Brian R Lee