Copyright Valerie Martin 1999

Text first Published in the West Sussex Gazette, 8th October, 1998.

Additional narrative published in the Sussex Local in January 2012.

Many people like myself noticed renovations taking place at the old forge in Findon during the summer of 1998. The building was eventually converted into a modern wine bar.

Over a century ago the blacksmith was William Charles Brown — one of my favourite characters at the smithy. His grandmother, Martha Brown, owned the forge and lived into her eighties with her family at the forge premises. His father was James Brown (born 1817) and his mother was Mary Verral Dunford. They were married in Findon on Christmas Day in 1840 and William Charles was born at the smithy on 11th July 1841.

In later years he lived there with his wife, Anne, a girl from Storrington. They resided in a cottage adjoining the Forge, which will be remembered as later becoming a cycle shop. Horses stood quietly in Nepcote Lane whilst he shod them, measuring with his expert eye exactly where to drive the next nail. He was a familiar sight wearing a large old leather apron and attired in a high crowned hat from which he never parted.

Their first child was born in 1869 and was named Anne. In all they had eleven children; Anne, Mary (christened on 3rd December 1871), James Henry (christened on 18th September 1872), William Charles, Edward John, Arthur Henry, Ernest Walter, Alfred, Emily, Gertrude and Maurice. The girls became mothers’ helps. The young William Charles started work as a stable boy at the Findon racing stables. Arthur owned a greengrocer’s shop, a wooden building on the corner of Nepcote Lane and Stable Lane opposite Old Pond Green; his market garden extended almost to the top of Stable Lane. Ernest Walter became a cycle maker.

Walter's brother, Alf, is best remembered for being seen fetching water from the village well. He delivered two full buckets using a wooden yoke over his shoulders. Edward John, known to all as "Ted", was destined to be assistant smith under his father, who by this time had become known as "Old Billy Brown" to the locals. By 1909, Ted had completely taken over the majority of the heavy work as blacksmith.

In his later years, Old Billy Brown owned a most unusual pet, this was a goose. This was a large handsome gander also named "Bill". The bird alternated his hours of the day between the water just down the lane at Old Pond Green opposite Greypoint".  The local dogs waited for him to waddle off to the pond and then descended on the blacksmith’s shop for tasty morsels from off-cuts from the horses’ hooves a beloved taste for all canines.  If the wily bird got wind of dogs on his territory, he would paddle to the edge of the pond, climb out, shake himself and look up Nepcote Lane to the forge. He then proceeded with all speed up the middle of the roadway, stretching his long neck out and hissing furiously all the way, whereupon the dogs promptly scattered in all directions to escape from his wrath at the smithy.

The goose adored its master,  Old Billy Brown, and faithfully followed him everywhere he went. The old man never tired of talking about his amazing gander’s wonderful intelligence. The bird’s best-loved food was a juicy fresh apple, and Old Billy Brown always had one ready and waiting in his pocket on Sundays when man and goose took their constitutional walk around the village byways.

On other days the two set off to visit the old coaching inn, The Gun in The Square, where they called in for their favourite bevy. The goose’s indulgence being a drink of milk, which the innkeeper poured into a pint jar, set especially aside for the bird’s tipple.   I am not quite sure what Old Billy had in his glass!

It is apparent that the bird could be somewhat cantankerous on occasions. It was reported that before the First World War a disagreeable old gander in Nepcote Lane terrified many passers-by.  One day George Winton, from the stores in The Square, was walking along the road with his young son Harold. The goose was obviously suffering from an off day and proceeded towards the lad in a threatening manner. The surprised boy stepped safely back just in time. His father grabbed the beak of the offender and it is reputed, swung the attacking goose aside.

One day Old Billy Brown became ill. The days went by and he grew more infirm and frail and the end was soon nigh. The loyal and constant pet kept a faithful vigil at his bedside in the cottage next to the forge. The poorly blacksmith was insistent that the gander should not be removed from the darkened bedroom. Despite his protests, the bird was occasionally shooed out with much hissing and flapping of indignant wide spread wings. This inevitably resulted in a relapse in the blacksmith’s health and the bird, which had been hovering just outside the door, was eventually allowed to return to the sick bed.

Sadly, the blacksmith did eventually die, and his coffin was reverently carried from the village centre to St. John the Baptist Church, followed steadfastly by the comfortless goose and the rest of the Brown family. After the service, Old Billy Brown was buried in the far west of the adjoining churchyard in the shadow of the Church Hill woods. The last of the mourners departed — leaving the forsaken gander standing bewildered at the pile of freshly flattened earth.

The barman from the Gun Inn felt sorry for the bird and later found enough time from his duties to return to the churchyard and carried the protesting creature all the way back to the village.

The next morning, the gander was noticed to be missing from the forge area. An immediate search party went out to look for him at all of his usual haunts.  Old Pond Green was deserted. The helpful barman of the Gun Inn had an idea, and walked the half-mile to the churchyard again. There he saw the abandoned gander standing miserably on one leg at the far end of the graveyard beside the freshly filled in grave, his wings drooping forlornly and bereft of energy. Even the temptation of his usual favourite appetiser, a rosy apple, failed to interest him. Once again, the concerned barman transferred the heavy bird back to the forge once again.

For the next few days the disconsolate goose constantly travelled the half a mile to the churchyard. He grew so weak that in the end he could hardly waddle to and fro, and one dreadful cheerless day he was discovered dead on the floor in the blacksmith’s shop. The same village mourners who had gathered sorrowfully around his master’s graveside only weeks earlier gave this well-known village figure a suitable burial also.

Old Billy Brown’s grave in the churchyard, together with that of his wife Anne, was later furnished with a tablet memorial and neat iron railings. The young Fred Goddard who was now employed at the smithy, (the blacksmith many of today’s villagers will remember), forged the railings.

During the 1930s, Old Billy Brown’s son, Ernest Walter, continued the cycle business, which was situated, in his father’s cottage next to the forge. He put Findon on the map amongst the cycling fraternity when he designed his own cycle and suitably named it the "Findonian". Would-be renowned cyclists of the day wishing to buy the machine had to part with the princely sum of £3. 19s. 0d. for the privilege.

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