THIS IS FINDON VILLAGE — These Findon Chronicles are created by Valerie Martin and contain scenes from her home village of Findon, West Sussex, U.K.

THE BURTENSHAWS — RUTH AND HARRY

Ruth Burtenshaw

Copyright Valerie Martin 2003

First published in the Findon News in April 2003

On occasions it is interesting to take a peep into the lives of past villagers of Findon.

Ruth Aldridge was born in 1824 in Findon and married Harry Burtenshaw (born 1826) from the nearby small village of Coombes —

The delightful village of Coombes with the equally delightful Church of Coombes on the hillside as maybe it looked in Harry Burtenshaw's day.

 

An old watercolour of the Church at Coombes.

 

Here's another fascinating old sketch of Coombes... obviously before the Cement Works appeared on the distant hillside!

Harry was a shepherd and they lived at 5 North End Cottages in the 1860s.  Ruth's mother and father were Fanny and John Aldridge and they lived next door.   By the 1870's John had died and it appears that Fanny moved in with the younger couple.

The habitation at North End has always been too diminutive to merit being given the title of "a hamlet".   I guess that a community has existed there for many hundreds of years with the agricultural labourers from the Muntham farms occupying the various dwellings over the centuries.    The terrace at North End was of three of five dwellings with a low flint wall running along the front so depending on the numbering system, it could be the one at the far end in the photograph below.  From the mid-1860s Ruth Burtenshaw  was never far from her kitchen in her cottage with its black beams and low-pitched ceilings.    A visitor coming across Findon dwellings in the past at any time after mid-day, would usually see some evidence of food being cooked.   This may have been because so many of the men folk were engaged on the land and their comings and goings were irregular to say the least.

The rooms of Ruth an Harry's cottage beside the little track leading from the valley to the Downs had blackened beams and rather low ceilings.  The main living room accommodated a large mantelpiece absolutely cluttered with adornments that had been collected over their years together.   There were two large china dogs with gold chains jostling for position amongst propped up funeral cards of the past, photographs of various members of the Burtenshaw's relatives, vases and other obvious relics purchased at the Great Findon Sheep Fair.  A pair of rather important looking polished brass candlesticks stood to attention at either end of the mantelpiece.  

A comfy settee and an ancient winged armchair were neatly positioned on either side of the hearth (the fire in the grate was alight throughout the year and made the cottage somewhat hot and stuffy during the summer).  A couple of home-made rag rugs were scattered over the brick floor and more often than not a large potted red geranium took pride of place on the window-sill.   In a corner of the room was propped Harry Burtenshaw's old shepherd's crook.   Over it dangled a shepherd's lantern for those darkening nights on the downland.    Beside this were some now silent ancient canister sheep bells.

An attractive feature of the Burtenshaw’s garden was a huge honeysuckle, which scrambled over the hedgerow as if looking for a way out.

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c. 1920 — North End Cotttages in Findon a few years after the Burtenshaws had died.  

The couple were still living at North End when Harry died in 1902.  He was buried at St. John the Baptist Church.  For forty years he had looked after sheep around the Chanctonbury area and at Stump Bottom.  Ruth died in 1909.   Their graves are on the east side of the church in the shadow of the tower.

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The properties at North End in 2010.

Continue to read about The Mystery of Ben Blaker

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THIS IS FINDON VILLAGE — was launched by Valerie Martin in January 1999 and will grow to be a historical record of life in Findon and often beyond.

 

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Do let me know of anything you hear about Findon - not too controversial.   Please note that opinions expressed in the Findon Chronicles are not necessarily reflective of my own thoughts.... but sometimes they are!