My History, by Ruby Gordon
I was born in Hyderabad Deccan, India in the year 1898. My father was the son of Sir Charles Alexander Gordon, deputy surgeon, and belonged to the Bank of Bengal. My mother was a native of North Devon, and was descended from Edward the First, and came from a good family.
When I write this book the year is 1911, the year of the Coronation of King George the Fifth and Queen Mary. I am at the age of twelve. My brother George, born in India, would now be about 16 years old, but he died out there through being vaccinated with an unclean knife.
Fourteen months before I was born, my only sister Janet Ivy Giselle was born on the 2nd October, while my birthday is on July 22nd. I also have one brother, nine years younger than I am, which makes his age at present that of four.
My father's mother died some time early last year, but our mother's mother is still well and living, and we hope will continue to do so for a great length of time. She is most kind to my sister and I, and as well as toys et cetera, she gives us the most beautiful clothes, which we appreciate very much, therefore she is loved by all. We often go and stay with her, and as a change, it is most delightful. Mrs Incledon Webber we always call "Granny", and she lives at Braunton, North Devon. It is a large house with side wings, and a beautiful garden. There is also a spacious greenhouse with fruit and flowers galore. Granny brought up Ivy until she was two years old, while Mother and Daddy and I were still in India.
I started on my long journey home when but a baby of three months old. When reaching the Mediterranean Sea, we proceeded to Marseilles, and then by train to Calais. From there we took the boat to Dover, and Mother and I alone went to Dorset to live in the capital Dorchester with Ivy. All this time we left Daddy in India. He had business there in his Bank, and drilling the soldiers, as he was a Lieutenant Colonel.
Now, as I have given you a peep at the early part of my life, of which I know little, but have questioned my parents about, I will endeavour to show you, my reader, something about my relations and life in Devonshire, to which we came after three years in Dorchester.
Our House in North Devon was situated near the river Taw, which flows into Barnstaple Bay. It was nine miles from the sea, but commanded a beautiful view of the land, of the many hills, and of the river winding its way to the mouth.
Behind our house, which boasted of an acre of garden, the hills rose in sloping majesty, and the white road that led the old way to Braunton, wound up and over, half hidden by the firs and Scotch firs that edged its way. We lived on a hill. To get to the town we had to go down Pilton hill, and from there to the High Street. I think nearly every town has a High Street. Even little Clovelly had that. Now, Clovelly was about 20 miles from Barnstaple and consisted of one street, as named before. It is a pretty, old village, steps leading down the main "rue" for thedonkeys to step down on, as it is so steep that such asses as they are would be sure to stumble. We have been there twice, I think.
Once we went in a hired motor. We started from Crosspark early in the morning and reached home again about five o'clock. We had a lovely time, and a picnic in a field. Granny, Daddy, Mother, Ivy and I went. A pretty big squash!. We often used to go for picnics. One of our favourite seaside places was Saunton, which possessed three miles of sand, from Down End (a rocky point) to the mouth of the Taw, and the same number of sand-hills running inland. The other side of Down End, one mile of sands lay, with just a ridge of hills, and then fields. This village was called Croyde. It is divided into two parts, Croyde and Croyde Bay. The sands are lovely, and I think much nicer than Saunton. It is very wild, and there are only three or four shops in the whole place, but the dairies are numerous, and the butter, eggs and milk are delicious. Also the scenery is lovely there, almost one of the most picturesque in England. Croyd Bay is practically on Baggy Point, or at least on the same side and hill as the latter. The other side of Baggy Point, are Putsborough sands and Woolacombe snads, which are relly the same. The next point that is seen is Bull Point, and then morte Point.
Now, as you know, Devonshire is very hilly, and round Croyde is a range of hills enclosing it quite. The highest hill is the beacon, on which a fire was made at the time of the Armada. Barnstaple also is surrounded by these hills, which are often very steep, while Coddon Hill is the highest thereabouts. Barnstaple is historical in its way, as the Hugenots landed there, and brought with them the industry of weaving. The weavers were then called websters, and from Webster comes the surname Webber, which is the name of our Grandmother. We have only one, and both Grandfathers died years ago.
In Devonshire, at Crosspark, the name of our house, we had been to school for a year or so, but had had to resort to governesses, as the school became the mere educator of Sly the jeweller, and Ashton the grocer, and other such tradesmen. At first the school was not bad, but it was mixed, that is, the boys and girls worked together, and the boys were often very rough. I remember my sister and I were not absolute saints, and my chief occupation was putting snails and worms into the other girls' shoes, and every spare time I had at home, I collected these 'reptiles' into a box, in preparation of the deed!!
Then we left off, and had a governess. But we were so naughty that the governesses only stayed one term each, that is the first two: Miss Millar and Miss Anderson. The two following were Miss M.O'Doherty, whom our little brother called Docks, and Miss I. MacKenzie who stayed two or three terms, respectively, with us, and both of which we liked very much.
Then we had French governesses too, who taught us French in the holidays. They are very ingenious, and clever with their fingers. One mademoiselle taught us how to make paper dolls with heads cut out of Fashion Books, and stuck on to the body of the doll. The dresses, coats and hats we made out of paper and painted, but Mother disapproved of the game, and threw them all into the fire. We used to carve their names on a certain tree in the garden, and also the names of our particular friends or relations. The swing at the bottom of the garden was also a great source of happiness to use, and our recreation between lessons was spent in the swing or under the trees.
Alas the time when we were to leave. Alas the change from great to small. Yet though the garden in our Folkestone house is inferior to that of Barnstaple, the house is far above in style, size and build, and we can hardly regret the move, as we can now enjoy the pleasures of school, new friends and new scenes, for one does get tired sometimes of the same places.
OUR HOUSE IN FOLKESTONE
The house is called 'Cromdale' after a little Scotch stream near where Daddy's home was. It stands in the Shorncliffe Road at the corner of Marten Road. The house contains twenty-one rooms, not counting the coal house, cycle house, the wood and wine cellar. There are four sitting rooms, one of which belongs to my sister and I , and seven bedrooms.
Our sitting room is a bright and cosy room facing south, so it gets all the sun, and there is a delightful little verandah outside. In this room we do our lessons and play. Our little brother also makes good use of it as his nursery, and ornaments the white wall-paper with pictures of engines and ladders.
Here in Folkestone we go to a very nice school in Earl's Avenue. It is called St.Margaret's and Miss De la Mare is the head. I very much enjoy the games and gymnasium. I have been leader for nearly two years.
