Andy Vining’s Podcast: My Mother’s Diaries 1948 – 1976: Episode 7 — November and December 1948

Image My Mother’s Diaries by Andy Vining 2026

Andy Vining shares his mother’s diaries in his new podcast. Listen to these beautiful stories on Spotify.

Andy Vining’s parents were John and Peggy (later known as Be Be).

November 1948 

November opened in foul weather — rain sweeping across the fields from morning to night — and the children home for half term filled the house with noise despite the gloom.

I went into Winchester for new shoes while John attended Lodge, and there was uneasy talk of foot and mouth in Salisbury — never pleasant news when one keeps cattle. 

There were brighter interludes. I went dancing at The Richie Hall, though the gramophone misbehaved and caused some disruption. 

John attended Growmore that evening and returned very happy, having won cups for highest points in the best farm competition for corn and root crops — He did smell of beer so I believe he had celebrated well indeed. It is very pleasant to have one’s efforts recognised by one’s peers. 

Strawberry planting began in earnest — three tidy rows firmed carefully into the soil ready for the spring Doug and Marjory called in, Joan Beeton brought a firework parcel.

Heather’s photographs were sent off to Alf as he had asked for some and  I finished planting the strawberries.

On Auntie Bella’s birthday I walked round to Beechcroft to see her, later returning in the car with John. 

Guy Fawkes preparations brought excitement. We made a guy ready, and the children went to Hatley’s firework display on Baddesley Road with Uve and Joan. It was a wet sort of evening but the bonfire burned brightly and fireworks kept spirits high. 

The following evening, we had our own bonfire here at the farm. Norah and family came, Jess Roffey with friends, and Joan and Les Beeton joined us. Afterwards we all crowded into the kitchen for eggs and bacon.

 Bet and Fred arrived home for the weekend as well — a house full again. There was the less glamorous side too — John and I cleaning out the chicken house, never pleasant but entirely necessary. 

Ethel Westbrook called in for a chat and later we had dinner at the Beatons:  fresh salmon — very good indeed.

Friday we went to a ball in Eastleigh Town Hall, seeing many old friends another lovely evening.

Janet was poorly for a day, and I cycled down to see Peggy Inge’s new baby, dear little Penelope Jane. 

I went to The St Boniface Bazaar on my bike but the chain broke on the way home so I had a long walk.

It was Mother’s birthday that same day, so we went round in the evening for eggs and bacon — simple but cheerful.

There were perms at the hairdresser’s, furniture moved at Beechcroft, and John at last finished mangle carting — building a huge clamp by the elm trees and covering it carefully with straw against the frost. Good winter feed secured for the cattle — and good to have that heavy job behind him. 

Mr Cross the poultry man dined with us. John attended Hursley Lodge and brought me a small early Christmas present – a bottle of wine he had won in the raffle. 

Mother’s lodgers arrived, bringing new faces into Beechcroft. 

One quiet evening we lit the dining-room fire and read together, and then at ten o’clock the wireless announced that Princess Elizabeth had had a son — Charles.

A spark of national excitement in an otherwise dark month. A future King announced into homes warmed by coal fires. 

Rain returned in the next day so I had to dry the washing indoors. John went to The Lodge of Instruction in Hursley. 

He also went to his Growmore meeting one night but the car lights failed so John Dunford had to bring home, John came in for coffee before his journey back to Bishopstoke  

We had a pig killed — the start  of winter meat — and John collected the offal and Norman Cooper came in to collect his share of the pig offal.

I started making the Christmas cake and The Beatons joined us for liver and bacon from our own pig — very good indeed. 

Trips to Southampton brought a pink frock and platform shoes for me. 

Mrs Coles gave me a blue coat for Heather. 

John went to football and the Growmore quiz.

On the 22nd Nov was our wedding anniversary and Mother and Bella came for tea, we had  an iced sponge, small gifts exchanged. John gave me a frock and shoes; I gave him cherry brandy. 

In the evening, we went to the Potters Heron for Dinner with the Beatons — a jolly good evening. 

At the Growmore club we won four awards for our eggs so the careful grading and selection having paid off with Mr Cross’s help. 

Dancing at the Richie Hall continued with the children and Jennifer went out with Marjory Haskell. 

Then came a fright —We lost Heather she had wandered off and we found her out on Hursley Road entirely on her own. Goodness knows how she managed it.

John promptly erected a fence to prevent any repeat adventure. 

Twelve dozen eggs were sent to the packing station in Pine Road — our first proper sale from our Rodhe Island Reds a good start.

 I went to Beechcroft and then on the way back to Beatons to inspect kitchen chairs Joan thought would suit us. 

They will look very well in our kitchen at the farm.

Jean brought me my first pair of nylons — such a novelty and I began making a new redicut rug at last. 

We had the Growmore dinner in Eastleigh I found myself seated beside the Lord Lieutenant of Hampshire and Mr Gregory — quite something for a farming housewife. I was very honoured to have that pride of place at the table. A wonderful evening.  It was really foggy on our drive at the weekend when we had supper with the with the Coates at their lovely new house in Hyfield and discussed St Probus School for Andrew — suggested by Mrs St John — though he is still far too young for boarding school yet and I don’t really like the idea of him going away he so loves the farm.

Christmas shopping took up an entire day in Southampton. Mother and Bella spent the day at the farm babysitting Heather.

Dancing at the Richie Hall finished for a while this month.

We had supper again at the Beatons — tongue sandwiches, lovely. 

November had drawn the farm inward: strawberries planted, pigs killed, eggs winning prizes escaping child and  fences erected, Christmas cakes baked, offal divided. Frost and fog settling across fields now mostly bare. 

Fires lit. Rugs begun. Nylons treasured. Winter edging closer.

December 1948:

So  December 1948 began unfortunately with Andrew home suffering from a bad cold. Joan arrived with glacé cherries — a small bright luxury — and we had tea together and I then  planted the last bulbs before the ground hardened ready for the Spring flowering.

There was dancing at the Sanatorium with the children and it went off very well and again enjoyed by the staff and inmates there.

Then there was The Young Farmers’ dance in Romsey — a very enjoyable evening indeed. 

John went to football Football and the pictures as usual.

But with all the colds and flu the children missed a party so we stayed at home and made do with boiled eggs and jelly for tea — simple comforts and everybody was happy.

I made Janet a new skirt that was cut from an old costume — making do as one must.

I went Shopping in Southampton and when I got home, I drew a pheasant ready for supper. 

Joan and Les joined us for that supper and we had the pheasant, peas and raspberries with cream — a fine December meal. 

I did a lot of darning in the evenings sat inside by the log fire while there were wild wind and rain outside.

I made the Christmas puddings a job I love and put them in the pantry to mature

I also went Shopping in Winchester.

Bella was unwell so her and Mother did not come to tea and We listened to The Paragon on the wireless. 

Heather woke crying with toothache which was a worry but that seemed to go away but the next day she fell down the stairs — my heart was in my mouth, though she seemed unharmed beyond tears. 

John went to Weeks and Greens for the Rent audits in Southampton. 

I was able the collected the ham we were keeping in the large fridge at Beechcroft. I packed a load of the Christmas presents. 

John to Reading for the Jersey sale — He did not buy anything this time but learnt a lot about the prices and the cattle in the sale for the future. John and I spent a lot of the evenings writing Christmas cards. 

I managed to plant Rose fruit bushes in the garden but it was really cold with a very sharp wind so not a very pleasant job.

We managed tp pluck twenty-four chickens that had been ordered for Christmas.

And in the rickyard the Barley was being thrashed — the steady clatter of tractor and machine echoing across the farm a very big exciting job when it all goes well.

The house grew very busy with callers collecting birds. 

Mother and Bella departed for Betty’s for Christmas. Some of the workers on the poultry stayed for supper — hot bacon all round.

Chickens were drawn and dressed almost endlessly. 

Christmas eve came in a whirl of fatigue and laughter after all the work and we were able to have a nice evening with friends and the family round the fire in the dining room with a lovely Christmas tree and all the presents underneath. 

Christmas Day itself was warm and simple — we had goose for dinner, children delighted with their presents, and a quiet evening at home. 

Boxing day we went to Romsey to see The Hursley Hunt and The hounds gather in the Square. A wonderful sight and we had rare early night.

The next day was John’s birthday and we had visitors for tea a lovely evening with all the family and friends and lots of laughter. 

Unfortunatly Heather was bad with earache again. 

Foul weather persisted right up to New Year’s Eve with wind and rain still sweeping the fields.

John and I went into Southampton where I bought a new coat — my Christmas present from him and that evening we attended the Beatons’ party — a lovely gathering of so many friends — and we did not get home until the small hours. And so 1948 closed. We remember fields drilled and harvested. Strawberries planted. Chickens plucked and drawn by the dozen. Barley threshed. Pigs killed. Cows milked. The Jersey herd begun. Running water and gas at last in the farmhouse. Eggs shown and winning prizes and sent to the packing station. Bulbs set against frost. Puddings boiled. Goose carved. Mud endured. 

During this year friendships have been strengthened — the Beatons, The Parkers. Mrs St Jon.The Sinclaires the Inges, the Hatleys, the Deans andThe Coats and many others — all woven now into daily life. Weddings celebrated. Babies born. Royal news announced. Through rain and frost and fog and mud — and burning hot sunshine — the farm has held steady. 

And the year ends as it began: with work done, and family gathered close. And we shut the door on 1948 — not with a bang, but with the steady sound of work done, fires banked, and a family holding together as winter gathers in. 

 It was a year of mud and marvels, of hard work and small, shining joys. On paper the days may look ordinary — eggs counted, mud endured, puddings boiled — but living through them is something else entirely. 

 The fields lie bare now, in winter the sheds are quieter but warmed by the cattle lying in their sheds.

The Farm house warmer at last and water in the house from taps and not from churns and beyond the gate, a new year waits. Because when a new year begins on a farm, it never arrives empty-handed. “Because Next week, we turn the page to January 1949…”  I  Thank for listening to my mother’s diaries. All done with love.