Pumps and Wells of Seighford 265

 

                                          Pumps and Wells of Seighford   

Before mains water was brought into Seighford in 1948, the whole village relied on wells. All of the farms had their own wells, but all of the cottages had to draw water from the two village pumps, One was located about ten yards to the west of the old Village Shop, back off the pavement on a grassy hump, opposite and the pair of old thatched cottages.

 They were both upright wooden structures, with lagging, or what was left of it, to protect them from the frost. A long curved blacksmith made handle on the side to pump, and a large well-worn lead spout on which you could hang your bucket. Below the spout, was a sandstone trough in which would catch the water spilt and prevent it becoming muddy. There was a small hole into which the water drained into a grid (I suspect it soaked back into the well). There was always a pump on the front wall of the Holly Bush pub, but can not ever remember it working, I think it was just the wooden casing.

 

 The other was located on the Village Green by the wicket into Ivy Cottage garden. Again you had to walk up to it on a small grassy area.

  Monday mornings was always a washing day, and there was a “well” set back in the field behind the school, which was a soft water well. That meant the soap suds Lathered a lot better, and you used less of it. There is only the indentation in the field to mark the spot where it was. ( now its in the back carpark of the school).  It was fenced round with oak rails to keep the cattle away.  It was only a few feet down to the water level. The water table dropped in the summer, and  there was no pump and so water had to be drawn by lowering the bucket on a rope. (It would make a good village archaeological dig some time in the future, as it is all complete and only shallow

In the excavations for the new school, almost on the south boundary, the old school well was uncovered,  it had been filled in soon after the mains water came into Seighford, but I can remember the school caretaker Mrs Appleby, arriving from next door where she lived (the house was just behind the iron gates into the new tarmac playing area), and her first job was to hand pump the water needed for the school that day, then light the boiler for the central heating.

 

In the wood behind the Cumbers (Haynes Covert) is another shallow well with a very large sandstone cover, some six foot by four foot and about six foot deep. It is more like a sump. It must be over a very active spring as it is always wet below the wood fence. From the well runs a cast iron pipe in a direct and straight line to the middle of “Yews Farm” yard then under the road to the lowest point of “Green Farm” yard, where in both yards there used to be a long cattle water trough. Over the trough was a curved water pipe that continuously ran a steady dribble of water, this was fed by gravity from the wood. This again is a good and easy “dig” as the cast iron pipe is exposed in places where it crosses ditches, although it has been broken in places. Across one ditch is a tee, which was a drain to flush the pipe from time to time, and, when in use it had a wooden bung (at that point it would have about five foot head of water so no great pressure and all by gravity) The work horses would be turned out after a hard days work and drink from the trough as would the cattle. This happened in both farm yards.

 

The last well to be dug in Seighford was at the Yews Farm and is still an active and very clean well (but not pumped). The original well was in the back kitchen of the house but was too shallow and ran dry in the summer and could not cope with the demand of the farm house and dairy. The new one was dug to thirty two feet, just about the limit that water can be drawn (at thirty four feet then the pump mechanism has to go down the well to meet the water). On a recent opening of this well, some fifty years after it had been condemned by the water authority (only because the mains were put into Seighford) the brickwork looked as new. The water we dipped with a bucket was crystal clear (we could bottle it and sell it to Tesco). No water had been drawn in all them years.

Wells were dug by two experienced men, one of whom would dig in the centre of a four foot iron frame. Round which the other man would place loose bricks; he would also pull the soil up with a rope and bucket. As the soil was dug from the underside of the bottom edge of the frame, so the weight of the bricks would gradually drop and more bricks added to the top. That is why all wells have a slight curving, and twisting, as they drop more one side than the other, then corrected on digging deeper. This went on until a good flow of water was found usually below a layer of clay. in a seam of sand or gravel. (I was told the water could have dropped as rain as far away as Stafford Castle).

One other pump of note was the one for Seighford Hall, it drew water from springs to the west of the building, some half mile away, very near the S bends on the edge of the airfield. Water was carried by gravity, down a cast iron pipe to a pump house, which looks like a large dry well about ten feet across and four feet deep. This used to be covered to protected it from frost, and is situated to the south of the main building, behind the coach house, in a small paddock surrounded by iron railings. The pump itself was what was called a ram pump, which energized itself with the water that passed through it. This was achieved by the fact that the feeding spring, was some fifteen feet above the pump.  This gave it sufficient and constant pressure to work. The pump had an air dome above it, where the water would rush in, then rebound against the air pressure. The water having come through a non return valve was forced up another pipe with non return valve to a large tank in the roof of the hall. Only a proportion of the water was sent for use in the header tank, the rest was exhausted into the brook, it was self perpetuating almost like perpetual motion and needed almost no maintenance the only moving parts were non return valves

 

 

 

 

Need long toe nails like claws to grip onto the perch 37

Need long toe nails like claws to grip onto the perch

Dad always said that, "you're only as good as your feet,"But then he was talking bout, horse's cows and bullocks for meat.
Anyone who died in the village were said to have "fell off the perch"

Yes this is a picture of a picture, and my place is the farm top left with the eight bay hay barn, top in the middle on the same side of the road is the pub, and middle on the left is the village school, they have over two hundred kids from all the villages around and some come from out of town. Right of middle is St Chads church and guess who lives under the star (The Vicar in the vicarage.) There used to be four farms and four herds of cows in this area of the village but mine is the last one to survive, when I give up my tennancy even that will go as well.

As Old as What you Feel,

They always say that your only, as old as what you feel,

Now I like to have knap, after almost every meal,

And in the night get disturbed, got to water me hoss,

So now I think I must be old, me legs I cannot cross.

The old body that I've worked with, all my living years,

Getting tired and old as well, confirming all my fears,

Joints get stiff and muscles ache, cannot move so fast,

Stumble over rough ground, getting all harassed.

I cannot read the paper, until my glasses I must find,

Remember where I put them, must be getting blind,

The misses she has got them on, cannot find her own,

Each of us both as bad, but then we shouldn't moan.

Feet I cannot reach right now, back won't bend so much,

Got to have chiropodist, corns and toe nails to retouch,

Dad always said that, you're only as good as your feet,

But then he was talking bout, horse's cows and bullocks for meat.

Hair it has all gone grey, and very thin on top,

Need a hat in winter, the freezing cold wind to stop,

No insulation gainst the cold, a wig I got in mind,

But then its two lots of hair to comb, as well as going blind.

Ya mind is getting slower, reactions far too late,

The young ones like to drive, my driving they berate,

A dent or two I don't mind, but it frightens them to death,

When they're sitting in the back and cannot catch their breath.

So now I try to look relaxed, put me feet up on me chair,

Central heating turned up, find me glasses and combed me hair,

Slippers on oh what bliss, the telly's far too loud,

Lost the bloody controller now, good job were not too proud.

Owd Fred

It funny how your mind can wander when you're thinking of nothing in particular, thinking about mothers old soft water tank outside the back door and the sock come filter tied round the tap to filter out the house sparrow droppings, and how she used to wash our hair in it because it lathered better, all this when we were kids,
The different coloured bottles that medicine came in up on the top shelf, very few if any tablets as I can remember. The only "tablet" I can remember was disguised as dark chocolate, and after we had each had a square of it, were told it was for worms. I can remember the strong taste of it now, and it put me off chocolate for life.
The wobbly stool, the dragging wicket, and the postman with no nose, he had had a close encounter with a bullet or shrapnel in the war and lost his nose, there was just two holes in his face between his eyes, and he cycled eight to ten miles out and back to the village six days a week. A very brave and respected man for his courage working as a postman in all weathers.

Now We've Got a Leaking Tank

Now we've got a leaking tank, soft water leaking out,

Got to find a bung for it, a cork or something stout,

A cork from in a bottle, would do the job okay,

Bottles in the cupboard, we've got a good array.

Tall bottles short bottles, white or blue or green,

Embrocation medication, colour codes it seems,

For coughs and colds a spoon full, taken every day,

Bumps and bruises rub it on, oily vapour say,

Way back on the top shelf, most of them half used,

Find a chair to stand on, now I'm all confused.

Old chair it's wobbly, one leg is short and loose,

Take it in the workshop; it's had some abuse.

Other three cut them off, make legs same length,

On the leg bit of glue, stick it to give it strength,

But the saw it's lost some teeth, and it wouldn't cut,

Gate into the back yard, and that it wouldn't shut.

Timber on it rotten and hinge it would not hold,

Aught to have a new one or that is what I'm told,

Keep out intruders, this it wouldn't do,

Post that it hangs on, that also must renew.

There's another sort of post, which goes in a letter box,

Brought by the postman, from his bike he always locks,

Parcel to deliver, on the door he always knocks,

On his round six days a week, wearing out his socks.

It was always an old sock, which was tied around the tap,

This it filtered all the water, floating bits to trap,

On the front of this old tank, I think I've found a cork,

Stop the water leaking, out faster than it aught.

Owd Fred

No more old ones after this one, I will go back to being a kid. They alway said that your once an adult and twice a child in life.

When Gravity Takes Over

It is not until people of your own age,

Start falling off perch begin to engage,

Your mind to thinking what you will do,

When you're the last one at hundred and two,

Gravity takes hold and pulls everything down,

From your cheeks on your bottom to facial frown,

Everything sags and get a lot shorter,

When you get into that last century quarter.

Memory is one thing that you take for granted,

Forgetting to remember is not to be vaunted,

They say it's selective in what you do,

It's a privilege to have choice than get in a stew.

Toe nails can't reach and look like bald eagle,

Chiropodist trims and tells you they're fungal,

Gives you some cream and still you can't reach,

Old back bone won't bend but still got my speech.

The hair it still grows with the utmost vigour,

Round wrinkly face and chin it gets bigger,

Stretch and contort to shave it all off,

But some it gets missed when got a bad cough.

As you wobble out to the car that you drive,

Dented on the corners, too bad to describe,

Backing is dangerous blind as a bat,

Makes not much difference just one more splat.

To round up and sum up the older you get,

Experience all round but you do forget,

Long toe nail like claws to grip onto the perch,

Live on for ever not left in the lurch.

Owd Fred

The human race has one really effective weapon; laughter

Comments

Isabel Davies said:

Loving the aerial picture. Is there a farm in the country that hasn't got one?! They are always fascinating though.

# October 13, 2008 9:52 AM [Delete]

Owd Fred said:

Yes we have quite a number of aerial pictures of just the farm, and one of the whole village, but this one shows where Matt was born, at Church Farm, thats the house above the church tower. Where we live at Yews Farm top left, the school that he went to, incidentaly I went there and my mother, and more importantly in the picture you can also see his grave
bottom right of the grave yard close to the vicarage,
all within a few hundred yards square.