I remember Devonport, Stonehouse and Plymouth when they were three separate boroughs each thriving independently in their own particular way.
It was a pleasant walk from Devonport to Plymouth via Stonehouse. Transport was mainly by trams, which ran from the terminus in Fore Street, Devonport, down Chapel Street, stopping at Cumberland Gardens to pick up passengers, then on along past the Raglan Barracks on the left and Mt Wise on the right then down over the hill past the Brickfields, crossing Kings Road and on over the Stonehouse Bridge, through the toll gate commonly known as the Halfpenny Gate. Here, one was in Stonehouse where the trams stopped in Edgcumbe Street to pick up folk. The route continued through Union Street passing several theatres and cinemas such as the Grand, the Palace, the Savoy and the Gaiety and on to Derry's Clock, the Plymouth terminus. I remember the fascination of watching the conductor changing the trolley arm over onto the other overhead wire for the return journey. If the conductor happened to be short, this task would be tricky, as the arm was heavy and would swing and spark until it eventually clicked on the wire.
Underneath the Halfpenny Gate bridge was Stonehouse Creek, and at high tide, the stream reached as far as the Military Hospital. Boys from High Street had fine fun challenging one another to ride the logs. These huge logs, chained together, belonged to Fox Elliot the timber merchants and were towed up the creek by boat and left there to season. On the other side of the bridge, underneath it, were several boathouses approached from the Richmond Walk side of Kings Road. My uncle and aunt had a motor boat and used to take me with them on trips to Barn Pool, Cawsand and sometimes to picnic on the Breakwater. I learned to row a boat on Stonehouse Creek, mainly because my boy cousins used to tease me and I wanted to do as well as they.
I remember vividly the day I went to visit my aunt and uncle in Stonehouse. Being a lovely summer day, I felt quite important at being allowed to go alone at eight years of age. My home was at the Mt Wise end of George Street, Devonport, so I walked up through the beautiful Mt Wise Avenue, stopping for a few minutes to watch the naval officers playing cricket, then turned right past the ramparts and the New Cut leading to Richmond Walk, then down over the hill across Kings Road and to the toll gate. On production of a halfpenny, I was allowed through the turnstiles having been issued with a return ticket.
It so happened that my folks were going to visit friends so after about an hour, having had some lemonade and biscuits, I made my way back up over the bridge to the toll gate. Putting my hand in my pocket for my ticket, I was horrified to find that I'd lost it, and as the lady in charge was not the same one that I saw before, she would not let me go through. Strangely enough, the only other people around seemed to pass by in the tram or on bikes or horses and carts, so I was forced to turn back. However, I had an idea and went back, down by the brewery to the slip, hoping that I might see someone in the boathouses, or even find a boat there in which case I could row across, but alas, no people about and no boat. Then I knew the only way I could get home was a long way around, so I went along High Street, along by the Naval Hospital wall, which seemed endless, and turned up into Eldad Hill, to make my own way to Millbridge. Then the bottom simply dropped out of my world, for there at the bottom of the hill facing me was another toll gate. This was just too much. I was panic stricken whereon the floodgates burst and I remember saying, 'Whatever shall I do?' between my sobs. Then a kindly voice said, 'What's the matter? Why are you crying like this?'. Looking up, I had a blurred vision of a young soldier, who dried my tears as I had lost my handkerchief. He had a lovely face, so I blurted out my tale of woe, then he caught hold of my hand, escorted me through the gate and after asking where I lived and if I knew my way home, he gave me a penny and went on his way. I thanked him and ran through Fellows Place, up over Stoke Church Hill and past the Military Hospital. Then I came to a narrow road running between the Albion football ground and the Devonport South Western Station yard and the railway. There had recently been talk of a murder there, so being not only tired, but terrified, I took to my heels as if the very devil himself was after me. Out through the Rectory across Kings Road, on up over the Brickfields, down through Mt Wise Avenue and eventually home.
More tears were shed then from sheer exhaustion and relief being safely back with my mother. I remember the look of sheer amazement on her face, as she held me close while I poured out my story. Softly, she told me that she hoped that I had learned to be more careful as I had lost my handkerchief as well as my ticket. When I gave her the penny, she handed it back to me telling me to keep it as it was dated 1905, the year I was born.
Several years later, I went to join a friendly society, and remember the surprise I had when the gentleman who opened the door, took my name and address, then said, 'Aren't you the young lady who lost her toll gate ticket?'.
Then I remembered his face and after the meeting, he escorted me home, met my mother, and became a close friend of the family. His young friend later became my dear husband for thirty years, during which time my children always knew my soldier friend as uncle. Both soldier and husband have passed on but I remember a lifetime of happiness and friendship brought about by the loss of a halfpenny toll gate ticket. By the way, I still have that 1905 penny!
