1901 Census Monks Horton,
Kent, England

  1881 Census Standford,
 Kent, England

  Bits & Pieces - Humour

Remembrance Day

Christmas in the Workhouse



 Canterbury Shrubsoles

 Faversham Shrubsoles

 Harrietsham Shrubsoles

 Kingston-upon-Thames Shrubsoles

 Maidstone Shrubsoles

 Milton by Sittingbourne Shrubsoles




The Kent Family 1940

The Kent Family 1927

Ethel Celine Kent nee Shrubsole

1889 - 1975

Jane Kent

Ethel’s mother in law

William Henry Kent  1911 - 1976

Born in the Rhonda, Wales & died in Australia

Mabel Florence Forrester nee Shrubsole


With her son

Arthur Edward McCullum Forrester

This photo was taken in 1939.  
The writing on the back of the photo says "in the park", and we assume in Folkestone, Kent.  However, looking at it closely it may well have been taken in Kingsnorth Gardens, Folkestone.  
Mabel was age 46 and Arthur, her son age 22 when the photo was taken.

My thanks to Norman & his late sister Valda, my second cousins in Australia for this photo.

This is a later one of
Arthur Edward McCallum Forrester

Arthur Walter Shrubsole
1898 - 1965

Arthur is sitting down & standing beside him is his brother Frederick William John.

The Canadian Connection

Alice Jane Shrubsole & four of her daughters aged 19, 21, 23 & 25 emigrated to Canada in 1924.
Her husband George Finn had committed suicide in 1922 & her first born had died in 1904 aged just 6 years old.  A new start in a new country must have seemed like a lifeline for them.

I know that her sister Rosa Emma & husband Edwin Diwell had emigrated there in 1911 (although at some stage, as yet undiscovered when, they returned to England to live).

Her other sister Sarah Ann (Sally) with husband James John Gardner & children also emigrated there in 1911 & remained there.  One of their sons Louis came back to fight in WW1 & sadly died at Vimy Ridge 12 April 1917

The Finn girls with their mum Alice Jane nee Shrubsole & their father George Finn

Mabel Grace Rossi nee Finn

Winifred Beatrice Hearley nee Finn

The Gardner Family

Sisters Sarah Ann & Rosa Emma Shrubsole

Some more of the Bassett Family

Dorothy 1912 -

Richard 1904 - 1968

William 1880 - 1938

Emily 1879 - 1970

May Shrubsole 1908 - 1971

The Fagg Boys

Charles Frederick Fagg 1896 - 1980

Gordon Harry Fagg 1913 - 2000

Top middle - William G Fagg 1893-1975

Bottom middle - Thomas P Fagg 1901-1966

Left - Charles F Fagg 1895-1955

Right - Edward R Fagg 1895-1976

Thomas P Fagg 1901 - 1966

Edward R Fagg 1895 - 1976

The Kennett Family

The Kennett Family -

James & Margaret Kennett

With 6 of their 7 children -

Percy, Horace, Emily, Ernest,

Albert & Frederick

James Kennett & his wife Margaret

With his sister Caroline (my gt gmother)

James Kennett

Albert Kennett b1869 (James’ son) & Emily b1872

Caroline Shrubsole nee Kennett with her daughters Alice, Rosa & Sarah

Elizabeth Gilbert
married John Fagg
& is the grandmother of the
Fagg boys above

Kate Eliza Shrubsole
married Edward Fagg
& is the mother of the
Fagg boys above

A Shrubsole branch of the tree

This family lived and worked at Gain Hill Farm during the 1930’s & 1940’s

The above two photos are taken ca 1930’s are of
George Henry Shrubsole 1865 -1943

The one opposite is George Henry Shrubsole
& his wife

Maragaret Ellen Apps 1871-1932

Beatrice (Dorothy) Mary Shrubsole

1896 - 1980

Rose Annie Shrubsole 1901 - 1983

At Gain Hill Farm

Rose Annie


In both pics

Caroline Eliza Shrubsole

1907 - 1949

With her son at

Gain Hill Farm

My thanks to John P Smith, grandson of George & Margaret Shrubsole, for letting me have copies of the lovely photos of the family, & also for letting me publish here:

“A Weekend at Gain Hill”.

The above photograph shows how the house looked in May 2007.  It was quite a shock to see what happened to the two original old farm cottages;  they have now undergone some major changes, and are barely recognizable.  The cottage to the right was the home of the Shrubsole family.  My mother was the youngest daughter of the Shrubsole's seven children and this was her family home until 1935 when she and my father were married.

My first memories of Gain Hill were around 1940.  At that time my mother's father, her sister Rose and her brother Percy were still living there.  My father owned a motor car and we would often visit the family on week-ends but our motorcar rides came to an end in October 1939 when my father joined the army.

It was towards the end of May 1941 when I started school, about two weeks after my fifth birthday.  The Second World War had already been in progress for over a year, and the Battle of Britain was raging over London and South East England.  Where we lived in Wateringbury was only two miles south of the R.A.F. Fighter Base at West Malling, and the airfield soon became a prime target for the German's nightly bombing raids.  It was fair to say that life at that time was quite frightening.  Whenever possible my mother would try to get away but as I was at school it would sometimes only be for a weekend or when we were on school holidays.  The place she like to visit most of all was to her family home at Gain Hill.  It would take about two hours to get there on two different buses.  We would leave home early in the morning and go into the bus station in Maidstone, and then catch another bus out through Yalding to Collier Street.

After getting off the bus at Crow Plain, it was about a fifteen minute walk along the lanes.  As soon as I could I would run off along the lane with mother calling after me to stop, or keep out of the grass but of course I would pretend not to hear.  The lanes were quite narrow with high hedges and deep ditches on either side.  About halfway the lane joined another lane by a bridge where water ran under the road.  I liked to throw little stones into the water and watch the ripples.  Sometimes I might be lucky and see a small animal running along the bank;  it was all great fun.  When my mother caught up she would tell me off for not listening to her, and for the rest of the journey I was made to walk like a gentleman (as she would say).  My darling mother never did understand that I was only good at two things;  one was running, the other being naughty.

We walked on up the little hill past a few old cottages, and soon we came to the little dirt track on the left where we had to turn.  This little track led into a small farm area that we knew as Gain Hill.  On the right was open grassland where sheep grazed and sometimes baby lambs would be jumping about.  Usually there were one or two haystacks nearby, which in Winter would be used as feed or bedding for the animals.  On the left were several low open sided sheds with thatched roofs where the big hay wagons were kept.  Further along on the left we come to some trees growing around an old pond that was fenced off.  I was always told not to go near the water because of the snakes, and for once in my life I did as I was told.  Next to the pond was the little garden gate that usually hung partly open, as if saying come in, you are welcome.

We walked through the gate onto a rough uneven path that had large stones and parts of house bricks sticking up all over the place.  It was not a good path for running on as I remember.  I would stop to admire the large Pampas grass that grew in the corner of the garden;  it's large tall white feather like flowers always fascinated me.  They looked like the tail feathers of some giant bird.  By now mother had usually spotted her father working in the garden, “Hello Daddy” she calls out.  He looks up and waves.  We walk on down the path towards the two cottages;  theirs was the one on the right where we all meet at the back door.  Mother gives her father a hug and a kiss, I am invited to also give my granddad a kiss, reluctantly I do so, his large bushy and very prickly moustache was never very inviting.  At this point Auntie Rose appears from somewhere inside the house & I anxiously look around for my cousin Beryl.   “Give Auntie Rose a kiss” my mother orders.  “Hello Auntie Rose” I say standing on tip toe to give her a quick peck on the cheek.  She smiles, then turns to go back inside, and we follow her in.

Within ten minutes we are all having a welcome drink and some of Auntie Rose's buns.  I like her buns as she always managed to slightly burn the tops and bottoms giving them a special taste.  I liked my mother's cakes and buns too but they never had that special burnt taste that I liked.  I guess that I was a picky little so and so, never satisfied mother would often say.

After our refreshments it was out to play with Beryl;  we had good fun running around the farm.  There were lots of places to run and hide from each other and play tag.  Sometimes we would go with Granddad when he fed the animals.  For most of the time we got on very well together without any problems.  However now and then we did have our little disagreements, which was usually my fault over the rope swing.  It hung from one of the lower branches of the big old Oak tree in the garden, next to the shed where Uncle Perce kept his little Morris eight car, and yes, I must confess I did rather dominate when it came to that swing.  Sometimes my mother had to settle things by giving me a smack but it never made much difference, despite my affection for my little cousin.

(How I wish I could say sorry, but sadly Beryl died 1997 aged 60 years. R.I.P Dear cousin.)

The the inside of the cottage was just as exciting as the outside, with so many wonderful things to look at, a bit like being in a modern day antique shop.  The red brick floors were well worn from age and endless scrubbing;  a few well worn rugs were placed in the doorways and around the fireplace.  A long wooden handled copper warming pan hung on the wall over the sofa and endless well polished brass items were placed around the fireplace.  Large dome shaped glass cases that contained stuffed birds dotted the room;  my favourite one was an Owl holding a mouse in one of its claws in a woodland setting.  Dozens of old family photos hung on the walls.  Everywhere I looked there was something different that attracted my attention.  Everything was well polished making it plain for all to see, that Auntie Rose did a good job of taking care of the home.  Gain Hill was such a nice place to visit I can now understand why my mother always wanted to go back there whenever she could.

Grandmother Shrubsole had died before I was born but her cacti collection lived on, and still flourished in their fancy pots that stood on the wide sitting room window sill.  I was always interested in their shapes, and how their needles formed geometric patterns, while others had long tails that hung down all around the pot.  Above the cacti, and hanging from a hook in the ceiling was the cage of Joey the yellow canary.  When he decided to sing all conversation had to stop, it was so loud that he often had to be covered up to keep him quiet.  I can still hear him as he tried to compete with the Grandmother clock as it marked the passing hours with its rapid ringing sounds.

Life at Gain Hill was very primitive.  No gas or electricity, only candles and oil lamps for lighting, and coal fires for heating and cooking.  Although they did have a rather unusual three burner oil stove, which also had an oven.  The only other one that I have ever seen like it is here in Australia, in the pioneer museum nearby in the Adelaide hills town of Birdwood.  All the water came from a well in the garden, and had to be pumped up by hand.  I can remember seeing Granddad carrying two buckets at a time with the aid of a yoke, a wooden devise that fitted across his shoulders with metal chains to hang the buckets on.

After tea Uncle Perce would put on his Home Guard uniform and go out and join the other Home Guards on night patrols.  Later in the evening as it started to get dark Auntie Rose would light the big oil lamp, and put it in the middle of the round table.  I thought the lamp was quite magical;  its cut glass oil container would cast fancy patterned shadows on the walls and ceiling, as we sat and did drawing or colouring before bedtime.  Sometimes my mother would say that if I was good we could listen to the music from the little wind-up barrel organ, that played music from paper scrolls that had holes punched in them, another one of Gain Hills magical items.  Eventually it was time for bed, and I would go off to sleep watching the flickering shadows from a candle placed on the nearby washstand.  Outside I could hear the wind blowing, and I would look forward to another exciting day tomorrow.  The following morning if the wind was in the right direction, I would be woken by the sound of a train as it sped along the nearby railway line.  Sometimes we would walk along the lane to the railway bridge, and watch the famous Golden Arrow steam train hurtling along the almost straight stretch of line towards the coast.

Just for a few hours we could almost forget that the war was raging only a few miles away.  Then the unthinkable happened.  On our next visit we found that a Search Light and Gun Battery had been installed in the meadow next to our farm.  From then on Gain Hill also had its share of bombs dropping all around, making holes in the meadow and nearby orchards. For the next few years we just had to put up with whatever the Germans decided to send.  

Grandmother & Grandfather Shrubsole now rest next to each other in the churchyard at Collier Street.

Written by John P Smith

7th March 2009

The Shrubsole & Devereese Connection

The bride & groom at
St Saviour’s Church
Canterbury Road,
Folkestone, Kent, England

Frederick Thomas Harold Shrubsole +
Winifred Devereese

The parents of the bride & groom

At the back is
Frederick William Shrubsole & his wife Laura Bassett
& at the front is
George Devereese & his wife
Edith Crumby
Again on the steps of
St Saviour’s Church
Canterbury Road, Folkestone

Another branch of the Shrubsole tree
This branch has Peter Shrubsole, son of Thomas Shrubsole & Maria Matcham.  
Peter was famous in Folkestone for being the first motor bus driver,
with plenty of pictures of him to be found in Folkestone history books

The newspaper cutting & the original photograph it was taken from & what a lovely photo it is.
Peter Shrubsole + Rebecca West

Peter Shrubsole, the first motor bus driver in Folkestone in 1902

& a couple more of Peter below.

The wedding of Peter John West & Ethel Kate White.
The second photo is Peter John West, Ethel Kate White & Ethel’s father Alfred White;  the little girl being Roasalie Eileen Shrubsole & we are not sure who the young lad at the back with the cap on is, suspect he may be a brother to Ethel.

Some of Rebecca West’s family - middle back with moustache is John West, her brother & far left is Frederick Charles West who is her nephew (son of John West).

Caroline Shrubsole & Alfred Tucker

                   1905 - 2003                                           1910 - 1986

Caroline was the daughter of John Albert Shrubsole + Rosina Tudgay

This one taken on their wedding day 3rd October 1936

Ernest Arthur Shrubsole 1899 - 1934
Ernest is standing in the middle.  Taken in 1917.

A branch of the Shrubsole Tree
& the Cumberland Connection

Caroline Bridgland
& below with her son
Harry 1885 - 1944

Harry Shrubsole 1885 - 1944

Harry Shrubsole 1885 - 1944
with children
Harry Lorraine 1915-
Jeannie 1912-1993

Jeannie Shrubsole 1912 - 1993

Jeannie, Harry & Caroline

Daniel Cook 1911 - 1969
Daniel was serving in Paris when it was liberated during WWII, so circa Aug 1944  He is in the second row, standing and fourth from the left.

Daniel Cook 1911 - 1969
This photo of the Arc de Triomphe with British Soldiers was taken during the liberation of  of France in WWII,  so about August 1944.  We also believe Daniel Cook to be among the soldiers but can’t as yet pinpoint him.

My Grandparents
Frank (Francis Henry) Lockley
Lily (Lilian Maria) Coveney

Ann Masters

Harriett Rose Shrubsole

Grace Swindail

Harry Victor Alexander Ransley
& Lilian Beatrice Ellen