Margaret Norman, who grew up in Frenchay between the wars, has just published her autobiography. Gerry Brooke takes a peep inside.

When Margaret Norman was born into a poor but happy Frenchay family in 1920 it could, as she says, have been a different world.

Prosperous Quaker families still occupied the big houses, as they had done for generations, and provided work for the villagers.

If fact Margaret’s grandfather, Mr Mann, worked as a gardener for the Fry family.

All the land around their house belonged to the Tuckett’s, another prosperous Quaker family.

Just a decade or so earlier the villagers had been expected to stop and curtsey (or doff their caps) as the carriages carrying the gentry passed by.

“My mother was strictly admonished when she failed to curtsey” recalls Margaret

“A fact relayed back to her mother, Mrs Mann, who was not amused.”

With only an occasional, slow moving automobile or horse drawn carriage, the comparatively smooth surface of the road attracted children to play there.

“We played there in safety with out brightly chalk painted spinning tops, hoops and marbles” she recalls.

Margaret also says that the villagers were allowed to keep their animals on Frenchay Common, as they had in times past

“The Common was lovely then” she writes, looking back, “ and will always be there as it is common land.

“There were two tethered goats, two horses and hens.

“The hens, called in at dusk, returned to the houses through a hole in the garden wall.

“Cricket was played there in the summer on Saturday afternoons and there was a large tea tent on the Green to serve teas to the players, where my mother often helped out.

“ W.G Grace, the captain of Frenchay Cricket Club, had often played there in the past.

“My father would take his deckchair, and our dog, Bonzo, to watch the game.

The “Stop Me and Buy One” man, complete with three wheeled bicycle and small wagon of ice cream, would arrive every Saturday afternoon to take advantage of this captive audience.

“If I was around, dad would give me a penny for a Wall’s “Snofruit” says Margaret.

“There were several shops in the village in those days.

“The Post Office, part of my friend Barbara’s house, also sold sweets in jars and most of the village gossip and news could also be obtained here” she writes.

“Further down the hill was the ironmongers which sold paraffin, candles and nails.

“There wasn’t any electricity in most of the houses and paraffin was essential for the oil lamps.

“Our light came from a brass based lamp with a fine glass funnel which was placed over a lighted wick, with an ornate white glass to cover it.

“At bath time a long cylindrical galvanized bath was put in front of the kitchen range and partly filled with hot water from large saucepans heated on the range.

“Milk was delivered daily from a local farm at Hambrook.

Mr Flux came by in a pony and trap, with the milk in churns which he ladled into your waiting jug.

“The butcher called twice a week

“Mr Baber ran the grocery shop; butter was sold in pats, from a large block; bacon and ham were sliced to size and choice; dried fruits and sugar were weighed up in strong paper bags.

“ The bread was baked by the sons of the Baber family, in ovens below the shop – very nice too.

“There was a cobbler at the bottom of the hill, small and wizened – he used to frighten me as I timidly tapped on his door to collect some repaired shoes.

“A deep voice would say “Wadya want” – but he was probably quite nice really.

If you want to follow Margaret’s life as she grows up, takes to an outdoor, cycling life and meets her husband to be, Ken – and let’s not leave out her wartime adventures – then you will have to buy this evocative little book.

Two World’s Apart by Margaret Norman is published by Pen Press at £7.99