Dave Jennings born 1930s May Jennings was my father’s sister. She never got married and ran the riding stables. When Aunt May was young she had a horse riding accident in Sheepridge and was thrown off. She hit her head and was never quite the same after that. Jennings Stables was once Juniper Farm and owned by my grandfather, Jockey Jennings. The farm was sold to Dr Bailey and then half of it was sold back to my father, Ben. Dr Bailey didn’t live there, he lived at the large house called Clay House, along Whitepit Lane. Dr Bailey and Auntie May had a bit of a fling at one time and May hoped she would marry him but then Dr Bailey met his future wife, another keen horse woman, and he married her instead. When my grandfather owned Juniper Farm there was a big piggery behind the barns and the pigs were swill fed. During the war Grandfather asked for two German Prisoners of War to come and help him feed them. The POWs were living at the hostel at the time. They were billeted there, wore fatigues and were let out to farmers. Henry and Hans were the two Germans who came to help, both young men at the time. Henry got tangled up with Aunt May but he eventually went back to Germany. He used to play for Flackwell Heath Football Club and he became part of the family whilst he was here. John Oldale born 1930s When I was nine I was cleaning out Jennings stables, oiling the saddles and cleaning the brasses for the posh children coming to ride. Dr Bailey used to ride horses there and that’s where he met his wife. She was Irish. Dr Bailey used to do his rounds on a horse but some of his patients didn’t like him doing this, riding up their paths. He could be blunt too and was a massive man. His father, Selbourne Bailey, was also a doctor who worked until he was 90. Poor people got to know that he didn’t charge them and yet he still treated them. He was ever so well respected. Sally Scagell born 1950s When my cousin lived with us, who was a lot older than me, she would hire a couple of horses from May Jennings and she and a friend would trot through Fennels Wood and then come into our garden so that I could hitch a ride on the front of her saddle and ride around the garden with her. I was hooked, so when I was old enough I was taken to the stables in Loudwater for lessons. I only went to May Jennings stable a couple of times but I didn't like the horse I was given to ride there so didn't go back. Barbara Murfin nee Sarney born 1940s A horse, a horse my whole world for a horse. Six weeks of holidays. I desperately wanted a horse so Dad had a word with May Jennings. Next morning May pulled up outside Virginia Cottage in her Moggy 1000. Morris 1000. Now common sense says I should remember her driving a wooden sided countryman. But I’m sure I remember it was a beige split windscreen round shaped little car. Perhaps they had not made the Countryman at that time. I jumped into the car. Old clothes and wellies. Tilly, May’s dog jumped onto my lap and off we went. I was just soooooo, excited. Tilly was a Jack Russell, tri-coloured – if she ran towards you she was such a solid little dog it looked as though her little legs were all in a row across her body. She loved fetching stones. Miss Jennings constantly shouted at us not too throw her any. At that time May had a girl working for her, her name I cannot remember, human names were unimportant, horses took priority. She did not seem too pleased looking at this bean pole, thin child that had been foistered upon her. I desperately wanted to learn all I could. There was very little mucking out to do, the big horses, the ex-racehorses only had day summer beds, the others were only brought from the fields on riding days. It was the school holidays so there was riding most afternoons and all day at weekends. I was in heaven. No more struggling with words and letters all the wrong way around, life was now all practical work, easy peasy. First job of the morning, grab the ponies halters from the ottoman in the tack room, and then half way down a gravel track, Juniper Hill, to the ponies field. On the right hand side going down the lane were two gates, we took the left one of the side by side pair. The field was really two fields together, through the irregular hedge, so irregular it was more a spasmodic row of hawthorne bushes to the far field. This field went down to the railway line, between Loudwater and Woburn Green. The ponies, being ponies would be in the farthest corner watching every step we took towards them. Getting closer some would move away while the others stood with the pony equivalent of, ‘catch us if you can’, written in their eyes. Pockets bulging with pony nuts we would catch the easy ones, usually the girls. Tanna, aka Sixpence, Madge and Christine's pony. Making sure they had enough pony nuts to make a noise. We would then walk back towards the gate. The boys always followed, it worked every time. Haltered up we would move to the gate. Tommy, Pedro, and the two liveries. A walk back up the lane, the ponies grabbing a mouthful of grass from the bank side as we moved forward. Into the yard and the ponies would make their own way to their places. Safely tied up and a small feed of pony nuts, it was the horses turn. The big horses, the ex-race horses first. Two at a time, into their loose boxes. You had to make sure there was a little sprinkling of straw on the floor for them to wee on. These horses did not like weeing on a concrete floor as it would splash back onto them! Then back to the field for the riding horses. The gate was at the top of Juniper Hill, about 20 yards down the lane, where The Fairway road is now. The field ran from The Straight Bit, down to the railway. And along to Links Road, Northern Woods End. I was reminded when walking around the village in 2015 there were allotments, the entrance in the Straight Bit at the Links Road end of the field. Perhaps that's where all the muck heap from the stables went, the muck heap never seemed to grow – not too far to trundle with a wheel barrow. The horses went into the stalls. The head collar rope was safety knotted to another that ran through a metal ring with a wooden ball on it. The horses could move, but only so far, as the ball would hit the metal ring and that was as far as the horse could back out. They were able to lie down but I don't think they ever did. Horses can sleep standing up. The special knot was 'undoable' in a nano second should there be an emergency. Back to the tack room. Brushes combs and hoof picks. The horses were never that dirty in the summer time, it was a well drained field. Possible a 1 in 6 slope. Saddles and bridles next and the horses and ponies were ready for the 9am ride. There were children everywhere, some for lessons, many coming from the village, three I think had liveries. The liveries seemed a little above us, though I did eventually make friends with a girl called Christine. She lived with her grandparents who ran the newsagents in Wooburn Green. On the Holtspur Hill Road. Her pony had been on this earth before and knew every trick in the book. He only behaved when Christine joined a ride with the other horses. As you drove through the gate on White Pit Lane into the stable yard, the stable block was in front of you. Two loose boxes were to your left, and an entrance leading to 5 stalls and two more loose boxes inside. In the first horse box was an ex-racehorse Warren's Court Lad. In the next box was another gelding Osbourne something, I think, I cannot truly remember. The horses were kept in the stalls. The stall near the outside loose boxes was empty. Then a livery pony. Then we had Queenie. A solid grey mare possibly about 15.2 hands. She was a kind but unexciting horse. Next to her stood Colonel a tri-coloured cob, about 16 hands. He was a very old man, solid and dependable, but again not very exciting. Then, swoon, swoon, Mighty Atom, a very smart bright bay gelding with a star on his forehead. He was all a child could wish for, beautiful, a little naughty, and ‘on his toes’. Around the back of the stable block were some added on spaces. Two loose boxes and a dark corner loose box, no stable door to look over. The horse in the box at the White Pit’s end was called the Chestnut Filly by May. Apparently May had bred the horse, broken her, but I never saw her ridden by any other except May. If there was ever a horse ‘on its toes’ this was her. She was 16+ hands and stunning to look at. May once rode her side saddle in the yard. The whole picture was not quite right as May was dressed in old jods and a shirt with the ever present fag in her mouth. I so desperately wanted to ride side saddle, but I only sat on the saddle in the tack room. Next to the filly was Star, another 16+ grey mare cob and, again, an ideal school horse, solid and dependable. She was to be my first true ride before the first summer’s end. Then in the corner box was Madge, a tri-coloured Pony about 13.2. Adjoining on the Straight Bit side of the stables was the tack room. Warm in the winter, thanks to the tortoise stove, a room with the most delicious smell of horse sweat and saddle soap. I loved cleaning tack, a wet day job. Each horse had its own rack and peg for saddle and bridle. Halters were just a heap on the ottoman, which had all the cleaning tackle in it. A huge window facing White Pit Lane letting in plenty of light. Behind the tack room was the feed store and on to the flush toilet and wash basin. I keep saying flush toilet as they were only just becoming a normal thing with the building of all the new houses. The gap between the stables and the tack room led to several steps up to the Office. Miss Jennings’ domain. Looking out to the road the stable block behind you, the water trough was under the hedge. The space between the hedge and the stables was quite a large space. Enough for the ride to assemble, usually 8-9 horses and ponies. Behind the stable block was again a large area. By the hedge on the White Pit Lane side of the yard was a gate leading into a field. May could not have owned this field as there were often cows in it but no horses were ever put in there. Next to the gate was the muck heap. What happened to the muck, as I’ve said, was a puzzle as it never seem to get bigger. There was also a half covered or half open barn in which the hay was stored. It smelt wonderful. We would eat our sandwiches there during the sunny days of summer. Next to the hay store was a Nissan hut. A brown semi-rusty structure with a curved roof, completely made of corrugated iron. The bottom end of the hut was full of unused items and a chaff machine. At the front of the hut the ponies were stabled. From the door on the left was Tommy, a beautiful bright bay Welsh pony about 12.2. Next to him stood Christine's livery. On the other side of the hut was another livery and near the door Pedro. He was about 14 hands. A dark liver chestnut, with undecided origins. Both Tommy and Pedro were not malicious but they could be very naughty boys, usually egging each other on. Pedro was a bugger to catch, until he realised he would be on his own in the field. Then Tanner, Sixpence, a grey mare about 14 hands. She had to be tied up out side as the poor soul had sweet itch, a condition where the pony will rub itself raw along its mane and the top of its tail. Tanner also had a huge lump on the left side of her head. It missed where her bridle went but she never wore a noseband and it never seemed to bother her. As kids we took no notice of it. Tanner was Tanner lumps and scratches. She also had a very calm sweet nature. Then there was Flicker. A small very old 30+ years pony that wandered the yard at will. She never went out of the open gate. The poor soul was covered in big hanging warts under her tummy. We went one weekend and she was there no more. I think only May missed her, someone said she was Miss Jennings’ first pony. To us she seemed so old that the pony must have come off Noah's Ark, but looking back it was quite feasible for it to be true. She could not be ridden so poor Flicker was not worth our notice. To us children the outdoor life appeared not to have been kind to May either, and to us she was old, but she was probably only in her mid-30s. Daily life at the stables took on its own rhythm. Up at 6am, feed Snowy my white mouse. Wash and dress. Make some sandwiches and off on my bike as fast as my legs could peddle. If I peddled hard enough before the dip in the Straight Bit, now a layby, you could free wheel almost to the end of The Straight Bit with no more effort. Okay, it was a bit wobbly towards the end of the horses' field, testing each day to see how far you could get. Then up the small slope, pass the water tower and into the stables. The water tower to me is the old iron structure that stood on the corner of Northern Wood Road, White Pit Lane, Straight Bit and Juniper Lane. The summer of 1959 was hot, sunny and full of fun. It could have been wet and windy all six weeks, but to me it was a glorious summer. After about a week of work I was told I could have a ride. Some lessons were held in the horses’ field, these were mainly lead rein learners as they could have full control of their own horses and learn the gaits of their mounts. 'Up down, up down, up down,' instructions from the centre of the circle as the horses followed each other around a 20-yard circle. 'In walk, heads up, heels down, grip with your thighs,' not done today, it's more about balance. 'Heels down, toes up. Elbows bent and into your waist, hands supple and give the horse its head. The horse at the front trot to the rear of the circle. Up down, up down, up down.' Luckily the horses were all on automatic pilot, bored to death but happy to oblige if that's what it took. The new comers were kept at group practice most of the lesson, the ones more advanced were walked away from the group to the other side of the field nearer the golf links. Down to the bottom of the hill and allowed to canter up the hill to the top, turn around and do the same twice more. Lesson over, back up to the yard. Dismount loosen the girths, and offer the horse a drink from the trough. By now the next ride was ready. There were two rides in the morning 9.00 and 10.15. I think. Time meant nothing to me. The second ride of the morning and the 4pm ish ride went on a hack, but this could be altered depending on riders competence. 1.30, 2.45, 4pm. The hacks out were usually to Fennels Wood. We would turn right from the yard to the water tower, down the Straight Bit till reaching Links Road. Right into Links Road. We would walk all the way to Treadaway Hill, past Miss Jennings's house, Hill Top. Right onto Treadaway Hill to where it joins Swains Lane. Cross over the road and into the wood. The wood sloped down to the road, you could get into the wood anywhere. No gate, no entrance. It was not until they widened Treadaway Hill, while building the M40, that the wood suddenly had steep sides. Back to riding, the first part of the wood was well used and loved by kids with bikes. Just inside the wood was a group of quite deep holes that had mellowed over many years. This was great for switchback riding on your bike. No BMXs those days, we would spend hours and hours going round and round the tops and up and down the dips. We horse riders ignored all the noise and bustle as we had other places to be. Through the woods to the entrance on Fennels Way. Here was the path to Loudwater School. We would walk down to the gate at the bottom. Then the horses and ponies knew what was about to happen. Excited riders were ready. It seemed without a command the ride would turn as one and gallop back up the hill. The riders thought it was wonderful and the horses enjoyed it too. If we had made good time we would do it all again. Trot back to Treadaway Hill via the top path in the wood, parallel to Fennels Way, over the road to Miss Jennings's and trot some of the way along Links Road. There were two sections of Links Road but all the surfaces were untarmaced. From the Straight Bit we would walk home to the yard. Last ride of the day. The steeds would be untacked, given a drink and returned to their field. Many more hands to take them back than to fetch them in the morning. Clean the stables and yard then it was time to go. Some older people, two men as I remember, would hire two of the thoroughbreds and disappear for most of Sunday morning. The horses were far too big for us children so we gave it no thought. One of the men started to hang around the yard and dropped a rumour that May had a metal plate in her head. She had taken on a bet that on a horse she could beat a car from the Marlow Road to the Magpie pub racing up Sheepridge. Apparently she fell off and was hospitalised. True or not I have no idea. Why the man spread the rumour no idea on that one either, unless May had given him the romantic cold shoulder. Another ride not often taken, was to walk down Northern Woods Road and onto a foot path just before Blind Lane. We would walk parallel with Blind Lane, behind the houses along the field into the woods. No buildings to stop us. Through the wood and on to farmers fields. Keeping to the edge of the field we would get as far into Bourne End as time allowed. Then a glorious gallop back into the wood, up the road, to home. In Northern Woods there was supposed to be a pit full of water, so full it once drowned a horse and buggy. Tactics to keep children safe? All I remember are beautiful beech trees and carpets of bluebells. This was all in the future for me. That first summer, school holidays were rushing to an end. There was to be a gymkhana at Bourne End. It was in a field on the left, now housing, on the turning to Hedsor Hill, before the garden centre. The ride of all the ponies and most of the horses set off early in the morning along the parallel path along Blind Lane down to Bourne End. I still could not ride proficiently enough for Miss Jennings so I drove down with her and Tilly in the car. My job was to care for Star. An arduous task for a horse loving 11 year old. To me she was BIG 16+ hands, I was tall and thin as a rake. I had to sit on her all day long. Heaven. No hat, a blouse and some old tartan trousers and wellies. She was a solid honest horse so I was in good hands. Most of the morning was taken with jumping. I don't remember much about it, I was miles away as happy as it's possible to be. Gently manoeuvering Star around so she did not get too stiff. She was a jumping horse. Different people used her for different classes. In the afternoon were the pony club games – noise, excitement and progressively excited ponies. For the novices there was a run and lead race. 'Come on Barbara have a go' I have no idea where the entrance fee came from, or if there was one. 'Take Pedro, he's really fast'. The race was to get your pony to the other end of the course as fast as you could, throw yourself off and with the pony in tow run back to the start. In a sort of line, atop Pedro, the starter shouted ‘ready, steady’ and Pedro was off, we were at the bottom of the field within seconds, feet from stirrups, throw yourself off, turn and run back as fast as you can. Remembering the golden rule, never let go of the reins. We were first back. Two more heats and it was 6 of us in the finals. Chaos at the start, nearly level. 'GO' half way down the field, and now beside himself with excitement Pedro gave a huge buck and I'm sitting on the ground, still holding the reins. I stood up and my trousers fell down. Mortified I pulled them back up and walked over to our group. 'Never mind, you did well'. I'd fallen off, I was starting to become a rider. A weary troop headed home. Miss Jennings and I got back in the car and long before the ride got home we had sorted feeds and carrots out for all equine contenders. Star may have come home on a lead rein. I don't remember, we just took all the horses, Atom and Star were jumping horses, as I have said. different people rode different horses for whatever events. After six weeks it was decided that I would be riding so at great expense I was kitted out, a vision in Harry Hall Equestrian Wear. There was a shop in Wycombe behind the Pepper Pot called Wood's in front of the church, it did sports wear and school uniforms. Black velvet crash hat (this was such a safety item you had to sew your own piece of elastic, the elastic went under your chin to keep the hat on your head). Two long sleeved sweat shirts, a red and a yellow one, winter was coming, and then the Calvary Twill jodhpurs. These were not the elegant elastin styling of today, they were of the balloon shape at the thigh variety. Morecambe and Wise style. Then little brown jodhpur boots with a zip at the side. Because I was such a skinny child I'm sure elastic was sewn at the bottom of the jodhpur legs, to go under the feet to stop my jodhpurs riding up. I was now the part. Just a slight dress malfunction. If you fell off, your hat 9 times out of 10, would hit the ground, minus head, long before you did. A few days after the gymkhana, and before starting my new school I complained my right arm hurt. Off to A&E at Wycombe hospital. A green stick fracture 6 weeks in plaster. Oops. Sadly one summer afternoon much later, we could not wake Miss Jennings from her lunch time nap. So we organized ourselves, horses and riders and I set off out with the ride. I remember it was a glorious day and we went into Fennel's Wood. We got back all in good order and Miss Jennings was in the yard. She was furious, what did I think I was doing, etc, etc. no reasoning with her at all. She would not except that we could not wake her, and should not have taken out the ride. Sadly she had perhaps enjoyed a nip too much of whisky with/ or instead of lunch. Then realised she could have been in real trouble if things had gone wrong. Shouting at us was not the way to go. She really took it out on me. I just got my bike and road home, never to go back until the 1962/63 winter snow. I ‘worked’ down the stables for what seemed many glorious years but it could only have been 3 at the very most, but still some of my fondest memories. Photo of Jennings horses courtesy of Barbara Murfin.