According to the 1911 census, my paternal great-grandparents, Frederick and Edith Nunn, lived at 51 Wantz Road.
With them at that stage were their four sons (including my grandfather, Arthur) and one daughter.
They must have moved there sometime after 1901, having relocated from a house just around the corner in Queen Street.
That Wantz Road property would turn out to be a long-term family home – well, for Edith at least, as she continued to live there for the next 51 years until her eventual passing in 1962.
She was, by all accounts, a formidable woman with a wicked sense of humour. Born in Maldon in 1869, the daughter of a blacksmith/iron founder, she worked for a while (as many did in those days) as a live-in domestic servant – in her case to the wealthy draper, William Archer and his family, at 61 High Street (now Coes).
Edith was also a life-long Conservative and I still have a letter of condolence from Brian Harrison, MP for Maldon from 1955 to 1974, describing her as the constituency’s “oldest member”, much appreciated for her “loyal support”.
Following her marriage to Frederick (a Maldon baker) in 1896, she went on to bring up seven children in that small Wantz Road cottage. They all knew 51 well and affectionately referred to it as 'the Farmhouse'.
The building, or perhaps I should say buildings (51 and adjoining 53), are still there today, but renumbered as 75.
Number 75 was, during the interim, 73-75 – that change having occurred following the construction of numbers 1 to 23 at the High Street end of the road.
The Farmhouse, as I will now call 73-75 (formerly 51-53), is a curious structure.
Standing partly side on to the road, it is somehow imposing and has a chequered history.
From the air (and on maps) together they form a sort of ‘T’ design – 53/75 being the side-on top to the ‘T’ and 51/73 the parallel arm. That distinctive shape does not appear on the Chapman and Andre Survey of 1777, but it can be seen on the 1839 Tithe Award - so construction must have taken place sometime between those dates.
The 1839 Award lists it as a house and barn, owned and occupied by Henry Finch.
The building sat isolated alongside three large fields that extended from Wantz Chase all the way down to Mill Road (and at one time called Castle Crofts).
Finch, a butcher, also owned those fields and used them as pasture – clearly the origin of that enduring, colloquial title ‘the Farmhouse’ (the house might have even been called 'Castle Mount Farmhouse' at one point).
That conjoined arrangement continued until 1873, when the building was subdivided, 53/75 being the larger house and 51/73 the smaller, road-facing cottage – although both had five rooms each.
We know that by 1881, 53/75 was occupied by haybinder Thomas Claxon, along with his wife Caroline and a boarder, James Slade (gardener).
Thomas and Caroline Claxon were still there in 1891, whilst next door at 51/73 was Edwin Sampson (a carrier) with wife Elizabeth and their five children.
In 1901 they continued to be at 51/73 and the Claxons had been replaced at 53/75 by a Mary Gill, living there on her “own means” along with her nephew.
When my ancestors were at 51/73 in 1911, their neighbours were Annie Fraser (“head of house”), her three children and five boarders – including greengrocer Charles Bond.
Chimney sweep-cum-marine store dealer Edward Cole was at 53/75 by 1917 and the Coles were still there when Edith Nunn died at 51/73 in 1962.
A local almanac of 1966 lists just number 75 – EJ Cole in residence.
It would appear that things had turned full circle and 73-75 was again in single occupancy.
Every house has a story, but what a fascinating tale the Farmhouse has to tell – from Henry Finch’s smallholding to sub-division and all that subsequent human activity.
They were once like you and me, but life was undoubtedly much harder then.
The ghostly whispers embedded within its old walls talk in hushed, distant tones of haybinding, of horse and carts, bread and cakes, flowers, fruit and veg, soot and the sea. Not forgetting, of course, great-granny Nunn who I can still see standing at the garden gate.
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