Dear John, My Memories of Havant Mill
It is now 2015. I was born in Havant in 1939 and
have lived in the area all my life. Havant Mill was
my playground for as long as I can remember. In the
house attached to the mill lived an ‘old lady’ known
to us as ‘Old Mother Wakeford’. She walked slowly
with a stick and always seemed to be around to tell
us off if we did anything out of the ordinary.
In her latter years, she became a target of many a
prank. The most serious one was very dangerous
indeed. My friends and I half filled a ‘Gerry can’
with petrol and, after knocking on Mrs Wakeford’s
door, floated the can in the stream and lit the
fuse. We ran away of course and, as Mrs Wakeford
came scuttling along, there was an enormous
explosion sending water high into the air. She
shouted and waved her stick at us but, as no damage
was done, nothing came of it. We were very lucky.
The mill was fed by two, three feet deep streams
plus water from a nearby watercress bed. These
waters were crystal clear and were often used by us
lads and passers-by, to quench our thirst, without a
thought of contamination. Over the years, the only
water creatures I saw were minnows in their
thousands, small dogfish and, in the shallows, in
the season, tadpoles. This remained so except for
one period of a few months, around 1948, when a
shoal of brown trout appeared, seemingly out of
nowhere. One older boy who I recall was named
Mickey Cooper, tried for days to catch them without
success.
The best way for me to see the trout was to lean
over the concrete topped wall, immediately above a
pipe which carried overflow water from the nearby
watercress beds. The pipe, about eighteen inches in
diameter, was an ideal hiding place for the fish. I
could often see their tails, keeping them still
against the current and well hidden from the likes
of me. However, if I went to the watercress end of
the pipe and stirred up the water, the fish would
retreat into the open water, waiting for it to
clear. Then I could see them, about eight or so in
number. I waited many a long few minutes, perfectly
still, hoping to spear them. Needless to say,
without result.
I never knew where the fish came from nor where they
went but they were in evidence for only a few months
in one year.
I recall nesting grey wagtails (in a hole where the
water wheel had been) but the eggs were soon taken
by the local lads or by the many rats living in the
mill. There were moorhens which nested in the
stream’s east bank along with a variety of other
birds. Rabbits lived in the surrounding fields and
were often shot for Sunday lunch.
I do not recall the mill being used for anything
other than for the storage of grain, straw, hay and
other bulky products. But, as a social gathering
area, the grass and surrounding fields were very
popular with picnickers and courting couples. On
some fine weekend days, it was not unusual to see
fifteen to twenty people enjoying the area.
On one occasion, a friend of mine who walked to
school across the fields and past the mill, saw the
body of a local man who, apparently, was depressed
and used the mill water to end his days.
About 50 yards to the north of the mill was a piece
of land known as ‘The Island’ because it was
surrounded by the two streams feeding the mill. The
waters were clear but dangerous because of the mud
and silt beds but it suited the wildlife, especially
the birds.
Some of the mill walls are still standing but
industry has largely taken over, along with the A27
road. This saddens me because, in my mind, I can
still see what was once a beautiful building. I am
a poor artist but I did make several attempts at
capturing the mill before it was torn down. You are
welcome to keep and use the enclosed painting as you
wish. I do not want it back.
My very kindest regards, Tony Percival.
Tony’s painting of Havant Mill as seen on the front
page of this Newsletter
My thanks to John Silman for sharing this letter and
lovely painting with us.
The original is now safely wrapped up and will be
returned to John ASAPRos
