Geoff Stead, of Kendal, recalls neighbours in the 1950s

IN THE 1950s, neighbours were the heart of the community, with everyone knowing everyone else, and a great deal of their business too.

It was mainly the ladies who kept up-to-date with the local news, and most days there were women gossiping at garden gates and outside the village shops.

Whether or not all this talk was edifying, I couldn’t say, but it engendered a sense of belonging and security in those days.

Doors were seldom locked during daylight hours, and neighbours were always in and out of each others houses.

Mrs Edwards, who lived on our row of cottages, was a frequent visitor, usually on the pretext of asking mam to sort out her knitting, which always seemed to be going wrong.

She would walk straight into our kitchen, with only the faintest tap on the front door.

Once, as a ‘thank you’ gesture, Mrs Edwards brought us a heavy Victorian barometer, in a mahogany case. Mam didn’t like it, but we three children pounced on it, and had the mercury out on the hearth rug in no time at all.

An awkward scene followed, when the benefactor re-appeared to see where we’d hung the barometer. My sister, brother, and I tried to hide the dismembered article, but Mrs Edwards’ eagle eye took in the situation at a glance.

“Nay, Mrs Stead”, she exclaimed, “what ‘av you gone and let ‘em do that for?”

Mostly, though, having this close-knit community, was a wonderful thing. Making, for us children, a happy environment in which to grow up.