"I will begin with my father: I think he worked for the Franklins at Swinford and Farmoor for practically all his working life, except for the end, when he was employed by Mr Hurley and Mr Tanner at Farmoor Farm. He worked from 5.30 in the morning until 5.30 at night seven days a week, working on the farm, milking cows etc, then starting out with the milk-float and horse into Botley, Osney and St Thomas's to deliver the milk. On the way he would buy milk from Mr Howes' farm in Botley, if he thought he was going to need it.
I remember leaving Swinford to live in the lane when I was about five years old, the youngest but one of the family, which consisted of eight girls and one boy. We must have lived there for a number of years as both my parents died there; I was thirteen years old when my mother died and fifteen years old when my father died.
The lane was a lonely place in those days with thick hedgerows on both sides. One night my father heard a girl screaming at the bottom of the lane; he lit the lamp and flew to her rescue. She was being attacked by a man; at his trial my father had to give evidence. The man was found guilty and sentenced. As children we heard noises which we thought were birds pecking the windows - it was robbers trying to get in. Previously they had attempted to break in The Mansion at Oakenholt; when my father went to investigate they fled down the garden on all fours.
We had all sorts in the lane, escaped convicts gypsies and tramps. Tramps once left their belts behind with a note saying "This is where two tramps ate their custard and porridge, the belts won't fit now." On another occasion the baker, Mr Chris Biggers of Eynsham, was delivering our bread and chatting to my mother. While he was doing so my younger sister got up into the cart and the horse bolted; she was so terrified she jumped out just along the Farmoor road and landed in the ditch - luckily she did so, as the horse didn't stop until he got to the Tollgate.
As children we used to go into Mr Mydal's field at night to watch my father set his traps for moles; he would skin them and tack their skins on to a board to dry and send them away. He would get half a crown for a good skin, which was good money in those days.We also gathered mushrooms as big as dinner plates and watercress by the bucket-full.
At one time my sister Ella delivered milk and pushed a float but I can't recall where; it must have been in the Swinford and Farmoor area, as that was where she was living, and she often talked of Jim Nash. I also had a half-brother living in Eynsham at the time, who delivered milk; his name was Jess Treadwell.
On my father's death we had to leave the house in the lane to live in one of the Army huts. At that time there was a brick bungalow vacant, and it was a toss up whether the Simmonds family should occupy it or us - rightly the Simmonds family won as they had parents. We occupied the first hut facing the Oxford Road, opposite the garage.
I suppose we lived there for about two years or longer until we were granted a Council house in Oxford, which of course was better for us all."
(Mrs Foster, writing from Wolvercote in 1990)