Herbert and Florence Lovelock

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The obituary of Herbert Lovelock, 9.5.1913 - 15.2.1999:

Kindly sent by his grand-daughter Kay Kemp, February 2025.

Written and presented by John Newton,this gives a special indoght into farming and village life in the mid 20th century.

Herbert William Lovelock was born on the ninth of May 1913 in the little Wiltshire village of Wilton. one of six children to Joe and Annie. When he was only a few months old, his family moved to the nearby village of Wexcombe, as his father took up employment with the legendary farmer, A.J. Hosier. It was from here, in due time, that Herbert walked daily across the fields to school at Grafton.

Schooling over, he followed his father onto the land, quickly learning the intricacies of harnessing and working with horses and, much more exciting for a young lad, tractor driving - a natural aptitude for which was to lead to a major change in his life e'er long.
On 3rd September 1933, aged twenty, he married Florence Ryder in a ceremony at Ramsbury, a blessed union that was to last for almost sixty years, until her passing in November 1992. Their first home was nearby his parents in Wexcombe, where the first four of their children were born.

It was whilst thus employed at Wexcombe that the inventive genius of the estate owner was to manifest itself with the invention and patent of the portable milking machine, or bail as it was commonly known. This received international acclaim and led to a significant change in the whole of the dairying industry - for, with the ability to transport the milking parlour around and follow the dairy herd from field to field, the age-old system of dependence on a few fields close by the farmstead to support the milking cows, could be done away with. Now the herd could roam far and wide, bringing increased fertility to hitherto often marginal land. Those employed in this system of dairying-referred to as Cowmen in their day - were employed on a contract basis, receiving remuneration above the level of the more structured agricultural employee. Herbert soon sought this as his employment and quickly mastered the art of his new career, his love for his growing family and their wellbeing spurring him on to seek greater financial reward for his labours.

The onset of the second world war, together with the directive for increased food production, coincided with his employer's purchase of the major portion of this village of Combe, the vast majority of its acreage lying idle or derelict at that time, its previous owners having used the land as a sporting facility since before the turn of the century. However, before this estate could be fully utilised, it needed much reclamation, and it was to Herbert that his employer first turned. It was he driving a large crawler tractor, who single handedly, at first, set about its transformation.

Travelling daily from his home in whatever transport was made available to him and returning as darkness fell, the part he played in this reclamation programme has been widely acclaimed. A vast number of acres of hilltop land were cleared of scrub and thorn , gorse and larger trees, which were swept up by him with a farm made sweep attached to the front of his tractor and pushed into the several chalk pits which dotted the landscape and there to burn in huge bonfires that raged for weeks.

Once cleared, this newly available land was turned over to cereal production and thence to pasture land. In all this, Herbert played a major role.

However, before a milking herd could be established on the farm, it was necessary to equip each field with an adequate water supply, and at the same time to install this vital resource to the dwellings in the village. Here again it was Herbert who drove the tractor which ploughed out the deep furrow to accommodate the water pipes - a system, which on completion extended for more than two miles. It was he also who, upon the construction of the new reservoir on top of Walbury Hill, similarly pIoughed out a trench, arrow-straight, down over the steepest part of that formidable hill, from the reservoir to the pumphouse, the scar of which remains visible to this day and is a testament to his skill and daring.

With the arrival of the herd of cows and the portable bail, the income of which was, for several years, the mainstay of the village economy, Herbert laid aside his tractor and, once again, became a contract cowman. It was during this time that his service to the estate and by association, to this village community became legendary. Rising well before dawn, together with his assistant; which for several years was his daughter Joan who worked with her father as an inspired team, he would harness the horse and make his way with the milk float to wherever the bail was situated, to carry out his task. This would have been carried out in all weathers, sometimes in the most adverse condition such as fog or low-lying cloud, where the task of finding the herd was ever more difficult. These days were ones of constant toil - the short winter days barely providing enough time for the necessary twice-daily milking routine and the feeding of the animals in his charge. The lush grass of summer provided more respite for him, a few snatched hours which he put to good use in his garden.

But what of the man himself? Herbert Lovelock was a big man in every sense of the word. A large, strong, barrel-chested man whose native Wiltshire dialect never left him and was a joy to listen to. He possessed an engaging chuckle, the evidence of which were the laughter lines which marked his temples. He was a man blessed with the most noble of attributes- those of humility, compassion and sensitivity, It was through these tenets of his being that, upon the birth of his fifth child, Robert -born several years after Joan, Ruth, Peter and Christopher, he and his beloved wife sought to foster Mark, raising him as their own in order that Robert would not be denied that special feeling of childhood, that of growing up in a loving, caring family atmosphere, with someone of his own age to share it with, as had his elder brothers and sisters.

Like a candle placed in a darkened room, which gradually spreads light to every comer and bathes those assembled with the warmth of its glow, so too did those in the company of Herbert feel the warmth of his personality. He possessed that sense of being which encompassed all around him with a feeling of safety and stability and exuded an almost tangible atmosphere of wellbeing. One sensed that here was a man who was confident in his own ability to protect and hold safe his family, and, by the sweat of his brow and strength of his arm, to provide for their needs. This he did in good measure and was justifiably proud of his achievement. With his garden full of vegetables, chicken in their run and a pig in the sty, his table was well laden, as was the warmth of his kitchen ever open to those privileged to be his friends. He was a good man who enjoyed a full and long life... there is much to tell but today provides neither the time nor the space...such as the Saturday morning haircutting sessions when his deftness with scissors, comb and clippers belied the size of his strong hands - or the evenings in the communal potato patch where the milk-float horse provided the muscle power!

And so we gather today in this holy place to say 'farewell' to this remarkable man, and in so doing pay our respect and deepest sympathy to his beloved family, who sustained him through his life, never more so that in his retirement and latterly, after the passing of his beloved Florence. To them we say that we share their grief, their sorrow is ours to bear also, we who have known and loved him will always cherish his memory and recognise that he was not only a big man but a great man. One who assuredly as those ancient stone-age men marked this earth with their toil of ages past- so too did Herbert Lovelock tread these fields and leave his imprint on this land for all to see who follow after. Yes, Combe was his home - his village and his valley.

MAY HE REST IN PEACE. AMEN.

John Newton
20th February,1999

The obituary of Florence Lovelock, 20.5.1915 - 6.11.1992:

Kindly sent by her grand-daughter Kay Kemp, February 2025.

Written and presented by John Newton,this gives a special indoght into farming and village life in the mid 20th century.

Florence Lovelock was born Florence Ryder on the twentieth of May, 1915, one of six children, her home being the village of Vernham Dean, where her schooling took place.

When only six, she met a young boy named Herbert Lovelock from the nearby village of Wexcombe, whom she was later to fall in love with and marry in a ceremony at Ramsbury on the third of September, 1933, when aged eighteen.

Then began a marriage that was to span almost sixty years. In fact exciting plans were being formulated for a diamond wedding celebration to take place next year, but which sadly now can never be. A marriage which had all the hallmarks of being made in heaven, a marriage blessed with children and one full of love and devotion.

Having married, the young agriculturalist and his bride set up their first home in his native village of Wexcombe, where the first four of their children were born. However, as in so many other families the dark days of war were soon to change their lives forever. His employers' purchase of the Combe estate in 1939 led to him becoming single-handedly at first - the one who sought to reclaim once derelict land, and put it under the plough for wartime food production. This necessitated almost every daylight hour being spent away from his wife and family. So much so, that on some summer Sunday afternoons Florence would walk the hills with her family from Wexcombe to Combe to share a picnic with her husband and to allow him precious time with his children, returning home together at the end of a long day, in whatever transport had been made available to him.

It was as a desire to spend more time together that the family, having been offered the opportunity, chose to move into Box Cottage in this tiny village of Combe. Doing so on the fifth of December 1942, where soon their family was to expand to six, with the arrival first of Robert.- to be followed a year or so later by Mark.

Then began a love affair with their chosen home that was to last for almost half a century: almost fifty years in which Florence cherished not only her home, her village and this valley but devoted herself not only to her husband and family, but to the well-being of everyone around her. Her love and self-less devotion to her family was an inspiration to all who knew her, and were privileged to have witnessed it. She clearly demonstrated to all the Christian meaning of love and motherhood, and a sense of duty to others that shone, and stills stands today as a beacon glowing in the darkness. This had always been a tenet of her life and personality, even in the early days when in common with all others her home lacked the most basic of today's amenities, and yet food, comfort and the warmth of family love there was in plenty, despite wartime rationing!

In those early days, she shared with a few other mothers an extended family. The handful of village children spending all of their time together, not only at school but at play. Whose favourite hunting and playground lay in the box hedges and square of land opposite her home. From where she kept a wary eye on everyone and from where with her ever open door she administered to their every need - a bandage, a sticking plaster but more importantly; compassion and inner refreshment. Yes , the 'Combe Kids' as we became collectively and affectionately known were indeed fortunate, :and formed friendships then, that span the years and cannot be broken.

As time rolled by, her family grew up, married and had families of their own, her love growing accordingly to take in grandchildren and great-grandchildren on equal terms measuring out to each one that same blend of love and tenderness with which she was blessed. A caring nature that continued to be poured on not only her own family but all those around her. Down through the years, everyone in this village will undoubtedly have had cause to thank her, for her help and kindness which came in many forms - from looking after their houses, in their absence: to just tidying up for them: for feeding their animals, and for supporting every facet of village life. For many years she had assisted the Fosbury's at their shop and bakehouse, the very centre of this community. Besides which for more years than can be remembered she cleaned and cherished this ancient House of God with the same depth of love and affection that she 'bestowed upon her own home and family.

I am convinced that the almost tangible air of permanence, tranquillity and sense of belonging that emanated from Box Cottage over the years was the reason why many of whom had held the highest offices and travelled the world extensively, would, in later life, seek to become part of the community. Having arrived, they quickly put down their roots and became accepted into the village and enjoyed their share of this special kind of hospitality.

Sadly, we meet together today in this hallowed place, which has seen so many happy family occasions so far removed from today's assembly, to say farewell to one of this enchanted valley's favourite daughters, but not before praising God for her life, her love and her work amongst us. A lifetime spent in His service and in the service of others - a lifetime cut short, by an illness she had borne patiently and without rancour, which she dismissed as merely a nuisance , and over which she seemed to have triumphed, at the very time of her passing.

I want Herbert, his children, grandchildren and wider family to know that today they grieve not alone , their sorrow is our sorrow, their sadness is ours also. On behalf of us all and all who knew and loved her I wish to record our very deepest sympathy and condolences. at this tragic time.

Please remember , that the darkest hour of the night, is the hour before daybreak, - for Florence Lovelock this dawn has surely come and she now deservedly walks in brilliant sunshine, hand in hand with Jesus and Rests in Peace.

John L. Newton 13.11.92