THERE were none of the modern conveniences when Donald Buggins was a child. Like many from his era, he grew up with no electricity, no mains water, a lavatory in the back yard and milk delivered in a bucket.

But Mr Buggins, now 90, still has fond and vivid memories of village life in Wootton, near Woodstock.

He recalls: “There was no electricity until the late 1930s. We had paraffin lamps and candles to read with and to light up the cottage. What a joy to read by a 60-watt lamp when mains electricity came.

“The toilet was in the back yard and when it got dark, we had to take a candle. Dad had the unpleasant job of disposing of the waste on his allotment, which was also covered in ashes from our coal fire.

“Mr Powell delivered milk in a bucket and it was measured out with a ladle. Water was drawn from wells and brought home in buckets.

“I remember Mr Harrison, the headmaster at Wootton School, and when he used the cane on us – my, how it hurt! My education was from the age of three until 14.”

Wootton was a lively community at that time, with three pubs, a blacksmith, post office, butcher, baker and grocer.

Mr Buggins, who now lives in Eastbourne, writes: “Mr Cleaver was the village blacksmith. I remember seeing him shoeing the horses and the noise of the hammer hitting the anvil. The post office was run by Mr Perry, who sold groceries and sweets as well.

“Mr Harris was the baker and ran the grocery shop. I helped deliver bread with my Uncle Jim Buggins.

“On Good Friday, I remember the wonderful smell of real hot cross buns. If Uncle Jim had no money on him to pay me, he would give me a cake or bread roll instead.

“Mr Day was the butcher and I recall seeing a pig being killed. My dad and a few others were asked to hold a cow while it was being killed.”

The village’s three pubs were the Killingworth Castle, run by Mr Clark, where Aunt Sally was played on Sunday evenings, the King’s Head with Mr Wardour in charge – “we did a bit of boxing in an upstairs room – I once got a bloody nose” – and the Three Horseshoes, whose landlord was Mr Savin. The Buggins family also supported the village church, where the vicar was the Rev Marriott.

Mr Buggins recalls: “I was in the choir as a boy and my dad was a bellringer. He would toll the bell once every minute to announce a death in the village. Dad would wear his bowler hat when escorting the coffin.”

The summer school holiday was “spent with mum, picking peas and bathing in the local brook and catching crayfish. We played ‘fox and hounds’ in the evenings when it got dark”.

Extra village treats included ice creams delivered by Carlo from Oxford, and fish and chips cooked from a van that visited once a week.

* Any memories from your village to share with readers? Write and let me know.