Steel Pen Factory. She had two sisters one was Rose born 1887 and Flossie born 1889 and a brother Howard born 1899. All three girls shared a bedroom on the top floor. Now I am not sure which of nans sisters it was, but one of them was prone to sleep walking.In the middle of the night the sister would come down the stairs and start to clean all the living room. She would wash the pots, lay the table and even clean out the old black lead fireplace. After her chores were done off to bed she would go.
Now one night she had finished all her jobs, she then opened the front door and went out into the street.At this time a friend of the family who was a police officer was on night duty, and he saw her come out of the house. Knowing that she was sleep walking he followed her through the J.Quarter right down to Icknield St. She went up to the large gates at Warstone Lane Cemetery, which were always locked.She held onto the gates with both hands and shouted let me in; let me in, you know I have to come into you.This went on for a little while, and then she gave up her crying and turned made her way home, still with the family friend behind her. He watched as she went in the front door and he heard the bolts go across and the big key turn in the lock.Next day the policeman returned to the house to tell my great grandparents what had happened, so they could make sure she did not open the door again by taking the key out at night.
This tail ends with my great aunt dead and buried in seven days at the cemetery, which she wanted to get into.
Fields of white stones standing in hundreds of rows
These fields where nothing but our remembrance grows
The years have passed by and these stones still stand
For all the poor souls lost that never returned to our land
Fields now stand silent and peaceful for ever more
Our long lost loved ones, never to come back to our door
The moon rises and the stone shadows sink into the earth
To comfort those lying there who had proved their worth
And when the sun rises their spirits will again soar
As we look at these white stones and bless them forever more
Fields never intended to bury the loss of a terrible war
They should be growing and grazing that's what they are for
As the long years are flying past, of our lost loved ones
Our thoughts will be forever in the fields of white stones
My mom was very close to Fred and I remember when we lived in Carpenters Rd, mom and dad went over there and found Fred's grave mom said it upset her very much and the Dutch people were very kind to them and it was mom who took the photo.