|View of last 10 acres - 1982|
Roy was trained as a blacksmith, with his father. Together they cleared the land with Clydesdales and chains to rip out the stumps, then used a stump-jump plough to finish the job.
Between the two great wars the Andersons grew flowers, using blackberry hedges as windbreaks and land markers.
"Never did put fences up. We grew the most beautiful flowers and supplied many markets. All that's left now is the blackberry hedge. You know you can't grow flowers near paling fences, don't you? Blackberries let the gentle breezes through yet protect them from strong winds," he said.
Roy's only other friends have long gone. He trained and raced greyhounds 50 years ago, but speaks of his champion Joylad (a winner at White City and Gracedale Park) as though it was yesterday.
"I had to get rid of them. People were always stealing them." Little wonder with no fences.
A row of giant pine and cypress trees form a northern boundary. There is a disused fowl shed, some ancient ploughs and five rusting cars - all from a forgotten era when Vauxhalls and Hillmans and old V8 utes were supreme.
|Roy Anderson's house 1982|