Sons- & daughters-in-law of Walter and Alice Baggs

. . . refused to be called Mrs Baggs. She couldn't see herself being able to uphold her dignity against the other mothers of Launceston, if she was Mrs Baggs. So she insisted, she would only marry him if he would agree to change his name. I don't know why they took the name Pierson—whether it was her maiden name, or was a part of her family name. My mother didn't feel it was quite right, I remember, but they had to accept it. You can understand—can be embarrassing. She was much more of a dominating personality, he was very quiet and retiring, and refined.

Arthur Petts, of Chatham, stoker, said on the last day of the old year the deceased was smoking on deck at about 8 o'clock in the evening. Witness jumped from the forecastle, and, getting into a boat, was landed at Lyme Regis.

. . . was the manager of the Pickfords' office—removal agents and travel agents—in Canterbury. I can't remember seeing them, until I was about twelve, when I went to Canterbury to stay for a week, with Uncle Arthur and Aunt, and my two cousins; . . .

. . . was a much more well-educated, well-read, person, quite a strong character—he was very quiet, and I think very shy, in many ways. I remember my mother saying that her sister Margaret had had a quite unusual courtship with Arthur, that he used to declaim poetry to her, all the while they were out walking. He had a great memory for poetry, and very fond of poetry. He didn't seem to take a great deal of interest in his children, Oliver and Clive, he left it all entirely to my Aunt Maggie. I think she found it a bit of a handful, having to manage them on her own, without any real assistance from Uncle Arthur, who was more interested in retiring to his room, and reading his books. He became very interested in Christian Science, and tried to convert her. He always took the Christian Science newspaper, and went to their meetings very regularly.

. . . They moved, later, to live over the office itself, or the shopfront, in the centre of Canterbury, not far from the Cathedral—very strategically placed for custom.

Can remember the bath room at the Pickfords' office, with its old gas geyser. We had nothing like it at Gillingham. While staying at Pickford's, during the holidays I was occasionally allowed to assist Uncle in the office, stamping dates on tickets etc. & arranging the brochures for holidays etc. for display on the counter. Fascinated by the photos of foreign places to visit. I remember the brochures advertising the Berlin Olympic Games were in the Office.

Uncle Arthur was a member of the Canterbury Players, and he acted in quite a number of their productions—they used to put on a play during the Canterbury cricket week—I think the first week in August was always the time when the Kent team had two very popular fixtures, at Canterbury, for the August bank holiday.

Uncle Arthur would take part of the theatre production during that week, for the visitors; and I remember he had taken a part in T.S. Eliot's play Murder in the Cathedral, when it was first performed in Canterbury Cathedral. I can't remember now which part he had, but certainly there were photographs of him in the part. He had a very good memory for poetry, and acting. A very keen Dickens fan. He gave recitals. I seen to remember a photograph of him as Uriah Heap wringing his hands. And he was always interested in the theatre. I remember, on a later occasion, when I was older (probably I was in the senior school, a prefect of the school) he came to stay overnight, with my mother, on his way back from Stratford—he'd been to the Shakespeare theatre at Stratford—soon after it opened, I suppose—and he was very full of what a wonderful theatre it was. Either then (or another occasion) he took me to a production of the local repertory company, in Rochester (they had a very good local theatre there), I think it was called The Dover Road—which I found very interesting.

When I stayed with them at the shop, in Canterbury, I remember he gave me a few odd jobs to do, in the office—I could do stamping up headed stationery with the address of the firm, and—doing odd little administrative jobs in the office—probably to keep me quiet, or—keep me occupied. In the afternoon I would go to the Kent cricket ground, and see the professional cricketers.

I remember spending one August Bank Holiday week at Canterbury visiting the Cricket ground most days, watching Tich Freeman, Leslie Ames, Chapman, Frank Woolley etc. & 'Johnny Won't Hit Today' Douglas (J.W.H.T. Douglas—?Capt. Hants). Uncle took me to tea in the Rotarian Tent.

The Buffs band played under the trees. And I think on one or two occasions he took me to see the game, he came with me, it may have been his Wednesday afternoon off, and—he had a membership card for one of the tents, where we could have a sit-down meal, during the lunch-hour, and sit on the chairs in front of the tent during the game, and not have to go in with the hoi-polloi in the uncomfortable seats sitting around the ground.

He was a very sort of interesting person to listen to, talk to, and—away from the table—he probably wouldn't say anything at the table, at all, if I remember, except say a few words of correction to keep the boys quiet, or something. There was never any sort of intellectual or any interesting conversation with my aunt, at the table. In his own study he would talk quite fluently, and talk about what he was reading, and tell me about Canterbury, and cricket, and the theatre.

My Uncle Arthur was removed from the office at Canterbury—there'd been a reorganisation nationally. New ideas had been brought in to the organisation of Pickfords', and I think there was a general impression that the office at Canterbury wasn't producing all the amount of profit that it could be, that they needed a younger man with new ideas, and—it's possible that my uncle, with his obsession with Christian Science, had made it interfere with his working habits and contacts. I don't know—but anyway, they decided to move him from Canterbury, and all his friends, and all his associations, and so on, to take charge of the Croydon office; and this upset his mental balance. He got so obsessed with the idea that he'd been very badly treated by the firm, he couldn't adapt to the new surroundings, new people, he couldn't adapt to making a new contacts with theatre people in Croydon, he wanted to go back to Canterbury and resume his contacts there; and it unhinged him. It made it very difficult for my Aunt Margaret; and eventually he had to have electromagnetic therapy, electric shock treatment, to try and clear his mind from this obsession. But it didn't really have the effect hoped for on him, and he gradually got worse and died; I don't quite know the actual medical details, but—it was a rather sad ending to him.

At the meeting of the Canterbury Rotary Club on Tuesday the retiring President (Rotarian Petts) thanked the members for their loyal support during the past year and extended a cordial welcome to the New President [ . . . ]

Moved to Broadstone, Dorset, during the war, when the school where John taught was evacuated. Never moved back to London.

Aunt Grace was a very quiet, retiring sort of person. I always remember her as—no-rimmed spectacles, and—very, very pleasant person altogether, and quite a refined, educated type. I think she must have been a bit of an invalid, in many ways—she didn't seem to be a very robust sort of woman. She had quite a long illness, before she died, and she went blind. She was blind, certainly for the last year before she died. She belonged to the talking book library, and Norah looked after her.