The Story Pt 1
The village shop (now Mereside Stores) was built in 1885 and at the turn of the century was owned by Mr Frank Short; it had a bakery in the building at the side which still stands, and at its peak baked 600 loaves a day. these were delivered by Mr Short with his horse and cart. He was known locally as the midnight baker. A reference more to the time he came home and less to the time he was in the bakehouse. At this time the average wage for a farm worker was approximately 25 shillings per week (£1.25p) working from 7 in the morning until 7 at night in harvest. Beer was 2d a half pint (1p), 5 Derby Cigarettes 2d, 10 Woodbines for 6d (2.5p).
It was said that the ladies of the village used to take their Sunday joint up to the 
bakehouse and Mr Short would cook it for 4d, because at this time the cooking facilities were limited. Mrs Short served in the shop which was quite small in size, an old customer said of her "If you went in for some sweets and they weighed too much she would bite one in half".
At about this time a man called Newmand lived in a railway carriage at the end of Marriotts Drove and he made Wattle Hurdles for a living, which he sold to the highland sheep farmers. He was aid to be an excellent man at his trade, but was sometimes difficult to find because of his habit of going off to the Plough and, if he sold a couple, he didn't return until he was broke.
Opposite where Mereside Stores now stands was Cades Carpenters SHop and a man called Joe Ward made the coffins. At this time in the village were two characters called Gid Enfield and Fred Ingle and one night they were in the shop talking and Joe Ward was about to finish the coffin when he was called out. They decided to have a game, so Gid Enfield said I will get in the coffin and you hide under the bench until he comes back, so they removed the lid and Gid climbed in and Fred put the coffin lid back on, but Gids knees were sticking up a bit and it didn't quite fit. Joe Ward came back and started to move around the lid at this point Gid exclaimed, ease that lit a bit more", well they said you couldn't see Joe for dust, Gid said afterwards" I never though a man could move so fast as he did that night."
Later on Billy Richardson took over making coffins and nearly all the coffins he made were carried at the 
funerals by four brothers all named Smith. Very little money ever changed hands though, as when they wanted a new shaft in their hoe or fork it used to be squared up this way. The hearse at this time was pulled by two black horses with beautiful black plumes on their heads.
As there were still few cars to be seen, Billy Richardson ran a Taxi service with a horse and buggy to take people to Ramsey or Whittlesey to the Doctors etc. Although most people still walked and it is said that Wally Bulls mother walked from pumping cottages down New Rd to Whittlesey every week shopping.
The first radios that appeared cost £100 and were a square box with a horn on the top. A Ford B car with no windows or doors and a canvas top cost about the same money new.
The Wheatsheaf stood approximately where the Marex Inn now stands only it stood right on the edge of the pavement. One room was once a butchers shop and the other a tap room.
Bert Greenwood was a popular character who frequented the pub, he was quite a good fiddle player and after playing in the Wheatsheaf one Christmas night and consuming in the process a number of free beers, he decided he would go over the road to Florrie Ingles and play for her. So with several friends in tow, he sallied forth to stand under her bedroom window and played " Hark the Herald Angels Sing". As this occurred at two o"clock in the morning her response is not recorded for posterity.
The Plough was only an ale house, it could only serve beer as it had no licence for spirits.
The salutation Inn was originally called the Black Swan and had its name changed about 1910. Con Bradford took over the pub in 1925. One of the first aerospace seen close to in the village crashed near there soon after he took over. He remembered as a young lad he took the Peterborough Standard around the village for 4d (1.5p) per dozen and for that price had to fetch them from Ramsey.
One of the stories he told of his time in the pub were, "I remember one night some gipsies
came in the bar and wanted to sell some rabbits. Roley Hodson said he was hungry so he would buy one, and damned me if Aub Dean got out his shut knife and skinned it in the bar. George Abblitt cut a piece off the leg and stuck it on his shut knife and held it over the fire to cook. After a while they took it off and shoved it in Roleys mouth, he really had to chew on it."
"I remember I had a Ford 8 car and one night a man came in the tap room, he had this lovely car and said he thought perhaps he would sell it, well after a bit of haggling, we struck a deal, £80 and my Ford B for his. Some days later we were cleaning out the car and found some personal papers with a name and address on so we thought we would return them, so we got in touch with the previous owner, it was a bad move as the Police came and fetched the car away, it turned out it had been stolen. Three of us had to go up to Leeds and give evidence and the man got five year."
When R..... got real drunk, Pat his wife used to fetch R..... mother, Mary Liz and she would get the copper stick and thrash him with it and he really used to squeal like a stuck pig, it never cured him though. There used to be a man called Wally Green and he was a rare one for buying goats in fact he always reckoned he had the best. so one night while he was in the pub Jack Ablitt and a few others went up to his house and pinched his goat and tied it up outside the "Sally".
"Well Wally", Jack Ablitt said you want to see this goat I got, they went outside and Wally said " I will buy that off you". So Jack Ablitt sold him his own goat, and drunk the proceeds.
The Red Cow was down Marriotts Drove in the middle of no-where, it was said that you could get a drink there anytime as they opened all hours. One day I heard such a commotion near the Red Cow and when we got there, there was this group of Irishmen dead drunk and fighting mad, the landlord had got them out on to the drove and they were fighting one another. When they finished I'm damned if there weren't an ear on the ground, one of the Irishmen had bit the others ear off."