The Vanishing Acres: From Cowhayes Farm to the Foredown Frontier
While the industrial heart of Portslade was braced for impact during the war, a quieter transformation was taking place just 'up the hill.' To many of us, roads like Foredown Drive and Fairfield Gardens feel like they’ve always been there, but look closer at the flint walls and the steep gradients, and you’ll find the ghost of Cowhayes Farm.
The Goatcher Dynasty
The Goatchers weren't just farmers; they were a significant local name in the Sussex agricultural circuit. Albert Goatcher is the name most associated with the final years of the farm, but the family had deep roots.
The Mixed Farm: Unlike the heavy industrial south of Portslade, Cowhayes was a "mixed farm." This meant they had a bit of everything: arable crops on the flatter land near the Old Shoreham Road and livestock (sheep and cattle) that used the "drift" (Cowhayes Lane) to get to the higher grazing on the Downs.
The Goatcher Speciality: In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the Goatchers were known for their horses. Before the internal combustion engine took over, they provided the "horsepower" that moved goods through the village.
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| Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland Map Images website. |
Life at the Flint Farmhouse
The farmhouse itself was a classic Sussex flint structure.
The Well: The farm relied on its own water. The well was deep, cutting right into the chalk. When the developers (Comber & Wheatland) moved in, these wells had to be carefully capped—some residents in the Foredown area might still have a "hollow" sound under their patios today!
The "Lost" Barns: Before the 1932 map was published, the farm had a massive complex of flint barns. These weren't just for hay; they were social hubs. Harvest suppers for the local labourers were held there, a far cry from the quiet suburban gardens that replaced them.
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| Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland Map Images website. |
The Transition: Why did it go?
The 1939 map captures the "beginning of the end." After WWI, the economics of small-scale farming in Portslade changed.
Death Duties and Debt: Like many Sussex farms, Cowhayes likely struggled with the high taxes of the 1920s.
The "Building Goldmine": The land was worth far more as "plots" for bungalows than it was for barley. When the Goatchers sold to the developers, they were essentially selling the future of Portslade.
The shift from the 1932 map to the 1939 edition tells a story of more than just bricks and mortar; it tells the story of a community moving up the hill. While Albert Goatcher’s cattle were being pushed further north, families like Jil’s were moving into the 'modern' world of Foredown Drive.
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| Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland Map Images website. |
By the publication of this 1952 survey, the transformation is absolute. Every physical trace of the Cowhayes Farm buildings has been erased from the map, replaced by the neat, residential geometry of Hayes Close and the surrounding estates. The 'Laundry' that once straddled the road has retreated, and the open allotments where Grandad and Uncle Rob dodged German cannon fire are now being claimed for the final wave of bungalows in Fairfield Gardens.
For my parents, moving into their new bungalow in Fairfield Gardens, the history of Cowhayes wasn't a dusty archive—it was the raw chalk of their garden and the unfinished roads at their doorstep. They were the pioneers of a new Portslade, building a life on the very ground where the Home Guard had stood watch only years before.
Today, as we look at these maps (reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland), we see that Cowhayes Farm never truly disappeared. It simply changed its shape. It lives on in the sturdy stained glass that survived the Bofors guns, in the flint walls of the old village, and in the memories of those who remember when the 'frontier' was just a field away.
1. The Survival of "Cowhayes Cottage"
In the first clip, the cottage stands alone with its outbuildings, surrounded by open fields and the ancient trackways that likely served the Goatcher family. In the second clip, notice how the new housing on Benfield Crescent and Foredown Drive has been built right up to the cottage's boundary.
The Narrative Angle: It looks as though the developers, Comber & Wheatland, literally built around the existing farm buildings. Cowhayes Cottage changed from a place of work to a historical island in a sea of semi-detached bungalows and houses..
2. The Laundry and Industrial Neighbours
To the south-west of the cottage, the Laundry buildings are clearly marked. As we discussed earlier, this was likely Tate’s Laundry, which played a surprising role in wartime engineering. Seeing it on the map helps Jil and other readers understand just how close the "industry" was to the "suburban" homes.
| Name | Trade / Role | Location / Notes |
| Albert Goatcher | Master Farmer | Cowhayes Farm. Last of the traditional farmers on the estate. |
| The Goatcher Family | Horse Breeders / Farmers | Known for supplying horses and agricultural labour to Portslade. |
| Comber & Wheatland | Developers | Purchased the Goatcher land c. 1934 to create the "Foredown Frontier." |
- 1932: The Farm is a working heart, and the Laundry is a sprawling industrial presence on both sides of the road.
The "Industrial/Rural Mix" where the Laundry straddled the road and the farm was king - 1939: The houses have arrived, the eastern laundry is gone, but the Cowhayes Cottage is still holding out.
The "Wartime Frontier" where Jil’s gran’s house is a new build, the eastern laundry has vanished, and the village is braced for invasion
The "Modern Settlement" where the farm and the last of the industrial buildings have been "filled in" by the housing boom, including my parents' area in Fairfield Gardens.
By 1952, the maps show that the battle between the plough and the bricklayer was over. The laundry premises that once straddled Foredown Drive had shrunk back, and the flint barns of Cowhayes were gone. For the families moving into the new bungalows, the farm was no longer a neighbour—it was a memory buried under the new pavements.
Conclusion: The Map is Not the Territory—It’s the Memory
Looking at our three map "chapters"—1932, 1939, and 1952—we see more than just the growth of a postcode; we see the vanishing of a way of life.
The Suburban Frontier: A Final Look
In 1932, the area was a loud, working hybrid. The laundry premises straddled both sides of Foredown Drive, and the Goatcher family still held the reins of Cowhayes Farm. By 1939, the "Suburban Frontier" had claimed its first victories. The eastern laundry was gone, replaced by the sturdy new homes of the Comber era.
It was here, on the west side above Highlands Road, that residents like Mrs Phyllis Alexander—Jil’s grandmother—stood their ground. Long before she was known to a generation of local children as a cook at Benfield Junior School, or to the community as the Honorary Chairman of the Townswomen’s Guild, Phyllis was a young woman guarding her home. From her vantage point, she could look down on the industrial smoke of the canal and up toward the "Stop Line" of the Downs, all while meticulously taping her stained glass with a lattice of gummed paper to withstand the thundering thud of the coastal guns.
By 1952, the maps show a landscape that has finally "settled." The farm buildings are gone, the laundry has retreated, and the final "infill" of the Fairfield Gardens bungalows has bridged the gap between the old village and the new hillsides. My parents, moving into their recent build, were the final piece of the puzzle—living in a peace that was hard-won by the generations before them.
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1. The "Tank Trap" Perimeter
Foredown Drive wasn't just a residential road; it was part of the Portslade "Stop Line." Because it sat on the slope leading up to the Downs, it was a primary route for potential German panzers heading inland from the coast.
The Regime: Residents would have seen concrete "pimples" (anti-tank obstacles) and road blocks at the junctions.
The Neighbourhood Watch: The Home Guard (specifically the 18th Sussex (Hove) Battalion) patrolled the Foredown area. Jil might find that some of her original neighbours were "Night Watchers" assigned to spot paratroopers landing on the Cowhayes farmland behind the houses.
2. The Anderson Shelter Culture
Because Foredown Drive houses had decent-sized gardens, the wartime regime was dominated by the Anderson Shelter.
Unlike the older, cramped terraces in South Portslade where people had to use communal shelters or stay under the stairs, Foredown residents were "lucky" enough to have their own dug-outs.
The Reality: The ground there is quite chalky. Jil’s wartime predecessors would have spent many damp nights huddled in the chalk-white mud of their back gardens while the Bofors guns were firing from the allotments and the coast.
3. The "Stray" Bombings
While the "Reich's primary targets" were the Gasworks and the Canal, Foredown Drive was in the direct flight path for bombers "unloading" their remaining payloads before heading back across the Channel.
Records show several "High Explosive" (HE) bombs fell in the open fields immediately adjacent to Foredown Drive (where the later parts of the estate were built).
The regime for Jil’s street would have involved a lot of broken glass. Even if a house wasn't hit, the blast pressure from bombs hitting the nearby hillsides frequently blew out the windows of the new 1930s semis.
A Map of Foredown Drive Wartime Neighbours
If one wants to look up specific names in the 1939 Register, these were the types of people living on that street just as the war began:
| House No. (Est) | Head of Household | Occupation / War Role |
| Lower Foredown | Railway Workers | Many worked the "Steam Shunts" at the Canal. |
| Middle Foredown | "Commercial Travellers" | A common 1930s middle-class trade; many became ARP Wardens. |
| Upper Foredown | Nurses/Attendants | Working at the Foredown Sanatorium (The Tower). |
From Flint to Forecourts: The Vanished Acres of Cowhayes Farm
For those walking the quiet residential stretches of Foredown Drive or Fairfield Gardens today, it is hard to imagine that less than a century ago, this wasn't a land of semi-detached houses and neatly paved driveways, but a sprawling agricultural frontier. This was the territory of Cowhayes Farm, a name that has largely slipped from the local tongue, yet remains the literal foundation of our neighbourhood.
The Last of the Old Guard
Cowhayes was the "east-end" anchor of Portslade’s farming heritage. Bound to the south by the Old Shoreham Road and stretching up toward the rolling green of the Downs, it was a landscape of flint-walled barns and muddy tracks.
The heart of the operation was the flint-built farmhouse, once overseen by Albert Goatcher. Back then, the commute wasn't done in a Ford or a Vauxhall, but via Cowhayes Lane (sometimes remembered as Mill Lane). This private cart-track was the primary artery of the farm, a dusty bridleway where the only "traffic" was the slow roll of a wagon or the movement of livestock heading for higher grazing.
The Great Transition (1934–1960s)
The "regime" of the farm began to crack in the mid-1930s. As Portslade began to grow, the demand for modern housing saw the farm broken up. The builders—most notably Comber & Wheatland—saw the potential in these open acres.
The 1930s Wave: The first "pioneers" arrived just before the war, moving into the new houses on Benfield Crescent and the lower end of Foredown Drive.
The Wartime Pause: During the 1940s, the development became a "Stop Line" against invasion. While Jil’s Gran was busy taping the stained glass of her new home to protect it from the thundering Bofors guns, the remaining open fields of Cowhayes were being patrolled by the Home Guard.
The Post-War Boom: By the time the 1950s and 60s arrived, the transition was in full swing. This was the era of the modern bungalow.
Life on the "Frontier"
Residents moving into Fairfield Gardens during this period were living on a literal construction site. While the houses were "recent builds," the adjoining roads were often still being laid out. It was a time of raw chalk, construction dust, and the excitement of a new start.
These families were the bridge between two worlds. They enjoyed the modern comforts of a bungalow, yet they were only a stone's throw away from the ghosts of the old farm. You could still see the towering Gasworks chimneys to the south—a constant reminder of Portslade's industrial grit—while looking north toward the heights where the farm's cattle once roamed.
A Legacy in the Soil
Today, Cowhayes Farm lives on in the names of our streets, such as Hayes Close, and the sturdy flint walls that occasionally peek out from behind modern extensions. We’ve traded the plough for the petrol mower, but the "Village" spirit remains. Whether you are a "Butcher's Boy" like Mark Osborne delivering on a heavy trades bike, or a resident of a 1960s new-build, we are all part of the same evolving map.
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Spotlight: The Foredown Strafe – Bullet Holes and Allotments
While we often think of the Blitz as something that happened "over there" in the docks or the city, Jil Alexander’s family memories bring the war right to the garden fence of Foredown Drive.
The Low-Level Raider
Imagine the scene: It’s the early 1940s. The houses on the opposite side of the road haven’t been built yet, so the land has been turned over to allotments. Jil’s Grandad and her Great-Uncle Rob are busy working the soil when the silence is shattered.
A German plane, flying "hedge-hop" low to avoid radar, swoops between the houses. The "Citizen ARP Post" siren in their own garden (which remarkably remained in place until 1993) begins to wail. As the men scramble for cover, the pilot opens fire. Luckily, the aim is off, but the legacy remained: a line of "little perforations" in the pebbledash of the house wall—cannon shell holes that served as a grim reminder of that afternoon until the house was eventually re-rendered in the 1990s.
The Migration from "Old Town"
What’s fascinating is that this wasn't just a street of strangers. Jil, the Eastwoods, and at least half a dozen other families had migrated together from St Andrews Road in the industrial "Old Town." They moved up the hill for fresh air and space, only to find themselves in the flight path of low-level raiders.
The "Indoor" Regime
Jil’s observation about the shelters is a brilliant bit of detective work. While the borough issued 27 Anderson kits, the stubborn chalk of the Foredown slope meant that back-to-back shelters (like the ones at No. 87 and 89) were rare. Instead, many families—including the Alexanders—opted for the Morrison Shelter from 1941 onwards. This heavy steel table in the dining room became the family hub; a place to eat dinner by day, and a steel cocoon to sleep in by night.
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New Spotlight: The Benfield Barrier
While the maps show Foredown Drive as a completed residential road by 1952, Jil Alexander’s family memories remind us of its role as a strategic "frontier" during the war years.
Jil recalls her grandmother, Phyllis Alexander, pointing out the location of a wartime road barrier or checkpoint situated just above Benfield Crescent. As a key route leading from the coast toward the South Downs "Stop Line," this area was under military watch. While not a permanent block—as buses and supply vehicles for the Canadian troops stationed in the Old Village still needed to pass—it served as a constant reminder to residents that they were living on the edge of a fortified zone.
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Over to You: Do You Have a Piece of the Puzzle?
History is never truly "finished," especially in a place like Portslade, where every garden holds a story.
The Foredown Strafe: Does anyone else remember seeing those "little perforations" in the pebbledash of the houses near Highlands Road? Or perhaps you remember the sound of the Citizen ARP siren at No. 87/89 before it was finally removed in the 90s?
The Migration: Did your family move "up the hill" from St Andrews Road or the old industrial terraces of South Portslade to find a new life in the Comber houses?
The "Ghost" Farm: Have you ever found anything unusual while digging in your Foredown garden? A fragment of a flint barn, an old horseshoe, or even a piece of a wartime shell?
We’d love to hear your stories and see any old family photos you might have tucked away. Special thanks to Jil Alexander for her incredible research and for sharing the story of her grandmother, Mrs Phyllis Alexander, whose life bridged the gap between the "Stop Line" of the 1940s and the thriving community we know today.
