From: Michael Parish <mparish2026@hotmail.com> 

To: Caroline Horstead <carolinehorstead1891@gmail.com> 

Friday 30th January 2026 12:36 

Hello to you Caroline Horstead, how do you do?  

My name is Mick Parish.  

It’s been a real pleasure, in a strange sort of way, getting to know you, from when I was first introduced to you in an email that had been sent to me. I know, Caroline, you ain’t gotta clue what I’m on about. Believe me, I’m only just working them emails out meself. On saying that, things have moved on a long way since your day and my day. I’m one of the many grateful volunteers kindly accepted to write about the history of the famous Robert Toppes’ one-of-a-kind thatched trading hall. I have been finding out about your life, Caroline. I know that you were a 70-year old widow, living by your own means. In the year 1891 you were living at number 20, Old Barge Yard. You were a boarder with Charles Mann, a house painter aged 40. The census is unsure of who he was. So possibly he could have been a family friend to you. A son of your father, or even your husband — they were both in the house and coach painting industry. I’m not too sure myself if he would have been your husband —  you were described as a widow. But then again, who’s to say. Caroline, for whatever reason, you never left a will. Well, maybe that’s something I should think about and do meself. 

When I first read the email that had pinged through, I panicked, thinking I had to write about you and your life. But I didn’t have a clue how to find you or find out anything to do with you. So I calmed meself down and said come on Mick, we can do this, just use your imagination. So I did, and I really enjoyed every bit of it. I used my nous, life experience, and a good imagination to create an imaginary you, Caroline, and I hope you like it. It was a nice surprise for me knowing that you did in fact live for a time in good or bad old London Town, Tiverton Street to be precise. So, Caroline Horstead, hopefully (I’d like to think with your permission) I’d very much like to write the truth of what we do now know about you and the people in your life back in the 1800s.  

If I’ve worked this out right, you passed away in 1895 aged 74. So if I take away 74 from 95 it would mean you were born in 1821. So, Caroline, you were knocking on a bit back in that period of time. I do very much hope that you had a lot of good health and happiness in your long life. I’m knocking on a bit meself, Caroline. I’ll be 73 in a couple of weeks’ time. All this getting old game ain’t no good mate. I didn’t think l would ever reach my age as I’ve been around the block more than a few times, which has now given me, I’d like to think, a good imagination. Not only with my storytelling, but with my writing. Anyway, in 1841 the census shows that your full name was Caroline Gooch Fox. You were a shawl-maker living in Bishopgate, Norwich, aged around 20.  

John Fox was your father. He was 40 years old and a painter. Your mother’s name was Mary-Anne Fox and she was approximately 40 (nee Gooch). Apparently ages were rounded up to the nearest five back then. Good for the people, hopefully like yourself, that could count, not so good if you couldn’t. That’s one thing I was good at, especially if it was to do with a pound note. You had a brother, William, aged 18. A sister, Marie-Anne, aged 15, a shawler, and two other sisters, Eliza aged 3, and Rose was 11 months.

In 1851, one hundred years before I was born, the census says that you, Caroline, were a shoe binder or shawler living with your husband, Thomas Horstead (a painter born in 1822), and your daughter, Emma, a scholar age 7. Also in 1851 I can see that your parents’ names were John and Mary Anne, and they were living at 40 Bishopgate, Norwich, aged 51 and 52. The census says that you weren’t living there, Caroline. But there was a Reuben Gooch, an adopted son aged 13, which they think could have been a relative’s boy. Your sister Marie-Anne became very unwell and passed away. There’s no known facts about this.  

They found your marriage certificate on the births, deaths, and marriage website. On the 26 July 1847 you, Caroline, got married to Thomas Horstead in Newington, Southwark, in London. Your Thomas Horstead was born in 1822 they say, a year before you, Caroline. That to me doesn’t add up, but I suppose we have to give and take as it was a long time ago. As I’ve said, you were both living on Tiveton Street, London. The witnesses were Daniel Wright and Emily Simons. They signed the marriage certificate with a X. 

That’s something I can still remember very well, Caroline. I myself did learn at least how to write my own name, it didn’t look too good but it was my name. But you did remind me of one of my friends in particular. He went to the same school as me, he was called Roland Hill, and the school was in Lordship Lane, Tottenham. He worked as a young rag ’n’ bone —  and an any-old-iron man. He was always out on the streets of North London with his horse and cart, trying to earn a pound note or two. He came outta Lorenco Road, Tottenham, North London. Just down the road from Fred Perry and North Middlesex Hospital. A good stone’s throw away from the old Tottenham football ground. They say it was one of the toughest roads in North London. It was named little Russia, after Russian immigrants had moved there in, I think, the early part of the twentieth century. The road and homes were demolished, pulled down and dug up, so they don’t exist anymore. But there is a plaque screwed to the wall at the end of what used to be the road. Can’t remember what it says now. But I do know I could write a book about the people and what went on, and came outta, Lorenco Road. There was also someone I got to know that lived just around the corner from little Russia. He did a bit of work for the notorious East End of London twins. My horse ‘n’ cart friend had a stroke of luck one fine day, many years ago. He is now a very wealthy man, but as far as I still know and remember, he still signed his name with an X. So it’s nice to know that Thomas and your good self, Caroline, could read and write. Being educated back in your day I think was quite something.  

From: Michael Parish <mparish2026@hotmail.com> 

To: Caroline Horstead <carolinehorstead1891@gmail.com> 

Wednesday 4th February 2026 10:04 

Dear Caroline —

I hope very much that you enjoyed living at number 20 Old Barge Yard. You lived out the rest of your life right by the riverside, and I hope that Charles was a good and kind man, especially to you. Caroline, sweetheart, I can see you now, sitting in a chair, reading a book down by the riverside. The sun is out and you’re smiling, and Charles is on his way over with a cuppa tea that’s not made from rainwater. He is also smiling. Caroline, you looked lovely, and I could go on writing for ever and ever. It’s been a real pleasure and a delight to meet you and to hopefully have written something about you and yours that is ok. I hope very much that you liked it. Maybe we will meet one fine day cos ya never know. 🖐Bye for now sweetheart and take care wherever you are. God Bless. Lots of love, Mick. X 

From: Michael Parish <mparish2026@hotmail.com> 

To: Caroline Horstead <carolinehorstead1891@gmail.com> 

Friday 6th February 2026 20:25 

Caroline, hello my darling girl, it’s me, Mick Parish again. How are you sweetheart? I’m hoping you’re well and enjoying life wherever you may be. I’m so grateful to be alive with it all, it’s like I’m living in the light when I’m here at the Dragon Hall. The explosion it has on my mind takes me into so many different imaginary stories and places. Maybe, Caroline, you felt that light too, when you were living there on King Street at number 20 back in 1891. Right next to the famous Robert Toppes’ one-of-a-kind Dragon Hall. Looking back into the little history we know about you, not only could you read and write, but you were a shawl maker and maybe a shoe-binder as well. It kinda comforts me, knowing how hard it must have been back then, that you had to form your own means to keep them dogs away. As you know, from the 1800s to around 1870, Norwich was famous for producing dress shawls aimed at the middle to high-end. Norwich was also a place for skilled weavers and dyers that worked for the local textile manufacturers throughout the nineteenth century. So my darling, I’d like to think you was a bit handy with your needlework, putting together them higher-end shawls.  

From: Michael Parish <mparish2026@hotmail.com>

To: Caroline Horstead <carolinehorstead1891@gmail.com> 

Sunday 8th February 2026 12:34 

Caroline, I was wondering if you had come across my good friend the rag ‘n’ bone and any old iron man? He passed away earlier this year. I’m sure you would have heard the saying rags to riches. Well Caroline, I’m glad to say that’s exactly what happened to my horse ‘n’ cart friend, so he’s probably floating about up there on one of them clouds. Sitting in his Rolls-Royce, wearing one of his very nicely put together Saville Row handmade suits. As you know, Caroline, my good friend came outta Lorenco Road, Tottenham. You know that he once upon a time signed his name with a X, like so many others that came outta that road. A lot of good fighters also came outta that road.  

From: Michael Parish <mparish2026@hotmail.com>  

To: Caroline Horstead <carolinehorstead1891@gmail.com> 

Saturday 21 February 2026 13:26 

Caroline, I’ve just gone right back to the very beginning and re-read over the whole story. I’m so chuffed that I got that first email about the course because I’ve loved writing every bit of this story. It’s been great for my imagination, and of course, Caroline Horstead, the icing on the cake has to go to you my darling girl — it’s been an absolute pleasure getting to know you, and I’m sure now you have kindly sent me your new address I will look forward to keeping in touch with you Caroline. I’d like to think we will meet again some fine day goddess, take care Caroline.  

X lots of love Mick.

Story Makers is made possible by the National Lottery Heritage Fund.