In the summertimes, Ozengell Copse represented the edge of town. Situated in the fields north of Pegwell, our BMXs rarely took us further. East from here stood the Newington Estate, where we were guaranteed to be chased out by tougher children. North was Westwood, which contained the remains of the Isle of Thanet Smallpox Hospital; abandoned sites were top of our list on the hottest days, but even our tribe gave this area a miss. West took you to Manston Airport, where we occasionally roamed. But it was still an R.A.F base back then, primed for the Cold War; it was too difficult to get far without being challenged, though we often cycled the central road to look at the American airplanes. The most impressive I saw was a USAF Blackbird. One flew over us once, as we all played football on the field behind the Nuns’ Cemetery in Pegwell; I subsequently obsessed over the planes and bought a model version of one.
The wrestler’s house was where Jackie Pallo lived, tucked away in tiny Ozengell, surrounded by nothing but crops. Pallo was once very famous and wrestled on television most Saturdays. My parents were friends with his son, Jackie Junior, who lived there in the woods with his parents until they died. Jackie Sr passed on in 2008, then his wife a few years later, and finally young Jackie in 2018. Later that same year, their home- officially known as Ozengell Farmhouse- suffered a very damaging fire. The Pallos were a tight-knit clan and the remains of their house have become a kind of tragic monument to them. Their legend joins an even older one, of families who rose then fell in this locality. A wealthy tribe had lived at Ozengell in the times when Kent was the richest county in Britain. The last major dig here occurred when I was a toddler; many burial sites were found, along with brooches and swords dating back to the sixth century.
This ‘Ozengell Hoard’ is now on display locally and we will always be able to access it- but this isn’t the case for the Pallo residence. A huge housing estate is being built around the old farmhouse and soon it will be erased from the landscape. I decided to take a visit, prior to its interment.
This wouldn’t be my first trip to Ozengell Farmhouse; a group of us biked out there as children to play ‘Knock-Down Ginger’ but then chickened out when we got to the front door; I can remember feeling a little menaced not just by Big Jackie’s status, but also by the place itself; its various oaks, willows and elms conspired with the wind to make quite the warning whistle. I felt ‘seen’ all the way up to the porch.
I experienced the same sensation of being watched on my recent trip, only I don’t think it was caused by the trees this time- but rather by a feeling of guilt at what I saw: the ravages of time, fire and neglect may have gutted the house- but the guts themselves have remained. Furthermore, they are sprawled out for all to see: the family’s furniture, keepsakes, old children’s toys. It’s all still there, accompanied by a strong smell of soot and old cigarettes.
Items which should be cloistered or shelved, are instead sprawled and heaped in the centre of rooms, having tumbled from cupboards or collapsed through ceilings. A grand piano lays upturned in a central room and for a second I imagined a prime Jackie Senior playing ‘Tutti Frutti’ on it, with his wife and infant son gathered close. Such thoughts as these occured to me throughout my visit.
When I walked to the back gardens of the farmhouse, I disturbed a buzzard. I regularly drive past Ozengell Copse and I often see this bird. He’s one of two solitary buzzards that I’ve come to look out for in this area. The other dwells in a valley not far from here. The wrestler’s buzzard circles Ozengell as you pass by, or he just sits on the edges of the wood watching. He was doing the latter when I walked up on him; upon my disturbing him in his lair, he made a terrible racket and bolted off into a spiral above the old house.
I turned to find the remains of a swimming pool, long filled in. The remnants of mosaic blue glittered in the sun and made me think of barbecues and long-ago laughter. I then walked back to the rear of the house; along the way I discovered an armchair, with various weeds growing up from its springs. Peeking in through a back window, I found a broken staircase.
By now it was early evening. The grounds contain tobacco plants; they were open for the night, and their scent combined with the smokiness of the farmhouse. I walked away, out to the fences by the fields. In the distance, a digger was busy sowing the seeds for tomorrow’s Ozengell.
I stood for a while and thought of all the early English who long ago became dust in these fields. I wondered about the Ozengell Hoard and hoped that some future youth living on the new estate might find some old remnant of the past in their backgarden or playing field: an old arrow-head, say, or a piece of ancient pottery. Or failing that, they might simply read about what’s buried under their houses. Children need only the slightest touchstone to gain a sense of their place in time.
Then I turned back to the main building and thought about the Pallos. The guilt I’d felt earlier had not abated. I feel it now as I write.
As I left, I drove slowly and looked in my wing mirror for the buzzard. When I was a good distance away, I saw him flying high above Ozengell Copse- and looking a lot happier now. The site clearly draws him, and he won’t leave until the wrestler’s house is just a memory.
I’ll keep driving by, and although my eyes will continue to search for the buzzard, I will never again look at the old farmhouse.
Postcards from the English Outback 
We used to watch the wrestling every week when I was a kid and it was exciting having someone famous nearby! I remember serving Jackie in the shop I worked in as a teenager in Grange Road once or twice.
The main thing that sticks with me about the house was his collection of old, broken Saabs that I’m not sure ever got renovated.
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Hello! Thanks for commenting- I remember those Saabs!
Jackie was a lovely man, from what I’ve been told. As I said, my parents knew his son, and he was a nice chap.
Jackie’s place at Ozengell is a little of local history, isn’t it? It’s definitely a sad sight now, and I genuinely regret my snooping.
Anyhow, here’s to Jackie and his family- I hope they’re all together again.
Speak soon, and again- Thanks for commenting- Gazza
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Crikey, that was a trip down memory lane. Jackie Pallo, his arch enemy Mick Macmanus and Kent Walton commentating! Eddie Waring doing the Rugby League on BBC, Iām going all Fast Show now. Not forgetting Masambula in his leopard skin wrestling outfit. Some very sad pictures there too. Haunted is the word. Great post Gareth.ATB, John
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Hello John!
Haa! I love your ‘Fast Show’ comment, mate!- Hmm- Abandoned wrestlers’ houses? Jumpers for goalposts?!… I adored that show.
I used to see Jackie Sr about the place as a kid; writing this entry has bought back those memories more vividly. I went to Waitrose earlier, and I recalled seeing Jackie there, decades ago; everything came back- the till he was at, what he was wearing- even the fact that he was sporting a pony tail. I
‘m sure you must experience the same phenomenon when you create an image of somewhere you’ve been long ago- the focus seems to bring back a deluge of memories. Proust was clearly on to something.
His son, Jackie Jr, was a really nice chap; my parents got on great with him.
Not long now, John, by the way… Our time is near! I can’t wait…
Speak Shortly, Love to Sue, Gazza
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I lived on a nearby farm as a child in the 1950s and rode horses along the farm track from the main road beside the house towards Manston village.
I remember the interesting archaeological digs that took place in the fields around the house, where my aunt lived briefly in the 1960s before the Pallos moved there.
Beautiful house it was then and sad it has fallen into such a poor irreparable state.
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Hello Frances- What a lovely comment, and how fascinating.
Ozengell and the nearby fields have so much intrigue to them. I grew up down the road at Pegwell. The local area is changing, but there’s still so much of the old character left, isn’t there? But when I saw the diggers getting closer to that copse, I just had to have a look. I got more than I bargained for. Very sad, as you say.
God Bless, and thanks for taking the time to comment- Gazza
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I have never taken much notice myself other than the eyesore it has become and maybe even was, what with all those old banged up Saabs!
I didn’t grow up in these parts, a few miles west instead. However, I have now lived less than a mile, as the crow flies, from this dwelling for 18 odd years.
They say ignorance is bliss, true. I will be sire to use your insight to educate my own children and continue to spread the memory on your behalf.
I stumbled accross this article. Great read, great story and I was drawn into every moment described with vivid imagination.
It’s been emotional.
Thank you
p.s look out for the Buzzards that plot on the fence posts along the Manston boundary watching over the dual carriageway.
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Hello S.P,
What a lovely comment. Thanks so much for taking the time to read. I can remember those Saabs- my goodness- there was an army of them, wasn’t there?
The local buzzards fascinate me, as do the harriers. Ironically, when Jackie was in his prime, we didn’t really have many of these species locally. They’ve come back in recent years.
Thanks for spreading the word; folklore and local history are important. We’re losing far too much of it for my liking.
God Bless- Gazza
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What a beautifully written piece that left me feeling a bit of sadness for all that goes to dust. But I also chuckled that this all came out of a remembrance of a wrestler and I’m an American who – aside from a vague knowledge of Olympic and college wrestling – mostly thinks of Pro Wrestling as athletic theater which is wildly popular among some crowds here in the U.S.
Growing up, my little brother was a big fan and watched faithfully every week. His favorite was Cowboy Bob Ellis and one night a hoodlum wrestler smashed the birthday cake that local children had made for Cowboy Bob’s birthday. My 10 year old brother was heartbroken. And although I knew it was pretty much staged for the audience, I could not help but feel rather heartbroken for my brother who was 5 years my junior. I had loved him from the moment of his birth but this tenderheartedness for his hero endeared him to me forever. My family surrounded my little brother in front of our tv to console my little brother as we watched Cowboy Bob wipe away his tears and proceed to beat up the callous fellow who had ruined his birthday celebration. We all cheered with gusto for Cowboy Bob and the pummeling he gave the bad guy. Later my daddy very patiently explained to my brother that none of it was real. My brother was unconvinced and remained so for several years. š
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Hi Linda- What a lovely comment- And it’s most gratefully received. Are you from the south? I like country music. Paul Williams, Johnny Cash and Charlie Rich.
Wrestling has/had a similar folklore here in the UK. When I was a kid, it was on the tv every Saturday. We only had 3 or 4 channels then, so everybody watched it. Jackie was a little before my time but I knew who he was and grew up near him. My parents were friends with his son, Jackie Junior. When I was a boy, it was guys like ‘Big Daddy’ and ‘Giant Haystacks’ who we watched.
But yes- it was sobering to visit Jackie’s old place, to see what was left of it and encounter the lone buzzard. That last bit sounds like a line from a Williams or Cash song. But that old bird will only leaves when the ‘dozers have done their job, which can’t be long from now.
God Bless and it was lovely to hear from you- I’ll be reading some of your writing, soon- Gazza x
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It’s a shame the new development doesn’t reference the name Ozengell. Such an unusual name for what seems to have been a very significant site. Meaningless (and somewhat pretentious), “Oakland Heights” or some such. That’s progress I suppose.
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Hello Simon- I agree wholeheartedly; Ozengell goes back more than a millenium. Seems tasteless to make no use of it- let’s hope the name survives somehow locally… Thanks for commenting- Gazza
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