I was born and brought up in Widnes but we used to go for holidays in Bagillt where we stayed with an old friend of my parents, Father Holcroft. He was the local Catholic priest and we stayed in his house which had a farm adjoining with chickens and a goat which sometimes strayed into the house. The Catholic chapel was very simple as I recall, basically a big hut with a corrugated iron roof and I served mass there every day. Holcroft was a Yorkshireman and a late vocation renowned for his fiery temper and outspoken nature. He swore a lot which made us laugh as we had never met a priest quite like him. He had a heart of gold and seemed to be well liked by the parishoners. My brother, Bill and sister, Oonagh and I had a wonderful time exploring the village and the nearby coastline. We fed (and chased) the chickens and teased the goat. It was a magical place, especially for kids like us from the town.
A memory shared byon Mar 28th, 2009.
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