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Bootle memories

Here are memories of Bootle and the local area. You can start now: Add your own Memory of Bootle or a Bootle photo.

RAILWAY WAGON EXPLOSION AT BOOTLE

ON 22ND OF MARCH 1945 MY FATHER HERBERT NORMAN STUBBS WAS THE FIREMAN ON AN AMMUNITION TRAIN. A WAGON FULL OF DEPTH CHARGES CAUGHT FIRE, SO MY FATHER UNHOOKED IT AND PUT DETONATORS ON THE LINE TO WARN A TROOP TRAIN, WHICH WAS DUE. THE DEPTH CHARGES EXPLODED AND HE WAS THROWN THROUGH THE AIR. UNFORTUNATELY THE DRIVER HAROLD GOODHALL WAS KILLED. MY FATHER WAS AWARDED THE GEORGE MEDAL AND THE INDUSTRIAL V.C.. I HAVE A LETTER FROM THE RURAL DISTRICT COUNCIL OF MILLOM, APART FROM OTHER DOCUMENTS, CONVEYING THEIR GRATITUDE FOR HIS ACTIONS, WHICH SAVED A LOT OF LIVES AT BOOTLE STATION VILLAGE.

A memory of Bootle, shared by ALAN STUBBS.

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Memories of Cumbria

Staying at The Boat House

I first visited Silecroft in 1957, with my mother and father. It was August and we were on holiday for a week. I fell in love with the village at first sight and that love has lasted a life time. We stayed in the Boat House on the shore. Our first night was very windy and I remember walking to the village, for milk, the next morning with the wind behind me blowing me along. The village has changed little in the last 52 years, the caravan site is bigger and the shops are, unfortunately, gone. However it is still a wonderful peaceful place, where the cares of the world do not seem to live. My granddaughters now love the village as much as I do and it is a joy to take them there.
Jean W

A memory of Silecroft

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MR & Mrs Lockwood

My Grand parents lived in Kirksanton in 1928 and 1929 at Jubillee house.

( does anyone remember them)

A memory of Kirksanton, shared by L Stanley.

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The Green – 1952-53 (Seven Years Old)

I come from an RAF family that travelled across the globe until, in 1964 we ended up in Australia. Though english by birth, I am now an Australian, but I have fond memories of some parts of England where I grew up, especially The Green. I was six years old. One day, I was told we were going to Millom, which turned out to be an RAF base near the wilds of Cumbria, in the north of England, where my father was to be an instructor. We didn’t live on the base but at a village about ten miles out of town called The Green, which was very rural. We were on the edge of the Lake District, perhaps the most beautiful part of England. The neighbouring hills were Black Combe, White Combe and White Hall Knott. The house itself was stone with a tiny patch of lawn to the side, behind a stone wall that protected it from the road. To my recollection it was 100-200... Read more

A memory of The Green, shared by Michael Coley.

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The Holborn Hill Evacuee.

And Black Combe c1955
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The view is looking over Holborn Hill towards Black Combe. Holborn Hill is old Millom, the new part of Millom was built when iron ore was discovered in 1855 at Hodbarrow and the iron works was built and Hodbarrow mines opened. It then became a prosperous town with a population rising to 10,000 people. My memory is of Holborn Hill and a five year old girl who was evacuated there at the beginning of the war. She arrived at Millom station from Dartford after having a rough time at an evacuee collection centre. She was taken to live with a family in Holborn Hill.
The little girl was called Betty Sherwood and in later years, she was now married, had tried to trace her wartime family. She and her husband had travelled from Yorkshire, where she now lived, to Millom to find them. Unfortunately she could not remember many details of the house she stayed at or the family name only that she had had many happy years... Read more

A memory of Millom, shared by Ian Jordison.

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The Old Co-Op.

Wellington Street c1955
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I was born in Market Street in 1939. Later, because of the war, my mum left me in Millom for my grandad and grandma Kirby to look after me. Mum went back to be with my dad in heavily bombed Manchester. I spent the war years here and they were very happy years. After the war I went back to Manchester, but came back to Millom for all my school holidays. Wellington Street was a nice shopping street and I used to go to the Co-op with my grandad and grandma and watch money catapulted from the counter across the shop to the office and then the return journey of our change and divi book. We used to go to the Co-op bakery just as the newly baked bread had come out of the ovens each day (just like mother used to bake). We would take the bread home and my grandma would cut me a thick crust and spread butter on it. That taste cannot be repeated these days.... Read more

A memory of Millom, shared by Ian Jordison.

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