Bradwell memories
Here are memories of Bradwell and the local area. You can start now: Add your own Memory of Bradwell or a Bradwell photo.
The "White Hart Inn" Towngate
My husband's ancestors John & Ann Archer were Innkeeper's of this Inn in Bradwell in the 1850's. They lived here until their deaths in 1879 & are buried in St.Barnabus Churchyard.
They both originally came from Kirkburton West Yorkshire & at one time were Tollkeepers for nearby Mytham Bridge Toll Road.
The "White Hart Inn"
My Gt.Gt.Grandparents ran this Inn in Bradwell during the 1870's. Their names were John & Ann Archer. They originally came from West Yorkshire in a place called Kirkburton.
John & Ann had a great many children who married into Bradwell families.
John & Ann both died in 1879 wilthin a few months of each other & are buried in St.Barnabus Churchyard.
There is a photo on the wall of the White Hart Inn today which was taken in the 1870's with a reference to my Grandparents underneath.
Michael John Archer (Sheffield)
Memories of Derbyshire
A Soldiers Lament
Will I ever hear the wind sough in the trees as I lie in my trench in the night? Will I ever hear our Anna's laughing voice. or see my mother's kindly face? Here in the trenches of the Somme, lying in the mud, the everlasting mud, my thoughts fly like the birds on wing, back to my home, to Little Hucklow's gentle calm. A young man still, nineteen summers I have had, yet old I feel with horrors I have seen, my comrades blown to pieces before my eyes, incessant gunfire in my ears, the stench of blood and worse is all around me. Yet through this horror my thoughts turn inward, Back to my home, to England, that fair and pleasant land, my home in Derbyshire, my sisters and brother. Will I ever hear the wind sough in the trees,as I lie in my bed at night, or will I lie in this foreign land, an unmarked grave, one of thousands? No name, just 'the unknown soldier', my... Read more
The Unitarian Holiday Camp
I was 10 when I was sent from my home in Bognor Regis to the Unitarian Church's holiday camp at Great Hucklow for three weeks. Since I was the only child from the south of England, I was frequently teased about my accent. I remember being miserable a lot of the time thinking that my parents had wanted to get rid of me. I even tried to run away up to the top of the hill where the gliders took off.
But now I can recall the positive things about the place: Washing my face every morning in the open air with fresh, cold spring water, visiting the Blue John Mine (where one child forgot to duck and scraped his head on the tunnel ceiling) 'mystery' bus trips to the incredibly beautiful countryside with its tumbling streams and rivers, all quite unlike the fields of Sussex I was used to.
I live in BC, Canada, and long to revisit the Great Hucklow area. One day I will do... Read more
Bamford Parish Church - No One Cares Anymore
A churchyard is a place where families can be near their deceased loved ones, a calm and beautiful place surrounded by trees and flowers, but that is not the case in Bamford churchyard. The grass and weeds are taking over so it is impossible to walk through the graves without being entangled or tripping over the fallen headstones hidden in the grass. The odd grave is trimmed and tended by loved ones but most of the churchyard is an eyesore, not even the pathways are mown.
A large number of my family are buried in this churchyard so there is always somebody bringing flowers and tidying around the family's graves but the grass around is so thick that my disabled mother and auntie have both stumbled. It is only a matter of time before someone seriously injures themselves, then who will be held responsible? Will it be the Bishop of Derby or our Revd Katie Tupling? Maybe the church wardens Jenny Mather and Carol Cotton, or the Parish... Read more
Family Tree
I am researching my family tree and found that a relative called Percival George Jeffrey was a proprietor of the Marquis of Granby around about the late 1800s or early 1900s.
Birth Place
I was Born in this Hotel on the 31st May 1968. My Parents, Graham and Anne Henderson were running it back then.
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