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Brayford
Brayford maps
Historic maps of Brayford and the local area, hand-drawn by Ordnance Survey and Samuel Lewis. View all Brayford maps
Brayford area books
Displaying 1 of 26 books about Brayford and the local area. View all books for this area
You can read extracts and browse photos from these books.
Memories of Brayford
Displaying a selection of personal
memories of Brayford.
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Bracken Brae
Sadly my mother died many years ago and my father in 1953. Mum never said much about my past as she remarried and did not want to upset her hubby. Am I right in thinking there was a small bungalow on the edge of the road on a bank called Bracken Brae? Could anyone help me here please, my mother's name was Daisy Thomas and my father was Clarence or Clow, I believe he work as a sawyer. Thank you, Jean Bye
Devon memories
Pub Outing
From 1972- 1975 I lived in North Devon, and on the 20th Feb 1974 there was an outing from the White Hart. I remember the date as it was my 27th birthday and a coachload of us were going to Exeter bowling. The landlord of the White Hart was Jack, his wife I think was Eileen and they had a lovely daughter called Jacqui. Soon after I went to work at the Narracott Grand, Woolacombe and it was the best job I ever had.
Phil Ross, Mae Chan, Thailand.
Memories of A Descendant of A Bratton Fleming Family
Although I live in Canada, I have a sentimental attachment to Bratton Fleming, where my grandmother, born Melia Ann Parkin, was born long ago. This attachment was fostered by my seeing pictures in the National Geographic in an article entitled "Down Devon Lanes." As a child, I gave one of these pictures, framed, to my grandmother. My interest in Devon was also fostered by the sayings in dialect passed on by my grandmother.
I have visited Bratton Fleming many times and seen the place where my great-grandfather, John Parkin, a tailor, lived, and the building at the back that held his workshop. My father's cousin, Oive Parkin of Barnstaple, wrote a nostalgic account of Bratton Fleming entitled "A Bit of Bratton." On our last visit we enjoyed the hospitality of Bratton people we had never met before.
I have included some of the family history connected with Bratton Fleming on my website on Hewlett-Parkin Family history.
Bratton Fleming has grown... Read more
Family Memory
My dad was from the area and my brother was brought up in the village by my gran. I remember playing in the shallows of the river by the bridge on a hot sunny summers day. I have lost touch with my brother and would love to find him.
Evacuation
We were evacuated to North Molton during the Second World War, I remember going to the school and being billeted in various homes, one on the hill near a baker's shop - what lovely smells. I also remember the Lysander plane that crashed into the church, and the bullets exploding. I remember going picking blueberries on Exmoor for people from London and getting paid, and wild strawberries near a railway station, skinny dipping in the river with lads from London and girls from the village close to Swimbridge Bridge. Going shoping in South Molton Woolworths? Watching the farmer milk his cows and having milk squirted into our mouths, building dens with the local lads and playing Cowboys and Indians, listening to the planes going overhead on their way to bomb Plymouth and many more wonderful memories. To a 10 year old boy the war, even the bombing of Bristol, was a great adventure. Thank for the memories North Molton, from a boy from Knowle West, Bristol. Dennis Broad
Church
This is the church where my Uncle Michael George Sinnott is buried.
Court Hall Remembered
From 1946 until 1949 I was a boarder at Court Hall. At the time I was there Lady Poultimor lived in a cottage in the grounds and kept parrots. There were stables at the rear of the house and a full pack of hounds was kept there along with hunting horses.
The school's head mistress was Mrs Barkway nicknamed Barky she had driven ambulances during the war. She had a daughter named Janet .
The vicar's wife Mrs Prue taught me history her hubby preached in the church alongside the house and we would go to the church on Sundays via a huge wooden iron clad gate set back in the hundreds of rhodedendren bushes which lined the perimeter walls.
The house was beautiful and how sad it was pulled down, it had hand laid parquet floors on the ground floor and a secret stairway which was entered by a green baize covered door up windy stairs to the floor above. There was a massive painting... Read more
