Bricket Wood memories
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Memories of Hertfordshire
Spooner's Corner
Living in Park Street Lane from 1940 to 1961 I passed this corner every day to go under the railway bridge to the recreation ground and school or on to the village. The branches of the Horse Chestnut tree in the foreground gave a copious supply of the very best 'conkers' to us local children. Many's the time it also sheltered us from the rain and the road would become slippery with the large wet leaves and crushed horse chestnuts.
There was a building (a coach-house I think) with a clock on top on the opposite corner to the house, behind the tree. I can remember a yearly 'garden party' event held at the house. I believe members of the family were involved in springboard diving and during the afternoon diving displays were given from the high board over the swimming pool by members of a well known swimming club. Quite a big village event back then in the 1940's.
In the field to... Read more
Brogan Dedicating my Life to Frogmore.
It has now been little more than three moons since glorious Frederick Francis, arrived home; eyes shining; hair wild (per usual), to tell me of a small village he had encountered.
The spirit of the place had completely encaptured him, I too felt a rush of desire as tales of green fields as far as the eye could see, & wild men.
I LOVE FROGMORE TO BE CONTINUED
Frogmore; The Land of Dreams
Upon passing frogmore recently the other day, I, Fred Whatmore, saw a small sign directing me to what I would later come to call Frogmore; home; the land of my dreams
The luscious green fields spread before my eyes, and fromore mausoleum doors wide open welcomed me in. . . ? I sat for a while with Willy the keeper of the Mausoleum grounds, we ate Frogmore stew and discussed the village politics, apparently Mrs Weatherby's Daughter has had a baby out of marriage and everyone is rather concerned.
This love and common knowledge of all residents of Frogmore warmed the cockels of my heart (possibly helped by the tasty stew, prepared by handsome old Willy, the generous source of all my Frogmore knowledge). There was an understanding; a loving atmosphere; a kindness seconded by no village I had ever had the fortune to run across.
On the journey home, my mind wandered back to the Frogmorian way of life. Decided,... Read more
St Albans Summer Holidays in The 1950s
A child from Thanet taking annual last week of August holidays with an adored great aunt at Chiswell Green, travelling by train to Victoria Station, London, taking the Greenline to Watford Junction, bus no 321 to the Three Hammers, Chiswell Green south of St Albans. Regular trips each year were to Cottonmill Swimming Pool, Whipsnade Zoo, Dunstable Downs, St Albans town, Abbey and grounds. Now entirely built up, 'the bungalow' belonging to my great aunt had fields and woods surrounding it, a snake allegedly living under a huge log always dared to climb onto, foxes allegedly in the woods. My great aunt just retiring from running House and Williams Secretarial College in the town since 1920, one large room was turned into a classroom for private students. The joy of being allowed to sit at huge oak desks, use Victorian writing sets with ink and pens - and to use, very gently, the 1920s manual typewriters!
Service Quarters Sabine House
We had a lovely middle floor flat here, while my husband was at HMS Warrior, RAF Northwood. Our son was born at the then new maternity hospital, Shrodells at Watford. We had a balcony, and one evening when all our husbands were working, it was three floors, 'The Birds' horror film was on, so when they started attacking the windows, I went on the balcony and chucked some dirt out of my flower pot up at my friend's window who was watching it with the girl from downstairs, hehehe, you should have heard the screams. I also remember my own fridge going BANG in the kitchen, the kitchen had its own little gas fridge. I loved that flat, and used to walk up the village before and after the birth of our boy, got home one day with my shopping and suddenly thought hold on a minute, something's not right, argh, I had left the baby up the village in his pram, so shot back up there, you couldn't do... Read more
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Places this week
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- Easington Colliery, County Durham
- Southgate, Greater London
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- Thetford, Norfolk
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- Mitcheldean, Gloucestershire
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