Carnforth memories
Here are memories of Carnforth and the local area. You can start now: Add your own Memory of Carnforth or a Carnforth photo.
Market Street (and Nearby!) Carnforth
I remember Market Street, with its shops,cenotaph and the County Hotel on the left hand side of this junction (out of sight!). I lived on Preston Street from 1951 to approx 1966 and went to Carnforth North Road school. My surname was Newcome then. We used to go to the County Hotel for our school Christmas parties and there used to be a real elephant's foot in the entrance (that wouldn't be allowed now, I bet!). Although I defected to Yorkshire when I married in 1972, I still come back here and take a trip down memory lane walking down Market Street....but can't find Sowden's, or Week's or the butcher (above whose shop my mum's best friend lived). The cenotaph is still there, the station, the bus stops... and the pavements are still the same! I remember my sister getting knocked down by a bike as we rushed to the Remembrance Day service at the cenotaph. Does anyone remember the 'selling out shop' nearby on Lancaster Road? Those were the... Read more
Kellet Road
This was the street I was born on, although not in 1906! The house I was born in was number 110, which is the next house on the left - just off the photograph (although it wasn't built in 1906). Behind the terrace on the left was the Cooperative stables and bakery. By the time I was born in 1951 the stables had become the garage for their motor transport (eg their travelling shops). I think the bakery was still open when I was an infant - I can vaguely remember a smell of baking bread - but I am not totally sure. Happy days!
Carnforth Lodge Lancaster Road
As a child in the 1960’s and 70’s I went several times with my family to visit Mrs Esther Pomfret (Auntie Ettie to us; she was a relation of my father's) at Carnforth Lodge, Lancaster Road. I don't think this is shown in the photo.
The first time I went there I was fascinated by the old house. It had a musty smell which I remember distinctly. The very low ceilinged kitchen had a big old table in the centre. From there a narrow passageway led to the rest of the house; on one side a sort of “snug” and dining area with a big bay window and window seat looking over the garden, and across the passage (overlooking Lancaster Road) a long drawing room. The formal entrance hall contained a huge bell suspended on a wooden frame which Auntie Ettie had brought there from Netherbeck, the farm she’d shared with her brother Tommy Dinsdale. There it had been used to summon farmhands to meals.
Upstairs... Read more
Memories of Lancashire
Borwick Lane And Warton Crag
I lived in Warton - on Borwick Lane for the first 18 years of my life. In 1963, I was ten years old and Warton was a lovely little village. Borwick Lane was very much a quiet back road - not the busy commuter route it is today. Borwick Lane only had a row of houses from Borwick Avenue up to number 39 (Aunty Beryl's!). The next property down the lane was the Methodist Chapel. In fact we used to have Warton Sports in fields where there are now lots of houses. I loved the excitement of Sports Day, competing enthusiastically in the egg and spoon races and the sack races. I spent much of my childhood playing up Warton Crag, exploring the caves, building dens and climbing rock faces (I was a bit of a tom boy!). I used to know every tree, every cave and every limestone pavement. The crag is 'managed' now - with more footpaths, signs and styles but it still retains a... Read more
The Village Policeman
My father was the village policeman during the Second World War, his name was Archie Evans. My mother died there in 1949. We lived in a house called Somersby. I was only 4 when we left, and my sister Carol was 11. My name is Kay Irene and I think I have godmothers in the village, but perhaps they are no longer alive. I have a picture of my mother taken on D-Day, I think with other mums and children in a field. My mother was called Mary but was known as Molly. She is buried in the churchyard but I have only been back to visit once.
Another Village Policeman
My dad was the village policeman from 1952 to 1958. He was Edward (Ted) Parkinson and we moved from Liverpool to Bolton-le-Sands in 1952. We lived in 40 Church Brow, which was the police house at that time. My dad retired in 1958 aged 46 after 25 years with Lancashire Constabulary and died suddenly on the night of his retirement presentation. There was a collection in the village and my Mum donated an altar cloth to the Parish church, which happened to be on the altar when I visited the church a few years ago. I have really happy memories of living in the village, obviously apart from when dad died, especially being in the Girl Guides run by Betty Cottam. Now living near Bolton I drive through the village quite often on my way to visit one of my daughters in Hawkshead.
That Small Tin of Paint!
Just after my father brought Borwick Hall in 1946 I went with my mother to a shop and she brought a tin of paint. I was all of eight years old at the time and when we got back "home" I looked around and wondered just where she would start!
My Early Years
On the 2nd September 1952 I was born at Manor Farm. I lived there with my parents, my maternal grandfather and two older brothers. I know my grandmother was alive when I was born but, unfortunately died soon after. My grandfather was called Seriah Butler and was the tenant of Manor Farm and when my mother Dorothy Butler married Albert Shorrock at the village church my father worked on the farm, in fact we all did.
I remember travelling down the Dykes to bring the cattle home for milking. I would sit on the handlebars of my Dads bike to help with the cows.
There was an orchard around the farmhouse and I can remember my mother making damsom jam and plum jam and also bottling fruit in Kilner jars so we could have something good in winter. At the end of the orchard was the toilet - it was a long way when you were small, but that wasn't for long as we had the luxury of... Read more
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