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Eastwell photos

Displaying the first of 7 old photos of Eastwell.   View all Eastwell photos

View all 7 photos of Eastwell

Eastwell maps

Historic maps of Eastwell and the local area, hand-drawn by Ordnance Survey and Samuel Lewis.   View all Eastwell maps

Eastwell area books

Displaying 1 of 26 books about Eastwell and the local area.   View all books for this area

Memories of Eastwell

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Kent memories

Westwell Cottage

I lived here 1950ish, my dad worked on a farm which I think was called Coles Farm. I can remember the village school with a curtain in the middle. My dad's name was Mr Norman Charles Manley, my mum was Winafred Anne Manley.

Eastwell Park, Lake & Church

My great-grandfather sketched this landscaped scene in pencil & pastils, his name was Thomas Corbett McDonald. I was thrilled to find this address, it answers a lot of questions. I'm from Sydney Australia and as I just discovered an etching of his initials in sandstone (circa 1885) at Chinamans Beach (Sydney Harbour) the 'jig-saw' is nearly complete for us. Thank you. Best regards, R.W.Elliot.

Growing up in Eastwell Park

My grandfather came up from Cranbourne in Dorset and was head gamekeeper of Eastwell Park all his working life, and my mother met my father, Alfred Clark, when he was sent there to work. They married in the church that was later to be bombed. The house of my grandparents was next to the church on the lake that we as children (my sister and brother and I) used to go out in a punt to fish on, then it had lots of pike in. I remember most the spring flowers that grew in the churchyard and most of all the masses of double snowdrops that grew all the way round the lake. Watching (Titch) Herbert Haskell my dear grandad work with the young pheasants was a memory that would stay with me for ever. I have lived in Kent all my life but Dorset is my roots. If there is anyone left who would remember us please get in touch with me:

My Grandad

I remember my grandad Henry Stuart Head was a sheperd for Park Farm, Westwell. I've been trying to find some photos which I got told there was one in a earlier book. I would love to find it as I've got no photos of him, only memories in my mind, please help.

Patient at Grosvenor Sanatorium

Grosvenor Sanatorium 1921, Kennington
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I was a patient at Grosvenor Sanatorium from 1941 - 1943. I was 19 and  recovering from TB with many other patients. Despite our illness they were happy times. We produced and starred in our own concerts. We had our own radio station operated by us and we took requests for songs. I am 82 years old now and living in Australia. I have just been looking at some photos taken from this time that I have.  We used to go for walks around the grounds as we were getting better. We were also given a little red book when we left, signed by all the staff and patients. Some names that are in it include, Joan, Rusty, Irene, Betty, Joyce, Olive, Doris, Bobby, Trudy, Daphne, Agnes, Maryanne, Sheila, Winnie, Sheila, Winnie, Mary and Marie. I hope someone else or someone's sibling will see this and remember me. (My daughter came across this site.)

Monkery Bottom

One of the land owners living in Hothfield and well known for her generosity was Mrs Tufton. Although she lived a half mile up a dark lane, she would make it worth the walk to go sing her a few Christmas carols. In the spring she would hire buses to take Hothfield children down to the seaside for the day. Theres more at

Monkery Bottom

My mother always said she left Monkery Bottom a brighter place than she had found it. The old bus was no longer the unsightly, rusting hulk, it had once been. It now stood boldly in its place as if it were entitled to be there. The chestnut tree now growing out of the engine compartment was in full leaf and added a rather exotic flavour to the place. The white- washed exterior, with the large red poker-dot curtains, and school art work littering the windows made for a colourful sight. Yes! with out a doubt my mother did leave Monkery Bottom a brighter place than she had found it. Monkery Bottom lies in a hollow along the Faversham road, about two miles from Charing. Its was here my mother had rented an old bus and we would spend the winter of forty-eight living there.

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