Holy Trinity Church c1955, Frogmore
Holy Trinity Church c1955, Frogmore Ref: F57006
Memories of Holy Trinity Church c1955, Frogmore
Be the first to add a memory of Holy Trinity Church c1955, Frogmore
Frogmore & local memories
Read and share memories of Frogmore and Hertfordshire inspired by Frith photos.
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!
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
