Grendon Underwood memories
Here are memories of Grendon Underwood and the local area. You can start now: Add your own Memory of Grendon Underwood or a Grendon Underwood photo.
Early Childhood in Grendon Underwood
I have vivid memories & photos of my time in Grendon 1931-1934. I went to the local school .... I can remember much about those times if anyone is interested .... just contact me if this is of interest and I will submit as much as you can cope with!!!
The Photo of the Thatched Cottage 'Crucks c1960' was my home!!!
Mr. Roy Windley
41, Westcliffe Avenue,
Westbury Park
NEWCASTLE (STAFFS.)
ST5 4JS
Fax / Tel : 01782 – 612063
Mobile: 07926 -353300
E-Mail: windleyr@tiscali.co.uk
Memories of Buckinghamshire
Challoners Hill
I lived at no. 1 Challoners Hill otherwise known as The Stores. In the photograph the petrol pumps are just visible on the left hand side of the road.
Across the road Vic Burrows ran the bakery and we were treated to the smell of freshly baked bread every morning. Mrs Whiting had the newsagents and Cyril and Ruby Griffin ran the Fountain Pub. There were five pubs in Steeple Claydon whereas poor old Middle Claydon, East Claydon and Botolph Claydon didn't have one between them. We had nine shops including a post office and they supplied all our needs. At Austins you could buy fishing tackle and a penknife and get a haircut if you wanted one. Dennis Robinson, who also ran the Phoenix pub, would mend your bike and, (and this was torture for us boys) would display the latest Raliegh bike in his workshop window. We would gaze at it for hours making ambitious plans to raise the ten or twelve pounds required to buy it. We... Read more
Our Home on The Village Green
I lived in Quainton in the 1950s, on the corner of The Green and Lower St. My family had the drapers shop. I remember bonfire night on the green, rolling down Mill Hill, Christmas carols, ballet lessons in the church hall and sitting the 11+ exams at school and of being sent to the Sportsmans Inn for a packet of Woods or Weights cigarettes for my father.
With my parents Ray and Sylvia Wheatley, my sister Barbara and brother Ian we emigrated to Australia but I will not forget the fun we had in Quainton
Clare Masovic nee Wheatley
MY YEARS IN NORTH MARSTON
I lived in North Marston in the 1950s, at 25 Quainton Road My Grandfather Ezra Rawlings was a tailor. I remember bonfire night on the sports field, cycling down Church Hill, Christmas carols, Friday night youth club in the school hall and being sent to the Cox's shop for a packet of Woods or Weights cigarettes for my grandfather.
I emigrated to Australia in 1961, but I will never forget the fun I had in North Marston, with Jim Tattam, Simon Carter, and Janet Gowin, also David Holden, and the rest of our gang, I also remember Lawrence Young standing as umpire in his white dust coat, and I was the scorer for the village cricket team. In those days we made our own fun, and was never bored, I feel sorry for the youth of today, they say they have nothing to do.
If any body reading this, knows the where abouts of Sandra Tickner, who was a Whitchurch lass, I would very much... Read more
I Lived Here! Ref. Photo O65003
These were Elmwood Cottages in the Worminghall Road. I was born in the far end house, and lived my first 25 years in the 8th semi along. My Mum and Dad would have had our house since new. It seems odd to think that we were probably at home when this was taken. They were demolished in 1984 to make way for brand new houses. The lovely Elm trees that used to stand in front of the houses sadly got Dutch Elm disease in the 1970s and had to be felled. Just in the foreground on the left is the village garage that was owned and run by Aubrey Bristow, and to the right, just out of picture is the Royal Oak pub, I remember the landlord as being Fred Welford for many years whilst I was growing up. The memories come flooding back.
Gran Honour
I recall as a boy living in Thame Road having to pass the church at dusk, having been in the village playing field until late. We had an old lady who had lived next to us, a Mrs Honour, who we called Gran Honour, who had died and was buried just inside the gate of the churchyard. On passing the graveyard in the dark I would call "Goodnight Gran" and run past as fast as I could for fear she might rise up and chase me.
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