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Kingsbury memories

Here are memories of Kingsbury and the local area. You can start now: Add your own Memory of Kingsbury or a Kingsbury photo.

A WARM-TIME EVACUEE IN KINGSBURY

I was evacuated from London (via Norfolk) to Kingsbury in 1940 and lived in a lane called "Sunnyside" and went to Kingsbury School. The headmaster was a Mr Leonard Brain and I sang in the choir at Kingsbury Church. Behind the church the land dropped away which gave a good view of the river and the water meadows. The river seemingly was one large sewer and given to overflowing in the winter time which mean that anyone wishing to cross the meadows (children going to and from school) had to walk on a raised walkboards. Some time in 1942 (I think) a German plane dropped a bomb on a row of houses in which a number of people were killed and were subsequently buried in a mass grave in Kingsbury churchyard. It was not an uncommon sight to see Kingsbury men walking to work in the colliery. These men were given an allowance of coal which was delivered to their homes by horse and cart. The village must have appeared to be... Read more

Memories of Staffordshire

My Hurley

From the age of 48 hours until I was about 18yrs I lived and grew up in Hurley.  I have done my fair share of moving around not only England but the world.  From the busy, bright lights of London to spectacular, solitary mountains of New Zealand.  Now all grown up at age 45, or as grown up as I'm probably ever going to get.  Of all the places I've lived Hurley takes some beating.  I now visit regularly to spend time with mum and dad and walk my dog, taking wonderful trips down memory lane as I clamber over stys and fields I played in as a child.  Enjoying them all over again.  As I leave Cheshire where I now live, I drive that last little bit of the M42 exiting along the lane telling me I'm heading for Kingsbury.  I pass the vets at Dunton Island where Tiggy the cat got the snip.  Past the Dug Outs now known as Kingsbury water park, memories of having a whale... Read more

GROWING UP WHEN CHILDREN WERE ALLOWED TO BE CHILDREN

I was born in Dordan, Warwickshire and moved to Hurley when I was 3 years old. From that point in my life I can honestly say I had a wonderful childhood whilst growing up in the village of Hurley. The most mermorable were the weekends and school holidays when we would spend our days walking down the many twisting, hedge lined country lanes. Even at the age of about 7 or 8 years old, we would gather a group of friends, get our mums to make us some sandwiches and head off down Dexter Lane for walk and end up having a picnic by a stream somewhere amongst the many fields and lanes around the village. We would be gone virtually all day, without a care in the world, only returning when it started to get dark. Sometimes we might even indulge in a bit of scrumping on the way home. Another fond memory was the time of the miners strike when there were power cuts because the... Read more

The White Horse Inn

From 1980/84 I was part owner of the pub, we had a brilliant football team at the time and were an important social centre for the village. The pub no longer exists as it closed soon after I sold my share, however I do still have contact with some of my old regulars. Today I manage a small guest house in Cornwall but still get visitors from Baddesely.

The White Horse

My Gt Gt Aunt Esther Parry and her husband Joseph kept it c1891 and my gt Aunt Annie who lived with them from a young age had it in 1901. She married Thomas Terry.

Fishing Under The Arches

I was born Marilynne Thompson at 17, The Lynch, Polesworth in January 1952. My mam and dad, Peg and Geoff Thompson both worked at Ensor's brickyard. When I was about two or three years old we moved to a cottage belonging to the firm in Tamworth Road. I believe the rent was 5 shillings a week. My dad was a keen fisherman and I followed in his foosteps with a fishing net. The nets didn't last forever and I would buy new ones at 6d each from either Cross's in the square or Dix's in Bridge street. I would gather money together by taking pop and beer bottles back to the Bull's head. These would be collected from aunties and uncles in Polesworth, especially at the time when the fair came to the rec. in Station road in the summer, for the carnival and "the statutes" I would get my wellies on, take my net and tin seaside bucket and walk down to the arches nearest the square where the water... Read more

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