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Lennoxtown
Lennoxtown maps
Historic maps of Lennoxtown and the local area, hand-drawn by Ordnance Survey and Samuel Lewis. View all Lennoxtown maps
Lennoxtown photos
We have no photos of Lennoxtown, although we do have photos of these nearby places:
Torrance| Bardowie| Mugdock| Kilsyth
Lennoxtown area books
Displaying 1 of 0 books about Lennoxtown and the local area. View all books for this area
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Memories of Lennoxtown
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memories of Lennoxtown.
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First Love
I remember meeting a girl at the 'stute', a dance hall in Kirkintilloch, falling in love with her, then breaking up, then finding her 2 years later then breaking up, but having a wonderful time walking up the Crow Road on Sundays, going to the pictures on Saturdays, the 'stute' on Tuesdays, it was a great time in my life. Hope you are well Kathleen O'Rourke, thanks for the wonderful memories. Wullie.
Lanarkshire memories
Campsie Family History
My name is Ronnie Campsey, my family is said to have left Scotland in 1640, the name was changed in America. I was told they left in 1640 and went to Ireland and stayed there until 1793 when they came to America on the ship 'Liberty' in 1793. I am hoping someone can tell or help me find some information of my family history in Scotland, it is said they left because of religious persecutions.
My Family...The Masons
My great grandparents lived in the schoolhouse in Campsie in the early 1900s. They had 6 children I think. My mum, Mary Mason Robertson, was born in 1924 and often stayed there, sleeping in the cupboard bed at the top of the stairs which frightened her! All her life she was claustrophobic and blamed this. I have visited the Clachan of Campsie many times and feel so at peace there.
In Bonnie Scotland
In Bonnie Scotland
The road back to Campsie Glen
Is a forty-year long tunnel of mist!
Dug deep into the cut bedrock of memory,
And neatly knitted in the multi-storey labyrinth
Of pouring passions, in pounding poems!!
There, Bobby Burns resides - and presides
And walks tall in the midst of thickly woods;
With pine trees towering highest above the tides
That prick the backs and bellies of distant seas,
And smother the chimneys of distant dales,
And tickle the beacons of distant shores!
There, sat he; a wild alien gypsy barbarian
Tenderly entertained by a bonny lass
In chastity white-lace; revealing dress!
She stood fair among the thistles and the lilies:
"Like a red-red rose that's newly sprung in June!"
And he stared-still, staggering and unfit:
Like a fake-fiddle "un-sweetly played off-tune!"
Libidinous, feverish and ridiculous;
His devils ran their brutish wildest!
And the needle-leaves poured over his head
Like the flood-rain of caustic curses,
Or fires from showers of... Read more
The Burning Bing
I was born in Drongan in Ayrshire, but every holiday we had we came to stay with my Gran and Papa, Ruby and Hugh Meudell. We were always so excited to be going"home." When we got out of Kirky on the bus we were glued to the windows looking for the burning bing, just outside the village. We knew as soon as we seen it we would be putting on our jackets to get off the bus, and our great holiday adventures would be starting. We would all run up the steps from the bus stop to our Gran's house in Meadowside Road and fight to see who could get in the door first and pet the cat, Trixie, who was a beautiful wee tortoiseshell cat. It was then a quick hello to our beloved, long suffering Gran and Papa and then further on up the road we would run to see our Uncle Angus and Aunt Nan and our cousins "The Meudells." We would always go first to... Read more
Miners Strike
My father (Robert Summers born Dec 1916) was 6 months old when his father was killed in Ypers. A few years later my gran remarried a miner, James MacLachlan, an ex Cameronian. My father told me a story of how, during the strike and at the age of 5 or 6, he came home from school to see the village people crowded on the street shouting and cheering. He saw his mother, holding his baby brother in her arms and wrapped in a shawl, she drew my father into her side and through the crowd he could see his step-father and another miner, who had broken some strike rule, bare-knuckle fighting in the street. He described my grandfather as being stripped to the waist with his trousers held up with a big studded belt, a belt I remember seeing him wear when I was a young child. My grandfather had challenged the man for doing wrong. He described the village as having a dirt road with miners' rows down either... Read more
My Home
I was raised in Twechar but left there when I was 8. I am now 45 and my memories are still strong of Twechar. I am very homesick still. I look at Twechar on google earth and I see the changes. I wish I could come home. I still remember all the people there, and going on a double-decker buss to school in Kirky from Twechar.
