Loftus, Woods c1960

Springhead Terrace

I was born at number 11, and was told I did not open my eyes, so Mrs Tyreman baptized me. She had changed from Methodist to Catholic when she married her husband who was a tailor. When the priest came the next morning and blessed me I opened my eyes. I was given a spoonful of brandy to keep me alive, and was told I was talking by the age of two. I had two bouts of Double Pneumonia before the age of six, but was an altar boy at the age of seven at Saint Joseph and Saint Cuthbert Catholic church up highside. I remember going downhill on bogeys and sledges, and Mr Haxby, the Blacksmith at the end of the street, who put metal  runners on our sledge. During the War, we would queue for food, and managed to get eggs from the local farm. My brother and I once carried a block of salt from the Cooperative store, and were asked if we were going to kill a pig. My mother would bake bread, and we had salad teas with fresh food from Mr Wilkinson, a market gardener, who had a stall in the Market Place. I learned later that Loftus was a medieval town, and had the typical Saxon town shape of a marketplace and four roads, North. South. East. and West. We loved Slaters Banks and the bluebell wood with the smell of wild garlic,with primroses, and cowslips on the banksides.We went once to Skinningrove beach to see a dead beached whale, and another time saw a Lockheed Lightning crash. I still remember a Zeppelin passing over, and saw the resulting damage from two landmines that fell on the town. We collected shrapnel and parachute cord, and went up to Hummersea, but stayed off the beach, while collecting fossils, near where Alum Mines had been.We played cricket and football in the recreation ground, and went to see cricket matches between Loftus, and places like Seaton, and Redcar. My mother told me of the shop owned by a Mr. Race. It was a race between a camel and a lion. The Golden Lyon was a hotel and the other two were shops. The centre of town on one occasion displayed a Messershmidtt fighter, on another a Spitfire. I think the Angel Inn went back a long way. It was the Angel of the Annunciation. I rode on a large working horse through the town, appeared as King Arthur with his Knights in a school pageant, and saw" A Midsummer Night's Dream" performed by the local secondary school, whose Headteacher was Mr. Normanton. Shinty was played at that school, and he told the story of a child born in an aeroplane, asking what nationality the child would be. The answer was Scottish. He may have had Scottish connections, or he may have, like the child, been born in Ayr. I would like to hear of anyone's memories of my parents, Hugh Lavelle, and Catherine Ryan. They were both parishioners of the Catholic church. and were fifty years in the town. My sister Margaret, whom I never knew, is buried in Loftus cemetery. Larks and peewits, yellow hammers, and crows and rooks were plentiful in Loftus, and milk was brought on horse -drawn floats from local farms. There was also an annual gymkhana, and the hall of the Women's Institute was well-used  for dances and celebrations. We had maypole dancing and church processions, and near the Church of Saint Leonard there was a wayside shrine of the crucifixion with a quotation from the bible. The hall grounds had a rookery, and may have been part of the church at one time. The Market Place was where the United Bus Company set off for Whitby on one side and Middlesbrough on the other. I think the railway line was closed under Mr. Beechham, but the Danby bus went up Station Road and to Glaisdale. We loved it, as it was a real boneshaker. Kelly Watson Company ran a bus to Saltburn, where there were beautiful sands which went on as far as Redcar. Runswick Bay was popular with visiting buses, but they were not allowed down hill in case they could not manage up again. We liked Staithes where the women wore bonnets and sold fish from baskets on their heads. Many Loftus residents were artistic, since seascapes were popular, and there was a band, even a bandstand.There were cobblers, and watchmakers, stonemasons and carpenters. and several newsagents, and sweetshops. There were whipping tops, hoops and marbles and conkers in season. I learned later in life that many of our dialect words were old English. Egton Bridge even had a saint who was hanged at York in his eighties, for being a Catholic priest. He is commemorated every year in Ugthorpe. Blessed Nicholas Postgate is his name. I remember many names of old Catholic families in Loftus. Wilson, Miller, Redmond, Swales.Ward, Harrison, Dowson. were a few of them. The first Mass in Loftus was celebrated at Mr. Wren's house at the bottom of Springhead, before the church was built. It was quite a common sight to see the Church of England vicar and the Catholic priest walking together in the Market Place. Some chidren from the old Catholic school of Saint Joseph were reprimanded by the Headteacher for shouting " U PUTS WATTER INT MILK!", then shouting the name of the culprit.Next day instead of the name they called out "TtHE NAWS!" Hopefully both sides were satisfied. I am sorry to hear that Loftus has become only a dormitory town. There was a strong farming community in my time, and fine fruiterers like Whitlocks, and even icecream and penny licks at Trillos, an Italian family. Mill bank was always a problem in winter, but many walked up and down it to go to work in mines and steel works. The name means house on the hill after all.

The market place

When I was at school I did the history of Loftus. The market place was used for the market stalls, I think that it should be like that again.
Bring back the meaning of Loftus market place - if anyone agrees let people know.

Even if the shops that we have bring their products out to the stalls we might get more people coming and put Loftus back on the map and not just known as a trouble town.

My Dad's family

As far back as I can remember I used to visit my gran in Carlin How.  My dad and his brothers and sister grew up on Westray Street.  I can remember the big common where they used to build the bonfire for Guy Fawkes Night.  My dad Harold Appleton was the youngest son of Robert and Eliza Appleton.  My dad had brothers named Johnny, Dennis, Leslie, Richard and Raymond and one sister, Floss.  My Uncle Raymond used to fish from a cobble boat off the beach in Skinningrove.  My aunt's husband and sons used to race pigeons from Skinningrove.  My dad left Carlin How after he was de-mobbed in 1948 and worked at St Luke's Hospital in Middlesbrough where he met my mum.  Carlin How has lots of memories for all of us.  My dad also worked on the steelworks.

In 1941, my dad remembers going to school in Skinningrove and watching the German pilots use Skinningrove Beck to lead them to the target they were supposed to bomb.  To remain safe, all the school children were led down the mines until the air raids were over.  Many times they would not know what had happened outside until they emerged.  One time they emerged and the Skinningrove Iron & Steelworks had been bombed.

Our family emigrated to Canada in 1973, and we did not return to Carlin How once my gran passed away in 1968.  We have visited in Skinningrove and Loftus over the years.

Memories are some of the greatest things that one can possess. These are just a few of them.