Favourite memories
Of the memories recently contributed, these are a few of our favourites. We hope you enjoy reading them as much as
we have.
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Summer Of 1990
I was lucky enough to go abroad for our family holiday every year. Towards the end of the 1980s my second holiday around August time would be to go to Treyarnon Bay with my best friend Becci and her parents, and I fell in love with the place and the surrounding areas. I'm sure the pub/hotel was named the Beachcomer back then.
The owners of Treyarnon Bay Hotel were Anne and Clive, along with Anne's brother Chris and his wife Lorraine. Becci and I begged them to let us come and work a summer season for them.
1990 soon came around. Me and...
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The Post In The Centre Of The Bay
I am not sure which grandfather it was (how many greats do you want?) but the old part of my family, the Strevens, have lived in Broadstairs for the last five hundred years, and have the honour of having erected the post in the middle of the bay. This was one of five snubbing posts that allowed the barges to warp right up to the pier where they loaded tar and coke from the gas works at the top of Harbour Street (now a car park). The tar pipe is still visible in the side of the pier where it used...
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A memory of Broadstairs in Kent by Chris Darby
Falling In The Pond
Rod Swift remarked about falling in the pond - well I was one of these. Rod must be my cousin's son, as my aunt and uncle lived in the house referred to. Around 1953 on an icy cold day in winter, a crowd of us were going home after school. On passing the pond we knew there was thick ice so decided to skate on the ice. We did not take into account that it was beginning to thaw and around the outside you could see ice had melted. Quite a number of us went on the ice and most were...
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Batemans - My Grandfather
My grandfather, A J Hurd, was, for a time, Rudyard Kipling's head gardener at Batemans. He, my grandmother and my mother (now Joyce Richardson) and her sister (now Barbara Wainwright) lived in one of the cottages (which still exists) near the mill adjacent to Batemans. In addition to his responsibilities in the gardens, Grandpa also worked with the private hydro-electric turbine generator (which also still exists) which provided electricity to the house. That work is referred to in a letter of reference Mrs Kipling wrote for Grandpa when he moved on, which my mother still has. She also still has the...
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A memory of Burwash in East Sussex by Ian Richardson
It's All Chicken Feed!
Hello all, my name is Robin Harries, and in 1965 I was a teenager. Mr Moore (I think Len was his name) used to drive the Ford van and deliver to our farm (which was Cwmdraw Farm) with the chicken feed. He was a lovely man, and when you spoke to him about anything, which he thought was amazing, he would always reply by saying "Due Due Due" (I think thats how you spell it) which I have been told is Welsh for "God". Sometimes my father would need more corn because we had been to Abergavenny market and bought more...
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A memory of Pontllanfraith in Gwent by Robin Harries
Dad's Old Daimler
We remember the excitement of seeing this postcard at Wallasey post office and realising that the black car was Dad's old Daimler. We could make out the number with a magnifying glass at the time. We recently returned from Scotland on a trip to revisit some old haunts and see how things had changed. Some were good and some were disappointing. These photos remind us of how things were when we grew up in Wallasey.
A memory of Wallasey in Merseyside by Margaret And Kay Nesbitt
Holidays In Laugharne
I and my family stayed at the Ferry House, next to the Boat House from 1965 to 1973. The house was then owned by the wife of my dad's boss and we used to be able to go for a fortnight each summer. We used to park our car, with permission, on the drive of a big house opposite Dylan Thomas's writing shed, and then everything - bedding, food and personal belongings - had to be carried along the cliff walk and down the steps to the Ferry House. Each summer we used to scan the estuary from the top of...
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A Glance Backwards
I came to live in Stadhampton in 1954 from Henley on Thames. My father was the village Policeman. I found that even for 1954 life in Stadhampton was comparatively primitive compared with what I was used to! But it was a very good life for all that. Life was gentler, slower and bore far more comparison with Victorian England than I had been used to. The village was full of 'characters'. George the Postman still suffered from Second World War shell shock. He could not/did not speak, just 'zuzzed' his way through life. He...
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A memory of Stadhampton in Oxfordshire by John Harker
