Memories of Newmarket

Andrew Lindborg - My Grandfather

I have a copy of this postcard myself - the family kept it as the leading horse (on the left, closest to the camera is being ridden by my grandfather - Andrew Lindborg.

The copy that I have is coloured, somewhat artificially.

Newmarket Hospital

I worked in racing stables in Exeter Road. In the spring of 1960 I was injured when a  yearling I was exercising suddenly reared and I 'went out the back door', narrowly missing the edge of the pavement, but hitting my unprotected head (safety headgear was not worn in those days by stable lads or girls). The accident happened in St Mary's Square and luckily for me a local doctor was passing in his large car. Under his orders I was carried and laid on the back seat, no paramedics and neck braces in those days! The care I received was second to none, I was closely monitered day and night and the surgeon in charge was superb. I do not remember very much about the accident, except that my main concern was perhaps having my hair shaved off, which didn't happen. I luckily got away with severe concussion (brain shaking) and partial memory loss. I later found out that this wonderful surgeon had in fact earlier put my boyfriend's leg back together (he had broken it in three places) and patched up another friend who had seriously broken her pelvis. After spending the next three weeks in Newmarket General, I asked to be discharged and was allowed to go home to rest in the flat I shared with four other girls. I had not informed my parents, and decided to go straight home to London, but  I was feeling very wobbly. After another few weeks I was given the ok from the local GP, and returned to Newmarket. I was put back on a racehorse and the boss cracked a 'Long Tom'. It was sink or swim, no place for cissies. I was glad to get back on a horse, it was the only way not to lose your nerve. My stables were Cottrill's and I was lucky to look after a beautiful colt named Mighty Gurkha, I helped break him in and looked after him for two years. After leaving Newmarket at the advanced age of nearly 21, I followed 'my horse's' career. He had moved to another yard and later won a very important race. All my family and friends backed him, but I did not, thinking it would be bad luck. Never really understanding why horses were so important to me, I have since found looking back into my family history a strong connection with horses going back many generations, including a great-great-great-grandfather who was a colt breaker.  

Big toe stuck in the drain...lol

I remember this paddling pool so well, when I was about 8 years old I would be there with my nana {in fact in looks like me in the pic}. She would sit on the bench in the pic and eat her rich tea biscuits. I begged her to let me swim every time we were there, I would mostly paddle though. One day the pool was empty and I was playing around the drain and I got my big toe stuck in it, I was really scared and started to cry, then to my horror the pool started to fill up, I was sure that I was going to drown. I remember screaming so loud, the man that tended the park came over and shut the water off ...' Whew'. Such wonderful memories though. In 1970 I was married in St Mary's Church and now live in the USA.
What I would do to go back to those day, there were swings on the other side of the pool and a water fountain. The park also had crazy golf that was so much fun to play.
I remember I used to get the willys when I had to walk through the park on my way home from the 'Kingsway' pictures, my friends and I would run like the dickens to get through the park .. ha! ha!
I'm Vicki Bowman and if anyone remembers this park please let me know.
Thanks.
Vicki.

Carlton Hotel

Stationed at a nearby American Air Force base, I visited Newmarket frequently.  My favourite pub was in the Carlton Hotel.  I remember the murals between the front and back bars.  I preferred the back bar.  I and several other airmen took ballroom dance lessons upstairs in the Carlton.  Sadly, I never mastered those.  I had spent so many evenings in the Carlton, that when I left the UK the proprietors - Alf (Greene?) "the guvnor" and Taffy (yes, he was Welsh) gave me a box of gifts.  They included ashtrays, Watney's World Cup Ale bar towels, a dozen pint mugs and a dozen half-pint mugs, some Guinness signs, two large red Watney's barrel beer pumps, and two electrified antique carriage lamps from a number that graced the walls of the front bar, and two devices of brass that clamped to the back bar.  They were like a rocking chair rocker with a turn screw and brass turn wheel below.  The wooden barrels sat on a block of wood at the back and on this device at the front.  Turning the wheel lowered the front of the barrel so that the beer would flow out.  They gave me a brass faucet that fit the wooden barrel and the wood mallet that was used to drive the faucet through the wooden plug and into the barrel.  I still have most all of that.  Thought I would display them, but never have.  The Newmarket years were wonderful times with wonderful people.  I shall treasure them always.

chicken pox

I moved into King Edward Road one hot summers day, covered in red spots. I had to be placed on a makeshift bed in the shade of a tree in the front garden while the rest of the family moved in. Little has changed, but the road seems half the width now due to all the cars parked on both sides of the road. In 1957, hardly anyone had cars. Now, each house could have 2.

The Crisswell Family

I would like to ask whether anyone might be able to help me piece together a mystery. Five weeks ago, whilst walking through the local Derby countryside, my wife and I discovered a briefcase dumped in a brook. There were various items, including photographs, maps, documents etc, scattered all around. Curious, I collected as much as I could and took it home to dry out and investigate further.

The contents spanned around sixty years of a man's life and since the discovery my wife and I have been piecing together his history.
The briefcase belonged to a Mr J.B. Crisswell, who sadly passed away in 2003, but, thanks to the local media, I have had a fantastic response from friends and associates and over the past weeks we have been compiling the chronology of his life. See the links below:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/derby/content/articles/2008/01/16/crisswell_mystery_case_feature.shtml

Type my surname 'Fulep' into the search bar on this one and you will see the story updates.
http://www.thisisderbyshire.co.uk/displayNode.jspnodeId=251470&command=newPage

http://www.newmarketjournal.co.uk/news/A-man-who-lived-an.3751398.jp

We have gathered quite a lot of information regarding Mr Crisswell's uncle, who owned a Crisswell’s Garage in Newmarket, but the search into his father's history is evading us. We are trying to uncover his childhood and believe his father, Charles Henry, was originally a motor engineer, but became a draper in Newmarket. Further searching revealed that Charles Crisswell married Gladys Laura Hall in Ipswich in 1917. Gladys Hall's family were drapers and we assume the drapery business in Newmarket may have been a consequence of the marriage.

Any memories would be most gratefully received.

Thank you

Tom and Julie Fulep

Shopping in Newmarket on Saturday

SATURDAY MARKET DAY IN NEWMARKET, exactly how I remember it as a 5 year old.

On the left next to the Rutland Arms in the center left of the picture was a small street called Palace Street. My father was born here in Nell Gwynn's Cottage. It was reputed to have a secret passage to the Palace for Nell Gwynn, the King's mistress, to use.

The back yard of Hobbs Plumbing Supplies was at the end of Palace Street; my father, Arthur Dean worked there for years with his mate Peter Luka. Arthur was well known by the lords and ladies for fixing the lead pipe problems in the old stately homes. He often mentioned how Lord Wolverton had the maid bring him a cup of tea and then would hover around watching him work. Before Hobbs, Arthur worked at Gilberts in High Street for 25 years. He was apprenticed there when he was 15 years old and when they closed in the 1960's, he walked across the street to Hobbs and they welcomed him like a long lost son.

When my parents married, my father scraped together a downpayment on a house at 2 Cheveley Park where I was born. Every day he rode his pushbike the 3 or 4 miles to work and back. My mother, sister and I took the local bus sometimes, but mainly we walked. I think by this time he had sold his James motorbike and sidecar and proudly purchased his Austin A30 - JCF 865 or "midget" as we called it. He polished that car until it glowed and only took it out on weekends when we would all pile in, wearing special slippers so we wouldnt damage anything.

I took tap and ballet lessons on the right of the picture, upstairs in the Carlton Hotel. I think this was a way for my mother to get time to do errands. I hated the lessons and they usually ended in tears with me sitting in the corner snivelling until my mother came to rescue me. Does anyone else remember the murals in the Carlton Hotel?

After dance we would meet up with my father who had bought the vegetables for the week from the stalls along the High Street. He had also popped into Tindalls the newsagent and got my "Beano" comic book and his 'Mirror'. When I could read I spent many happy hours browsing the books in the side room of Tindall's and I remember the smellof the oil heater. I bought my first "Tressy" and battery operated robot in Tindall's. One of my father's errands was to pick up sausages from Holloway's "Sausage maker to the Queen" in Wellington Street and I reckon he used to pop into the working man's tea shop to "wet his whistle" on the way. Towards the end of the 60's a new supermarket was built on High St, but prior to that we purchased dry goods from the local Co-Op in Cheveley.

We didnt have much, but there was always a special treat on Saturday. We visited the bakery on the right for a cluster of sticky buns with a cut in each one, a blob of cream and a dot of rasberry jam on top. Yum! Another time we would go into Woolworths on the right and buy some biscuits with cows printed on the back and pink and white icing on the front. On special occasions we would get a quarter of hot roasted salted peanuts kept warm by a heat lamp or perhaps some creamy fudge.

We sometimes went to the Milk Bar on the right and had thin, sweet, Milk Shakes with strawberry flavouring. On the left was "The Black Cat" Cafe. We weren't allowed near there because they played loud modern music and it was full of Beatniks with Motorbikes that spilled out into the street.

Also on the left out of frame on a small rise next to the Rutland Arms was Moon's Toy Shop. The fancy new Moon's shop had a Grand Opening with Charlie Drake in the early 70's. I worked at Moon's on Saturdays to buy new fangled pantyhose or perhaps the latest Beatle's hit from the record shop by the Clock Tower behind us. Mr Moon always gave each girl a little Christmas gift and we were a fun team..

Last came the butcher's shop near Hobbs. You would ask for 8oz or a pound of something on display and they would weigh it, wrap it in butcher's paper and tie it with string. If they didnt have what you wanted on display they would go into the back and cut it specially for you.

Then it was off to Nana's on Exning Road for a quick visit before what seemed like a long drive home. Often some of my father's brothers were there having tea and a "chinwag". There was John who lived in Soham and biked everywhere, Peter, always good for a laugh, who lived in Exning. Les lived just down the road and often popped in to see if Nana wanted anything. Phyllis was often out working on the buses. She still lived at home with her husband Bert and I'm sure she was intrumental in having a bath fitted just off the kitchen; up till then the family of 8 washed at the kitchen sink for over 20 years. The outside toilet next to the coal shed and "copper" washer was always sparkling clean, but cold, damp and scary especially after dark.

But Nana's garden was heaven. There were strawberries, gooseberries, raspberries, black and red currants to nibble on and the old Quancet air raid shelter to play in. Sometime she was making jam on the wood stove or a steamed "spotted dick" in the copper. Her huge blue Hydrangea bush and purple and yellow pansies brightened her back yard and the "Privet Hedge" was immaculately clipped in the front.

What a great childhood I had and I'm grateful to the cast of characters who made it so special.