The Village c1955, Oakley
The Village c1955, Oakley Ref: O65003
Memories of The Village c1955, Oakley
I Lived Here! Ref. Photo O65003
These were Elmwood Cottages in the Worminghall Road. I was born in the far end house, and lived my first 25 years in the 8th semi along. My Mum and Dad would have had our house since new. It seems odd to think that we were probably at home when this was taken. They were demolished in 1984 to make way for brand new houses. The lovely Elm trees that used to stand in front of the houses sadly got Dutch Elm disease in the 1970s and had to be felled. Just in the foreground on the left is the village garage that was owned and run by Aubrey Bristow, and to the right, just out of picture is the Royal Oak pub, I remember the landlord as being Fred Welford for many years whilst I was growing up. The memories come flooding back.
My 1st Home
I lived at no. 11 Elmwood Cottages from 1950-58 with my parents, brother and sister and have fond memories of the village. We used to collect blackberries to sell to a man with a van who parked on the triangle which is just showing in the forefront of the photo. He would weigh what we had and the money we earned would pay for us to go to Thame fair. Miss Kirby was the infant school teacher and in the winter she would put our morning bottles of milk around the inside of the firegaurd in the classroom, to thaw as they would often be frozen with the tops pushed off. We would then have warm milk to see us through until lunch when we would eat gorgeous meals cooked by Miss Brooks. On my first day at school I was handed a pair of knitting needles and a ball of orange wool to make a scarf for my teddy. Those five stitches took forever to grow, as I constantly... Read more
Oakley & local memories
Read and share memories of Oakley and Buckinghamshire inspired by Frith photos.
Gran Honour
I recall as a boy living in Thame Road having to pass the church at dusk, having been in the village playing field until late. We had an old lady who had lived next to us, a Mrs Honour, who we called Gran Honour, who had died and was buried just inside the gate of the churchyard. On passing the graveyard in the dark I would call "Goodnight Gran" and run past as fast as I could for fear she might rise up and chase me.
