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Over Kellet, the Green c1955
Over Kellet, the Green c1955 Ref: O88020
Memories of Over Kellet, the Green
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 Carnforth, Lancaster Road c1955 (ref: C35004) |
Carnforth Lodge Lancaster Road A memory of Carnforth, Lancashire As a child in the 1960’s and 70’s I went several times with my family to visit Mrs Esther Pomfret (Auntie Ettie to us; she was a relation of my father's) at Carnforth Lodge, Lancaster Road. I don't think this is shown in the photo. The first time I went there I was fascinated by the old house. It had a musty smell which I remember distinctly. The very low ceilinged kitchen had a big old table in the centre. From there a narrow passageway led to the rest of the house; on one side a sort of “snug” and dining area with a big bay window and window seat looking over the garden, and across the passage (overlooking Lancaster Road) a long drawing room. The formal entrance hall contained a huge bell suspended on a wooden frame which Auntie Ettie had brought there from Netherbeck, the farm she’d shared with her brother Tommy Dinsdale. There it had been used to summon farmhands to meals. Upstairs I remember 4 bedrooms; one over the entrance hall, 2 along the front and one over the kitchen. This last was a great fascination; the ceiling sagged so much that I wondered how my parents dared to sleep in the bed below it. If that wasn’t enough for a town child from the “soft south” one corner of the bed was held up by a milking stool! Down a few steps was an enormous bathroom which could be accessed from another bedroom by a short flight of stairs with a door at each end. Old house, passageways, secret stairs, antique furniture, dark corners…my imagination told me there must be a ghost but no one else seemed worried at the prospect. In the middle of that night there was a thunder storm. It went on and on, the thunder and lightning became more intense; in the end I was so frightened that I rushed out into the passage. It was too far in the dark to my parents' room so I ran to my grandmother’s room. She often told me later on that I had been shaking like a leaf Through a gate at the bottom of the garden and up a hill was a brick built tower (perhaps it was a folly) overlooking the railway. We used to go up there to watch the trains, but the tower itself was unsafe and locked up. At the front of the house I remember a dry stone wall topped with larger stones set on end. On one side was a quarry and on the other a gravel drive overhung by a copper beech(?) led to the garden. Next door on that side was a garage or filling station. I suspect that the land on both sides had belonged to The Lodge in the past but had been sold off over the years. Some time in the 1940’s Auntie Ettie had married Joe Pomfret (a local barber) and after WW2 they’d bought The Lodge. The story goes that the money came from a win on the "Irish Sweep." The house was full of antiques; apparently these were very easy to buy after that war. By coincidence we heard ellsewhere that The Lodge had been an officers’ billet during WW2 but have no way of knowing if this is true. I have many happy memories of time spent at Auntie Ettie’s; she was a great character with many tales to tell and just as many told about her. She died in 1981 or ‘82, the house was sold and eventually pulled down to make way for a supermarket. I haven’t visited the town since but would have loved to know more of the history of Carnforth Lodge. Trawling round the web has not revealed much about it; if the house were still standing I am sure there would have been many references. However, I did come across a map from the late 1700’s showing the property in a larger plot of land, and a reference describing Carnforth Lodge in 1837 as the "seat" of someone called Thomas Jackson. Last edited: 07/11/2007 22:46 by Isabel Yeo |
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Year: 1952
My Early Years A memory of Yealand Conyers, Lancashire On the 2nd September 1952 I was born at Manor Farm. I lived there with my parents, my maternal grandfather and two older brothers. I know my grandmother was alive when I was born but, unfortunately died soon after. My grandfather was called Seriah Butler and was the tenant of Manor Farm and when my mother Dorothy Butler married Albert Shorrock at the village church my father worked on the farm, in fact we all did. I remember travelling down the Dykes to bring the cattle home for milking. I would sit on the handlebars of my Dads bike to help with the cows. There was an orchard around the farmhouse and I can remember my mother making damsom jam and plum jam and also bottling fruit in Kilner jars so we could have something good in winter. At the end of the orchard was the toilet - it was a long way when you were small, but that wasn't for long as we had the luxury of a bathroom, it made a pleasant change from bathing in front of the fire range. The shipons were across the main road through Yealand and I can remember my dad having to walk all the way from there to the dairy at the side of the house, where it was cooled and put in kits to be taken away by the milk wagon. At 5 years old I went to the village school where Mrs Blair was headmistress. It was a small school in today's scheme of things but we all like one big family. For the Christmas parties my Mum used to make the most wonderful cakes or desserts such as a train with its tender full of Smarties or a white blancmange rabbit with brown ears and nose - oh I can taste them now! At school we had visits from the nurse to check our hair and ears, I used to hate those medicals stood there in your knickers. On the nicer side we did go out for nature walks and pick flowers for pressing, I actually got a book prize for my best collection and I still have it now. Further on past the school was a council estate, I say estate but it was just a few houses really and at the back in later years they built some old peoples' bungalows where my Auntie Jenny went to live. Near these houses was the village Post Office - I remember the chap that ran it was called Chris and he used to lean over towards the glass so he could hear what we wanted. In my early years I was an attendant for the rose queen, an annual event which meant a ride on the back of a lorry in pretty dresses, gloves and carrying a posy. In between the school and the church was the Village Hall - a large black wooden building where Beetle Drives, Whist Drives and dances were held, as I remember the floor became a slide when I had my best shoes on. I stayed on at this school until 1961 when we moved. It was down to the fact that my Grandfather was getting older and quite frail and as he had no sons the tennacy could not go to his daughter. Posted: 04/07/2006 22:05 by Sue Tomlinson |
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 Claughton, the Fenwick Arms c1955 (ref: C485001) |
Grandparents A memory of Claughton, Lancashire My grandparents live just off shot, and have lived there for as long as I can remember! My grandad has sadly passed away but is still nearby, he is buried in the church yard! I remember when I first met my husband, and we went to the "fenick" for a drink while my grannie got dinner ready - my grandad was a real character! I used to go mushroom picking in the fields, and walking across the fields to the river, I don't think I ever liked the cows though!! I saw my first birth there too, a cow in the field opposite, something I have never forgotten. What ever happened to local dialect? I would listen to the strange way my grandad spoke, fascinated as I struggled to understand what he was saying! Good job my dad could translate, something I then did for my husband! Last edited: 25/10/2006 19:08 by Lindsay Barton |
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 Hest Bank, Marine Drive c1960 (ref: H453015) |
Year: 1960
Hest Bank /Bolton le Sands A memory of Hest Bank, Lancashire I lived with my grandparents in Bolton le Sands. I used to cycle to Morecambe most mornings, to J. W. Blands, painters and decorators, where I was apprenticed, hail rain and snow. I knew every inch of the coast road, the top of Hest Bank hill and down past the Cinderella Home, past the golf links and Happy Mount Park. Lovely memories now .. Last edited: 14/04/2008 12:57 by John Wilson |
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Hest Bank, Marine Drive c1960 (ref: H453015) |
Year: 1965
fish and chips at hest bank A memory of Hest Bank, Lancashire when i was young i would go for fish and chips they were great and there was always something to do some where to ride on our bikes at hest bank. I now live in australia and in 2006 took my three girls to england for a holiday and went for a walk along the canal and over the railway crossing they thought it was wonderfull. my only sad memory of hest bank was of a girl guide who was killed crossing the road to the fish and chip shop i knew her brother gordon from the scouts. I look back at those days as some of my best. Allan Holmes. Posted: 02/02/2008 06:43 by Allan Holmes |
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