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Bacton, Sea View Cafe c1955
Bacton, Sea View Cafe c1955 Ref: B493018
Memories of Bacton, Sea View Cafe
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 Mundesley, Hotel Continental c1960 (ref: M109077) |
Year: 1973
Hotel Continental - 1973/74 A memory of Mundesley, Norfolk My dad worked in the Hotel Continental around 1973/74. He met my mother there and he has told me many stories about this beautiful hotel. He visited again recently and by all accounts it is in a very sorry state. That is why it is so nice to find this fantastic picture of the place. By all accounts, the large conservatory was the dining room. If anyone has any memories of the Hotel Continental then I would be grateful if they would post them here. Last edited: 20/03/2007 22:00 by Jason Heatley |
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 Mundesley, the Green c1955 (ref: M109040) |
Year: 1956
Parade Cafe & Amusement Arcade A memory of Mundesley, Norfolk The Parade Cafe & Amusement Arcade is on the left in your picture, My Father bought it for 5000.00 in 1956. It stayed in the family until my brother-in-law Billy Burrows sold it in the mid 1980's. Business-wise it was a goldmine, in those days it was one of the safest beaches on the coastline for 7 miles in each direction. They were still finding land mines all along the East Coast from World War II, and Mundesley had the only good beach access. Great days for my family. Freddy Bailey, son of David Bailey. Last edited: 22/10/2006 23:13 by Freddy Bailey |
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Canon Peter Nicholson A memory of North Walsham, Norfolk I was a pupil at the Paston Grammar School from 1936-42. It was a wonderful school where boys from all over N.E. Norfolk made many friends so that when they left school and started work in the area, they co-operated in so many ways. Major Percy Pickford D.S.O., M.C. (Oxford and Bucks Light Infantry) was the headmaster. He had served with great distinction in the First World War and was very keen that we should all join the school Cadet Corps. During the war, the East Lancashire Regiment drilled in the playground and we all stood around and watched and looked forward to the day when we could join the Forces. On the playing field, the soldiers would carry out signalling practice with Aldis lamps so I leaned the Morse Code so I could note down what they were saying. This served me in good stead when at seventeen and a half I joined the Royal Corps of Signals and served in Italy and India. I bought my first foreign stamp album at Leeders shop for the princely sum of one shilling. I think stamp hinges were a penny a packet. We had some very good teachers: Mr P. B. Birkinshaw gave us a solid grounding in English; Mr N. S. Lachlan taught Latin; Mr Norman Cutting, organist of Cromer Parish Church, taught music; Mr S. G. Hare taught science; Mr S. Hare taught History and Geography and always gave a special lecture on Empire Day; Miss Emma Limb taught art; Mr C. G. V. Couper taught History and P.T. and Captain Brown taught wood and metalwork; Mr H. Grantham-Hill taught Maths. During the war three senior boys took turns to firewatch each night. We would sit in our two-hour shift in the staff room window and watch for "enemy action" One evening, a farmer's son was on duty with me. He brought in several eggs from the farm and so we crept down to the science laboratory late in the evening and started to cook the eggs over a bunsen burner. The door opened after a while and Mrs Pickford walked in and said: "I don't really think you should be doing this in here". We felt sure we would receive the cane from her husband the next day but, no, she did not tell him. However, when I became precentor of Peterborough Cathedral, a party of ladies from Norfolk came for a tour of the cathedral and the Dean told me that as I, too, came from Norfolk, I had better take them round. The last lady through the door was none other than Mrs Pickford. She recognised me at once and said "I'm sure they don't let you fry eggs in here". Happy, happy days. Thank you! North Walsham. Last edited: 18/06/2008 11:07 by First Name Last Name |
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westwick A memory of Huntworth, Somerset I was born in a farm estate cottage amongst the fields at Westwick. My father had been born in 1919 just up the road on the edge of Swanton in a small cottage , two up,two down , his father had lost a leg in the great war and had been set up as a shoe maker there ,during the fifties we had moved away but even now i think of that little house where my grand mother lived,as home,Dad went to school in a small weatherboard place up near what the locals still called , the high road , or the turnpike, My father alledgedly shot the hands of the school clock, it made a change from poaching! When i was small there was still people getting around with a pony and trap, and horses were still commen, There neighbour was a mister Rump , a shepherd on the estate , The thing that stays with me is the silence, on a sunday ritual visiting nanny, i remember the silence, people could be heard speaking several hundred yards away, indeed most people spoke in whispers, the local saying was that "These walls have ears" and was almost true, the odd motorcycle could be heard up on the "pike"usually a B.S.A. or Norton single, popping away, sometimes a train whistle, but almost nothing else, how times have changed, In my dads youth the road to Nth Walsham went past "the seat"and the road was called "many corners" for obvious reasons, and in winter sometimes almost impassable,as were most of the villages, I remember Mr and Mrs Howlett , a gentleman farmer ,he had the first lovely old Riley car i had seen , Sadly memories are slowly fading.But i still think of the fields of grain and beet , the chickens, wandering free range , and locked in little mobile sheds at night ,The horse and carts spreading the muck from the cows in early spring , clods of it along the laneways, Pheasants and rabbits scattering as i rode along on my bicycle on a sunday morning, the almost total lack of traffic once off the main roads, The smell of a flower garden drifting in the warm air, roses and wallflowers, hollyhocks, and apple and pear trees in spring blossom, and my grandmother leaning over the garden gate waving goodbye, that will always be the westwick of my youthfull memory. Posted: 09/01/2008 04:23 by First Name Last Name |
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Year: 1943
Evacuee A memory of Huntworth, Somerset I have strong memories of Barton Turf as a 5year old boy from London's East End. I was shipped to Bartom Turf to escape the Blitz after our house in Vallance Road was demolished by a bomb. My dad was on active service in the army and my mum stayed with her parents. I arrived at a large assemby hall to be selected by my new family (name of Shepherd). I came back to London at war's end totally traumatised as I could not understand why I had been sent away on my own. I am now 71 and still have dreams of this period. Last edited: 25/03/2008 09:24 by Allan Sanders |
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