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Westwell
Westwell maps
Historic maps of Westwell and the local area, hand-drawn by Ordnance Survey and Samuel Lewis. View all Westwell maps
Westwell area books
Displaying 1 of 24 books about Westwell and the local area. View all books for this area
You can read extracts and browse photos from these books.
Memories of Westwell
Displaying a selection of personal
memories of Westwell.
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Growing up in Eastwell Park
My grandfather came up from Cranbourne in Dorset and was head gamekeeper of Eastwell Park all his working life, and my mother met my father, Alfred Clark, when he was sent there to work. They married in the church that was later to be bombed. The house of my grandparents was next to the church on the lake that we as children (my sister and brother and I) used to go out in a punt to fish on, then it had lots of pike in. I remember most the spring flowers that grew in the churchyard and most of all the masses of double snowdrops that grew all the way round the lake. Watching (Titch) Herbert Haskell my dear grandad work with the young pheasants was a memory that would stay with me for ever. I have lived in Kent all my life but Dorset is my roots. If there is anyone left who would remember us please get in touch with me: maureenjfeakins@talktalk.net
Eastwell Park, Lake & Church
My great-grandfather sketched this landscaped scene in pencil & pastils, his name was Thomas Corbett McDonald. I was thrilled to find this address, it answers a lot of questions. I'm from Sydney Australia and as I just discovered an etching of his initials in sandstone (circa 1885) at Chinamans Beach (Sydney Harbour) the 'jig-saw' is nearly complete for us. Thank you. Best regards, R.W.Elliot.
Westwell Cottage
I lived here 1950ish, my dad worked on a farm which I think was called Coles Farm. I can remember the village school with a curtain in the middle. My dad's name was Mr Norman Charles Manley, my mum was Winafred Anne Manley.
Kent memories
Monkery Bottom
One of the land owners living in Hothfield and well known for her generosity was Mrs Tufton. Although she lived a half mile up a dark lane, she would make it worth the walk to go sing her a few Christmas carols. In the spring she would hire buses to take Hothfield children down to the seaside for the day. Theres more at www.monkerybottom.ca
Monkery Bottom
My mother always said she left Monkery Bottom a brighter place than she had found it. The old bus was no longer the unsightly, rusting hulk, it had once been. It now stood boldly in its place as if it were entitled to be there. The chestnut tree now growing out of the engine compartment was in full leaf and added a rather exotic flavour to the place. The white- washed exterior, with the large red poker-dot curtains, and school art work littering the windows made for a colourful sight. Yes! with out a doubt my mother did leave Monkery Bottom a brighter place than she had found it. Monkery Bottom lies in a hollow along the Faversham road, about two miles from Charing. Its was here my mother had rented an old bus and we would spend the winter of forty-eight living there.
Charing
The village of Charing is located on the south slope of the North Downs along Pilgrims Way. Much of the village as not changed in six hundred years. Shops and homes with there oriel windows still overlook the main street.
Hothfield School
With Hothfield School situated on the common, Miss Bottle, the Head Mistress, had another strict rule. No students were allowed to go anywhere near the bugs at recess. Like flees to a dog though, the boys couldn't stay away from the swamps. In the spring, it was a great place to hunt for frogs, slow worms and newts. There were many times, while in the pursuit of some aquatic trophy, the school bell would ring and in a mad dash to get back to class, students would occasionally end up with a wet foot or two. This meant you would have to sit through afternoon class with soggy feet. There were times when the teacher would ask the rhetorical question, "Has anybody been playing in the bogs at recess?" No one would ever admit to it, but the puddles under some desk were a dead giveaway. www.monkerybottom.ca
