Nostalgic memories of Stoke Fleming's local history

Share your own memories of Stoke Fleming and read what others have said

For many years now, we've been inviting visitors to our web site to add their own memories to share their experiences of life as it was when the photographs in our archive were taken. From brief one-liners explaining a little bit more about the image depicted, to great, in-depth accounts of a childhood when things were rather different than today (and everything inbetween!). We've had many contributors recognising themselves or loved ones in our photographs.

Why not add your memory today and become part of our Memories Community to help others in the future delve back into their past.

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Displaying all 4 Memories

We stayed at a clifftop house called Mill Meadow. Once we parked the car behind the wooden double gates, there was a pine-tree lined steep hill that led to the house and then to cliffs. I remember that pine smell when we arrived. From the terraced garden lined with abundant red fuschia hedges in front of the house, led a path down many steps, that got steeper, and led to the small beach. The last few steps ...see more
My Mum had a brother living at 'South View', Stoke Fleming and we spent many holidays with his family. There was an outside row of toilets with long wooden seats and you had to get a pail of water from the well next to the pub to flush it. They kept chickens behind the houses and there was also a swing. As a young girl, I made friends with the shoemender's daughter, Mary Bowden, who lived next door ...see more
My family come from the East End of London. My mum and dad took us on holiday from Chingford on a Grey Green coach to Stoke Fleming for two weeks, we stopped en route in Yeovil for tea.... My parents had booked a caravan (one of three) behind the London Inn in the gardens, the landlord had a daughter who my brother and I used to play with. There was also a dog.. and a little spring outside the pub where we ...see more
I remember my parents swinging me between them along a fir tree'd lane to the sea, singing 'Sailor Boy-oh'. We were camping at a site run by a man called 'Roly' (Rowlandson perhaps). Imagine my parents' delight at camping under the stars after the Blitz and London. Their happy memories stayed with them always. And I remember my first experience of the smell of the pine trees - I was three!