Well, It's A Start

A Memory of Farncombe.

Disappointed by a lack of reminiscenses here I, only this evening, asked a man (who turns out to have lived in the white house in the top left of the picture since 1917) if he had any memories.  I'm afraid all he came up with was the aggrieved memory that the timber merchant (situated where Jackson & Gocher is now) used to let his horse 'drop his guts' right outside his front door 'every (expletive deleted) day'.  

It's a start anyway and I'll try again next time I bump into him!