Ickham, The Mill c.1955
Photo ref:
I1019
Photo ref:
I1019
More about this scene
The mill pond at Ickham, on the east bank of the Little Stour, is crossed by this seemingly fragile footbridge whose supporting piles serve as a useful trap for waterweeds and other detritus before the stream moves on to power the wheel inside the shed.
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A Selection of Memories from Ickham
For many years now, we've been inviting visitors to our website to add their own memories to share their experiences of life as it was, prompted by the photographs in our archive. Here are some from Ickham
Sparked a Memory for you?
If this has sparked a memory, why not share it here?
I came to live with my grandparents in Treasury View after my mother had died in a car accident where we lived, on the Isle of Wight. I had been to Ickham before as a baby, and in later years was told many times by neighbours of being bathed in front of the fire in my gran's house! I left in 1972, but I have wonderful memories of watching the blacksmith at work, being confirmed in St Johns, not being allowed ...see more
I used to go to Ickham for my summer holidays visiting my grandparents who lived in the High Street, their names were Mr and Mrs Couchman, it was around 1955, my gran used to clean the church, they are both buried in Ickham. My grandparents lived next door to a old gentleman who used to have a parrot, he kept the cage on the kitchen table, I can't remember his name. I remember going to the shop just along the road from my gran's, it used to sell everything.
I lived in the Rectory for the whole Universty year 1968-1969. There were four of us - male students from the University of Kent. A fantastic place to live. I have revisited the place - now an old people's home, still just about the same. The pub was a pub in the 60s - it is now a posh restaurant. Best wishes from Andrew lissa@lissa.dk if you want to comment
I used to spend all my summer school holidays with Mr and Mrs Curtis who used to live in the school house in Ickham. He used to play the organ in Wickhambreux church. I was adopted in London, and Mr Curtis was a good friend of my birth mother(I will leave it at that). I always remember the awful day that I was put on the coach outside the pub to go back to London (a place I have always disliked). I used to dread ...see more
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