My Early Years In Rothwell

A Memory of Rothwell.

I was born in Rothwell in 1949 and have lived there all my life and remember when it was a picturesque village where everyone knew each other.    What changes have taken place over the years.  

I remember going to the Corn Mill with my dad on a Saturday morning to get corn for dad's pigeons.   We had to go over a foot bridge, across the mill pond, past the big water wheel and into the storage shed.  Being very small, dad would lift me up to get the corn out of one of the big barrels and nearly always pretend to let go of me, so I thought I would fall in.   Tommy Barret owned the mill and he was a great big man, who always wore a dirty brown apron and scared me to death.    Going back over the footbridge we would stop to watch the swans and in springtime the May blossom would fall and cover the water.  

My best friend was Ann who lived in Manor Farm (near to the castle ruin).    The farmhouse was fascinating with narrow corridors upstairs and the old dairy next door, where the ancient equipment hung still.     There was a secret passageway that ran from the farmhouse into the church vaults, which had been sealed up years before by Ann's grandad as he thought it to be in a dangerous condition.   

We lived in Pottery Fold, by the side of the River Dolphin (then known as Rodhill Beck).   At the other side of the beck was Wards garage, which flooded every time it rained heavy, and just beyond Rothwell Parish Church.

I attended Rothwell Church school, Commercial Street (where Morrisons is now) in the days when the 'kid catcher' would always know if you didn't go to school and a letter would be delivered home to your parents.     I only did it once, but the good-hiding I got taught me never to do it again!

The shops in Commercial Street were wonderful.    The Co-op where sugar was weighed into blue bags and hams hung from the ceiling.    Thrift stores where Mr Lunn would let you help yourself to a broken biscuit.      Keitels pork shop where the most delicious pork pies were to be had, along with 'ducks', polony and jugs of gravy.   

Happy Days!

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