Tideswell, Market Square c.1955
Photo ref:
T46005
Photo ref:
T46005
More about this scene
Roses twine around the doorway of the cottage on the right in this 50s photograph of Tideswell's Market Square, with the Belle Vue Hotel (now gone) in the centre background. Like so many other White Peak villages, Tideswell was founded on the dual wealth won from farming and lead mining.
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A Selection of Memories from Tideswell
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 Tideswell
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Memories abound about my childhood, jumping and leaping like a rabbit at Eastertime. I remember staying at my grandmother's (Norah Gregory, a marvellous woman from the no-moaner generation), or at my Great Aunty Jessie's (Jessie Oldfield, who lived at Market Square in her parent's home) on weekend nights, playing with the old-timers (their friends Cassie Fletcher or Lillian Harrison). Even if I lost ( ...see more
Up past the lightning tree, its trunk split in half where it was struck. Round Conjoin Lane and back home to Mum. Big brother and sister, our Vee and our George, fair-haired and handsome, this brother of mine. Our Vera is dark, beautiful and mysterious, seven years older, I love her to bits. She puts my long hair in rags and teases me. Our George brings his mates, 'Melly Hood' I call ...see more
Memories of visiting Uncle Bernard at his cobbler's shop, and smelling the leather and sweaty feet. Uncle Bernard makes crisps, peeling potatoes so thin with the knife he uses to cut leather, and the crisps taste good, Uncle Bernard is my friend. We go to the Orchard behind the Club(Ex- Service Mens Club). He keeps Banties there (small hens to you), Uncle Bernard, Uncle Herbert and Dad ...see more
My memories of growing up in 1940s' Tideswell are: navy blue knickers with elastic bottoms, gym slips and liberty bodices, awful shoes, legs like poppy stems, twirling and whirling, chalk on the blackboard, desks with inkwells, teachers so prim we held them in awe - they knew each and every one of us. Snotty noses, permanent sniffs, the thick and the bright. Running home to Mother - "What's there for tea?". Want more? Get in touch!
Elsie Hollis, International Poet
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