Down at the New Cross Speedway with Stan Greatrex and the New Cross Rangers in 1939

Now I never went to Speedway even given that while I was growing up the New Cross Speedway Track was not far from where we lived.

Plenty of my friends did go and would sport the black and gold badge with added bits for the different seasons they attended.

But then I get bored with motor car racing and even given the thrill of a live event I doubt it would ever have attracted me.

That and the fact that I would have had to have  been taken by my dad who was no more interested in the sport than I.

But lots were.  The track was not far from New Cross Road and from the 1930s was where a number of teams raced with names like the New Cross Lambs, from 1934-35, the New Cross Tamers in 1936 and from 1937 till 1963 the New Cross Rangers.

And in the collection there are three postcards of riders from the Rangers.  This is Stanley Greatrex who rode for the team in the 1930s, and captained them in 1939 as well as riding for the England team in 1936, ’38 and ’39.

Picture; Stan Greatrex, New Cross Rangers, courtesy of Mark Flynn, http://www.markfynn.com/london-postcards.htm

Three men of the Great War buried in Southern Cemetery a long way from home

Now I know there is more of a story here but some of it eludes me.

This is the memorial in Southern Cemetery to three men killed fighting in the Great War and for two of them I will be hard pushed to learn much about their lives because both were from New Zealand.

Alleyne G Webber was killed in action at Bauchops Hill in Gallipoli in August 6th 1915 and is “buried where he fell.”

His brother, Gerard died the following February here in Manchester “of wounds received in action before France on November 14th 1916."

Both men were 27 years old and they were from New Zealand.

Alleyne Webber was a Lance Corporal in the Otago Mounted Rifles which had been formed at the outbreak of the war and left New Zealand in the October for Egypt.

He died on the second day of an operation to capture Chunuk Bair a high point in the Sari Bair mountain range.

His brother who served in the 10th Royal Fusiliers had been wounded on the second day of what was to be the final large British attack during the Battle of the Somme.

I cannot even now begin to comprehend how his parents Emily and Alfred came to terms with the loss of two sons or that both were buried so far from home.

And I wonder also at how Mrs Ross took the news of her son Alan who had died in the July of 1916 just fourteen days after the start of the Battle of the Somme.

He too is on the memorial remembered with the lines “in memory of a splendid Friend and Comrade Alan Hamiliton Ross, 10th Royal Fusiliers Killed in action in France, July 15th, 1916.”

Now in the way these things work it will be far more difficult to uncover the lives of Alleyne and Gerard Webber, but at least I know something of Private Ross.

He was 30 years old was born in Paddington and came from a wealthy family.

His father was a ship owner and Private Ross attended Dover College founded in 1870.

There is something very moving in seeing these three men recorded together in Southern Cemetery but sadly the monument has recorded the year of Lance Corporal Webber’s death wrongly citing 1916 for 1915.

It is a small error and with the passage of a century does nothing to detract from the memorial.

I have to thank David Harrop for taking the photograph and once again point me to his permanent exhibition of memorabilia from the Great War which is housed in the Remembrance Lodge at Southern Cemetery.

Picture; from the memorial to Lance Corporal Webber and Private Weber and Ross, Southern Cemetery, 2015, courtesy of David Harrop

Pictures from a Woolwich window ........ no.3 ....... well almost

The top window of a Woolwich flat must be a pretty neat way of seeing the world below.

And when it is the same window over the space of a weekend, then you have got yourself a project.

All you need is a camera, and the patience to record from the same spot, and the rest as they say is Colin and Elizabeth’s “Pictures from a Woolwich Window”. *

Now, it has been a full thirty years since I wandered through Woolwich and even longer ago that I took a series of photographs of the area.

I know the place has changed, and bits of it have changed so much that I find myself puzzling over a location and more than once have been forced to ask for helping to work out where I am.

So, when our Colin and Elizabeth told me they were going home and spending a weekend in an Airbnb off Thomas Street, I asked for pictures.

It is a short series spanning just that weekend, but over the next few days captures the Woolwich I do not know.

But here I cheated, because the day was so nice Elizabeth and Colin took a walk out across Woolwich.

Location; Woolwich

Pictures; walking across Woolwich, 2019, from the collection of Liz and Colin Fitzpatrick

*Pictures from a Woolwich Window, https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.com/2020/09/pictures-from-woolwich-window-no1-night.html

One Friday night in Edmund Waller in the November of 1963

Every generation has that defining moment when a public event triggers a lasting memory of where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news.

For my parents it was the death of President Roosevelt and later the funeral of Winston Churchill while for some just a bit younger than me it was the death of John Lennon.

Most of the events are deaths and most are of world leaders mixed with tragedies like Aberfan or the Munich Air Crash although there can equally be moments of great hope and optimism of which the release of Nelson Mandela, the inauguration of President Obama and Dr King’s "I have a dream speech" sit deep with me.

But all of these are a backdrop to the one that still has the power to take me back to a night in the November of 1963.

I had been at Sea Cadets which was held in the lower hall of Edmund Waller, a school I had left just two years earlier.

We got to wear naval uniform, learned to drill, master Morse code, recognise a multitude of flags used as messages and on windswept and bitterly cold Sundays go rowing at the docks.

And at the half way mark in the evening for the price of a few pennies there was a huge mug of tea and a selection of misshaped jam tarts provided by the caretaker’s wife.

The sessions have pretty much merged into a blur but bits of that Friday on November 23rd have stuck with me of which my total humiliation at failing to tie a reef note are all too vivid.

Of course that memory only sticks because of the bigger picture which was the assassination of President Kennedy.

I was just 14 and politics and current affairs were just beginning to take over from Dan Dare, rugby and Airfix models.  That said like many of my generation I had been scared stiff during the October of 1962 when the Cuban Missile Crisis  seemed to threaten a nuclear war.

But President Kennedy was a remote figure and it was more the stunned reaction of my mother which made the event assume such a powerful significance.

The shooting had occurred at 12.30 Central Standard Time and President Kennedy died half an hour later so with the confusion and time difference I guess the first news of the shooting and then his death would not have been flashed up on the telly until 7 in the evening.

By then I would have set off for Edmund Waller and it would be a full two hours and a bit before I bounced back into the house by which time mum and dad would have had hours to mull over the news and ponder on what it held for the future.

Later I fell asleep listening to the radio in the kitchen.  The scheduled programme had been put to one side in favour of more news and reactions from around the world.

Such is the impact of an event half way round the world on a 14 year old lad in Lausanne Road.

Pictures; President Kennedy, February 20 1961, White House Press Office, and a young Andrew Simpson circa 1963 from the collection of Andrew Simpson

My Manchester, pictures without the words ............ The Refuge Building, 2010

The Refuge Building, 2010

Location; Manchester

Picture; the Refuge Building , 2010 from the collection of Andrew Simpson

Pictures from a Woolwich window ........ no.2 ....... views across the square

The top window of a Woolwich flat must be a pretty neat way of seeing the world below.

And when it is the same window over the space of a weekend, then you have got yourself a project.

All you need is a camera, and the patience to record from the same spot, and the rest as they say is Colin and Elizabeth’s “Pictures from a Woolwich Window”. *

Now, it has been a full thirty years since I wandered through Woolwich and even longer ago that I took a series of photographs of the area.

I know the place has changed, and bits of it have changed so much that I find myself puzzling over a location and more than once have been forced to ask for helping to work out where I am.

So, when our Colin and Elizabeth told me they were going home and spending a weekend in an Airbnb off Thomas Street, I asked for pictures.

It is a short series spanning just that weekend, but over the next few days captures the Woolwich I do not know.

Location; Woolwich

Pictures; looking out across Woolwich, 2019, from the collection of  Liz and Colin Fitzpatrick

*Pictures from a Woolwich Window, https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.com/2020/09/pictures-from-woolwich-window-no1-night.html

In Brooklands Cemetry with Samuel Edgar Walker of the 67th Pioneer Battalion

Now I know there is much more to discover about Samuel Edgar Walker who is recorded on the family’s gravestone in Brooklands Cemetery.

He was the youngest son of Samuel and Margaret Walker of Sale, and was born in 1889 and was killed in action during the Great War.

What marks him out as a little different from other the young soldiers commemorated in the cemetery is that he served with the 67th Pioneer Battalion of the Canadian Expeditionary Force.

According to his Attestation Papers he enlisted in Vancouver on September 28 1915 giving his occupation as “musician” which may suggest he was on a tour of Canada at the time but could equally mean he was a resident.*

At the moment his full military records have not yet been digitalized but I do know that he was 5 ft 7 in height had a “ruddy” complexion, with blue eyes and dark hair and was judged “fit for the Canadian over Seas Expeditionary Force.”

And that for now is it.

I am indebted to Antony Mills who came across the gravestone and has also photographed those of other Canadian soldiers who in due course I will research.

Location; Brooklands Cemetery






Picture, from the collection of Antony Miller, 2017

*Library and Archives Canada, Personnel Records of the First World War, http://www.bac-lac.gc.ca/eng/discover/military-heritage/first-world-war/personnel-records/Pages/item.aspx?IdNumber=293490

Summer in the City

Now for no particular reason other than I took them and they are of Manchester, here is a short series celebrating places I like.

All have appeared before and some a long time ago.


Pictures; around Manchester 2002-2015

Pictures from a Woolwich window ........ no.1 ....... night scene

The top window of a Woolwich flat must be a pretty neat way of seeing the world below.

And when it is the same window over the space of a weekend, then you have got yourself a project.

All you need is a camera, and the patience to record from the same spot, and the rest as they say is Colin and Elizabeth’s “Pictures from a Woolwich Window”. *

Now, it has been a full thirty years since I wandered through Woolwich and even longer ago that I took a series of photographs of the area.

I know the place has changed, and bits of it have changed so much that I find myself puzzling over a location and more than once have been forced to ask for help to work out where I am.

So, when our Colin and Elizabeth told me they were going home and spending a weekend in an Airbnb off Thomas Street, I asked for pictures.

It is a short series spanning just that weekend, but over the next few days captures the Woolwich I do not know.

Location; Woolwich

Pictures; looking out across Woolwich, 2019, from the collection of  Liz and Colin Fitzpatrick

*Pictures from a Woolwich Window, https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.com/2020/09/pictures-from-woolwich-window-no1-night.html

A poem by Ralph Connor, stories from a collection of famous writers and the Princess Mary’s Gift Book

Now I wonder how many of our BHC recruits to the Canadian Expeditionary Force ever came across the poem Canada’s Word by Ralph Connor?

It is one of those stirring appeals for young Canadians to enlist and begins “O Canada!  A voice calls through the mist and spume, Across the wide salty leagues of foam For Aid.  Whose voice thus penetrates thy peace?  Whose?  Thy Mother’s, Canada, thy Mother’s voice."

It runs to five stanza’s and concludes “Mother, to thee!  God, to Thy help!  Quick my sword!”

There will be plenty of people who are familiar with the work of Ralph Connor who sold more than five million copies of his works in his life time.*

His real name was Charles William Gordon and as well as a writer he was a leading Church leader in the Presbyterian and United churches in Canada

During the Great War he became Chaplain of the 43rd Cameron Highlanders.

In 1916 he was made senior chaplain of Canadian Forces in England with the rank of Major.

He then proceeded to France as senior chaplain, 9th Brigade, British Expeditionary Force and he was mentioned in Imperial dispatches.*

Now I have to confess I knew nothing of either Mr Connor or the Rev Dr. Charles William Gordon and only came across the poem in a book which was produced during the war and sold to raise money for The Queen’s Work for Women’s Fund which was part of the National Relief Fund.

The National Relief Fund had been launched in early August 1914 and acted as an umbrella for a large collection of charities.

The book which was simply called the Princess Mary’s Gift Book was quickly put together and published on November 27 1914 which is all the more remarkable given the wide range of contributors who included J M Barrie, Arthur Conan Doyle , H Rider Haggard, Rudyard Kipling and Baroness Orczy along with a large collection of line drawings and colour plates.

I suspect many of the stories were already in existence but in age of copyright issues the publication of the book so soon after the outbreak of war is remarkable.

The stories range from the light to the patriotic with a fair few falling back on Imperial themes, the odd more sinister tale of spies and one intriguing account of Spartan Women.

I doubt that my own great uncle Roger would have been over bothered with the book.  He was sent by the Derby Guardians in the care of Middlemore  in 1914 and after a an unhappy time on a series of farms ran away and enlisted in the CEF in 1915, changing his name and lying about his age.

By all accounts he was by the time he sailed for Canada more than a little feral and like his younger brother who was my grandfather had had little time for school
.
But in that odd way that these things work that poem, along with the book draws me a little closer to him.

In time I will go looking for the story of the book and in particular how many copies it sold and the amount it raised for The Queen’s ‘Work for Women Fund’, but that all seems a long way from my great uncle Roger who may or may not have been prompted to enlist on the strength of the poem Canada’s Word.

Pictures; from the book Princess Mary’s Gift Book, 1914 from the collection of David Harrop

* Ralph Connor, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ralph_Connor

Me, a camera and bits of the City I like ..............Nu 4 Castlefield

Now all these pictures have already appeared but that has never stopped me wanting to use them all over again to explore my City.

Location, Castlefield, Manchester

Picture; Castlefield, 2003, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

The Canadian Women's Army Corps Part 2 ......... The story of Jessie Wright McKellar

In 2013, as part of its 100th anniversary, Lakeland College, located in Vermilion, Alberta, held a special remembrance celebration for the women of the CWAC.  

During the war, the military took over the college and transformed it into the western Canadian training centre. As part of that celebration, I spoke on behalf of the families of those women who served  in the Corps. It is my pleasure to share those thoughts with you.  It is really the story of my mother, but could also be the story of so many others.

I am the proud daughter of a woman who absolutely loved being a member of the Canadian Women’s Army Corps. Like most of those who volunteered for service, Lieutenant Jessie Wright McKellar was from small town Canada. Located on the Lake of the Woods in northwestern Ontario, Keewatin had a population of no more than 3,000.  A close-knit community, most residents were the first and second generations of Scottish and English immigrants.

When war broke out, Jessie saw her brothers and all of her male cousins and friends sign up. She said she felt left out so she moved to Fort William, Ontario, present day Thunder Bay, and worked as a riveter with the Canada Car Company making Liberator bomber planes.  But, when the Corps began advertising, mom jumped at the chance to do something she thought would be special, adventurous and more meaningful!  She joined the CWAC's at the age of 21 and never once regretted the decision.

Mom quickly became an officer and did her advanced officer`s training in Ste. Anne de Bellevue, Quebec, but was also posted to, or did specialized training, in Perth, Ontario; Medicine Hat, Alberta; Winnipeg, Manitoba; and, Camp Shilo, just outside of Brandon, Manitoba.  Although she was never posted to Vermilion, she met women who did their training there; and, in the early 1990’s, she made contact with two of them. Together, they recalled an experience that only they could share and understand. This meant a lot to mom.

Now, from a very early age, my brother, my two sisters and I knew that we had a mother who was somewhat different from the mothers of our friends!

• None of those mothers had a pair of military-issued, clunky heeled, reddish brown shoes that laced up the front; or had a bag in her closet, scattered with moth balls, that contained a khaki uniform complete with matching shirt, tie and cap.

• No one else’s mom learned how to parachute by being strapped in a chair on the top of a tower and freefalling to the ground.

• Only our mom could tell us about being on parade and leading her platoon down the wrong street, entirely missing the saluting party! Mom did that only once!

• And none of those other moms could drive a jeep, change the oil in a car, or knew how to replace that broken fan belt with a brown Lisle cotton stocking.  Well our mom could!

• We also thought it was pretty cool that mom could play reveille and taps on the bugle. And, no - that’s not how she woke us in the morning or put us to bed at night! In fact, she read us fairy tales and sang typical children’s songs.  It fell to our dad to teach us war songs. To my dad’s credit, it was only many years later that I learned there were other, more risque versions of those little ditties!

• I also remember mom telling us about having her IQ tested.  She said she was pretty naïve about IQ’s, and was quite surprised when the testers came back into the room and said they were going to test her again. “They were pretty excited”, my mom said. “They told me my IQ was 162  and they thought they had a genius on their hands.   But, when they re-tested me, my score was only 142. I wasn't as smart, after all.  Anyway, I guess they thought I was still worth something, so, they sent me off to become an Officer!”

• What really excited mom, though, was her aptitude test. It said she would make an excellent plumber!  “This made sense to me”, mom told me.  “I always loved tinkering with things and taking things apart.”  Well, she was certainly right about that!  A few years ago, when we were cleaning out our parents` house, we found all sorts of record players, radios, lamps and small kitchen appliances that she had taken apart…and never  put back together!   And as for that dripping faucet in the bathtub…the current owner says it still drips

• Finally, one of my favourite stories was before mom became an officer.  She was working as the secretary for the Major in charge of administration.  Instead of getting my mother’s attention using a bell, like all the other officers used, he would pick up a hammer and bang it against two artillery shells – presumably empty!

• What the heck - one last story.  I may as well tell you that mom even got her one and only set of false teeth while she was in the Corps.  These teeth created a story unto themselves.  Mom could chew bubble gum; slice through an apple - skin and all; rip apart plastic; demolish a steak; and cut through embroidery floss –count them- 6 strands of thread! Those teeth were amazing and they lasted over 50 years!  At one time, I thought they would have been an interesting curiosity in the Canadian War Museum. In retrospect, though, it seems clear to me that, whoever made mom’s false teeth all those years ago, had the secret to making the first weapon of mass destruction!

Yes, our mom was quite different from those other moms-and we loved her for it! The four of us always knew there was something special and respectful about having had a mother who served in the War as a member of the CWAC’s.  To this day, I have a picture of mom, in her uniform, in my living room; and my brother posts photos of mom and dad every November on his Facebook page … lest we forget.

 Mom’s memories were vivid throughout her life and she spoke of being in service with pride, fondness and humour. “At a time when many women weren’t even working, I was doing all sorts of things most women never got to do,” she told me.  She also said that women in the Corps did experience life in an exciting and unusual way: she met people from across the country; she got to travel; she learned and did things she would never have known or done otherwise; and she learned, and continued to believe, that women were capable of doing just about anything.  This was but one of the legacies mom passed on to my two sisters and me.

Mom has been gone since 1995; but I am very privileged to be able to honour and express my deepest thanks to her - and to the members of the Canadian Women’s Army Corps - for the service they gave and the paths they opened for their daughters and future generations of women in Canada, within our society, our industries and our police and military presence. They were trailblazers - and they are unique in the history of this country. “Dulcit Amor Patrice.”  In Love of Country, We Serve.

© Susan (Hillman) Brazeau



Photos of Jessie Wright McKellar are from the Author's Family Collection

The lost Peckham picture and a story ................

Now I like the way that stories come together, and this one has it all.

Just a few days ago I ran a story of one of favourite guide books to London which was published in Penguin in 1966 and was a quirky account of London by Mr Ian Nairn.*

I came across my copy, here in Manchester in a second hand book shop and fell on it because it described the south east London I knew as a child.

What I was not expecting was for Jacky Debling to get in touch, and ask me if I knew whether there was in the book a picture of her dad who with her uncle ran a stall in Peckham.

I went back to the book found a picture which might be the one and sent it down and the rest is one of those stories best told by Jacky.

“There is a story behind these photos - you may be interested or you may not - but to me it’s quite extraordinary.

Back in 1966 at the Elephant & Castle shopping centre we (Mum, Billy and me) were in WH Smith. Mum showed us a book that had a photo of Dad on his stall/barrow in Rye Lane Peckham. 

The book was a London Guide book. She didn’t buy the book at the time as she couldn’t afford it (I’ve since seen it cost eight shillings and sixpence).

For years afterwards we spoke about the book and we tried hard to track it down, trawling Libraries and various Peckham Facebook groups and Pinterest.

A few days ago a post popped up this Facebook page (posted by Andrew Simpson) about a book written in 1963, published in 1966 - it was a guide book about London and mentioned Rye Lane.

So - worth an ask I thought! And what a surprise I got when Andrew Simpson replied including a photo - and it was only THE photo!

The book was republished 2014 and I was able to get a copy from Amazon!

So there you go Dad (Billy Buster Ellner) - on your 10th Anniversary up you pop! And I know it would make you smile 😍 xx

For those interested I’ve included a photo of what Ian Nairn wrote about Rye Lane in 1963 - I wonder what he would make of it today!"

And I have to agree with Jacky and wonder what her dad and for that matter my mum and dad would make of the place today.

Which just leaves me to credit Mr Nairn and look for the present publishers and tell them of the story.

The book has now been reissued in the Penguin Modern Classics series.

Location; Peckham

Picture; cover of Nair’s London, Ian Nairn and Jacky's dad,  from Nairn's London, 1966

*“unquenchable vitality has pulsed through it for ninety years” ........ walking down Rye Lane in the summer of 1963 or how others saw us, https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.com/2015/08/unquenchable-vitality-has-pulsed.html

The Canadian Women's Army Corps part 1 .......... an article from Susan (Hillman) Brazeau

I am always pleased when friends offer to contribute to the blog and was particularly happy that Susan who lives in Canada agreed to write two more articles about aspects of Canadian history. 

In the following article she says "this was originally a speech I presented at the 100th anniversary of the college where I taught, which had  also been the Westerrn Training Centre for the CWAC; and, also at the 2013 Remembrance Day Services."

At a time in our history when we are beginning to recognize and honour those who served in peace time and in more recent conflicts, there is one important group of servicewomen from the past whom I want us to remember.

I refer to the Canadian Women’s Army Corps, or, CWAC’s.


When World War II broke out, there was a quiet, but steady movement by women across Canada, to have the right to take an active role in the Canadian Armed Forces.

Not only did they have to convince the government of their worth, they had to persevere against the prejudices towards working women that was prevalent in Canadian society at the time.

In fact, the term “QUACKS”- which has since become a term of endearment - was, in the early days, considered derogatory and an insult by the Corps.

Nevertheless, these women persisted; and, although initially reluctant to have women do anything other than volunteer work, the Canadian government finally saw the advantage of having a female workforce with a fully trained, but non-combatant military presence that could free up more men to go off to war.

Thus, different branches of the military created their own women’s forces.   One of these was the Canadian Women’s Army Corps, and it is this relatively unknown part of Canadian history that is highlighted here.

Established in 1941, the Corps began to recruit the following year and officially disbanded in 1946 - five short years.

Two training centres were established: Kitchener, Ontario for eastern Canada; and the western centre was on the campus of what is now Lakeland College in Vermilion, Alberta.

All the women were tested for aptitude, interests, abilities and IQ.

Here are some of the criteria for a woman to be accepted into the CWAC`s. She had to be:

• a British subject, which all Canadians were at the time;
• in excellent health and weigh at least 105 pounds (or 47.6 kg);
• between 18 and 45 years of age; and,
• single, with no dependants, and,
• she had to have completed grade 8

     
Although a few of the women were sent to Europe or the United States, most remained in Canada.

They performed a variety of jobs - close to 55 different types by war’s end - including roles that had traditionally been carried out by women, such as clerical work, laundry, cooking and sewing.

They also performed in stage shows for the male troops, before they went overseas.

CWAC’s also served as medical and dental assistants, switchboard operators and cipher clerks.  Others served in some of the more traditional male roles such as radio operators, mechanics and drivers of trucks, transports, jeeps and personnel vehicles.

By the end of the war, almost 22,000 women served in the Corps.

Twenty-five died, while in service.  Most who joined said they were doing it for the excitement, for pride of serving their country, or to do something entirely different from what they were used to doing.

One such woman was the author’s mother, Jessie Wright McKellar.

Her story is told in Part 2.

©  Susan (Hillman) Brazeau

Pictures; courtesy of the Library and Archives Canada

Summer in the City

Now for no particular reason other than I took them and they are of Manchester, here is a short series celebrating places I like.

All have appeared before and some a long time ago.






Pictures; around Manchester 2002-2015

Well Hall on a wet day in 1964

Now just what do you do on a Saturday morning in early July when the rain is coming down like stair rods?

I rather think an adventure in the woods is pretty much out of the question and likewise the attractions of the market in Beresford Square or the ferry fall away as the rain just keeps falling.

After all even the upbeat market stall holders found their quick fire banter and optimistic sales pitch a bit harder when everything felt damp, while the sight of the Thames held little appeal when the rain clouds all but touched the water.

There were Saturday morning pictures but at 14 that all seemed a bit below me which just left the Library on the High Street and the bus ride down to Avery Hill.

In 1964 it would be a good two years before I started at Crown Woods and so this end of Eltham was still unexplored territory.

I am guessing I went into the hot house but I may have got that all wrong, although fast forward a few years and  I am convinced it was one of those places I visited on Sundays with new girl friends following the Saturday date at the ABC in the High Street.

There will be plenty who remember the scenario ........ the evening went well, you both wanted to see each other again but wanted a place more casual, and above all cheap.

So Avery Hill fitted the bill giving both of you that added advantage of being able to close down the romance and go your separate ways, allowing the rest of Sunday to be salvaged.

But all that was in the future, back in 1964 my options were more limited and ended up with a walk round the Pleasaunce, a trip up to Wilcox’s opposite the parish church and a trip up to London.

The train journey in itself was an adventure and the noise and bustle of London Bridge or Charing Cross could make up for what had been a dull morning in Well Hall.

At 14, pubs were still off bounds, but there were museums, art galleries and monuments to look at. All were free and most were out of the rain.

And of course by the time you got back the clouds had cleared, the pavements dry and the night held out all sorts of promise.

Location; Eltham

Pictures; Eltham, 2013 from the collection of Jean Gammons

Surviving a century ........... the silver inscribed watch

Now it always fascinates me how cherished items end up on eBay.

The watch

Some will be family treasures passed down, while others are just a simple holiday snap and yet all of them will have once marked a significant moment in someone’s life.

And so it is with this watch which was awarded to Earl C Duffin.  I have no idea when he received it but the inscription on the back refers to a Masonic Lodge in Winnipeg.

It now belongs to David Harrop who told me that Earl C Duffin served with the Canadian Expeditionary Force and with the help of that excellent site Library and Archives Canada, it has been possible to follow his army career.*

I know he was born in 1886, enlisted in  December 1914, and sailed for Europe the following August and by the April of 1916 he was in France.  He was demobbed in August 1919, having attained the rank of L. Col.

The watch and its inscribed sentiment

In time I shall try and find out more.

I know he married a Miss Shirley Calder on July 20 1921 and the Winnipeg Tribune carried a wedding picture.

It is more than likely that he will have returned to his earlier occupation as a merchant.

And he may even have revisited his old homes in Winnipeg at Harvard Avenue and later in Main Street.

All of which betokens a man with money and influence and begs the question of how his watch left Canada.

That said it will feature in David’s exhibition at Southern Cemetery commemorating the Battle of the Somme and is one of a number of items reflecting the stories of the twenty-six Canadians from the CEF who are buried in Southern Cemetery.

C H Hill of the "26"

They have become part of a research project to chronicle the lives of all the twenty six. **

So far I have discovered something on two of the men one of whom was a British Home Child, and before July 1 I hope to have found out something about them all.

Now that would be a fitting way to mark the day which was not only the first day of the Somme but also Canada Day, and this year the High Commissioner of Canada along with our Lord Mayor will be at a service of remembrance in Southern Cemetery.

Pictures; watch of Earl C Duffin, from the collection of David Harrop

*Library and Archives Canada, http://www.bac-lac.gc.ca/eng/discover/military-heritage/first-world-war/first-world-war-1914-1918-cef/Pages/search.aspx

**Canada's 26 of the CEF in Southern Cemetery, https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/Canada%27s%2026%20of%20the%20CEF%20in%20Southern%20Cemetery

The goldfields of Australia in the 19th century

It remains one of those rare privileges when a friend shares some of their family stories with me and then agrees to them being posted on the blog.

And this is all the more exciting when the family experiences come from the other side of the world and explore the Australian gold rush.

Now I didn’t know that much about the discovery of gold in New South Wales in the 19th century but like the opening up of the Californian gold fields its discovery led to a similar gold fever.

There had been stories of chance gold finds as far back as 1815, but the first official confirmation came in 1823.  This however was suppressed for fear that it might attract large number of prospectors including runaway convicts and free settlers who would abandon their farms in search of a golden fortune.

But ironically it was the Californian Gold Rush in 1849 which convinced the authorities that in the face of people leaving for the USA the home gold fields should be made known and so pre-empt a local drive for gold.

And so from 1851 into the 1880s parts of Western Australia became the haunt of the hard working, the hopeful, the lucky the unsuccessful.

All of which make June’s ancestors all the more canny because at least one chose to grow the food the gold hunters needed and in turn became more successful than many of those who chased the metal.

"My mother's grandfather, John Templeton, was also a sailor but nowhere near as elevated as Captain Dan.

I think he probably started out on a collier carrying coal out of Whitehaven where he lived as a young man. Possibly he sailed to Liverpool and back although I will never know this for sure.

Somehow he took a position on a ship which sailed to Victoria not long after Victoria separated from New South Wales and then he worked on a coastal ship. He was a sailor working out of Melbourne when he met my great grandmother.

When they married he gave up the sea and started working as carrier, a job which was very necessary in and around Melbourne in those days. Eventually he purchased his own horse and cart and when a family crisis occurred, he packed up the family and headed to Bendigo with the horse and cart.

I believe that he kept the horse and cart whilst he prospected for gold on the Bendigo Creek at what was then known as Kangaroo Gully, now known as Kangaroo Flat.

When it became harder to find gold some of the first miners who had families started reworking the piles of dirt which had been left by other prospectors due to lack of water and also lower yields of gold. These types of miners were known as puddlers.

To extract gold in this way you needed a horse which travelled around and around, processing large amounts of soil. John and his brother-in-law, George Teasdale, who came from Manchester, did pretty well with this.

They were also quite ingenious in that they used the mud which would have clogged up the creek to make mud bricks with which to build their more permanent houses. The government still had not surveyed the land in the area so no land was available then on which to build homes. The miners and their families had to make-do with tents.

However, the large number of puddlers who were working in the gully eventually clogged up the creek and was very unpopular with other settlers and miners. So the government clamped down on the puddlers by charging them a higher licence fee to work their claims making it an unprofitable way of extracting the gold. George then took to being a carter and John moved his family to the site of a new gold rush at Inglewood.  

He later returned to Kangaroo Flat where, with his brothers-in-law John MacPherson and George Teasdale they worked on a deep mine at Diamond Hill using their skills in following likely veins of quartz to open up new leads.

When he died John was a cab proprietor, so he returned to driving horses and a type of cab which carried about 8-10 people. One of the Templeton’s must have taken over the cab business as, when I was about 11 years old, my grandfather took my sister and me out to Kangaroo Flat in a cab. We never knew the significance of this until years later when I took up researching our ancestors! Why did he not tell us, I wonder?"

Pictures; from the collection of June Pound

On Whitworth Street in May 2007

One from the archive.

It is a scene you won’t see for much longer.

And as I haven’t been down this way with a camera for a while it my already have changed.

It was May 2007 and I was on Whitworth Street, standing on a partially demolished bit of wall.

Location; Whitworth Street, Manchester

Picture; from the collection of Andrew Simpson

Me dad .... from Arthur Smith .... one to listen

It's funny, moving, and tells the story of Sid, "an ordinary man who lived through exceptional times".

Arthur's father Syd was an ordinary man in extraordinary times. Just 17 when he signed up, he fought at El Alamein, was captured and then imprisoned in Colditz and, after the war, joined the Metropolitan Police.

He spent the rest of his working life patrolling the streets of London and had possibly the worst arrest rate in the force - having been a prisoner of war he had no desire to subject anyone else to suffer a loss of liberty.

In this funny and tender evocation of post-war Britain, Arthur brings us Syd's diary entries and conjures up the spirit of his father, a man of great integrity and humour.

Recorded in front of a live, socially distanced audience, with assistance from his brother Nick and music from Kirsty Newton.

Producer: Alison Vernon-Smith

A Yada-Yada Audio production for BBC Radio 4"*

*Syd, https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m000y64v

Early morning in Library Walk ........ waiting for Central Ref to open no. 1

Now the light wasn’t so good and I still had 20 minutes to go before Central Ref opened.

So with nothing else to do I started taking pictures.

Location; Library Walk








Picture; Library Walk, 2017, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

Madge Addy .... spy .... nurse and hairdresser ... last night at Chorlton Libray in the company of Chris Hall

 So, last night 70 people gathered in the Library to hear Chris Hall talk about his new book on Madge Addy.

She was a remarkable woman who served as a nurse on the Repbulican side in the Spanish Civil War, went on to be an Allied spy in occuppied France during the Second World War, and for a brief time worked in Chorlton at 34 Manchester Road.

Chris has a light engaging style of public speaking, coupled with a deep knowledge of Madge and a deep respect for the woman.

Writing the book was not without its problems, especially in the early stages when information on Mage's life was sparce.

But sheer solid and painstaking research coupled with a few lucky breaks gave the background, and the result is an excellent biography which places her in the context of the Spanish Civil War and the subsequent conflict with an added bonus of details of the lives and contributions of other woman, some of who have also been ignored by history.

The talk was part of this years Chorlton Book Festival**

Chris tells me that there will be other speaking engagements, so if you missed last night I recommend you look out for when Madge and Chris come together again.

And finally just a thanks to the Library staff, and the organisers and Friends of the Book Festival for making the night go so smoothly.

Pictures, from the collections of Chris Hall and Andrew Simpson

*The book is published by Pen & Sword Books Ltd, Lucy May, 47 Church Street, Barnsley, South Yorkshire, S70 2AS, www.pen-and-sword.co.uk, Email: promotions@pen-and-sword.co.uk and cost £25. And is also available from Chorlton Bookshop.

**Chorlton Book Festival September 17th-25th, https://www.chorltonbookfestival.co.uk/

Every town should have a cinema …… Wirksworth population 3,000 … the mystery

I say a mystery but there will be someone who can offer up the explanation, because in the course of researching the story of cinemas, I cam across an entry for the market town of Wirsworth, population, 3,000.

There listed in its own right, along with all the big cities and towns for 1928 was a record of Wirksworh’s picture house.

The listing says the Town Hall, so was it in the Town Hall, beside it, of just a temporary affair?

Answers please, to the blog.

In the meantime it just points to that simple observation that back in 1928, pretty much everyone had a cinema.

Location; Wirksworth












Pictures; entry from the Kinematograph Year Book, 1928, and the Town Hall, 2019, from the collection of Andrew Simpson