By R. M. Sheridan (Rona Wall)
Events which took place in our household in October were not conducive to letter writing. A well known cable company sent a couple of juniors to re-route their previous installation and managed to drill into our water storage tank! Geoff and myself being nimble of foot and quick of thought managed to stop most of the sixty gallons pouring into our lounge. I wonder why some young people will not listen to advice. Continue reading A Letter from Bedfordshire
In the late fifties and early sixties Rye was a thriving market town. Each year there was a Trades Exhibition at The Monastery and local enterprises took stands to show their stock in trade, advertise their services and display their products.
There were demonstrations and film shows in a marquee erected in the Monastery Garden. Continue reading Rye Trades Exhibition in 1959
By Clifford Jordan.
The Visit of The St. John Ambulance Brigade Cadets to Brighton.
Seen in the photograph, taken on board Alex Henshaw’s coach, are some of the Rye Ambulance Cadets on their way to the Royal Pavilion Brighton in the summer of 1956 to be inspected by their Colonel-in-Chief Princess Margaret. Continue reading In Living Memory 2
By Jo’ Vincent
What gives Rye it’s special appeal? Some say the magnetic quality is centred on the Quarter Boys who guard the Church Clock and ring out the quarters. Old Rhodes did say “The sound of the Quarter Boys will draw you further than gunpowder can blow you”. This has proved the case so many times when old Ryers, who have spent many years overseas return to the town where they were brought up. Continue reading The Magic of Rye
By Jill Lowry
I was wondering around Rye Market this morning, noticing the Christmas items for sale, and it set me thinking of Christmases past. As a child and teenager in the fifties, I lived with my young war-widowed Mother in Croydon. Various other members of the family lived locally and after the excitement of Christmas stockings and a special dinner of roast chicken or even rabbit it became a tradition for everyone to gather at my Mum’s flat.She would make sandwiches and her famous trifle, and the Uncles would bring a crate of beer and perhaps a bottle of V.P. Ruby wine for the ladies.
Everyone had eaten a good meal and were fairly mellow after a visit to the pub and a few convivial toasts. Certain Uncles could be persuaded to do a card trick or so, and I was expected to do a ‘party piece’. I loathed doing this and grew more Continue reading Party Piece