There is a strong belief that all Rye Mayors have been members of the council but this is not true. They must be chosen by Rye Council from Rye ratepayers and, of course, the chosen person must agree to take the position. Continue reading Rye Mayors 1913 – 2010
An opportunity for Rye Town Council to put action to the words
By Jim Hollands
It’s all gone quiet at Rye Town Hall – All the build up and work that went into gaining ‘Quality Town Status’ and earning a framed certificate and the elusive ‘Power of Wellbeing’ has come to nothing, just as those who thought up the scheme probably knew it would end! Continue reading The Power of Wellbeing
I was born in Rye East Sussex, in May 1936, and lived at Godfrey’s Row which was a terrace of five houses situated opposite the Pipemaker’s Arms Public House, in Winchelsea Road. In 1940 the first kits of the Anderson shelter, the outdoor type, which consisted of a large hole dug by the householder, with curved sections of corrugated iron bolted together and placed in the hole to form the walls and roof . The earth which had been dug out to from the hole was then thrown back over the shelter to give it added protection. Continue reading Bombed by Both Sides
Arthur Woodgate remembers the old family names of Rye and examines other topics of interest to those of us who have spent most of our lives in this small, proud town I thought I knew most Rye Harbour people and I still know the name of Saunders, and must have known Graham’s dad but he was 14 years older than me when at school and in early teens 14 years was a long time. (Graham Saunders has written more reminiscences in a letter in this month’s Pen & Ink). Continue reading Old family names of Rye
Alexandra Park was the beautiful setting for this year’s Armed Forces Day organised by Hastings & St. Leonards Veterans Association. As well as helping to raise money for St. Dunstans (a charity for blind ex-service men and women) the primary aim of the event was to celebrate the cadets 150th anniversary and remember all who have made the ultimate sacrifice in times of war. Continue reading Armed Forces Day
A stroll around Rye today is completely different from the same walk fifty years ago. Today you have to look in the window or at the sign above to know what they sell. In my young days you knew where you were by the smell. Every shop had a distinctive aroma. Continue reading Jimper’s Jottings
As the media recently reminded us it is Seventy years since the Battle
of Britain and Sixty-Five years since V E Day. I was only two when
war broke out so all through that time I was too young to understand
what it was all about.
In 1940, when the danger of invasion was imminent, my mother, my youngest
brother and I, together with some others from Rye, were evacuated
to Taunton in Devon for six weeks. My brother was eleven and I was
three. We weren’t happy there, we didn’t have a very nice billet.
My brother went to school. I remember my mother reading me some stories
about the Bruin Boys.
We all missed my father and when he wrote it made us cry. On the day
that I knew we were going home I jumped up and down on my bed with
excitement. I fell off the bed and banged my head on the bedroom door,
no serious injury was sustained.
When I was five I started school at the Ferry Road Primary School.
We all had to take gas masks wherever we went, fortunately they were
never needed. When I was old enough to walk to school alone (six or
seven), I was always afraid that the siren would sound and I would
have to find a shelter to go to and I wouldn’t know what to do. Thankfully
that never happened. If the siren went while we were at school we
had to get under our desks. Occasionally we had to go to the big brick
shelter in the playground. There was one shelter in the Primary playground
and another in the Senior.
There were four serious bombing raids on Rye during the time I was
at school. One raid happened when I was at school. My mother became
very panicky and wanted to go straight to the school in case it had
been hit! My middle brother was at home. He pacified her and told
her that the school was all right, although I don’t think he actually
knew! It hadn’t been struck and all the children were safe.
At home when the siren went we used to crowd into the cupboard under
the stairs. One night it must have been going more than usual, none
of us could sleep, so we went into the back garden. One or two neighbours
were also in their gardens. One family was drinking tea and they called
to us.
I can remember my two youngest brothers standing at the window of
our back bedroom, which was my bedroom, waiting to see if any Doodlebugs
were coming. I liked them doing that when I was in bed. A few Doodlebugs
did come over on various nights.
Even wartime had its moments of humour. One evening, one of Rye’s
leading businessmen was walking in the High Street in the dark (because
of the blackout), when he bumped into something. Thinking it was a
person he said “I beg your pardon”. Later it emerged it was a pile
of sandbags!
One of our friends who lived in Bedford was an ARP Warden. One night
he was called out in a rush and mistakenly put his wife’s knickers
on instead of his underpants! They both had a good sense of humour.
Of course, the War was a very tragic and sad affair. My family had
its share of sadness when, in 1944, my eldest brother was killed on
active service in Italy. This was a big blow, although we knew it
might happen. The rest of us survived the War and lived to tell about
it.
The following are extracts from The Jottings of Camber Village by
Daisy Butchers. Continue reading Wartime Camber
In modern times, with all the comforts that the post war world has ushered in, it is, perhaps, hard to imagine the days which Dickens has so vividly recorded for us when the workhouse and the beggar were part of the daily scene and the world was, as Disraeli remarked, for the few – the very few. Although with the advance of the welfare state the character of Christmas has changed and its true meaning has been lost amidst the onslaught of commercialism, it still remains a season of goodwill and a time when hearts are strangely touched by the magic of the occasion. Continue reading A Victorian Christmas in Rye
How dare Rother District Council even consider selling off the building that fed the town in times of extreme poverty and which has become a friendly landmark set deep in the heart of true lovers of Rye. Continue reading How Dare They
