Maggots – Rye's Own Magazine

Monument

By Jimper

The marshland around Rye when under the sea was the highway to Winchelsea and England. Naturally the soil was full of old rubbish, lost at sea in those days. Continue reading Monument

We youngsters turned our hands to anything for a bob, from killing rabbits to catching butterflies. There is nothing more different than a butterfly from a kicking bunny. Next door to us is now a pair of houses, but in those days it was two acres of market garden run by an old man who did gardening, woodcutting and rabbiting for a living. As he got older so he let his pals have a rod or two of garden. It was a good time to be alive. Continue reading Jimper’s Early Years Part Two

Poor Old Dennis

By Country Boy

Poor old Maggots, being the smallest one of us, he always got the muddy end of the stick. Today we lay in wait for him to show up because he had accidently let the boat drift away down the river and we had to make a mile detour along the road to cross the bridge to get to the other bank where the wind had driven our Jolly Roger. Continue reading Poor Old Dennis