It's 100 years ago and you live where you live right now...

The house would not have been built 100 years ago,but the pub and church, 200 yards away,would have looked ancient even then.What would I be doing,either working on the land or docker alongside Grandfather.
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Covenants are fascinating. One house we were looking at buying in the Lakes had a car port running underneath the house; actually it was access to a communal drying ground. Most of the locals had been bought off by the vendor with clothes dryers but one or two insisted on their right to use the garden. Suffice to say our local solicitor told us to run a mile.

Our current property has a side gate that opens to the yards behind what were back to back cottages (now tastefully converted holiday lets). Their covenant allow is to herd stock and take horses through and to allow the ‘night cart’ access to take away the, err, soil.

To demonstrate usage, we make a point of moving the bins through this gate and taking the dog for walks though it, and give harsh stares to those who block the gates. We encourage our guests to do likewise.
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Except that in my case the house dates from the 1930s, in the 70/80s the first owner was still living in it.
I wonder what they thought people would get up to in a shed that would disturb the neighbours. Ferrets, it'll be ferrets!
I'm surprised at a caravan ban in the 30's. The shed could easily be filled with rabbits or chickens, or used as a workshop. I'm guessing this was a middle class neighbourhood when built and they want to preserve the image of gardens for leisure.
I'm surprised at a caravan ban in the 30's. The shed could easily be filled with rabbits or chickens, or used as a workshop. I'm guessing this was a middle class neighbourhood when built and they want to preserve the image of gardens for leisure.
It may have been or as mentioned above it could be because the road is narrow, modern cars have to park with two wheels on the kerb.
I’m not from the town where I live, where I have (mostly) lived for the last 23 years, and which I consider home, and I have no family connections here. Two facts stand out, though - the population of the Burgh was 2,616 in 1911 and there are 94 names on the 1914-1919 section of the war memorial. I can’t help but think that this must have an enormous effect on the town and the local economy, and it is interesting that by 1971 the population was 2,440.


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If I was to return to this house in 1919, I would be glad to be doing so rather than the local Poor house which is but a stone's throw up the hill.
Also luckily enough, just a couple of hundred yards from the "reading room" A very small bulding built as a kind of public library.
There are a lot less trees now, most having been cut down to supply lumber for trenches, who knew holes in the ground would take so much wood. There is still evidence of the Candadian Lumberjacks camps around if you go for a walk on a Sunday.
I had served in the 5th Battalion of the Seaforth Highlanders. A Territional unit with a strange and some would say unique style. Funded as these units often were by the Duke of Sutherland, they had a compeltely different cap BAdge from the rest of the Seaforths, the Capbadge being the Sutherland Clan crest.
On top of that the officer's cap badge differed with rank by the addition of feathers
( from left to right, (2nd Lt/Lt, Capt, Maj, CO)
And obviously we wore Sutherland Tartan, the only unit to do so.
Today, I live in an early sixties semi, with views over a lovely green valley. 100 yrs ago, the valley was full of brickworks with a railway line running down to the sea.
There are a few tumbled down ruins about a foot high, but nature has been very busy, and you'd never how industrial the area used to be.


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In 1919 Ottawa Sens won the Stanley Cup. Not a chance now.
The local masonic lodge Stevenston thistle and rose 169 will be putting up a memorial plaque of the lodge members who were killed one of which was a Cpl from Saltcoats in 1917. His wife and 2 daughters were drowned when the Lusitania was sunk by a U-boat.

My dad's gran will be a widow of around 9months and her husband will be lying in a German cemetery after dying of flu in a POW camp in June 1918 he will lie there until 1921 before being repatriated to a small British section in a French military cemetery near Strasbourg.
His gran will then try to find out the details of his capture during the spring offensive but never find out anything and never know that around the same time and officer of the RA unit he was in wrote a book which details the Bty being attacked by 2000 German troops and them being reduced to firing over open sights and small arms before being over run.

About this time my great gran X2 is making her way as a business woman by renting out hand carts etc for street sellers she will go on to found a market and own a dance hall which is still going . She will become Scotland's first female self made millionaire and have a write up in the Kelvin grove museum about what she did for woman's rights showing they could be successful business people. Money never came to our side of the family though.

I need find out about my paternal grandparents etc though he has just been born and will run off to join the circus in the 30s but will join the HLI in 1936 and serve in India
My headstone would have stated RIP 1908. No antibiotics.
The Seagoon residence would have been a mere 70 years old in 1919, built at the same time as the chateau across the road and probably housing the hunt-master. The barn which is reputed to be a hundred years older than the house was probably still functional rather than the shambles that is in our wood line.

Although this area of France did not see fighting on it’s soil, like our compatriots from Britain, a generation of our youth did not return. The last of our truly local vineyards fell into terminal decline and even agriculture stalled for many years for want of labour.

I also wonder if the old-farts in 1919 played a similar game, asking what their circumstances might have been just over a hundred years earlier at the time of the Revolution and battles of the Vendée war.
I live across the road from Burnley Cavalry barracks, and down the road from Hapton Valley mines. With the end of the war, the Accrington Pals regiment has been decimated but not bing of the manual labour type I’m still in the military, albeit in a green suit rather than blue. My house a two up two down with out door shitter is bloody freezing, but this is my and everyone else’s around here’s lot.

Burnley barracks train station then

Burnley barracks train station now

Burnley Barracks Officers Mess prior to demolition in the 1960’s to create the M65 motorway after the East Lancashire Regiment moved to Fulwood barracks.

The only part of the barracks left- built next to a train track, the barracks was at the junctions of Barracks road, Accrington Road, Trafalgar Road and Westgate.

The site is now home to a gym and a Travelodge.

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I have arrived back from the war and rejoined my wife and two children in a small cottage which has no gas or electricity in West Drayton. The area including adjoining yiewsley is a huge brick making area with clay generally going down to a depth of three or four yards or even deeper in some places before you hit the hard ballast. Our western proximity to the centre of London just sixteen miles away and the easy access to it using large barges along the grand union canal means that most of the buildings being built in London are constructed using bricks made from clay dug from our area.

There are several firms employing men to dig out the clay and make the bricks but there are also lots of us who have formed small groups and set up on our own to make bricks as well. The primary requirement is to obtain the rights to some ground. This is often done by simply squatting on the land and claiming it as our own. If anybody wants to contest our right to the ground we have occupied, they have to be bigger and harder than all of us or there has to be a lot more of them. It can sometimes get quite ugly and we often have to hold our nerve. Fortunately, the war has prepared us for it.

The working day begins at around seven in the morning and we all work digging the clay out, placing it in moulds and firing it in a clay kiln built for the purpose. Some of our children often accompany their fathers and one of their chores is running to the Foresters Arms at lunchtime and often at other times as well to fill up a large jug with beer for some refreshment as we work on. Once we have made enough bricks to make it worth our while, we either borrow or rent a horse and cart to get them to the canal where they are sold and then transported into London for use somewhere in the capital city.

It's hard manual work but we are earning money and we are independent of any employer trying to take advantage and pay us as little as they can get away with. Finishing work in the late afternoon, we then all go to the Foresters Arms for a few hours in the evening before going home to eat and sleep in preparation for the next days work.

For extra money, during the picking seasons, we send our women and children a mile to the south of the brickfields to Heath Row where they pick the apples and pears from the trees in the many orchards there. The women and children don’t get paid a fortune but every little bit helps.
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