Welcome to the Orange Juice Bar!
After the austere days of the Second World War, it was good to at last go on holiday.
I would like to share with you this lovely photograph of my husband Paul and his mother Rita, taking a well earned break in Weymouth.
Paul was six years old and from the clothes they wore, you can tell it was 1945. The Jubilee Clock is prominent, along with the pre-war cars parked on the seafront.
They must have gone to the deliciously named Orange Juice Bar!
Written by Margaret Broad.
Social and Leisure
Letting our hair down!
I remember when we were living in Lower Lychett, on a Saturday night we’d get the old Toops bus in to Poole.
Toops was the bus company before Bere Regis coaches took over.
It was a very draughty old bus and on a Saturday day night very rowdy! Full of people going into Poole for a night out.
Everybody knew each other and it was the only time people let their hair down! The bus driver would always wait for people – someone would shout ‘I can see her coming down the farm track!’ and he’d wait for whoever it was before he drove off.
My wife and I used to go to the pictures in Poole at the Regent Cinema. This was about 1949 or 1950. Of course it’s all changed now, I don’t think I’d recognise it.
All the buses used to stop alongside what was called the ‘Ladies Walking Field’ – I presume it was called that because during Victorian times ladies used to walk around it and take exercise there. I think the Dolphin Centre has been built there now.
Coming back home, the bus always used to smell of fish and chips because everyone used to have their fish and chips in newspaper, nothing but fish and chips! It was all very friendly then, there would be lots of cheering – like I said, it was about the only time people let their hair down.
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Written by a Dorset man.
A pleasant life in Lyme
Life was very pleasant in Lyme except for the war years. I was very sporty and belonged to a hockey club and played tennis, netball and badminton.
In the summer we went swimming in the sea.
We used to go to the Old Assembly Rooms where Cobb Gate Car Park is now. It had a little cinema in the downstairs and upstairs was for teaching dancing and holding parties etc.
We all went to dances in our teens. I was lucky because I could drive my parents’ car and we could get to dances in all the villages. You had to look out for things to do and form your own clubs. It was my family’s car and I was one of the first girls to learn to drive in Lyme. I never took a test and I drove till I was in my eighties.
A friend’s brother had a little boat and we often went off to sea. Our parents didn’t worry. They said you have to line up a certain tree and something else with the church spire to find where the fishing beds were. You had to have three different points to line up.
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Written by Molly Raison.
Rounders, conkers or Tibby Cat
I knew every family and we were all together, running all over the area. We used to go up round the school to play because we could always go in the playground, we’d play rounders or conkers or Tibby Cat.
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In Tibby Cat we had two pieces of wood and we’d hit the short one with the long one to see how far we could make it jump. We’d take our hoops up Colmer’s Hill.
The boys had steel hoops and crooks, the girls only had wooden ones with sticks. We’d let the hoop go from the top of Colmer’s Hill and it would race down across the field, hit an emmett butt (ant hill) and leap over the hedge.
Just past the Ilchester Arms, there’s a block of houses on the left and a steep bank on the right.
We had a track down the bank we called the Slippery Patch. We all, girls and all, used to slide down there on our mums’ frying pans holding on to the handles which came up between our legs. We’d slide down on to the road.
There were only two cars in Symondsbury, the Lord of the Manor’s and the rector’s, so we were quite safe.
The photo on the right shows our Cub Scout pack at Symondsbury Manor in the late 1920s.
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Written by a Dorset resident.
The Ghost of the Chantry
We lived in a little house next door to The Chantry in South Street, Bridport. All the youngsters used to say that The Chantry was haunted.
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We knew the family that lived there and one night, when we were staying there, we heard chains rattling. There were two coffins built into the staircase and we really believed there was a ghost. It turned out to be our friend’s brother rattling chains in the attic.
Every Sunday we’d walk down to the bay with mum and dad. There were no ice creams then. We’d walk around and then walk back up. A lot of families did this so I’d meet my friends.
There used to be a market in West Street with animal pens and one day, coming home from school, a bull escaped and chased me all up West Street. I was a good runner and got away but all the farmers were chasing it.
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Written by Jean Marley.
Memories of Maiden Castle
Maiden Castle holds many memories for me, as from the age of two until I left for college we lived in Treves Road.
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This, of course, meant Maiden Castle was within easy reach, particularly from about the age of 7 when I went from a fairy bike to a more grown-up model! Actually, not having had a front brake before, I went over the handlebars on my 7th birthday!
I was born in Dorchester in the 40s, we lived with my granny for my first two years, my parents having been evacuated from their smallholding, as there was an unexploded bomb in the garden. My mother was prone to exaggeration, so I’m not too sure about the exact location, but it made a good story!
The photo below shows me looking rather cross on the left, my cousin, Simon, and my sister, Jane on the lane leading to Maiden Castle.
On one occasion my sister and her friend offered to take me for a walk in my pushchair, but having got as far as Maiden Castle, I think it became a bit of a bore pushing the pram and they returned home without me!
My best friend lived in Maiden Castle Road and we had a wonderful time roaming about on all those steep slopes. I’m sure my love of plants started there, as I was fascinated by all those little chalk-loving wild flowers.
We did have a nasty experience one day though. There were 5 of us playing in the middle part when suddenly we were confronted by a ferocious Friesian bull, he even had a frayed rope on his ring. You would not believe how fast we ran and, of course, it meant down and up those steep slopes.
At last we reached the north side where we threw ourselves over a barbed wire fence gasping and sobbing with the bull puffing just about as much. Then one of my friends said, 'Mum’s going to kill me, I’ve ripped my skirt.'
Can you imagine what would have happened these days? Mum rang the farmer – 'Oh yes, the bull had escaped, so sorry, no harm done though!'
Now I live in Broadwey, still pretty close to Maiden Castle and near enough to walk the dogs when I was still fit enough to do so. I used to park in Monkton and walk up the footpath on the south side.
There was one hilarious occasion when I took our collie, Flint for a walk on a very hot summer’s day. I have to admit to wearing the minimum of clothing, (I think I could just about get away with it!)
We had reached the top, I was so hot I took off my sandals and shirt and it was then that I noticed a group of people a few hundred yards away gathered round what I now know to be a round baler. Flint began to make towards them and I followed as a recognised a fellow farmer and friend – the tenant of Maiden Castle Farm.
I suddenly became aware that Prince Charles was in the centre of the group and there was absolutely no way I was going to meet him in bikini top and shorts, so calling the dog I made an extremely hasty retreat!
When we were children we also spent many hours in Dorchester Museum and were very interested in the old bones and relics that had been excavated on Maiden Castle, where there were quite often sections roped off for these purposes.
Last year when I was driving towards Martinstown, I stopped to take a photo of Maiden Castle from Gould’s Hill and I hope this painting I did from it sums up how I love the memories of this historic place.
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Written by Sarah Studley.
Moving to Dorchester and making friends at Rowan Cottage
I moved to Dorset in January 1970 to a house in Melstock Avenue, Dorchester with my husband and 4 children.
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My husband’s job was transferred from Warrington, Lancashire to UKAEA at Winfrith, Dorset. It was terrible. I did not know a soul.
When I was in bed I could hear the trains, I wanted to get out of bed and jump on one and go back to Warrington.
I was a Roman Catholic and I made friends through going to Church, and as time went on, I made friends through my children’s school.
Through my Church I volunteered to help on the coffee rota at Age UK’s Rowan Cottage, which was the start of Age UK in Dorchester.
Mostly elderly men used to come in to play dominoes and old fashioned games like Ludo. I made more friends there. Then, in the 1980’s I was a volunteer at Rowan Cottage – I helped with the lunches. I became very happy in Dorchester.
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Written by Ruth Brereton.
Hazy summer days and Sunday school winning ways
My friends and I used to go to Wood Farm in Charmouth, it’s a holiday camp now. I learnt to milk a cow there. We roamed the fields, we were free, nobody worried.
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We spent a lot of time at Wood Farm, they had a donkey there that didn’t like being ridden. My brother made me bet my pocket money as to which of us could stay on longest. He always won.
There was a cart and we were allowed to harness the donkey to the cart and ride around the fields.
We always had a keg of scrumpy in the cart and me and my friends would drink it all, it was made on the farm. When you’re brought up on it you don’t notice it.
I was a good swimmer, probably because my brother threw me in to the river on the beach when I was four. Otherwise I was no good at sport, I was always reading books and I was not keen on parties. I’d hide in a corner and read.
I used to sing in the choir at the church in Charmouth. The organ had to be pumped by hand and I used to do it. I got 6d if I did it for a wedding and I won a cup for the best attender at Sunday School. I won it for three years in succession.
The Sunday School was in Lower Sea Lane, it was run by the Whittingtons who were said to be descended from Dick Whittington. They also ran the tennis courts. They lived in the big house on the corner of Bars Lane. It was said there was a ghost there and later a body was found under the floorboards.
The four Whittington sisters ran a little private school next to the big house, they were guide leaders and Sunday School teachers too.
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Written by Jo Musk.
Silent films and charabancs
I played football for Frome town and we used to travel to away games by charabanc.
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Sometimes when that broke down, we were late for the match. We travelled to all sorts of places, to Portland, Bristol or Salisbury.
We used to go to the pictures at the cinema. They were silent films and there was a lady playing the piano in front. The same lady played until she was well into her 80s. Later they built the Gaumont.
Sometimes we went on a picnic with the school to the White Horse at Westbury, we went by horse and cart, in groups of up to 20, all the food was provided for us and we had a nice time.
I had my first motorbike when I was 15. Once I took my future wife for a ride and she fell off the back and broke her leg. I married her in 1936 and was married for 60 years.
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Written by Bill Gaulter.
Water polo attracted the girls
As a teenager I used to play water polo at the harbour down at West Bay in the summer. The girls would come and watch us.
We would tell our team mates to make sure they threw the ball short so that it splashed the girls.
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Written by Jim Gibbs.
The good old days in Bridport
When we were young we could roll our hoops along the main street in Bridport as there was hardly any traffic.
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Sometimes we would play hopscotch. We had tops and whips, and when it was wet the whip would pick up the top and throw it in the air. Many a window was broken like that, we used to run like hell.
We could go to the pictures either at The Palace in South Street or at the Lyric in Barrack Street.
Every six months there was a fair on Fairfield, where Jewsons is now. There’d be roundabouts and swings, and fire eaters.
Sometimes we’d go out to Happy Island and paddle in the river. We also went out picking daffodils or mushrooms or blackberries and sell them round the houses.
At Christmas we’d go carol singing.
Between the wars we’d go down to West Bay on a bus we called the Toast Rack, or the Scooter. It had open sides with the seats facing outwards. You could jump on and off as it went. Sometimes we called it the Bone Shaker. There was also a yellow open top bus we called the Banana Boat.
The photograph on the top right of the page was taken in 1952 and shows Princess Margaret visiting Sir John Colfox School in Bridport.
The Princess is shaking hands with the then deputy mayor, Mr Sydney Gale. This photograph hangs on the wall of the residential home named after him and the residents see it everyday.
Remembered by the residents of Sydney Gale House, Bridport.
Old prams and charabancs
We had very few toys so we made our own entertainment in the community of kids round our area of Dorchester.
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We dug up the alleys at the back of the houses and pretended that we were putting in new drains and electricity.
We used to have Olympic Games – racing to the top of the alley and back and we had a circular route through the alleys and along pavements. We had go-karts made out of old pram wheels, orange boxes and other scavenged materials.
Mr and Mrs Vallance, who lived at the top of our road, arranged a charabanc excursion for the Dagmar Road residents to Weymouth Beach. This was just after the war in about 1946, I was so excited.
We found rolls of barbed wire in the sea off the beach, so we could only go out so far. Our bathing costumes were woollen and if you kept jumping up and down they fell off.
Although we had very little money and life was very hard for our parents, the community in which we were brought up was caring and thoughtful and we certainly valued each other. I still see several of the boys who made my childhood so happy.
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Written by Adrian Downton.
Sunny day and winter games on the Fleet
I was born at Chickerell, near Weymouth in 1938. I had one brother, Tony who was a year and 5 months older.
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Our free time especially during the summer holidays was spent from early morning until late afternoon playing along the Fleet shore and in the woods.
We learnt to swim in the Fleet and many of our relations fished for mackerell, herrings and sprats, which were caught in the seine nets off Chesil Beach. Each village had its own crew and much friendly rivalry existed with relatives from the same family, sometimes working with different crews.
In the autumn and winter, we used to play a game called Hare and Hounds. A whole gang of children would divide into two teams, one team of hares and one team of hounds. The hares would be given a few minutes start and then the hounds would chase after them.
There was very little traffic on the roads, only the Doctor, the Vicar and one or two farmers and landowners had cars.
We also went carol singing and collecting conkers, mushrooms and blackberries when they were in season. Most of the men either worked in the brickworks or on local farms or in the dockyard at Portland. Fishing was something they did at weekends, bank holidays or summer evenings.
It was safe for children to roam in those days as we were a close-knit community. Most of our parents came from the area too and everybody knew each other.
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Writetn by M Carry (nee Dalley).
Rowan Cottage in the late 1970s
I came to live in Dorset 1978. I volunteered at Rowan Cottage, which is what Age UK Dorchester was called then, to help with the meals.
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We had the frail, elderly down at the bottom and looked after them during the day. We did shopping for them and fed them.
People used to come and play games, we played whist, scrabble and dominoes, but of course, all the people I used to play the games with have now died.
During the time I was there, the Duke and Duchess of York were married. The prison offered to donate a cake to us, made by the prisoners. It was a beautiful cake. There was a wedding ring and bits all round it.
Two of the ladies were nearly hitting each other because they both wanted the ring as a souvenir. The prison wanted the base back, so I volunteered to take it, hoping that I could have a look in the prison, but I was not allowed through the front door.
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Written by Joyce Pittard.
Daffodil days and country ways
There was always something to do in Bridport, we’d go out in the fields or down to the bay. We’d take sandwiches and go off with friends, sometimes up Allington Hill and we’d come back across the fields in the dark.
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In the spring we’d cycle out to the Vale and pick daffodils as the farmers mostly let us on their land.
We tied the daffodils up in nice little bunches. If we didn’t have anything to tie them with the boys would unpick a bit of wool out of their jumpers.
We’d tie the bunches to our handlebars, or the boys would tie them to a long pole over their shoulders, and we’d go back to the Blue Ball, or into Bridport and knock on the doors.
They all wanted some and would pay 2d or 3d a bunch. Since the war, they’ve all been dug up.
Later in the year we would go and pick blackberries or mushrooms and sell them at the doors too. When I had children I took them to a place just below Washingpool Farm to pick blackberries.
In the summer we used to go down to the harbour to watch the boys play water polo. We had fun and the boys always splashed water over us when they were getting in and out. We didn’t have a swimming pool then.
Every Monday night when we were teenagers we would go to Bothenhampton Village Hall for dancing classes. I would go with my cousin Diana and friend Sylvia. We met the boys there. In the picture below, we are at an Olde Tyme Ball at Bothenhampton, and we’re dancing the Gay Gordon – it is 1951.
Written by Pam Clewlow.
A London family's holiday in Dorset in 1931
I was living in South West London and as far as I can remember this was our first family holiday.
A newspaper called Dalton’s Weekly advertised, among other things, holiday accommodation in various parts of the country.
Through this my Mother booked a furnished house in Swanage, it was up a hill at the back of the town.
The thing which fascinated me most was the fact that the owners lived in a corrugated iron shed in the back garden, whilst we were using their house.
As well as my parents, younger sister aged two, in the group were my two Grandmothers and my Godmother.
The photograph in the top right of the page shows my mother holding my sister with my Godmother and me.
A trunk was filled with our clothes, etc. and a card with the capital letters C P was put in the front room window. This meant that the Carter Patterson van would call to collect the luggage and take it to the railway station.
It was then on its way and would be delivered to the house where we would be staying in Swanage.
I do not remember anything about the journey which would have been by steam train directly from London Waterloo to Swanage without any changes.
We spent time on the beach. My sister and I had hand knitted woollen bathing costumes in orange, as my Mother thought we would be easily recognized in this bright colour. They were dreadful because as soon as they got wet they stretched to our knees.
My Father enjoyed swimming and was keen to teach me, but I hated it as I always felt cold. He wore a full length dark blue costume, there were no trunks in those days.
A highlight of the holiday was a trip on a paddle steamer along the coast to Bournemouth and back. An occasion which was less attractive was when my Father and Godmother collected what they thought were mushrooms and cooked them. They were quite ill as a result.
I know we visited the Tilley Whim caves and the great globe which I found very interesting.
The photograph on the left, shows me with my mother and father and my baby sister.
We must have been on a walk at the back of Swanage.
Both pictures had been processed by my father.
Boxing in Bridport
I grew up in the Bridport area and attended Bridport General School for the whole of my school life.
As the boys grew older they held some unofficial boxing matches in the school playground, at which I excelled.
As a young man, I hoped to introduce other boys to the sport and a Mr. Slaney, a former boxer from London agreed to help me start a boxing club and to act as the trainer.
The club first met in the King’s Head, a Bridport pub. To begin with there were 5 members.
As the club grew, the premises moved to the Youth Centre, the then Territorial Army Hall.
In addition to regular training, the club put on two matches per year, known as 'Dinner Shows' with crowds 400 strong. There were 15 to 18 bouts, with professional judges, and a doctor was always in attendance.
Jack Symes and I ran the club which is now 40-strong and travels all over the country to fight in boxing matches.
I had to retire in 2008 through ill-health and received an award for my services. I am realistic about the youth of today and say, ''You teach youngsters to box, but when a woman appears, they’re gone!'
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Written by Brian Richards.
The Banana Boat to West Bay
In the early 1950s when nan took us out for a picnic, we used to go to West Bay on the bus with no roof on top.
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The bus was yellow and we called it The Banana Boat. I was in the push chair but when we were older we could go upstairs and our hair blew back in the breeze.
At West Bay we paddled in the sea and had sandwiches like a proper old fashioned picnic. All the families on the beach knew each other and the children played together building sand castles – we loved it.
Our buckets and spades were made of tin. The others used to swim out to table rock but I wasn’t a very good swimmer.
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Written by Mary Rowe.
When my blind auntie went to church
In 1920 I was about five years old and I lived with my grandmother, mother and my blind auntie. We lived in St. Andrew’s Road, Bridport, opposite St. Andrew’s Church, which is closed now.
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Every Sunday I used to take my blind auntie across the road to the church, put her in her seat and then go back home. There weren’t any cars then, only horses and carts, so it was quite safe.
After the service I used to go and fetch her and we would go for a walk round Conygar. I would hold her hand.
One Sunday, our clock must have been fast because Mother sent me out a bit too early to collect her. I opened the church door when the pastor was still reading the sermon and I tripped up the aisle saying 'I can’t see my auntie.'
I was always tripping up, I don’t know why. Mr Budden, the verger, came and took me to his seat at the back of the church.
When it was time to go out he took me to find my auntie. I was never sent early again!
I was wearing my white pinafore. All the girls had white pinafores and we wore them to school every day. My aunt was very clever because she was a good knitter, even though she was blind. She could pick up the stitches and everything.
Our neighbour knitted socks and used to bring them in to my auntie to turn the heel. She was given a bit of sugar or some butter for doing it.
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Written by Mary Hughes.
Leigh residents reminisce about local dances
During the war the soldiers used to join in the local dances at the village hall which were a highlight of village life for the younger people.
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The dances used to go on until 1am, and then people would walk back home, 2 or 3 miles in the dark. One of the more well known bands was Den Bond’s band which used to play at all the local dances and had about 4 or 5 players.
The men used to turn up at about 10pm after the pubs shut and there would be 30 or 40 people at each dance.
The band would always play the same songs, the last dance would always be ‘Who’s taking you home tonight?’
Grace made her own dresses as she was taught dressmaking at school. Dances at the Corn Exchange in Dorchester were more formal and people wore long dresses.
Mostly though, you had a new dress every 3 years as you had to save up coupons to buy clothes. Socks and jumpers were darned if they had holes in them, they were never thrown away.
The village dances were only for the younger generation. Once you were married and had children, there was very little in the way of a social life, although Bet remembered that they did have Whist Drives.
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A conversation between Kath Harvey, Edith Jessop, Bet Coffin and Grace Fudge.
My brother knew Lawrence of Arabia
My brother Reggie used to go to the pictures with Lawrence of Arabia at Bovington camp.
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They all used to cycle up there together Saturday evenings up ‘the track’. Lawrence used to steal coal from anywhere he could find it for the soldiers at Cloud’s Hill to keep them warm.
Reggie was about 14 or 15 at the time, but nobody knew who Lawrence was – he wasn’t really known then. He mixed with all the lads. It was only after his story came out that the boys knew who he was.
We lived in one the small cottages on Station Road, just down from the pub, the Frampton Arms. I remember we had an outside toilet there and when ever I’d go to use it I’d sit on the seat and have to kick my legs against the door to keep all the spiders away! And while I was doing that Reggie would be outside singing as loud as he could to try to scare them away! They all used to live underneath the wall paper in there.
Richard, the landlord’s son used to have a donkey and cart, I was about 7 years old, and we used to sit in the cart while my brother Reggie would run down the road in front of the donkey with a carrot trying to make it move.
Where the skittle alley is now at the pub – that’s where they used to keep all the horses, chickens and traps. It was a small holding as well as a pub – with cows, sheep, ducks.
Reggie used to run dad’s small holding and I used to have to scrub the pigs with a bucket of soapy water, more or less every single day – their backs, sides and legs. I think they quite liked it!
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Written by Gwen Spicer.