Park Street

Read and share memories of Park Street and Hertfordshire inspired by Frith photos

Spooner's Corner

Living in Park Street Lane from 1940 to 1961 I passed this corner every day to go under the railway bridge to the recreation ground and school or on to the village. The branches of the Horse Chestnut tree in the foreground gave a copious supply of the very best 'conkers' to us local children. Many's the time it also sheltered us from the rain and the road would become slippery with the large wet leaves and crushed horse chestnuts.
There was a building (a coach-house I think) with a clock on top on the opposite corner to the house, behind the tree. I can remember a yearly 'garden party' event held at the house. I believe ...read more here
Contributed by Valerie Tomlinson

Spooner's Corner

Living in Park Street Lane from 1940 to 1961 I passed this corner every day to go under the railway bridge to the recreation ground and school or on to the village. The branches of the Horse Chestnut tree in the foreground gave a copious supply of the very best 'conkers' to us local children. Many's the time it also sheltered us from the rain and the road would become slippery with the large wet leaves and crushed horse chestnuts.
There was a building (a coach-house I think) with a clock on top on the opposite corner to the house, behind the tree. I can remember a yearly 'garden party' event held at the house. I believe ...read more here
A memory of Park Street contributed by Valerie Tomlinson

Frogmore; the land of dreams

Upon passing frogmore recently the other day, I, Fred Whatmore, saw a small sign directing me to what I would later come to call Frogmore; home; the land of my dreams



The luscious green fields spread before my eyes, and fromore mausoleum doors wide open welcomed me in. . . ? I sat for a while with Willy the keeper of the Mausoleum grounds, we ate Frogmore stew and discussed the village politics, apparently Mrs Weatherby's Daughter has had a baby out of marriage and everyone is rather concerned.



This love and common knowledge of all residents of Frogmore warmed the cockels of my heart (possibly helped by the tasty stew, prepared by handsome old ...read more here
A memory of Frogmore contributed by brogan and fred

Brogan dedicating my life to frogmore.

It has now been little more than three moons since glorious Frederick Francis, arrived home; eyes shining; hair wild (per usual), to tell me of a small village he had encountered.

The spirit of the place had completely encaptured him, I too felt a rush of desire as tales of green fields as far as the eye could see, & wild men.

I LOVE FROGMORE TO BE CONTINUED
A memory of Frogmore contributed by brogan and fred