Memories came flooding back reading about the Open Market. When I was a kid in the 40s and 50s my father had a stall in the open market doing engraving and selling handmade jewellery, which I also made myself. In the early days the market was a ramshackle place with tin roofs and sides made up of tin and anything you could get hold of to keep the cold out. My dad had his stall next to the Mitchell brother's wet fish stall. My dad did not need the whole of his stall so the rear part was used by the Mitchell bros for their empty fish boxes. In return my dad got free fish every Friday. The winters were cold in the market. All we had was a black valor paraffin heater which doubled as a teapot warmer. We got our pot of tea from a little cafe in Francis Street opposite the markets side entrance. I remember Arther Dawkins the blacksmith. He had a temper sometimes but was good with the horses. I have often gone round the cafe and got his half pint of tea for him, and in return two pennies for my trouble. My dad knew a man from Ceylon (Sri Lanka) that got tea sent from his brother in Ceylon in big red packets. He would swap some of this tea and some Bantams eggs for some jewellery. We loved this man, the sun seemed to shine from his very eyes, he was a kind man. There was a camaraderie in the old market which seemed to disappear when the new market was erected. The stallholders were moved around and were next to different people, and it took a little while to get used to your new neighbours even though you knew them. My dad not needing a large stall shared his new stall with Maurice Raff the blindman that was mentioned in another comment. Maury as we called him was a nice man that had eyes in his ears. He knew exactly what was going on around his stall and knew when somebody picked something up and would say "can I help you" just to let them know he was there. He always wore dark glasses. Nice man. On a Saturday morning us kids would spend some of our pocket money on broken biscuits from a stall in the market. Because our dad had a stall we got extra big helpings of anything we bought in the market, that's how it was then. We would stroll along London Road in and out of the shops just looking. Then over to the Level to play on the swings and roundabouts. In the afternoon we would be off to the Duke of York cinema in Preston Circus with most of our broken biscuits saved for the occasion. Then back to the stall to clear up and go home on a number 44 trolley bus to where we lived in Bennett Road. We had nothing in them days compared to what the kids have now, but we were happy. But then the kids of today have missed out on what we had, the freedom and I suppose today everything is handed over on demand. When we were kids we had to wait for christmas for our surprises, and we were happy as they say, playing with the boxes.

My Saturday morning chore in the early 60s was to get the bus from Patcham to buy sage and onion sausages from Longs. My father would eat no other sausages. Mum used to cook the lot when I got home for my dad to take to work with his packed lunch, and then hide them. I absolutely could not resist sausages. I discovered that she put them in an old butler's sink which my dad had buried in the garden in an area of crazy paving and replaced the paving stone to hide it.

Like others I too remember the open market in the late 1940s and 1950s and the blacksmith (as we called him) just before the market entrance. What also sprung to mind was the fish stall with what I always thought were eggs ready for frying in shells! I've since learned they were escallops.

Mick Peirson - have you a sister called Geraldine?

Are you the Joan Oram I went to school with - Varndean Girls?

Hello Teresa, I've only just seen your message. I certainly must be the same person for it is an unusal name and I don't think anyone else of my name went to Varndean. I'm racking my brains but I cannot place you, was it 3Y? Please forgive me, I've lived in London for 50 years and although I visit family, have lost touch. This site has brought memories flooding back. Perhaps you will make contact and we can reminisce.

I remember the blacksmiths at the market well - what amazing showers of sparks for a small boy to stare at. There was also a blacksmith in Jubilee Street off North Road

Maurice Raff, the blind man who owned the toy stall in the Open Market was my Grandfather, and helping him out there on a Saturday was my first job. Before he lost his sight he had been a tailor and, before he shared a stall with Vic (I think his name was), the engraver, he always stocked large rolls of material, elastic, zips and other haberdashery items. Sometimes a crowd of children would cluster around the front of the stall, sent by their Mothers to look at the toys whilst their Mothers did their shopping. Knowing that they weren't going to buy anything, he would go to the front of the stall and move along it 'tidying up' the toys and pretending he hadn't realised anyone was there, until he had cleared the crowd away and, hopefully, left the way clear for real customers!

Does anyone happen to know when the old farrier's building was demolished and replaced with the current grocer's shop and apartments above? I live in one of the apartments and I'm quite fascinated by the history of Marshalls Row and the Open Market area.

I remember the blind man's stall in the market, I even tell my grandchildren about him. Also Pips' icecreams and the tiny glasses of fizzy drink you could buy as well. Also on one of these sites, someone remembered the fountain in the Steine changing colour. I thought I had imagined that!

I remember my mother, Doris Wilson, showing me a photo of the forge in a book on Brighton with her father, Charles Gravett, in it as a boy. Apparently that's where he was trained to be a farrier. I'm still looking for the book!

What wonderful memories. I to used to stand across from the forge outside a clothes shop near the rather smelly toilets whilst Mum went to buy the veg. As the previous comments, I think the smell of the hot shoe being fitted to the horses hoof will remain forever, not unlike that smell of a tooth being drilled. The shoeing cage still exsists I believe. I last saw it in the Stanmer Rural museum behind Stanmer House. Worth a visit if its still going. Also see the Donkey Wheel next to the Church.

Seems I am one of the many who remember with fondness the 'open market', the blacksmiths, the blind man's stall etc. Every Saturday my mother would take me there and after doing the shopping we would go into one of the little stalls which was run by a husband and wife where we would enjoy a cup of tea and my favourite savoury pastie (very tasty), usually my mum would meet up with one of her friends in there too. Happy days as the saying goes....

It seems that I am being taken back in time reading all of these comments. I also was enthralled watching the blacksmith shoeing the horses. My mother used to leave me there to go along to the Coop store sometimes for ages it seemed. Food rationing in those days and queues everywhere. I do not think people have the patience for queueing today, everybody is in a rush and it is just the same here in Australia but I enjoyed the Queens visit this week. What a grand person she is.

I remember as kids me and my brothers waiting by the blacksmiths while  mum went shoping.The smell of burning on the shoes on the horses feet.The timber frame is now at Stammer Park in the Museum part. I remember wondering off and ended up in Woolworths in London Rd. I ended up getting lost and ended up in the Police box in the market.