Park Street

The happiest days of my life
by Ruby Lindsay

In 1931 I went to live in Park Street and they became the happiest days of my life. It was the families of the street who made life so rich with warmth and happiness.

My father, Alf Lindsay, was in charge of the Corporation depot in the street, and our house was inside the depot. Many years ago our house might have been a farm, as in the scullery, as it was known in those days, we had rafters where they hung the carcasses, but my father had all that altered. The town's mortuary was in the depot; Sir Bernard Spilsbury came down to do the post-mortems. I remember particularly the trunk crime murder, which kept my dad busy keeping the reporters out. Next to our depot there was a family who used to sell their greengrocery from their horse and cart.

We had public baths in Park Street as not many people had bathrooms; they were nice and clean, and I remember Ada who worked there for years. At the bottom of Park Street there was a small Salvation Army Hall. During the last war when my dad had to take his rescue ARP team out, the Major there was always on hand with his team to give drink and food to people who were bombed out.

From the QueenSpark Book Back Street Brighton, interview with Ruby Lindsay
This page was added on 22/03/2006.

Comments:

I do recall a Pig Famer there or thereabouts as the smell used to hit me on the way to Queens Park Infants school. My father used to breed chickens and at Christmas often swapped two birds (properly plucked and dressed) for a leg of pork thus getting over rationing.We then had chicken AND pork for the Christmas feast, still a favoured combination of mine.

By Dennis Parrett (08/02/2007)

My family lived in Park Street for many years and we left in 1959. I too remember Ada, also Rose and my Mum worked in the baths on Saturdays. We used to go there on Friday nights for our weekly baths! We had to shout out for more hot water as this was controlled from outside each cubicle.

By Wendy Read (Nee Broomfield) (13/02/2007)

I remember I had my first "non" tin bath on the scullery floor at those public baths in the late 1940s. My uncle Alf Gravett who was married to Peg (nee) Spicer from, I think it was, Sloane St just round the corner from the baths took me. I was frightened to death because you had to shout for more hot or cold water and I was worried that the attendant would shout at me if I got it wrong. I think I sat on the stool for ages before I took the plunge and then I was out in about 1 minute flat. Oh mucky days! I always was a scruffy urchin!

By Patrick Collins (Catswhiskas) (14/02/2007)