Connected to Brighton
I feel connected to this web site. I’m connected to its places, topics, people and areas. How could I not be, having lived in Brighton for nearly seventy years? I was born at the General Hospital towards the end of the war, and taken back to the house that my grandparents rented at 2 Franklin Street. This was the house my mother was born in, and where she lived for eighty-four years – paying rent all that time. I remember that the tin bath hung on the outside wall and we had an outside toilet.*f*
Grandfather’s newspaper business
My grandfather William Millerick, ran a newspaper business from the house in Franklin Street. Newspapers would be delivered to the house and stacked in the hallway – ‘the passage’ as my mother would call it. Paper boys would collect the newspapers from the house. Before the war my mother and her brother would pull a handcart loaded with newspapers up the steepest part of Ditchling Road.
Remembering Fairlight Schools
Trains rattled past our house on their way to Kemp Town station. The light in the living room was not in the usual place in the centre of the room; a result of the ceiling coming down when the Germans dropped bombs intended for the railway line. Smallpox broke out and I stood in a queue outside Royal York Buildings on a cold, wet day to be vaccinated. I attended Fairlight Infant and Junior Schools. Who remembers Miss Dunstan, Miss Reid, Miss Brunt, Pop Morrison and Mr Fluck the caretaker? At age eleven I moved on to Varndean Boys’ School.
Did you ever live in this area? If you can share your memories with us, please leave a comment below.
Shopping with the ration book
Lewes Road was my area. I was sent to the shops with the ration book – to Mr Matthews at the bottom of Franklin Road for sweets, greengrocery from Devesons, paraffin from Mence Smiths, eggs (each one tested over a light bulb) from Pearks. Later I had a paper round from Schofields the newsagents. I remember the Rag and Bone man, and also a scarey man with a patch over one eye who sold winkles from a basket on the front of his bike. The coalman would carry sacks down our narrow stairs to the coal cupboard in the basement kitchen.