People reading this probably have gathered I love visiting The Black Sheep Wool Barn at Culcheth, to either buy wool, just have a mooch, or on occasions to call for a coffee in the course of a bike ride. It's also a good excuse to go in! I know I often call in to ask advice from the lovely staff there.
I think it was last week when I had called in to ask for some advice on a project I am crocheting. I spotted a book on sock knitting and had a few words with the lady standing near the shelves. I mentioned that the flap heel was to me a trial although I had actually made a pair of socks. She told me she loved knitting socks and was going to blog about the heel very shortly. As conversations generally go, I asked to write me the address of her blog so I could follow it. Imagine my surprise and delight, when I read what she had written down. It was this lovely blog which I already follow. I'm not sure if I ought to mention her name, so I won't do so but she knits beautiful socks, plain and patterned that look professional and quite unlike the one and a half pairs of socks I have knitted. I was so impressed. She seemed so delighted to have met someone who loved and followed her blog, she hugged me! So lovely, this crafting world that complete strangers are able to recognise one another. So you sock lovers and country living bloggers, take a look at Winwick Mum's blog, which is where the connection with my title and the rest of this post comes in.
After returning from living in the Isle of Man as a baby, when my Dad was doing Officer Training at Jurby Camp, on Lancasters, we lived until I was 7 at a Georgian house in Winwick Street, Warrington, which is actually the A49 and right next to the Central Station. I have found out recently it was called Beech House and was owned by a family called Edelsten who owned a pin factory on the same plot of land further along from the house. That building eventually became the tannery.
I would add that the living room of the house, at least it was OUR living room, was furnished with things given and bought second hand (rather like my house)! and there were two 12' squares of carpet put together, but still about 8 or 9 foot at either end which had lino which Mum polished. The hall was paved in stone flags and the staircase went up from a great, wide bottom bit, with curved balustrades, to curve round one side to go upstairs. There was one small fire in the living room. My mum now said she doesn't know how she stood it but I don't remember her complaining. My gran made Mum and Dad dressing gowns out of old blankets. The kitchen was the house's scullery and had one stone sink and draining board, and an old gas cooker, and Mum had a table. That's all. I have such a very vivid memory of the house to this day.
The house was illegally demolished in 2001, despite having had a restoration progamme prepared by English Heritage. I was devastated driving past there and seeing a gaping site.
These photos are courtesy of Warrington Memories group on Facebook.
|This is the view looking North showing Central station. You can't see the house from here.|
|The old pin works is the three storey building on the right. 31a, Beech House, was further South, on the same side, all owned by Edelstens. That shop on the left on the corner was there for many years, but was demolished and is now a car park.|
Although the road was Winwick Road, there was a Horse Market there. Horsemarket Street is further South.
|Here is shown the plan of Beech House in the centre of the plan. It was surrounded by gardens and a long drive connecting to various other properties on the site.|
The square view of the house is above the Amusement Centre, the Amusement centre used to be a dress shop, my gran's ladies hairdressers and a wallpaper shop, when we lived there and for many years.
See the windows to the cellar? There used to be steps with metal handrails leading up to beautiful Georgian porch and door.
|I just liked this postcard I brought back from Germany. It says it all - Friendship makes good times better and helps to make the bad times be forgotten.|
Until next time.