| Recollections |
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now in disuse). Having
crossed the line to the lower level I would wait for the local
train from Tebay. Here again the ten minutes or so wait in those
surroundings and the utter silence were precious indeed. I left
Sedbergh by bus in the mid-afternoon for Kendal, where I just
had time for a cup of tea before my train left for Carnforth.
I wonder whether the grounds of Ingmire Hall still have their
magnificent banks of rhododendrons?
I remember the many kindnesses shown to us by the people of
Carnforth, but particularly the devoted work, for such it was,
of the local W.V.S. On one day each week their members came
into Carnforth from a wide area to face over 200 bundles fresh
from the laundry. By the end of the day all socks had been darned,
buttons secured and necessary repairs effected. A truly prodigious
feat and one which lightened my job not a little!
Editor's Note.
You will be pleased to learn that Ingmire Hall still displays
beautiful banks of rhododendrons, Mr Miles. But sorry, no doubt
that Lowgill was closed years ago. |
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camp had its compensations and it
is these I remember with the passing of the years. The dawn
chorus from the trees which ringed the camp woke me long before
the camp came to life and when the babel of the practise trills
had died away there were some incredible solo performances.
I blush to say that I never took the trouble to identify them.
Then there were the summer mornings when I could slip away between
breakfast and the start of the day's routine to climb `The Crag'
above the camp, where for a half an hour or so I could enjoy
the morning sun and the prospect of the countryside away to
Morecambe Bay, in a silence broken only by a skylark overhead.
We had a detachment in the grounds of Ingmire Hall, on the outskirts
of Sedbergh, and it was my practice to visit it for a day whenever
possible to keep in touch with my side of things. These were
'days-out'. I would join the Glasgow train in the early morning
and travel as far as Lowgill (a halt which I suppose is
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| A. Miles |
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When I broke my journey at Kendal
for a few days last year on my way to Scotland and again on
my return to the South-West, I little thought that within a
couple of months I would be joining the staff of the Provincial
on a part-time basis following my retirement from the service
of another Company.
This was the first time I had re-visited Kendal since leaving
the area in 1944 after spending two and a half years in a hutted
camp in the grounds of Warton Grange, between Carnforth and
Yealand, as CQMS to a Company supplying labour for a petrol
depot in the sidings of Carnforth station. The visit was bound
to be nostalgic.
The busy day-to-day life of the
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