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This story has been added by CSV volunteer Linda Clark on behalf of the author Michael Edwards. It is from a book he wrote about Perranporth (Cornwall)and it was printed by Penwartha Press. They both understand the site's terms and conditions.

CHAPTER ONE. 'Bramble Cottage' Penwartha Coombe (Demolished Long Ago.

My earliest recollection of moving to Perranporth in 1934 is hazy to say the least! After all, I was only 1 year old at the time. However, the move was by necessity owing to the current recession during the 30's from rural Kent to Cornwall with my parents and older sister. I do remember that we travelled with the furniture in the back of a removal van. My
late father was offered a job with his brother-in-law, the late Mr. J. W.Godber. He was then busy setting up his nursery at Perranporth, with the intention of having an outlet in Perranporth itself. On arrival at Perranporth the Edwards family rented "Bramble Cottage" at Penwartha, opposite side of the road to "Swallowfield" garage. The cottage adjoined that of Mr. and Mrs. Joe Cleave. Both properties were demolished many years ago. Bramble Cottage was unique in Penwartha having a thatched roof, cob walls and very small windows. I do not remember a lot about living there, but I do remember the long garden where "PANGKOR" now stands, with the stream running alongside. I do remember our family pet, a large nondescript brown dog called Rover being buried at the garden bottom under where the new bungalow now is. He's probably still there! Father, now working in Perranporth used to cycle along the track through Station Fields, where the new housing development is now and near to the catholic church. Rover, being a bit elederly and poorly sighted, I understand ran head first into the granite gatepost at the entrance to the field and expired on the spot.

Uncle Jim Godber had by now obtained the lease of the shop in Tywarnhayle Square, owned by "Pop" Menadue. This was the shop nearest to Strand House, Mrs. Evans grocery shop being next door. The shops are now combined and occupied by Spar. The flat above the shop soon became vacant and the family moved from Bramble Cottage to the flat, which was to become home to us for many years until 1948.

Father and mother ran the greengrocers shop beneath. My older sister Betty worked at the Perrancombe Nursery. Nineteen thirty-eight and I, at the grand old age of five started school, Perranporth School, on the corner of St.George's Hill and was under the headmistress, Miss Tizzard. My class teacher was Miss Pentecost. One of my most remembered achievements at this school was when I was summoned to the blackboard and was able to spell the word "marmalade"!To which I have been addicted ever since. Most of the boys in those days wore nailed boots. One lasting memory was the frequent act of being dragged in the squatting position down over St George's Hill after school. With two mates pulling on each arm, at high speed, making a trail of sparks from our boots! Not many cars about then, so the roads were quiet.

Many old friends from those days are still around, in particular John Flanagan, a lifelong friend and in those days a next door neighbour neighbour. John was the nephew of Mrs Evans from the grocery shop next door and lived with his aunt at the flat above the shop. John is a talented amateur artist and is currently approaching retirement after a lifetime in the police service in Bristol. The late Brian Mitchell was another boyhood friend from those early days. Peter Hore, Ronald Mitchall, Paul Bice, Don Straffieri, Dennis Kellow and many others whose names I cannot recall.

CHAPTER TWO. Mine Gallery Collapse at Wheal Leisure, Robins Carpentry Shop on the Burrows.

Just before the war I remember the commotion caused when the mine tunnels under Wheel Leisure caved in, great fun that was! There was no road behind what is now the Memorial Hall. The car park area was old mine dumps, with one shaft in the centre and one on the corner, where the car park steps are now. There was however a substantial area of grassland, criss-crossed with paths, our natural "playground", especially when our school was close at hand, (more of that later). The "road" was rough track, starting roughly where the junction with Station Road is now. It passed the Roman Catholic Church and continued to a sharp right-hand bend to join what is now the entrance to what is Keans' Butchers Shop. It did not continue to join Liskey Hill in those days. It was under this track that the mine gallery collapsed, roughly in the area near the Hall and "Marine Court". The displaced air blew up a hole in the centre of the road junction outside Lloyds Bank, in the small park where the shelter now stands and near the hedge, in the road between the parks. A large erruption occurred from the large shaft 9 (now covered over)in the open area alongside Bert Gilbert's fish shop. For many years previous Bert had been in the habit of dumping all his waste, particularly the sawdust covering the fish shop floor, down this handy shaft. The sudden presence of air, under great pressure, shot sawdust, etc. up into the air in a mighty cloud, to fall back to earth all over Perranporth. This occurrence naturally, was of great interest to us boys! I remember being taken by father to look down into the collapsed gallery and seeing all the rotten timbers etc. It's a good job nobody was using the track at the time!

The holes were soon filled in and forgotten. The track was mostly used for access to Robins Carpenters Shop, about one hundred yards away from the track against the field hedge. I remember the old Blackstone engine in the workshop driving a circular saw, with its exhaust pipe sticking out of the wall going "Pom, Pom, Pom". There was another little workmen's shed near here, in which we boys came across an open top packet of Woodbine cigarettes. I think they were a bit mouldy, but try them we did. With dire consequences! We were all as green as a leek and sick as a dog. I have never smoked to this day! Owen Cowlings blacksmith's shop stood nearby. A real shanty, made of flattened oil drums, from which smoke came out of everywhere. This shop was a wonderland for us. Owen worked away with his big leather apron on, wielding a hammer in the murky interior. Sparks flew and there was a hissing of red hot horseshoes as he cooled them in a tank of water. Quite a few horses about in those days, with Cecil Woodcocks riding stable horses, being shod as well as local farm horses. Owen Cowling was a true blacksmith. He could mend or make anything! Father had a garden roller made by Owen for many years.

CHAPTER THREE. The Old Builldings on the Beach, The Large One Innundated With Sand During the War. Council Sand Pit in the Background.

Perranporth as I remember it just before the war years. Quiet? Yes, I suppose it was, but the summers always seemed long and hot, a sprinkling of holiday makers, the beach a magnet for all us children in the village. No lifeguards at all then. There always seemed to be people drowning though, or falling off cliffs. There were two buildings on the beach then. The new and very elaborate ice cream parlour and cafe. I don't think this building was in much use as it remained closed and in a semi derelict state being half buried in blown sand throughout the war years. Then there was the original beach hut nearer thr river. Painted cream I remember, all the old fashioned surfboards being hired from it. The sand dunes and marran grass finished right behind the beach huts then and formed a nice changing facility for all who did not have the wherewithall to hire one of the many little beach huts that were in rows further along the beach. There was however a red warning flag to warn bathers of the low tide risk. This was flown from a flag pole on the lovely old cut granite base, then at the western end of the promenade and now residing in the small park, minus flag pole.

A boat owned by Mr. George Tamblyn was kept in a cleft in the rocks under the Western Cliffs. A much loved local resident, the rebuilt stairway further along the cliff is named after him. At the western end of the promenade on the wall by the ramp leading to the beach was a fresh water drinking fountain, which by pressing a button, a jet of water would fly out and catch the unwary, not between the lips but full in the face, much to the delight of us boys, waiting for just such a "victim".

No mention of the beach in those days can be complete without describing another old Perranporth "character" Mr Tregallas. This gentleman by all accounts was a very clever mine engineer and geologist. He lived with his brother in a ramshackle hut at Cregaminnis at the very top of Liskey and would be seen most days wearing his "uniform" of black coat and black bowler hat and armed with a long handled Cornish shovel working away in the stream bed anywhere near the stepping stones, apparantly attempting to alter the course of the river. A real eccentric, his life not made easier by small boys calling after him, after his labours and to be chased by "Treacle ass" wielding his shovel, was all part of the excitement.

The beach was our natural playground and when not at school, Perranporth children made full use of it.

CHAPTER FOUR. Summer 1940. The Bombing of Penhale Camp.

War comes to Perranporth. Despite my tender years, I was 6 years old at the time, I remember feeling that something momentous was about to happen, maybe it was listening to my Dad speaking to Mother or listening to the wireless and I do remember vaguely the "we are at war with Germany" speech on the wireless (Dad was an avid listener to our ancient wireless set with its big battery and accumulator charged each week by Mr. Thomas of Trevellas) doubtless being made to "sit and listen", didn't go down too well with a lively 6 year old, but nevertheless, I also remember being made to sit still and listen with Mum and Dad to the subsequent speeches by Winston Churchill. My first real encounter with the outbreak of war was playing in the garden of a friend of mine, Michael Hooper, whose mother ran the Boot and Shoe shop, (Now Piran Art Gallery), when there was some distant loud bangs and noise of aircraft, frightened, we jumped into Mrs Hooper's coal bunker and so viewed the early hostilities from under its lid. It was of course the summer of 1940 and we were watching the bombing of Penhale Camp.
We watched with interest the German bomber circling above the far end of the beach, until being fished out and bundled indoors by equally frightened parents, I suspect! Mrs Hooper's coal bunker was situated on the end of the boot repair building, behind the shop. The repair man, a great friend of my Dad was Len Davey, his workshop usually full of old cronies, discussing I suspose inevitably, the war.

CHAPTER FIVE. My Dad's 'Little Shop', St. Pirans Road.

Here I feel I must elaborate a little on the activities of my Dad, Frank Edwards, fully involved in all aspects of village life. The fact that he was born with a deformed, short leg and walked with a limp, deterred him not a bit, he was a keen sportsman, playing wicket keeper for many years, for his village cricket team in Kent, before moving to Perranporth, where he regularly played, accommpanying Mr. Oscar Brown, of the grocery shop, (now the vacuum cleaner shop etc.) in Mr. Brown's old Ford. Several of father's old playing companions from his Kent days figured subsequently, at Kent county level players and management and kept in touch with him. Father cycled everywhere he could, his old bike was well known as he fitted it with an old motorcycle saddle, he had spent some years during the latter part of his 14-18 war to the mid twenties in the Army, as he was disabled he could not join his county regiment, but determined to do something he was accepted into the Army Pay Corps. there he must have acquired his skill with figures. It never ceased to amaze me the speed and accuracy with which he could "tot up" vast columns of figures, these skills he put to good use and he was in some demand, by several small businesses in Perranporth to do their bookkeeing. My uncle Jim's nursery now expanding rapidly at Perrancoombe the Godber family, uncle Jim, aunty Eva and the two girls, Mary and Jill, having moved to Trevellance Cottage at Penwartha. The nursey office was also located on the end of the cottage, so every Sunday, father would be off on his bike to see to the nursery books, usually with myself on the first 2 wheeled bike, pedalling along behind.

At the outbreak of war Dad, along with many others in the village, started the LDV's. The Land Defence Volunteers, subsequently the Home Guard, more of which later.

Dads links with sport continued after the war years, he was instrumental in re-starting the village football team, sitting on the committee etc.. He had a go at tennis at one time! and took up golf rather late in life and was no mean performer, using a set of specially shortened clubs "operated" on by another old friend, the pro at Perranporth Golf Club, Len Connett.

Father was also heavily involved with the "welcome home" committee, fund raising by different means, including Sunday evening concerts in the old Palace Cinema. The welcome home committee formed to provide homecoming servicemen with a little extra. As the war eneded, the surplus funds accrued were put to good use, as it was decided that a permanent memorial to those who never returned, plus an asset to the village was needed so the Memorial Hall Project was started, resulting in the fine building now used so much by the villagers. The project was not without its problems, I remember Father being heartbroken when the whole gable end wall (Sullys End) collapsed during a gale the day after itwas built. The shop in Tyarnhayle Square, changed hands in 1947. Mother and father took over "Miramar" Guest House on Cliff Hill, mother and sister Betty ran this enterprise whilst Dad worked for the water board, with the late Jack Truscott. Wally Warren and George Bice from Rose, back on his bike again, checking sluice valves and hydrants, looking after the reservoir at Silverwell, top of Liskey and St. George's and maintaining the two main sewerage pumping stations, one behind Virginia House, the other at Tywarnhayle Road. Each summer, water was pumped from Mount, with a large diesel engine which Father tended every night, the other water pump was at Bodnick Shute by the river bridge.

Jack Truscott being also the local station officer for Perrnaporth fire brigade, along with the rest of the Water Board staff and father. The brigade then occupying part of the old fish cellar buildings at Penvenen.

Father then left the Water Board after some years, to start his "Little Shop" the little building, now demolished and built over by The Conservative Club was a small wooden shop next to the new Pickwick Chip Shop, previously owned by P.J.Pearce the chemist and then as a studio gallery by Mr. and Mrs Channon. Father started as a seedsman, always a keen gardener, he would buy seed in bulk and re-packet them in his own little packets for resale, the business soon started selling greengrocery and fruit and being joined in the venture by his son in law, Don Wain. Moved into larger premises across the road, to where the business Edwards and Son still operates, managed by Dads granddaughter Sally and her husband, sadly the business has since closed.

Mother and father were instrumental in the formation of Perranporth Scout Group, Father being the group's first Treasurer on its registration in 1946. Being a member of the "Toc H" father arranged for the scouts to hold their meetings for some years at the "Toc H" building on Chapel Hill Bolingey. Frank Edwards passed away in 1964 after retiring to "Dovedale" bungalow at Penwartha, remembered with affection by many older Perranporth residents.

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