Langley Green

Over the coming weeks we will be sharing some photos of the different neighborhoods of Crawley. To start off, here are a few photos of Langley Green. Please let us know if you have any memories of Langley Green that you’d like to share? We’d also love to have a wider selection of photos in our collections – if you have any to donate please Contact Us

brick and concrete building with cross on top

RC Church of Our Lady

Three young men playing bar billiards. Two are wearing leather jackets.

Langley Green Youth Club

large brick building with writing on side which reads 'Langley Green Community Centre'.

Langley Green Community Centre

concrete building with large windows. children walking outside.

County Primary School, Martyrs Avenue, March 1958

Houses under construction

Parade of shops with flats over them. People on pavements.

Parade of shops. Signs over shops include Crawly Cleaners, launderette, C J Martin and Acres the Bakers. People in front of shops.

Neighbourhood Centre

Houses under construction

Langley Green, September 1954

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Memories of Crawley – Tooting Tyre Service

My name is Graham Hackney.

We moved from Wimbledon to Crawley in 1958 (I was a baby) when we opened a new branch of the family business which was Tooting Tyre Service at 7 Horsham Road, West Green. We lived above the depot.

My Uncle, George Mullen (Mum’s Brother) owned the company. My Father Fred Hackney was a Director and ran the Crawley branch along with my Mother in the office. My wider family of Uncles, Aunts and Cousins were also Directors and worked for the company and at its peak we had 13 Branches across the South East from Forest Gate in East London to Brighton. I grew up playing in the spew rubber from re-cutting the treads on tyres and when I left school worked in the company until I was 28.

Two men in suits, one leaning on the bonnet of a car

These photographs show my Father, Fred Hackney outside the depot with one of his Sisters and Brother in-law when they visited from Lincoln, his birthplace. The top photograph shows the Dairy on the opposite corner of Victoria Road.

man in suit and woman in polka dot dress standing next to a car. Shop frotnage reading 'Tooting Tyre Service Ltd' is visible in the background.

Here is another showing myself in my Uncle’s arms, my Brother Derick on my Mum’s Lap and my Father far right in the yard of Tooting Tyre Service. My parents were known as Lovie & Fred. She later worked for years in M&S in Crawley.

3 adults and 2 children against the outside wall of a building

If you’d like to share your memories of Crawley then please contact us!

Crawley 1955-60

By Sandra Lowton

Our family
Our parents were George (1913-1994) and Beatrice (1918-2008) Layzell, originally from Bermondsey and Rotherhithe respectively. They married during the war in 1941 at St James, Hatcham, and lived with his parents in New Cross, London. It was there that Brenda was born in 1942 and George junior in 1946. The family moved to a new council estate at St Paul’s Cray, Orpington, just before Sandra was born in 1949. This was a three bedroom, semi-detached property. Father commuted daily to the Stone Platt Deptford factory where he was a dispatch clerk. Edna was born in 1951 and Stephen in 1954. In 1955 the factory relocated to Crawley and it was a good opportunity to move to the New Town and into a four bedroomed house.

The following are my (Sandra’s) recollections:
I was 6 years old and we moved in October 1955. I was sorry to say goodbye to my class at Leesons Hill School. We did not have a car so we travelled in the back of the removal van with half the back down so we could see out. I remember passing an airfield, the first I had seen, and think it must have been Biggin Hill.

The new house was at 93 Climping Road, Ifield. Mum and Dad had one room, Eddie and I another, Brenda had her own single room. At first Steve was in a cot in our parents’ room and then he slept with George. Steve was only 16 months old and we had not been in the house long when he knocked a cup or a pot of hot tea over his legs and had to be taken to the cottage hospital in West Green (before Crawley Hospital was built).

It was good to have four bedrooms but the downstairs was never to Mum’s liking. We had had a trip to Crawley by coach to choose a house and the one we ended up at was not what Mum had chosen. She was so disappointed on arrival that the removal men tried to reassure her that all would be fine once she had put up curtains and unpacked. We had a very large green pram that was kept in the ‘front room’, in front of the window, as there was nowhere else for it to go. It was so large that three of us could fit in it. This room had a two bar electric fire on the wall that was too expensive to use. We used the room at Christmas and there we had our Christmas tree with small presents that we gave out after tea. There was an upright piano with lots of sheet music stored in the seat but only Dad could play. We occasionally had a singsong with old tunes such as ‘Run Rabbit Run’. The room was used for Sunday lunch and for homework as we got older and the table was good for table tennis and table football.

The main living room was at the back joined to the kitchen by an arch that Mum called an alcove. She put up thick curtains at the arch to stop draughts when we were watching TV on winter evenings. However we didn’t have our first TV for a couple of years. George and I in particular would go to friends’ houses after school to watch theirs. There was a coal fire in the back room and the only time we had toast was when it was lit and we used a toasting fork on the hot coals – it was many years before we got a gas cooker with a working grill and I don’t think electric toasters were in common use. There never seemed to be enough space or chairs for all seven of us to sit at one time except at the table in the cold front room. The children either sat on the floor or on a kitchen chair. The kitchen table took up most of that room and wasn’t big enough to sit us all. Not a well-designed house despite its newness. There was no other heating in the house and the windows were single glazed metal framed. In the winter we had an assortment of heaters including paraffin and electric with many blankets and eiderdowns on our beds. In Winter Mum would often wake us with “Jack Frost at the window this morning” and we would know that the frost was in fact inside!

When we arrived at our new house the roads and pavements were barely made up and the gardens were just clay. That first winter we couldn’t venture into the garden without getting stuck in our wellies. Neighbours in St Paul’s Cray had doubted that Dad would move as he had such a wonderful garden. But move he did and in no time set about transforming the morass into a well laid out garden with lawns, flowerbeds, trellis, vegetable garden and an area for us children to dig. The council had planted a lavender hedge in our front garden and in late summer the ‘lavender ladies’ would collect the flowers.

Not long after arriving, Mum asked George and me if we knew where there was a post box and having been out exploring on our bikes we knew just where to go – we had seen one in Stagelands, Langley Green, which was just as unmade as our street in Ifield.

One thing the planners ensured was that there were two toilets in the four bedroomed houses. Ours was off the hallway just inside the street door. This was very handy except if you were playing outside and had to come in. Other four bedroomed houses had the downstairs toilet outside the back door, accessible even if the mother had popped out but with the drawback that it was always very cold. Outside our back door under the porch were the very important coal bunker and a large store room where we could store our bikes and Dad could keep his gardening tools and lawn mower.

We lived in Ifield but it was as close for us to go to Langley Green shops as Ifield. Both were newly built shopping parades with typically a baker’s, a greengrocer’s, a chemist, a newsagent’s, a butcher’s, a fishmonger’s, and so on.

Ifield Parade
Parade of shops
Langley Parade

In the early days there was also a mobile grocer – an old coach with no seats that you entered and collected what you wanted and paid the man at the front. Mum called him ‘the van man’ and we often had to run in to tell her when he was round the corner, though she always complained that he was expensive. A rag and bone man would also come. He gave gold fish in a polythene bag or a colouring book in exchange for old clothes but I can’t remember ever getting these. Of course the icecream van would also come. We didn’t have a fridge or freezer so if it was Sunday lunchtime we might be lucky to have a ‘family brick’ of plain or neopolitan icecream between the seven of us. Dad always favoured Walls over Mr Whippy and we sometimes managed to wangle a tuppenny cornet out of him.

Crawley town centre consisted of the High Street where the George Hotel is. The main shop that I remember was Woolworths, a really old fashioned one with wooden floors and counters with shop assistants behind each one. Towards the level crossing was Penfolds, a traditional shop that had sacks of animal feed (?) and an unforgettable smell of the countryside like new mown hay. What we bought from there, I do not know.

Street corner, with clothing shop and people passing by

The Broadwalk was the first of the new shopping areas to be built and I remember standing at the far end and looking at a huge building site that was to become Queens Square. John Perring furniture store took the main shop in the Broadwalk unusually spanning the pedestrian walkway.

Woolworths moved to a new store (now the Pound Shop) there but it was some time before the counters were replaced with self-service. Next to Woolworths was Littlewoods where you could buy loose biscuits including broken ones. The main, four storey store opposite these was called Queensway Store (recently Next, now a sports shop). The exciting feature was an escalator, the only one in town. One Christmas they put on an amazing trip to see Father Christmas – by space rocket! You sat in the rocket and the night sky went whizzing past the windows with a suitable engine noise. When you stepped out, there was Father Christmas.

Queens Square. People sitting on benches. Bandstand in the background.
Queens Square

The other large store was the Co-op where Wilko is today. This had a lift and an interesting sculpture on the outside wall of, I think, a family.

There was a road through Queens Square that was later closed and then pedestrianised. In the square were a bandstand and a fountain of a boy with a dolphin.

Ifield Road was the main route into town from Ifield before it was blocked off at the A23 Crawley bypass. The fare, if I remember correctly, was 3d for an adult and 2d for a child. Later, the Ifield bus travelled along Warren Drive and Ifield Avenue and stopped closer to our house, through the blocks of garages. This bus went to Three Bridges and Pound Hill via the town centre. We could also catch a bus from Langley Green shops which went to Tilgate via the town.

Our nearest station was Ifield which took about 40 mins to walk to. Not having a family holiday until I was eleven, we would go instead for ‘days out’. This always entailed either a long walk to Ifield Woods or Goffs Park or more excitingly a train journey to Littlehampton or to Horsham Park with its open air swimming pool with pushchair, picnic, swimsuits, towels, buckets and spades, wet weather gear, etc. The downside was always getting off the train at the end of the day and having to make the long trek home. Many a time, Georgie and I would be given the key to run on ahead and put the kettle on!
We always favoured the straight-through railway carriages before corridors; to ensure we had one to ourselves we would crowd around the windows when stopped at a station to deter others joining us. Who would want to share their journey with us noisy children? The drawback to these carriages was that there was no toilet. Many a time when returning from a visit to our Nan in London, Mum would hang our little brother Steve out of the door to pee at Redhill station, to our great anxiety, saying, “It’s OK they’re loading the mail sacks, we’ll be here for ages.”
Sometimes Eddie and I would stay in London, at our Nan’s in New Cross or with family friends at Greenwich. For the return journey Nan would see us onto the train at New Cross Gate in the Ladies Only carriage next to the guard’s van with the guard keeping an eye on us. Mum would meet us at Crawley station.

The new schools had not been completed so George and I started at a house called ‘Little Deerswood’ which was a lovely name. I was in the Infants and my classroom was upstairs. There was a fireplace to heat the room during that first winter and our third of a pint bottles of milk would be put there to warm. (Not very nice.) Assembly was held downstairs in the largest room and it was a horrible push and shove down stairs that were not designed for a crush of young children. George was a Junior and this amounted to only one mixed age class. When our school, Ifield Primary School at Rusper Road, was ready we happily transferred. The number of children had grown so rapidly that temporary classrooms (huts) were soon installed. The Headmaster was Mr Worthy and he and his wife lived in Findon Road. Council houses were given not only to those whose firms had relocated to Crawley but also to teachers, police, doctors, nurses, firemen, and so on. This gave a very good mix of people who were all grateful for quality housing in the early 1950s. Mrs Worthy wrote in Italic and for this reason Mr Worthy adopted that style for the school. It is a beautiful script written well with an italic nib but caused some problems at secondary school when speed and ball point pens were required. Mrs Worthy had a baby and I knitted bootees for a present. Few families owned a car so the school organised a coach trip to Leonardslee Gardens. It seemed to be such a long way and the gardens were an exotic playground. We had fun looking for the wallabies that we had been promised were there!

When the Queen visited in 1956 (?) we lined up at Ifield shops and waved our flags and cheered as she drove past.

The top classes at Junior School went away for a week in the summer term. George went first and then it was my turn. We went to St Margaret’s Bay in Kent and stayed in what appeared to be old army barracks that we thought were a children’s holiday camp. This was my first time away from my family. We slept in dormitories, ate in a canteen, ladling out the food at long trestle tables and bathing once during the week. We went on a miniature train and climbed a lighthouse. I was put at the front of many of the photos as for most of the week I wore a pink and white striped dress with an emerald green knitted cardigan.

Dr Barnardos had an orphanage nearby towards Ifield Woods and there were large foster homes in each neighbourhood. Many of these children attended our school. One boy who I especially liked and sat with when I could was Michael Halfpenny, a boy full of fun and mischief. One day he fell asleep in class (my first year in Juniors – year 3 today) and was sent home. The next day he was back at school. He died I believe from gastroenteritis and I never forget the hole he left in our class and our lives.

George’s birthday was in September but he was always bright and was put into the year above his age. He took and passed the 11-plus but was told he couldn’t go up to Ifield Grammar School as he wasn’t old enough. This meant having to stay at Junior School for another year while all his friends went on.

school building

I also passed my 11-plus much, it seems, to everyone’s surprise as Mr Worthy called me into his study to congratulate me and Mum had already sourced a Sarah Robinson Secondary School raincoat for me that I had to wear to the Grammar School for the first term – a good way to develop a hard skin! I am forever grateful to a teacher called Mr Wilson in the third year of juniors (year 5). He had taught George and he noticed me and encouraged me to answer questions. I have always felt that this was a turning point in my education and achievement. Returning to the school mac, Mum wanted me to have a warm winter coat and for the Grammar school this meant a straight (swagger style) coat in grey wool with a cherry red lining. For some reason this could only be bought at the time from D H Evans in London. She took Eddie and me to Oxford Street to buy it. I was so proud but she was mortified to be followed around the store as if we were shoplifters.

Brenda was at secondary school when we moved in 1955. The schools in Ifield – Ifield Grammar and Sarah Robinson – had not been built so she went to the old Sarah Robinson School in West Green. She remembers that the school was archaic compared to where she had come from and that the outside toilets froze in Winter. She went to the new school for just a few months before leaving at 14 – she was not 15 until the end of August. She worked at APV Paramount at Manor Royal and remembers Jordans, the APV social club in London Road (now a carvery) and Marios coffee bar in the town centre. There was a ladies dress shop called Leons that had a ballroom above. They played some pop music but it was essentially a place to learn ballroom dancing. Leons was still going when I reached my teens but I remember hiding in the Ladies toilets during the lessons.

Mum would often meet us after school and take us over to Ifield Rec (or Common as we called it) with sandwiches and a cold drink for our tea. She was always looking after other people’s children and for many years Christopher M and Denise P came to us after school and during school holidays thereby adding to our number. If we were lucky friends could also join us so there were always lots of children to play with. I don’t remember ever being bored and certainly not lonely. Once home from school we played in the garden – tennis, football, catch, skipping, two balls, British bull dog, digging, collecting creepy crawlies… Or out in the street skipping with a long rope across the road (very few cars), playing Queenie, Queenie who’s got the ball? or rounders on the green, riding our bikes or roller skates. We were only in doors when the weather was bad and that is when Ed and I played with our dolls or colouring books. We had very few books and it seems that our parents thought that education was for schools. Surprisingly then we all did well. On summer evenings our parents would often take us all to a local park and play cricket, rounders or football, adapting the games to include the biggest and the smallest.

Our first Christmas in Crawley must have been very hard financially. Uncle Bert, Mum’s brother, sent some money to buy us presents. Ed and I received new-born baby black dolls about 12 inches high with eyes that closed and arms and legs attached by thick elastic bands. We loved those dolls and played with them for years. I’ve still got mine. Black dolls were very popular as Siamese twins had been born at that time and we followed them with interest. One did not survive and I think that the one that did was called Boko. Every year thereafter we didn’t get a new doll but the same one appeared at the top of our paper sacks dressed in new knitted clothes that Mum had tried (unsuccessfully) to knit when we weren’t looking. Ed and I would wake early on Christmas morning and take our newly dressed dolls into bed until morning.

Babies and Bike Rides
Today we would not think of letting our baby out of our sight and certainly not allow an 8, 9 or 10 year old who knocked on the door and said “Can I take your baby out?” to do so but that is what happened almost every day of our school holidays. There were nearby babies such as the twins who sat in a double pushchair wide enough for two of us to push side by side. Then there was a delightful baby girl who had such a large pram that I couldn’t see over it. She was stung by a bee or wasp as I pushed her near Ifield shops and of course she was very upset. I took her into the chemist’s and then straight home, relaying the chemist’s advice to her mum. I was surprised when I wasn’t allowed to take her out again. Sometimes we took the babies to the local park and pushed them on the baby swing or put a cover on the grass and let them crawl around. We would walk up and down the road looking for a pram in the front garden or window and knock on stranger’s doors. One mother told me not to go up or down any kerbs which became quite boring after half an hour. Our own mother couldn’t understand why we wanted to take other people’s babies out but not our own brother.

Dad had always been a keen cyclist and felt it was important that we all had bikes. These often passed from one child to another as we grew. There was the three wheeler and the little black bike with the solid tyres. This wasn’t good for crossing the cattle grid at Ifield Woods as I found out to my cost. I remember being taken to a house in Tilgate where a man renovated bikes. How we got there, I don’t know but I certainly cycled home. We went on long bike rides, always heading out towards Ifield Woods where we had the choice at the T-junction to turn right to Charlwood or left to Rusper. There was a playing field in Charlwood which was a convenient place to stop for a drink or snack. Then we would continue to the back of the runway at Gatwick Airport and home via Bonnetts Lane. A left turn and then right would take us to The Mount where we would free wheel down the hill and thank our lucky stars that we didn’t meet a car at the bottom. We also went on to Rusper and then back home via Rusper Road. Or, if it was a nice day, we would find ourselves peddling on to Faygate. We even made it to Lowfield Heath to the north and back along the A23 or to Horsham and back along the A264.

We would often stop at the River Mole or at a pond. In the spring we came home with armfuls of bluebells much to Mum’s consternation. We also collected frogspawn which we nurtured to tadpoles and frogs. We collected chrysalis (pupa) and kept these in our bedroom, waking up one morning to butterflies flying around the room. Once George had a bowlful of newts in his bedroom that disappeared overnight! He loved wildlife and biology. One night he woke me when everyone was asleep to hold a torch for him. He was dissecting a frog and was happy once it was pinned out in a bowl of liquid with its inners floating. Much to Mum’s horror when she went in to wake him in the morning!

In 2017 my siblings and I are enjoying retirement. Brenda worked as a secretary, George as a manager at Gatwick Airport, Sandra as a teacher, Eddie as an Occupational Therapist and Steve as a Social Worker. George and Eddie are still living in Crawley.

(Sandra Lowton, March 2017)

Images are from

Train spotting in Crawley 1960-1964

By David Stoker

At first sight, Crawley was not a particularly good place to be a train spotter in 1960. The nationalised British Railways (BR) had been in existence since 1948 and five years previously they had published a modernisation plan phasing out steam power in favour of diesel and electric traction. However, the Southern Railway (SR) the predecessor of BR in the area, had rather jumped the gun and electrified the Brighton main line through Three Bridges in 1932 and the Arun Valley Line through Crawley in 1938. Thus, most of the passenger trains in the area were rather boring green electric multiple units, which by 1960 were beginning to show their age.

green and yellow electric train in a station.

SR 2-BIL Electric multiple unit,  Photo © Oxyman (cc-by-3.0).

The stopping trains on these lines consisted of 2-car BIL or HAL units or else 4-car LAV units. The latter were so designated because one of the coaches contained a lavatory which deposited its contents directly on to the track. As naughty boys in the 1950s, when returning from a trip to Horsham swimming baths, my friends and I would attempt to score a direct hit on the High Street level crossing as the train slowed to enter the old Crawley station. However, by 1960 we’d grown out of such childish games.
Even the express trains, passing through Three Bridges station at 60 mph were boring green multiple units, except for the twice daily ‘Brighton Belle’ which did at least have a brown and cream ‘Pullman’ livery.

Brown and cream pullman carriages on track with countryside behind.

The ‘Brighton Belle’ 5-car unit 1964
Photo © Tony Hagon (cc-by-3.0).

The only locomotive hauled express train was the daily Newhaven-Dieppe Boat Train (whose timings varied according to the tides) which was then hauled by one of three Southern Railway electric locomotives of 1940s vintage.

There was, however, one line in the area that had not been electrified and was still operated by steam locomotives. This was the hourly shuttle service from Three Bridges to East Grinstead operated by small tank engines converted to push-pull working, so that the locomotive did not need to run around its train at each end of the journey. Thus, for return journeys the locomotive and fireman would be at the rear of the train with the driver sitting in a compartment in the front coach. As boys we often used this service to go swimming at East Grinstead during the summer holidays since Crawley had no swimming baths until 1964.

Locomotive at railway station. two people are on the platform.

Class ‘H’ tank engine at Three Bridges station in Jan. 1962.
Photo John M. Cramp

The service was hauled by steam locomotives until January 1964 when diesel-electric multiple units, nicknamed ‘Thumpers’ for reasons obvious to their passengers, took over. The service struggled on for three more year but in January 1967 the line through to Tunbridge Wells was closed as part of the cuts to the rail network recommended by Dr. Beeching. He happened to live in East Grinstead and when part of the track bed was later used for the A22 relief road in the town, a local wag suggested they named it ‘Beeching Cut.’

There were a lot more goods and freight services than there are today, which were still operated by steam locomotives. Many everyday products were collected and delivered by rail. As with most market towns and some larger villages, Crawley station had sidings and a goods depot which was visited once or twice a day by a ‘pickup-goods train.’ Deliveries of the merchandise were then made around the town by three-wheeled Scammel Scarab trucks. There was also a goods yard north of Three Bridges on the Gatwick Road industrial estate, where coal and other minerals were brought for re-distribution by road and rail.

Red and cream truck. Writing on side reads 'British Railways'

A BR ‘Scammel Scarab’ truck.
Photo © Infrogmation (cc-by-sa/2.0).

A larger freight yard to the south of Three Bridges station was only partially used. During the First World War, Three Bridges had been chosen by the Rail Operating Department as a nodal hub for the receipt of munitions and their onward transmission to Newhaven and later Littlehampton harbours for shipment to the Western front. This location was presumably chosen as the area (now part of Furnace Green) was sparsely populated. Thus, the existing sidings were rapidly expanded and new ones created so that supply trains could be received from elsewhere in England. In April 1918 one of these ammunition trains ran into the wreckage of a derailed goods train in Redhill tunnel. It was only through a miracle that there was no fire and the unsung heroism of railway workers which averted a major disaster for that town.

There were occasional steam ‘specials’ passing through the Crawley stations, especially on summer Bank Holidays when excursions from Birkenhead and Manchester to Brighton and Eastbourne were often run. These might be hauled by a locomotive from another region such as a ‘Black 5’ class. One day, in the spring of 1959 several local junior schools chartered a train from Crawley for a day trip to Southampton Docks. The train was headed by a huge slab-sided locomotive with the curious name ‘Appledore’. I later discovered that it was a member of the ‘West Country Class’ named after Devon villages.

Green locomotive. Front reads: Southern. 21C123

A ‘West Country’ class locomotive
Photo © Richard Hoare (cc-by-sa/2.0).

However, the focal point for serious loco spotting in Crawley was the former London Brighton and South Coast Railway (LBSCR) depot at Three Bridges, situated in the fork between the lines to Brighton and Crawley. It was a brick built three-lane shed, opened in 1911, replacing an earlier building dating from 1848 which was demolished during the enlargement of the station. The structure included a large water tank above a workshop, a separate coal stage, a hoist for lifting locomotives and a 60ft turntable.

Brick locomotive sheds and tower. Locomotives on tracks in front of this.

Three Bridges Motive Power Depot in May 1962.
Photo: copyright unknown

The Depot was approached by a cinder path which ran from just outside the station, under the line to Crawley. It was a medium sized depot with an allocation of about thirty-five steam locomotives throughout the 1950s reducing to 29 between 1959 and 1962, but also servicing visiting locomotives from other depots. This number rapidly declined during 1963 until its eventual closure to servicing steam locomotives in January 1964. It then became a ‘Mixed Traction Depot’ where steam, diesel and electric locomotives were stabled overnight or else stored awaiting disposal but were no longer serviced. The depot closed altogether in April 1969, although the buildings were occasionally used for rolling stock repairs over the next few years before they were demolished in the mid-1970s. It is now the site of the Siemens Three Bridges Traincare Facility. As youngsters we never experienced any difficulty in gaining access to the shed, whereas we were sometimes prevented from accessing that at Redhill and were thrown out and threatened with the police at Guildford.

Three Bridges depot retained some medium-sized tank locomotives to run the East Grinstead shuttle services. For most of the time three fifty-year-old South Eastern and Chatham Railway (SECR) ‘H’ class locomotives were used which were popular with the local crews. An attempt by managers to replace them with even older London and South Western Railway ‘M7’ class 0-4-4 tanks about 1960, was not popular as they were more difficult to operate in push-pull mode. However, with the electrification of the main lines in Kent during 1961 more examples of the ‘H’ class became available and the last three survivors of the class saw out their days working from Three Bridges during 1963. The last survivor no. 31263 was in traffic until 4 January 1964, when it was withdrawn and stored at the shed until the following November, It was then hauled away to preservation, initially at Robertsbridge, although it eventually found its way to the Bluebell Railway.

Green locomotive. Number on side - 253. Words on side - S E and C R

‘H’ class no.263, as preserved at the Bluebell Railway
Photo © Ben Brooksbank (cc-by-sa/2.0).

The freight locomotives allocated to the depot in the 1950s and early 1960s were principally of LBSCR designs. The ‘C2X’ class 0-6-0 locomotives had once provided the mainstay of freight motive power in the area. There were eight of them at the depot in 1958, all then fifty years old. They were withdrawn during 1960 and 1961 with the last survivor leaving in February 1962. A friend and I were once given an unofficial footplate ride on ‘C2X’ No. 32522 around the shed yard in the Spring of 1961 by a cleaner. These were replaced by newer Southern Railway ‘Q ‘class recently made redundant from elsewhere in the region.

Black and white image of locomotive.

C2X Class 32532 at Three Bridges Depot in 1948.
Photo © Ben Brooksbank (cc-by-sa/2.0).

My favourite class were the larger mixed-traffic ‘K’ class, introduced just before the First World War. These had done prodigious work hauling both munitions and troop trains and had also later come into their own during the lead up to D-Day landings. They were robust locomotives, popular with the crews and capable of doing the work of much larger classes. Nine of the seventeen of them were allocated to Three Bridges and by 1961 they were the last pre-World War I class in the country still extant. Then, in December 1962, the entire class was withdrawn en-bloc. The decision to do so was due to a wish to keep up with the Southern Region’s withdrawal programme rather than any consideration of their usefulness or condition. This upset many local crews as most of them were in good working order and the replacement ‘N’ class, although newer, were thought to be inferior locomotives. The withdrawn ‘K’ class locos were stored at Hove Goods Yard for many months before they were cut up. No. 32345, was stabled at Three Bridges until September of 1963 in the hope that it might be purchased by the Bluebell Railway, but they needed rather to concentrate on buying the freehold of their track.

black and white image of locomotive on tracks.

K Class 2-6-0 No. 32342 at Brighton.
Photo © Ben Brooksbank (cc-by-sa/2.0).

The ‘K’ class duties were partly taken over by the ‘N’ class and the powerful ‘Q1’ class of 0-6-0, built by the Southern Railway in the early years of the Second World War. Four of these unusual looking locomotives were transferred to the depot in September 1962, followed by four more in September 1963 when the depot lost its locomotive allocation.

dark green locomotive on tracks. Yellow writing on side reads 'Southern'.

Q1 Class 0-6-0, C1 at the Bluebell Railway 1992
Photo © Ben Brooksbank (cc-by-sa/2.0).

Three sixty-five-year-old veteran tank loco-motives were allocated to the depot in the early 1960s. These were members of the ‘E4’ class, originally built for London suburban passenger trains but were still being used for shunting and short distance freight trains in the area until 1961. One of them even lasted until June 1962. Another survivor, no. 32473, formerly working at Nine Elms depot in London, was sold to the Bluebell Railway on 16th October 1962, where it was restored to its original livery and given the name ‘Birch Grove’.

Brown locomotive. writing on side reads: 473. Birch Grove.

E4 ‘’Birch Grove’ at Sheffield Park, Bluebell Railway Photo © Ben Brooksbank (cc-by-sa/2.0).

The two largest tender locomotives at the Three Bridges depot in the early 1960s were of the British Railways standard class ‘4’ mixed-traffic locomotives. The first of these, no. 75075 was transferred to the depot in May 1959 and the second, no. 75070 followed soon afterwards. Both were still relatively new having been built at Swindon Works in 1955. One or other of these was often to be found at the depot but I never did discover what duties they were used for.

Black locomative in steam, pulling red and cream carriages.

A British Railways Standard Class ‘4’ 4-6-0.
Photo © David P Howard (cc-by-sa/2.0)

The depot also retained four large modern class ‘4’ tank locomotives which were used on the morning and evening passenger services over the East Grinstead and Tunbridge Wells lines and also on steam services over the unelectrified lines between London, Brighton and Eastbourne via Oxted or Tunbridge Wells. These locomotives had been designed and more than one hundred built at Brighton Railway Works which was a significant builder of steam locomotives throughout the 1940s and 1950s until its closure in 1958.

Dark green locomotive with number 80151 on front.

BR Standard 4 Tank Engine No. 80151
© Helmut Zozmann (cc-by-sa/2.0).

The late fifties and early sixties therefore saw the rapid replacement of steam locomotives with their diesel equivalents. This began with the appearance of BR/English Electric (EE) diesel electric shunters of the standard 0-6-0 type (later BR ‘class 08’) which started to appear in the Three Bridges goods yards from the mid-1950s, although they were never allocated to, or serviced at, the depot, which concentrated on servicing steam locomotives. They were sent down from Norwood Junction depots, which housed and serviced numbers of them, to work for a week at a time before returning to their homes. The only regular mainline diesel sightings in the area were the BR/Birmingham Railway Carriage and Wagon Company (BRCW) ‘type 3’ Bo-Bo class, known as ‘Cromptons’ (later British Rail ‘class 33’). These were introduced in 1960 and were gradually spreading throughout the Southern Region as new examples were being delivered. By the summer of 1963 they were beginning to be stabled overnight at Three Bridges Depot although they were all allocated to Hither Green Diesel Depot in east London.

We were also lucky in Crawley living only twelve miles from the Bluebell railway at Horstead Keynes, which could easily be visited by bicycle. In the spring of 1961, when I first visited, they only had two tiny
0-6-0 tank engines operating. These were a Wainwright ‘P’ class of the SECR named ‘Bluebell’ and an ‘A1X’ class of the LBSCR, named ‘Stepney’. The ‘A1X’ class built between 1872 and 1880, were nicknamed ‘Terriers’ and were the oldest steam locomotives still at work.

Locomotive with word 'Bluebell' on side. Brown passenger carriages.

‘P’ class tank ‘Bluebell’ on Bluebell Railway at Sheffield Park.
Photo © Ben Brooksbank (cc-by-sa/2.0).

During the next three years the railway would acquire further interesting locomotive types from British Railways, including another A1X named Fenchurch. Other interesting acquisitions included the Adams radial 4-4-2 tank No. 488 from the London and South Western Railway (LSWR) or the former North London Railway (NLR) ‘goods’ locomotive No. 58850. Ultimately the Bluebell Railway would save about fifty steam locomotives and become the largest collection outside the National Railway Museum at York as well as relaying a substantial section of the original track as far as East Grinstead.

Green locomotive. Number on front is 488.

Adams radial tank 488 on Bluebell Railway
Photo © Ben Brooksbank (cc-by-sa/2.0).

As young teenagers our trainspotting activities were by no means restricted to Crawley, My friends and I made several visits to the Motive Power Depots at Brighton, Horsham (officially closed but still used for storing locomotives), and Redhill (usually accessible on Sundays when the offices were not manned). We travelled on non-electrified routes where steam still operated, such as Horsham to Brighton, Three Bridges to Tunbridge Wells, and Redhill to Guildford and Tonbridge, all funded by our earnings from our paper rounds. There were also opportunities for day trips to London the great centre for loco enthusiasts where there were a dozen or more large depots. My brother and I likewise used family holidays as opportunities to go trainspotting further afield.

By March 1964, when I was sixteen, trainspotting had begun to be depressing as so many locomotives that we loved were being scrapped. Also, I acquired a secondhand motor scooter and so my interests moved on. However, I have never regretted the five years that I spent as a keen train spotter and in the process I learned a great deal about economic history, political geography, mechanical engineering and many other subjects without being aware that I was doing so.

(David Stoker, May 2020)

West Green Primary School

There has been a primary school in West Green since 1824. When the New Town was built, so was a new primary school. A temporary building was built in 1950, and the permanent buildings followed soon after. Here are some photographs from our archives of the New Town school. For memories of the old school in the 1940s see

West Green Primary School - brick built 1950s school building, with three cars parked outside.
October 1951
West green Primary School - brick built 1950s school building with large windows
October 1951
Group of young children weeding a flower bed outside a school classroom.
West Green Primary school with children gardening, c1953. From Crawley Museum’s Collection.
Group photograph of 5 men and 6 women. Five of them are on chairs, 6 are standing behind. The men are wearing suits and the women are in summer dresses.
Group photo of teachers, 1959 or 1960

In the photograph of the teachers, we know that the man at the back on the left is Derek Slack, and the woman second from the right at the back is Sheila Parr. Molly Richards is front left. The man in the middle of the front row is the headmaster Mr Dennis. If you know who anyone else is, or would like to share your memories of the school please get in touch!

Crawley in the 1950s – one large adventure playground

By David Stoker

My family and I arrived in Crawley when I was three and a half years old. Our previous home had been a cramped second floor garret at 208 East Lane, Walworth, just off the Old Kent Road. It was the period leading up to the great London smogs and my elder brother was suffering badly from asthma. My parents had been advised by the doctors at the Evelina Children’s Hospital to move him away from the city as quickly as possible. Their first plan was to emigrate to Canada, but then my father, who was a carpenter, discovered that if he worked for the New Towns Commission for a year, his family would be allocated a brand new three-bedroomed house. Thus, we moved to 19 Blackdog Walk, Northgate, on 1 November 1951 which was then in the centre of one huge unenclosed building site. Within a few weeks there were two or three other children living in the street of roughly the same age as me.

When we arrived, the houses and flats in Oak Way, Five Acres and Willow Close were all still under construction, and our weekends and summer evenings were spent exploring the local building sites, climbing ladders, running along scaffoldings in a way that would horrify modern parents. My brother was then five and had to go to school, but I and a young friend were free to roam around and even ‘offer to help’ the builders. No-one seemed to object to our presence. At one time there was a large stack of bricks on some waste land between Oak Way and Willow Close which was later used to build a run of garages. Myself and several older friends burrowed into this stack and then covered it with wooden planks to create a den for ourselves. Inevitably there were the occasional accidents and I still have the scar on my left knee gained from falling over whilst playing on the site of the bungalow at the Oak Way end of Blackdog Walk.

In March 1953 I went to school. The Northgate Infants and Junior School were then under construction but not ready to accept children and so for the first term I attended the Prefab school situated on the corner of Oak Way and Barnfield Road. We still used slates and chalk to learn our letters and numbers, and I clearly remember the outdoor party we had to celebrate the Queen’s Coronation when we were all presented with a mug. My mother had a job as a secretary at ‘The Beehive’ at Gatwick Airport, and we were looked after by our granny. On one occasion during the school holidays, when there was nobody else available to keep an eye on me my mother took me with her to her work.  and I spent an afternoon amusing myself on the derelict stands of the Gatwick Racecourse, shortly before its demolition to make way for the new airport terminal, or else watching trains at the old Gatwick Airport station.

Gradually the building work in Northgate came to an end and the builders moved on to Langley Green, so we had to find other forms and places of entertainment. There were lots of green spaces in Northgate and trees, bicycle sheds and other unoccupied buildings to climb on. Also, we built dams on the stream that separated Northgate from Three Bridges. Once, when I was about nine, I knocked myself unconscious and slid into the water as a result of a poorly secured rope swing over this stream, but fortunately my friends were able to drag me out. There was the wide strip of unused land between Northgate and Manor Royal which is now the route of Crawley Avenue and where we used to collect frogspawn and look out for newts. We would build soap box carts to race down the hill from the roundabout (now called the Tushmore Gyratory) down past the flats. The traffic was so light that it did not matter if we carried on into Five Acres.

One of my friends at Primary School told me where one could find a pile of rusty hand grenades at Gatwick Airport and so I accompanied him there to explore. The majority of these grenades had been drilled out and made safe, but every so often we would come across one that had been missed and contained a pin, now very corroded. These we causally tossed to one side whilst I selected one of the safe ones to take home with me as a souvenir. My father went berserk when he got home from work as he had recently been working on the Gatwick Airport site and knew that unexploded ordnance was found there from time to time. In fact, he had once witnessed the results when a reckless building worker threw an unused bomb that he had found onto a bonfire. My father insisted on burying my souvenir in our back garden. I never told him about the unsafe ones that we had found.

My brother had been to the school in West Green and he told me about the famous workshop at No. 2 Leopold Road where John Haigh, ‘the acid bath murderer’ had committed his nefarious crimes, so inevitably we had to go and explore. Another long-distance adventure during my childhood was a trip to ‘the Hawth’ which was then a large and rather mysterious wood pitted with what appeared to be bomb craters. In April each year it would be a sea of bluebells and we would return home with arms full of them.

The year seemed to be divided up into various seasons that were unconsciously recognised by children. Thus, hopscotch and marbles, were always played in the spring, whereas conkers could only be played in September when the fruit was freely available. (Nobody would dream about using protective glasses!) However, the highlight of our communal street activities for the year was Bonfire Night, on 5th of November. At the beginning of October each year the local shops began to stock fireworks. Strictly speaking they were not supposed to be sold to children under the age of fourteen but this law was largely ignored by local shopkeepers, and even where it was enforced, there was never any difficulty in persuading an adult or older child to act as our proxy. (In the same way, my granny always sent me to the local parade of shops in Northgate to buy her cigarettes: ten ‘Weights’ at one shilling and four pence (approx. £0.07 today) with me being allowed to keep the two pence change from one shilling and six pence (£0.075) ‘for going’.) In the lead up to Bonfire Night I would use this change to buy two penny bangers. A group of us would also dress up a guy in old clothes and drag it around town on one of our soap box carts begging for ‘a penny for the guy’ from passers-by which we would subsequently use to buy fireworks.

Setting off fireworks in the street, in advance of the formal Bonfire Night, was not at all unusual. We quickly learned the advantages of placing bangers in confined spaces to enhance their impact, for example by putting them into milk bottles or metal pipes, which could be quite impressive, although we had enough sense to stand well back. Likewise, I once put a lighted banger in a little round access hole in the ground which was covered by a cast iron lid chained to the rim. The subsequent ‘dull thud’ could be felt in the ground several feet away and the lid was sent flying 10-12 feet into the air despite the metal chain. I am not aware of any serious injuries to humans or animals caused by my friends and I at this time but there were certainly several ‘near misses’. It wasn’t only the children’s activities with fireworks that could go wrong. The planned back garden display supervised by my uncle Fred, who lived in Furzefield, West Green, was once over in less than five minutes, when a ‘Jumping Jack’, one of the first to be ignited, landed in his open box of fireworks.

All the local children in Northgate would collect wood and rubbish during the lead up to the 5th November for a large communal bonfire on the then unused land between Willow Close and Green Lane. There were always plenty of adults around for these occasions so this was a time for letting off the ‘pretty fireworks’: the Catherine wheels, roman candles, rockets, sparklers etc rather than the penny bangers and Jumping Jacks that were normally a part of our street games.

In the mid-1950s the Crawley Urban District Council provided an ‘adventure playground’ for local children on some land next to Ifield Avenue between the Town Meadow football ground and the public playing fields. This area was equipped with picks, shovels, wheelbarrows, carpentry tools and loads of scrap wood for the kids to do what they liked, largely unsupervised. It was a great place for the children but today would represent a Health and Safety Officer’s nightmare. The attached photograph, taken in the summer of 1957 shows a group of us next to an oak tree that we had unsuccessfully attempted to burn down the previous week. (I think this was one occasion when the adults did step in.)

Group of nine boys. 5 standing in front of a large tree, three climbing up it and one on a rope swing.

The boys in the picture are mostly from Northgate Primary School, I am second from the top, my friend Keith Holt is above me, and his brother, David, is standing on the rope swing. The boy in the check shirt holding him is Robert Thompson, but I cannot name the others. By this time my brother had moved on to Hazlewick School and begun to take an interest in girls.

During the summer of 1959 I transferred from Northgate Primary School to The Thomas Bennett School, in Tilgate and a new chapter in my childhood began, involving other more civilised interests and pre-occupations. Crawley was a wonderful place for young children to grow up in the 1950s, even if at times it could be a little bit risky for them. I feel sorry for modern children who now have so much less freedom than we were allowed.

(David Stoker, 2019)

Broadfield House – a short story

The night my father met John Haigh, the acid bath murderer.

Broadfield House is a Georgian mansion built in the early 1800s. It is situated on what was once the main London to Brighton Road (A23) just south of Crawley.  A long drive leads up to the house, crossing Broadfield Brook before curving south. If you followed the drive round to the end you came to Broadfield cottage, my childhood home, nestled in woods and fields.  Sadly, it is no longer there, nor are the fields and woods, all having been replaced with Crawley New Town houses and roads. Broadfield House is still there, although looking less splendid now.

The land around Broadfield House originally consisted of landscaped gardens and lake, orchards, grass tennis court, a walled garden with greenhouses, yards, barns and residences for the workers at the house. The estate, much changed, is a now a public nature park owned by Crawley Borough Council.

I lived in Broadfield Cottage with my parents, Vera (neé Parsons) and Jack Cook, my two sisters, Jean and Cheryl, and my brother David.

My father was caretaker of Broadfield House and the offices, as well as being head gardener on the estate from 1946 to 1979.  We grew up in its shadow: playing on the veranda, exploring its creepy cellars and of course playing in the beautiful grounds.

After work, my father would sit down and tell us stories about his life.

There was the one about how he was nearly caught when scrumping for apples, and another about the time he was a ‘stop boy’ for the local shoot at Tilgate Mansion. He lived at Tilgate walled garden, at this time, with his parents George and Alice Cook.

We also heard about his first job at aged fourteen when he worked in a laundry in Three Bridges. He had to turn a ‘dolly’ all day to clean clothes, and his wages were twelve shillings and six pence for the week.

There were stories of more recent events, such as the time in 1950 that the Queen, then Princess Elizabeth, visited the architect’s offices (Broadfield House) where the new town was being planned.

As caretaker, my father had to fit a special lavatory for the royal visit. He spent a long time getting it ready, but she never used it!

In 1958 the Queen visited Crawley again and my father was honoured to be one of those who had lunch with her at The George Hotel in Crawley (I still have the seating plan and menu!)

But the most fascinating story that my father told us was the one about the time he met John Haigh, the famous acid bath murderer.

My parents were asked to move into Broadfield House for a few months to oversee the closing down of the country club.

(From the memoir of Jack Cook, 1918-1999)

‘One night in January 1948 there was a knock on the door. When I opened it there were two men standing there.

“Yes?” I said, “What can I do for you?”  I noticed one man had very grey hair, the other dark.

“My name is Haigh,” said the dark-haired man, “and this is my friend Dr Henderson. I have booked dinner for two here tonight.”

I said, “You can’t have done because the hotel has been closed down for the last three months”

“But I have,” said Haigh. He took a small diary from his pocket.

The doctor looked at him and said, “Haigh you are mad, I always said you were mad.”

Haigh then asked if he could use the phone and I said, “Yes, come in.”

I heard him speaking to someone in Brighton.

Dr Henderson pulled a gold cigarette case from his pocket and took out a cigarette.

When Haigh had finished the call he said, “If anyone calls here and asks for me, tell them to go to the Punch Bowl in Crawley.”

He gave me two shillings for the phone call and they both left. It had all seemed rather odd.’

My father was later interviewed by the police when they were investigating the Haigh murders – he had been one of the last people to see Henderson alive. Henderson was probably murdered in Haigh’s workshop in Leopold Road, Crawley that very night! Shortly afterwards, Haigh also murdered Henderson’s wife and, like the rest of his victims, her body was disposed of in a vat of acid.

I’m glad that I encouraged my father to write a memoir. It’s full of all the stories he told us and is a book I’ll always treasure.

By Shirley Anne Cook. 

You can buy Shirley’s book on Broadfield House in our online shop

Black and white photograph of the exterior of Broadfield House - large white house with grass in front and trees to the sides and behind.
Broadfield House (with thanks to Shirley Anne Cook for the use of the photograph)

A true story of two schoolboys from Crawley and how the weight of history fell on one of them – A short story

“I do not like thee, Doctor Fell ,
The reason why – I cannot tell ;
But this I know , and know full well,
I do not like thee, Doctor Fell”.

Sometimes members of a family meet and the talk turns to their memories.
On one such occasion I was told a story by my cousin. The story, though some fifty years old, was scored into his memory, and it included a part for me.
He related that aged about ten he had been set the task of writing a poem for homework and he was not confident about fulfilling his task. Luckily on a visit to me he saw a poem in my handwriting which he thought I was the author of and he memorised it. Later he changed some of the words then handed it in to school as his own work.
The homework received a commendation, even as far as an assembly I thought he said. But then another teacher thought that they recognised the piece and his plagiarism was discovered, he was disgraced.
At another meeting a few months later I asked him to write the verse as he remembered it and he produced the following:
“I do not like thee, Doctor Fell,
The reason why – I cannot tell;
But this I know, and know full well,
I do not like thee, Doctor Fell”.

The verse was written by Tom Brown in 1680 when he was a student at Oxford university. The Dean of his college was Doctor Fell. Brown had taken part in some mischief and faced expulsion. To avoid expulsion he was given an exercise in Latin translation. The result of Browns translation was the verse quoted above.
It became cause celebe and then a nursery rhyme. Even though my cousin’s story, with its echo of ‘school trouble ‘ in the origin of the rhyme our attention now turns to my part in it.
My cousin said that the rhyme was in my handwriting and stuck to my door and yet I have no memory of it and this contrasts with a memory I do have from around the same time and it’s the memory of buying a book from a beach-front kiosk while on holiday. The book was “The Strange Tale of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde” by Robert Louis Stephenson which contains a reference to Doctor Fell. It is more alluding to the rhyme than a reference but if the copy I had contained footnotes then it is possible that I copied it from there.
Just one question for my cousin, did he recite the nursery rhyme to his children?,
Excerpt from “Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde ” by Robert Louis Stevenson
“Mr Utterson regarded him, ‘There must be something else,’ said the perplexed gentleman. ‘There is something more, if I could find a name for it. God bless me, the man seems hardly human! Something troglodytic, shall we say? Or can it be the old story of Dr Fell?”
No footnotes or annotations in this edition.

By Tim Holt

Inspired by Crawley History? Share your writings online.

Charles Kenneth Mitchell

Portrait of a young man

Portrait of Kenneth Mitchell, year unknown. CWSCM:2019/4880.157.13

Charles Kenneth Mitchell was born 1st October 1889 to parents Charles James and Sarah Blanch Mitchell. He had one sister; Blanche Mary who was 4 years older. Charles senior worked as the Postmaster for Crawley while the family lived in locally at 24 High Street and later New Road.

Kenneth or Ken to his friends was a popular lad, a member of the local choir as well as playing football and cricket in Crawley and Three Bridges. In the 1911 census he is a 21-year-old man working as an estate agent while living at the family home, Roxham, Post Office Road, Crawley.

When war broke out there was a need for young men to sign up. The 11th Battalion Royal Sussex Regiment was formed on 7th August 1914 in Bexhill. The 11th along with the 12th and 13th regiments were know locally as Lowther’s Lambs because they had been raised by Claud Lowther MP. We do not know when Ken signed up, but it must have been soon after the battalion’s formation.

Shortly after joining, tragedy struck when Ken was admitted to Bexhill Hospital with Spotted Fever which developed into Meningitis and killed him on Friday 5th February 1915. He was 25 years old. During the time spent with the battalion in Cooden Camp, Bexhill he achieved the rank of Lance-Corporal.

Grave stone of Charles Kenneth Mitchell

Kenneth’s grave stone in St John’s churchyard, Crawley.

Ken’s body was transported by motor hearse to Crawley where he was buried in a military grave at St. John the Baptist Church the following Wednesday. His coffin was partially draped in a union flag, carried from the family home by uniformed service men, followed by floral tributes, the Crawley Boy Scouts, The Manchester Regiment which was based in Three Bridges and mourners. At the end of the service three volleys were fired over the grave and the Last Post played on the bugle. Sadly, Charles James was too ill to attend the funeral.

At a local fundraising event for the war effort shortly after Ken’s death, Mr Lehmann is reported to have said “Mr Mitchell had died for his country just as surely as if a bullet from the Germans had brought him down in the trenches. … and when the time came to erect a Roll of Honour for those in the district who had died for the country’s cause, the name Kenneth Mitchell would not be absent.” (Richardson, 2011, p. 75-76).

Bronze plaque inscribed with Charles Kenneth Mitchell

Kenneth’s death penny was donated to the Crawley Museum in 2019. CWSCM:2019/4880.173

The 11th, 12th and 13th Battalions went on to be sacrificial lambs at the Boar’s Head raid to draw German attention away from the battle of the Somme further south. 30th June 1916 subsequently became known as The Day Sussex Died due to the amount of men that were wounded or killed at Boar’s Head and is where Lowther’s Lambs got their name.

Ken is one of two soldiers who died during the First World War to be buried at St. John the Baptist Church Crawley. Gunner Howard Clement Pace died on 5th July 1916 aged 22 and was buried in the plot next to Ken shortly after. Both are remembered on the plaques outside of Memorial Gardens, Crawley and on the war memorial outside the same church.


Commonwealth War Graves Commission

Find My Past

Imperial War Museum

Richardson, Renny. (2011). All the Bright Company of Heaven, Menin House, Eastbourne.

Contemporary Collecting and Covid 19

Crawley Museum shut its doors to the public in March this year due to Covid-19. The staff have been working behind the scenes, creating new website and exhibition content.

We particularly like sharing memories of Crawley from local residents and would love to hear from anyone who would like their memories to feature on our  website or in the museum.

We’ve also been looking at our collections. We know that they don’t fully reflect the diversity of Crawley’s  communities and want to change this. If you have anything you’d like to donate to the museum to help give a fuller picture of life in Crawley please contact Holly, our curator, for a chat.

We’re hoping to be able to open to the public again in the next few months. It won’t be until August at the earliest.  Shortly after opening we will be seeking people’s memories, photographs and objects to help create a  collection about life in Crawley during lockdown. So do please hang onto anything that you think may be of interest.

Stay safe and we hope to see you soon!

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