The idyllic Essex village of St. Osyth, where I spent many a happy summer in my adolescence.
So me, the missus and the dog decided to go and see how the place looked, forty four years after my last visit.
This wasn’t here then.
Nor this. Good job, Trevor.
I couldn’t remember where the village war memorial was sited, but I soon found it,…
…although photographing it was hardly going to be a breeze.
Hmm. Well, let’s see what we can do.
Enough of this.
Let’s head off back towards the church, the scaffolded walls of the old priory on the left,…
…where we find what appears to be a second war memorial.
Which it most certainly is, and a much newer one too.
Inside the church,…
…a Roll of Honour of those who served – two surnames appear seven times, and two others six,…
…and a Roll of Honour of those who died. There are four Emmersons among the names on this list; check how many appear on the other Roll.
Ah. All is explained. Apart from the year of reinauguration.
The postmistress, whose name was Kath, used to live up there in the ’60s.
Once my grandparents house, on the left.
My Grandpa fought throughout the Great War, in France and Salonika, suffering a piece of shrapnel the size of your thumb in his foot for his troubles. We used to have the piece – I can remember it to this day – but it got lost in a house move in 1980, long after his death. It must still exist somewhere, although no one would ever know what it was should they pick it up.
Luckily I still have a few items belonging to him.