ny historic account of a town could never be considered complete without involving the memories of those who lived there. In these pages, I hope you will enjoy sharing the memories, anecdotes and photographs kindly sent in by visitors to this website, to whom I am immensely grateful.
If you have any memories or tales of old Coventry or any relevant photographs that you would like to see published here, please feel free to send them to me and I'll add them to these pages as soon as I can.
Jo Shepherd's Family - Time Gentlemen Please!
y parents, Bill and May Toseland, were married in 1936, and I am sure they had certain plans for their future because my grandparents, on my father's side, were at that time running the Binley Working Men's Club, so it was no surprise for the newlyweds to wish to take over the Fox and Vivian Public House in far Gosford Street. However, this was short lived as my father had a motorbike accident so they went to stay on an uncle's farm in Wasperton whilst he recuperated. My mother was a country girl having been born in Barford, but as the saying goes 'love conquers all', so wherever dad went, of course she went too.
It was 1947 when we moved to Welland Road, Stoke. Mum looked after a little shop in King Richard Street and every morning she would have to walk across Gosford Park to open up but one winter morning I was thrilled because I did not have to go to school. We had had a very heavy snowfall the night before so I had to go with mum that morning. The traffic was at a standstill and most of the residents in King Richard St. were out shovelling snow. Mum had help getting into the shop and needless to say she was late opening up that morning. Every Saturday afternoon the male customers would leave their bikes parked in the small garden at the front of the shop, nip in and buy their 'Woodies' cigarettes and then walk up Highfield Road into the football ground. I think that year must have gone on record for the severe snowfall we had. It was that Christmas I remember the most because we had the best Christmas tree ever. Dad had arrived home late that evening with it tied to the side of his bike. You could not see the bike for its branches. No one asked where it came from, and me being so young could not have cared. It was placed in the front window in the front room in a crepe covered bucket filled with sand and the top had to be cut off to get it into the house. It cut out most of the daylight in the room, but who cared, it was beautiful. Mum hung my Christmas stocking on it, one of her nylons actually. There was an orange in the foot end and the rest filled with nuts and sweeties and little toys of some sort. Then there were little candles pegged on which mum lit on Christmas eve. It's a wonder the whole thing did not go up in smoke. Mum then spent the rest of the holiday moaning about all the pine needles dropping everywhere.
It must have been only a couple of years later when we moved to Batsford Road, off Holyhead Road, to another grocery shop, but this time we lived behind and above the shop, a little more up market you could say. Mum managed the shop whilst dad was still at the Standard still using his trusty steed, namely his bike. I am sure that was the general use of transport in those days and you could park them on the kerb without being stolen. I do not remember seeing many cars parked in the street. Another Christmas stands out in my mind when we went to an after hours Christmas party at the Wine Lodge, on the corner of the Burges and Corporation Street, I was the only child there and mum and dad knew the licensees. There was a man on the piano, and we were all having a sing song, and then played musical chairs, obviously for my benefit no doubt. I won, of course, and was presented with a lovely ribboned box of chocolates. I don’t think I put it down all evening, and it must have cost a lot of sweet coupons too. I am still wondering if that public house still operates under the same name.
Still living in Beake Avenue, mum and dad decided to apply for a tenancy to enter into a pub of their own and so we then moved into the Broomfield Tavern, in Spon End. Well, I was not surprised - it was in their blood after all, and my fiancee seemed happy with that. I am sure most Coventrians reading this would be familiar with the Broom. It is a very old pub, built middle 1800's, and judging by the bathroom had not changed much. It was full of local characters including Annie or rather 'Annie in the snug' as she was known, also Geoff the young barman. If you are reading this Geoff, we have not forgotten you.
t is now the swinging 60's, '61 to be exact, and I got married from the Broom. The regulars gave me a wonderful send off that day, they made me feel like royalty. Tony and I went to live in Lincroft Crescent, Chapelfields, but he would go and help dad behind the bar now and again. There was a little verse hung behind the bar which read:-
and fish and sit and think
and think and fish and sit and wish
that you could get a drink.
What with weddings and other social events, there was always plenty to keep them busy. Mum was in the darts team, which gave her a break from the usual crowd, and they visited the Bricklayers Arms quite often, even brought home the Cup at one stage. Of course dad had his car by this time and took a close friend, Reg, on a camping/fishing trip for the weekend. Well it rained most of the time, and by the time they returned home - but in a jovial mood, minus their socks - when asked where they were, they said they could not remember where they had left them to dry out. Probably on some hedgerow or other. They did not bring home any fish either!
Our local pub on the corner was the Three Spires at that time, but it was renamed the Jules Verne after some renovations, incorporating different eateries. Dad came and looked after it for a while whilst the manager went on his holiday. It was lovely having him just up the road.
It was inevitable, I guess, for dad to want a pub of his own, and this he did by moving to Kettering. A lovely old pub called the Wheatsheaf Inn.
My parents stayed at the Wheatsheaf for a few more years before retiring to a little country cottage in Denford. I daresay all of us at some stage dream of a little place in the country, and for them it was a far cry from the Fox and Vivian back in the 30's. It was not until 1974 that Tony and I decided to emigrate to Australia, and it took another ten years of persuasion for mum and dad to follow us out. Their little Yorkie had to go into quarantine for a few months but they were all reunited, and in the end we all lived happily ever after. Oh, some might ask what happened to the in-laws; well they stayed at the same address in Dickens Road, Keresley for all those years, even surviving the blitz....