Cecil Amor is the Founder Chairman of Bridport History Society. His background is in design, techonology and engineering, being a Fellow of the Institution of Electrical Engineers and a European Design Committee Member.
‘Whoops, She went up in the big Balloon.’ This was a song on an old record, probably 1920s, now lost without trace, which we used to play on an old wind up gramophone in our aeromodelling clubhouse, the disused Air Read more »
This phrase “The Poor Man’s Friend” was used by an MP in The Chimes a novel by Charles Dickens, discussed recently. It was also the name of an ointment which was widely sold in this country and around the world, Read more »
Recently I read a short story by Charles Dickens, The Chimes, published in 1844, the year following A Christmas Carol. Dickens describes The Chimes as “A Goblin story of some bells that rang an Old Year out and a New Read more »
Having grown up in a landlocked county the nearest waterway was the canal, the Kennet and Avon, sometimes called “The Cut”. In my younger days it was stagnant and my early efforts at fishing with a hazel rod and bent Read more »
I know Little & Large are a couple of comedians and I do not write funny scripts. I am thinking of Thomas Hardy in Tess of the d’Urbervilles writing about dairies, Little and Great. The Little Dairies were in the Read more »
An engaged couple we were well acquainted with had noted the slogan of the then nationalised gas industry “All by Gas”. The young lady lived in a home with an old gas geyser above the bath and she and her Read more »
This month was named after the Roman emperor Augustus Caesar as voted by the Roman Senate in 8 BC. My wife and I were married in August and honeymooned in Jersey, then the place of choice. Our hotel catered mainly Read more »
Some years ago our electrical engineering design office was divided into sections, each under a section leader. My friend John was in Special Products and I in Standard Products and it was generally assumed that we would eventually be promoted Read more »
I recall my mother reciting a poem “I remember, I remember the house where I was born, the little window….”. My own first twenty odd years were spent in a house with a window which looked up to a hill Read more »
As a child we lived in a small village not far from my paternal grandparents house and a little further from an uncle and another aunt and their families. On Mondays my mother washed our clothes, which was stressful for Read more »