pumpkinstrokemarrow

Started off easily enough by visiting Crescent Road, the house of the previous post. As it happened the occupant came to the door while we were peering. Pleasant enough but did not invite us in for tea and biscuits and an inspection of the interior. Remembered nothing of the outside - was only there for a couple of years or so - but it is possible that I would have remembered something of the inside. A butler sink, the bottom of the staircase, the pattern of the tiles. But this was not to be.

Quick tour round the general area. Church at end of the street where I might have been baptised had the parents been that way inclined which they were not. Shopping street a bit further away now very cosmopolitan. Plenty of shops selling food from far away places. Plenty of restaurants and fast food joints ditto. A tatoo parlour. A shop selling loudspeakers for loud cars. I dare say there were butchers, bakers and greengocers when I lived in the area but little sign of them now.

Next move was Felixstowe, where I was born, I thought in some sort of a small hospital. Had not thought to check my birth certificate at this point but did not think there would be all that much choice. After a bit found the Felixstowe Community Hospital, a place of about the right size and which looked to have been built 111 years ago, or so. Could easily have been the place but the lady behind the desk denied that it had ever been a maternity unit. Could have gone to the local library at this point, where there might well have been a local history enthusiast, but didn't.

Now the landlord of the Lord Nelson in Ipswich, a Felixtovian of 25 years standing despite coming from up north, thought that the most likely place was a dying hospital overlooking the sea. He also sold Adnams out of wooden barrels from behind the bar. Very civilised.

So at this point of Felixstowe, we came across a 'Convalescent Hill'. Maybe this leads to the place he was talking about. Not the place we had just been to. And after a while we come up against a drive with a blue NHS sign on it. Shabby looking lodge which might be for drug dependence. Up the drive to find a large and impressive building shut up behind a chain link fence. The Bartlett Convalescent Home. As luck would have it, a very helpful security guard let us in for a quick peek outside, despite the fact that the Suffolk Constabulary were inside having some firearms training. There was even the odd bang. Building looked as if it was from between the wars, complete with an sheltered area on the sea side for sunning onself. One could either recline in a one of a series of brick shelters built into the hill or on the small esplanade. Was it really a TB sanitorium?

Security guard really helpful chap. Formerly a long service man in the USAF, mainly Bentwaters. Married an Ipswich girl and stayed. Manages to get home to Florida every couple of years or so where he has more family.

Felixstowe beach was good. Fine view of the Bartlett, up behind the beach huts. There were even some people swimming although we had not thought to bring swimming togs.

So we have two places from which I might have emerged. Maybe emerged from the first and because I think I was difficult from birth, maybe transferred to the second for R&R. Back home, dig up the birth certificate. Where in florid but legible handwriting it says that I was born at 17 Beach Road East, maybe a couple of hundred yards from the Bartlett. Which as far as I can make out from Google Streeview is a street full of seaside villas. Maybe from 1900 or so. Mainly red brick. Maybe No. 17 was a B&B at the time, at which my father was putting up for the duration? Certainly never lived there on a permanent basis. And BH tells me that fathers, in the heat of the moment, quite often put down their address rather than the address of the birth. I don't suppose we will ever know. But we will pay a visit to No. 17 should we ever be in the vicinity again.