Childhood memories

'My earliest and fondest memories of the late 1970s and early 80s are rooted in what we kids affectionately called Turner’s Field. It was a small, derelict patch of land beside Turner Home, but to us, it was a world of adventure, imagination, and freedom.

The council ran a little place we called The Hut, where local kids could gather. They organised games of rounders, Easter egg hunts, hide and seek, and even brought in a bouncy castle once. But most of the time, we made our own fun. That field was our playground, our meeting place, our kingdom.

Every autumn, as Bonfire Night approached, we’d start collecting ‘bommy’ wood, anything we could find to build the biggest bonfire we could manage. It was always more thrilling than the official displays. There was something magical about watching the flames dance in the place we knew so well.

A towering horse chestnut tree stood proudly in the field, daring us to climb it. I remember the pride I felt when I made it all the way into the branches, higher than some of the boys who couldn’t even get off the ground. I think I climbed every tree in that field at some point. One year, the older kids tied a rope to a branch near the sandstone wall that ran along Dingle Lane. If you swung high enough, you’d fly right out over the road. It was terrifying and exhilarating.

Sometimes, someone would dump an old three-piece suite in the field. On warm summer nights, we’d sit on it for hours, talking, laughing, dreaming. It felt like our secret place, away from the grown-ups, where we could just be ourselves.

Generations of people walked their dogs on that field. And now, when I see people strolling through the communal gardens of the new houses, it warms my heart. The spirit of the place lives on.

I was born and bred in Dingle. I still live here. And now, I work at Turner Nursing Home. It’s more than just a workplace; it’s a village within a village. Turner’s has always been at the heart of our community, quietly supporting generations of grandfathers, fathers, sons, and brothers. It’s a place of care, of continuity, and of deep local roots.

And for me, it will always be home'.