Proud to be a Devon Maid!

My hometown City of Plymouth is known as Britain's Ocean City. It is a vibrant waterfront city which is surrounded by water, and with the hills of Dartmoor close by.  I love living in heavenly Devon, and I'm proud to be a Devon Maid 🙂

 

The magnificent Plymouth Sound with the art-deco lido, where I learnt to swim, over 65 years ago. Seems like only yesterday 😂😂.

Today I thought I would take you on a tour of the historic Barbican, with its cobbled streets and Elizabethan buildings. To me, it has always seemed remarkable that these buildings are still standing after the continuous bombing, known as the Plymouth  Blitz, during the Second World War. The city suffered  a series of bombing raids, which flattened many parts of my home city. My parents were involved in one of those  raids. In March 1941, my dad was returning home on a short Leave from the Army.  As darkness fell, he turned the corner of the street where they lived, and the house was gone, reduced to a pile of rubble, and my poor mum was buried underneath. Neighbours were scrabbling at the bricks with their hands,  desperately trying to get to her. Fortunately, she survived,  but her back was badly damaged and she suffered for the rest of her life with severe back problems.  After the Blitz, very little of Plymouth remained, and the whole City had to be rebuilt. During the 59 bombing attacks, 1,172 civilians were killed and 4,448 were injured. King George the sixth is pictured  here visiting the devastated City. 

 

Image courtesy of Daily Mail archives. 

But now it's time to continue with the tour. I hope you will enjoy these photos, which were taken on a glorious Summer's day last year. You can just double click on any of the photos if you want to make them larger. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The quality of the following  photo isn't particularly good (I took it from Plymouth Hoe looking out to the Sound) but I thought the old with the new was pretty cool 😊.

 

I do feel very blessed living in this little corner of heavenly Devon!  On that note, I'll love you and leave you until the next time. 

My Hometown Of Plymouth - Britain's Ocean City

My hometown City of Plymouth is known as Britain's Ocean City. It is a vibrant waterfront city which is surrounded by water, and with the hills of Dartmoor close by.

 

The magnificent Plymouth Sound with the art-deco lido, where I learnt to swim, some sixty years ago. Seems like only yesterday 😂😂.

Today I thought I would take you on a tour of the historic Barbican, with its cobbled streets and Elizabethan buildings. To me, it has always seemed remarkable that these buildings are still standing after the continuous bombing, known as the Plymouth  Blitz, during the Second World War. The city suffered  a series of bombing raids, which flattened many parts of my home city. My parents were involved in one of those  raids. In March 1941, my dad was returning home on a short Leave from the Army.  As darkness fell, he turned the corner of the street where they lived, and the house was gone, reduced to a pile of rubble, and my poor mum was buried underneath. Neighbours were scrabbling at the bricks with their hands,  desperately trying to get to her. Fortunately, she survived,  but her back was badly damaged and she suffered for the rest of her life with severe back problems.  After the Blitz, very little of Plymouth remained, and the whole City had to be rebuilt. During the 59 bombing attacks, 1,172 civilians were killed and 4,448 were injured. King George the sixth is pictured  here visiting the devastated City. 

 

Image courtesy of Daily Mail archives. 

But now it's time to continue with the tour. I hope you will enjoy these photos, which were taken on a glorious Summer's day earlier this year. You can just double click on any of the photos if you want to make them larger. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The quality of the following  photo isn't particularly good (I took it from Plymouth Hoe looking out to the Sound) but I thought the old with the new was pretty cool 😊.

 

I do feel very blessed living in this little corner of heavenly Devon!  On that note, I'll love you and leave you until the next time. 

100 Years Of Votes For Women...

One hundred years ago, women were granted the right to vote in a British Parliamentary Election. It seems particularly fitting to acknowledge this today, when there is so much attention in the media about sexual abuse of women over decades, along with discrimination of women in the workplace, where men are still being paid more for doing the same job. 

Forty years ago, and no doubt it goes back far longer than that, these things happened, whereby some men thought they could touch or grope a woman as and when they felt like it, with no fear of reprisal. More often than not, these men were in a position of power and women felt it was something they had to endure, for fear of losing their job. 

I have spoken to many, many of my contemporaries and, without exception, they had all experienced this in one way or another, and it occurred from workplace to workplace. That was THEN, when it was a completely different culture of behaviour, but it really saddens me that this sort of thing is still going on.  

But, as with those brave suffragettes all those years ago, women are finally, COLLECTIVELY, saying “No!  We are not prepared to put up with this any longer - enough is enough”,  and those men who abused their position, are being made to realise that they were totally out of order.  For far too long, this whole thing has been brushed under the carpet, but no more. 

Whilst carrying out research relating to Votes for Women, I was surprised to learn that when the Act was finally passed in February 2018, the minimum age that women could register their vote was 30.  

A further ten years would pass before women were given the vote on equal terms as men, at the age of 21. 

It is a matter of some pride that the first woman MP to take her seat in the House of Commons in 1919, was Nancy Astor, who represented my home City of Plymouth, here in Devon. In fact, she represented the City for thirty years. 

The Suffragettes attached importance to their dress and appearance. Anything masculine was to be avoided, and even when setting forth to smash windows, as part of their protest, they would always wear a hat.