Crowthorne

Crowthorne was a hamlet until Wellington College was opened in 1859 to educate the sons of British Army officers. (A tidbit I just learned, a hamlet is a rural settlement too small to have it's own church.)

Wellington College.

 In 1863 Broadmoor Hospital for the Criminally Insane made its debut.

Broadmoor Hospital Female Patient 1956

I don't want to die in Crowthorne.

Thomas Cowan, RIP.

Or anywhere else for that matter, just yet.

But I have to admit, being a corpse here wouldn't be half bad.

St. John the Baptist Church (not to be confused with a baptist church).

It's pretty. And there's lots to like.

I am in love with our library. It is filled with lovely, warm, friendly, kind people who care about books, and only scold my children in the gentlest ways.

Cafecito!! I am a Costa Coffee Card holder. This is a great place to eat lemon cake and drink a decaf latte.

Crowthorne Inn.

I heard a story by a school mum about the Crowthorne Inn pub, which people here call "The Crow". She and her man thought they would check it out. She reports that as soon as they walked in, the "locals" turned and clearly sent the message that they were not welcome.

Children aren't welcome either.

I am so curious, but not sure if I am brave enough to visit. I asked a friend who grew up here if she is considered a local.  She explained that because she left for university, and then lived and worked out of Crowthorne for a few years before returning, that she wouldn't be seen as a true local. I suppose that counts me out too. I don't even know if it is actually an inn.



Butcher shop.

 Many of these shops are on the High Street. Every town has a High Street, which is the primary business area, equivalent to Main Street.

We haven't tried fish and chips in Crowthorne...not sure why. I am a fan of fried anything.

Approaching the end of the High Street, or is it the beginning? Not sure. Don Beni is good for marginal, expensive Italian food, which I happen to dig!

Busy corner? The Prince is a cute pub on the corner. Mike and I ducked in for an ale the afternoon of the Oakland Infant School Disco Dance! One and a half sweet hours to ourselves. Stayin' alive, stayin' alive!

The view around the corner heading up Duke's Ride. Flower shop, Royal Post, dry cleaners and The Prince.

Capers is a nice sandwich shop. If I were a lady who lunch(es), I would devote myself here.

Barber shop, good for shaving boys' heads.

Berkshire (pronounced Baakshir) Bicycles. It reminds me of the tent Hermione carries in her magic bag. It looks teeny from the outside but is enormous and has a staff of thousands. Hooray for good service!

Is this sign passive aggressive or is it my imagination?
Something about it bothers me, cannot put my finger on it...

Handy launderette.

The post offices here are very different than what I am used to in US. I don't know if this is a small town thing, or an actual country difference. There seems to be more newspaper reading, and less working happening here...

Multipurpose venue.

Adorable train station!

Platform one and three quarters.

When I was about twelve, I seem to remember irritating my mother with my incessant discussing of how I wanted to live in a teeny tiny house, and shop in a teeny tiny store and buy teeny tiny things, and on and on and on.

My wish came true.

Crowthorne is a charming teeny tiny village. It has a population of 6,711 frequently shy individuals. I wonder if we are counted in that group?

I really love how close we are to everything, and how everything is close to everything. I can run to the ATM, pop into the library, cross the street and have boys' heads shaved, run next door and get my bike fixed, hop up the street and have a coffee and then jet over to the grocery store for dinner.

That is something Tucson can work on while we are gone.

Happy wet daffodils.