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Skelton Drill Hall

Skelton Drill Hall

This postcard view of a building which will be remembered by many; internally it bears no resemblance to those views included in this image and externally is passed by many who are unaware of the buildings former essential use. Originally opened on 26th December 1913, for the Skelton Territorials “G” Company of the 4th Yorkshire Regiment, in the 1960s it became a social club. After burning down it was altered into apartments, bearing the title of Marlborough Court; it still stands at the southern end of Marlborough Road.
Image courtesy of Peter Appleton.

3 comments to Skelton Drill Hall

  • Peter Ashton

    I remember going to watch wrestling there in the early 1960s.


    I think it was 1962, the Skelton scouts and guides got together in the drill hall, cannot remember why, but my friend Ian Thompson met Pam Steele, and in 2019 it’s there 50th wedding anniversary.

  • Alan Collins

    I’ve got a photo of myself and my brother in Army Cadet uniform, which was taken outside our 2nd house in Saltburn in 1956. MY mother got us to joind the Green Howards Cadet Force at this Drill Hall in Skelton where we learnt to read maps and fire .303 rifles. They took us for summer holidays at other army camps, to play soldiers. I remember that Pamela Steele was the Head Girl in my class at school. Maybe it was Brian who taught me to play chess, during our last week at the Secondary Modern School. I think it’s possible! I’ve got a school photo if he wants to take a look and let me know? Pam used to ride a horse on the beach. I quite admired her, but I was shy, and I was bullied by a boy in my class (M.P. from New Marske) due to my being a moody most of the time, due to suffering from my mother’s infidelity to my father, which caused me to sleepwalk due to emotional suppression. They separated when I was 11. My dad divorced her when I was 14 and the judge gave him custody. I developed a habit called stiff-upper lip or dissociative disorder which finally led to a breakdown but I’ve recovered. I’m now 74 and very happily married with two grown up kids, and expect a grandchild in 3 weeks. If anyone wants to see me and my brother in uniform and school photos I can jpg them onto an email. I also have a photo of an old boating lake with us in a boat, beside Cat Nab. That lake was drained but it was there when my dad took us all from London to Salburn in a failed effort to save his marriage… pity my mother was a malignant narcissist, but I forgave her before she died (or else I would have no doubt remained mentally ill)! She deliberately conned me into joining the Army in preparation for joining the AAS at Harrogate, because she knew my father would get custody and want me to emigrate to Australia with him. She was always one step ahead of both of us! Another boy in my class called Douglas also joined the AAS and we went to Kenya together in 210 Signals Squadron after signing a contract at the age of 15 and then 18 years without being offered any proper legal advice to tell me that I did not have to sign the second time! If I had had that advice then I would have walked free at that age… It is really illegal to sign up young boys who imagine that having joined at 15 years they are duty bound to sign up for 9 years in the Regular Army and 3 years in the Reserve! I must say my dead mother has a lot of bad karma to repay, as well! But I hitched to Melbourne to see my dad again, when I was 21 and was happy to see he had found a decent and loyal woman and was no longer miserable and moody, like I was as a child – and close witness of his failed marriage, so to speak. All’s well that ends well. Pamela said she thought I was always happy because I went around whistling all the time. Mrs Creasor our RE teacher was the only one who saw that I was not, and she invited me to Upleatham St. every week for tea and angel cake, but she must have been worried about asking me a direct question, so the cause of my hidden misery was never spoken about… more’s the pity! I purchased my discharge and became a school-teacher, myself, in 1970. I suppose I’ll publish my poems before I die because everybody asked me to do so. Love to all, even to M.P. because if I remember right from my close observations of all adult behaviour – as a boy who never really enjoyed an innocent childhood – I think he was befriended and abused by a retired priest, up in Skinningrove.

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