The Joy of Writing

I accept that writing can be a difficult process. At the start of my career when a book was rejected I would deal with drying my tears, put on a pot of coffee, and stoutly concentrate on writing another book, taking any criticisms into account. Persistence, patience and practise are three essentials. I have no problem finding time to write, spending hours each day, being a full time job. In the past when I was running a business, I would write in whatever spare moments I could find, even behind the counter while waiting for customers, or late at night. I did my first five novels that way. Then and now, I’m forever thinking about a possible story and make sure that I know what I wish to write before sitting down at the computer. I’ve such a long list of ideas, I may not live long enough to write them all. But then I don’t write as fast as I used to. Such is the reality of age and being much more fussy.

Now, despite having written 49 books, including historical romantic fiction and biographical historicals, as well as more sagas, I thankfully became a Sunday Times Bestselling author. But panic can still sneak in on occasions, warning me that what I’m writing could be complete rubbish. When I feel this, I remind myself that it doesn’t have to be perfect in the first draft, as I will edit it later. Once the foundation is built and I know where I’m going, I sprint to the finish, or almost. I love to reach the end, although the final chapter might be a bit rough at that stage, then I go back and revise the whole thing, a notebook beside me to keep track of loose ends that need tying up, details to check, and so on. Scenes may get rewritten or moved, and I go over the book as many times as is necessary, till it is as polished and perfect as I can make it. This is a method that works for me. But everyone has their own system. And the more I keep faith in the story, the more I come to love it.

I was fortunate back in 2010 to get the rights of many of my backlist reverted from a couple of publishers. Hearing about ebooks in the US I set out to learn how to produce them, finally achieved that and regularly self-published some. Sales began quite slowly, which didn’t trouble me as I was also writing for another publisher. But once Kindles arrived in the UK in Christmas 2011, I must say my sales shot up surprisingly well and I was amazed by my success. As a consequence in 2013, I was contacted by Amazon Lake Union for an interview, then later offered a contract by them. My first book with them, The Amber Keeper, soon sold over a hundred thousand, and has now sold more. Such a thrill! Selling ebooks is now much higher for me than print books. My second book was Forgotten Women, which is also doing well, as well as my third, Girls of the Great War, which I loved writing too.

Cecily in this story about Girls of the Great War had enormous problems with her mother and there was no sign of her father, which was a great worry to her and her sister Merryn. Queenie was a most difficult woman, refusing to speak of him. She also greatly objected to her boy friend and plan not to marry a rich man. Her attitude did not please Cecily at all, particularly as the love of her life was currently involved in the war.


Six Champion Street Market Sagas

They bubble with enough life and colour to brighten up the dreariest day and they have characters you can easily take to your heart’ Northern Echo

Now Presented by Canelo. 

Putting on the Style (Book 1)

Folk are just emerging from the shadow of WWII and money is still tight. So the vibrant market of Champion Street is a source of many a tempting bargain – as well as all the local gossip. 

Dena loves her Saturday job at Belle Garside’s market café, and her ready smile makes her a universal favourite. She is soon in thrall to Belle’s two good-looking and dangerous sons. But fate has other plans in store when her younger brother is killed by a gang of thugs. Only when it is far too late does Dena begin to ask herself one terrifying question: has she fallen in love with her brother’s killer? 

Bargains galore and life in the raw…  A moving saga of second chances and forbidden love set around a bustling café in 1950s Manchester.

Fools Fall in Love. (Book 2)

When Patsy talks her way into a job on the Champion Street Market millinery stall, the Higginson sisters get more than they bargained for. 
Riddled with insecurities, Patsy’s impudence wins her new enemies as well as friends and her determination to solve the riddle of her own past starts to unravel secrets Annie and Clara would much rather keep hidden. 

Meanwhile, Molly Poulson hasn’t a care in the world until her two daughters both fall in love with the wrong man. But the more Molly interferes, the more danger looms. 

Home is where you hang your hat… An enthralling saga of secrecy and sisterhood set around an elegant hat stall in 1950s Manchester.

That’ll be the Day (Book 3)

Working on their busy flower stall in Champion Street Market, Lynda and her mother, Betty, have lots of opportunities to observe their customers and speculate about their lives. 

Sam regularly buys bouquets for his wife, Judy, so why does she always look so worn out and miserable? Then there's Leo, who comes every week for flowers for his mother, but has never bought so much as a rosebud for his elegant wife. As for Lynda's father, he ran off long ago, so is it any wonder that she has such a low opinion of men? But could all that really be about to change? 

Flowers spill everyone's secrets… A gripping saga of gossip and parenthood set around a beautiful flower stall in 1950s Manchester.

Candy Kisses (Book 4)

It is a truth universally acknowledged that everyone dotes on Aunty Dot, as much as they do on her homemade sweets. The plump, smiling woman has provided a loving home for many a troubled child over the years, and Lizzie Pringle is no exception. 

Lizzie would do anything for her foster mother – even take on local sweet manufacturer and notorious bully, Cedric Finch. Until, that is, she falls for his son, Charlie. Meanwhile, Dena can’t believe that Barry Holmes would hurt her beloved daughter: he’s been like a favourite uncle to the little girl. But rumours are rife and her fears only grow… 

Chocolate can also be bitter...

Who’s Sorry Now (Book 5)

Things are far from simple in the noisy, warm-hearted Bertalone family. Carmina is the quintessential extrovert with beaus flocking to her side like bees round a honeypot – all except Luc Fabriani. For some unaccountable reason, he seems to prefer Carmina's sister. 

Gina has always been quiet and shy, the apple of her over-protective parents’ eye, so she believes her sister when Carmina spreads malicious rumours about Luc in an effort to sabotage any blooming relationship. But lies have a habit of unravelling and tangling those who spin them in a web of deceit, as Carmina soon discovers. The question remains: who’s sorry now? 

There were never such devoted sisters. A bewitching saga of budding romance and family feuds set around an Italian ice cream parlour in 1950s Manchester.

Lonely Teardrops (Book 6)

It’s a rainy day on Champion Street as Harriet attends the funeral of her beloved father. But then her grandmother drops a bombshell on her out of nowhere and she can hardly take in the words for shock and grief. 

Joyce, the woman she has always called Mam, isn’t really her mother. After all this time, it at least explains why Joyce always favoured Harriet’s brother, Grant. Her emotions in turmoil, Harriet discovers a streak of rebellion that puts everything she holds dear into jeopardy. Can she ever come back from the brink or will her life be full of nothing but lonely teardrops? 

Blood is thicker than water ... An emotional saga of love and loss set around a family hair salon in 1950.


The Favourite Child

The idea for The Favourite Child came about quite by accident. I was working on my novel in which one of my characters needed guidance on contraception, worrying how to stop yet another baby coming. I was telling Ursula, a writer friend of how I’d discovered in my research that there had been a Mothers’ Clinic over a pie shop in Salford in the twenties.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘My mother opened it.’

So began my mission to write this gift of a story. Ursula’s mother was Charis Frankenburg, and unlike my heroine, Isabella Ashton, she was a qualified nurse who had served in France during WWI. But on her move to Salford after her marriage she was horrified to discover the lack of medical help for working women on how to stop the annual pregnancy. They suffered all manner of ills as a result, or committed horrific practices in order to rid themselves of what had often become a life-threatening event.

Charis Frankenburg immediately got in touch with Marie Stopes. After obtaining a doctorate in botany from the University of Munich in 1904, Marie Stopes taught at the University of Manchester and was very much a woman of strength, charm and courage. She saw birth control as an aid to marriage and would save women from the physical strain of excessive childbearing. In 1910 she was back in London, having grown tired of Manchester. But she had apparently been most helpful for Charis, who also had the help of a local politician Mary Stocks, and she set about the task of providing a clinic.

The two women were subject to considerable vilification as contraception was seen as a way for women to ‘prostitute their marriage vows’. They endured bricks thrown through their windows, defamatory reports in the press, and stern lectures from the pulpit issuing severe threats to any woman who dared attend this den of iniquity. Of course, the very opposite of the Church’s intentions was the result. The more the vicar or priest insisted women not attend, the longer the queues were outside the pie shop.
‘How did you hear about us?’ Charis would ask.
‘Oh, we heard about it in church,’ came the answer.

The resulting furore was even worse than that experienced 40 years later with the introduction of the pill. Not until 1930 was birth control advice even grudgingly available at the antenatal, and mothers’ welfare clinics under the control of the Minister of Health.

For anyone interested in learning more about this amazing lady, I would highly recommend they read her autobiography, Not Old, Madam, Vintage, available in the Salford library. It sheds as much light on a remarkable woman as on the noble and worthwhile enterprise she helped found.

The clinic depicted in The Favourite Child is based on the work done by these fine women, and attempts to be true to their aims. But the characters are entirely fictitious. Salford is as real as I can make it. I have dedicated the book to the memory of all the women who were pioneers in the work of birth control and improvements in women’s health care.

To my delight, when this book was first published it was a bestseller and also received good reviews. It has been on Amazon as an ebook for years and always done well.

Where there’s daring, there’s danger

Isabella Ashton has always been her father’s favourite, but when she gets involved with the new Birth Control Movement, he is scandalised. A decade has elapsed since the end of the Great War and running a family planning clinic in Salford is challenging but rewarding work. Bella is grateful for the help of Violet Howarth, a generous-hearted woman who takes her in off the street. Before long, a friendship with Violet’s son, Dan, blossoms into the beginnings of love.

But Bella also crosses paths with handsome ne’er-do-well Billy Quinn, leader of an illegal betting ring, and everything she has worked for is suddenly put at risk. This is a bewitching tale of drama, jealousy and the fight for women's rights, perfect for fans of Dilly Court and Nadine Dorries.

Praise for The Favourite Child 

‘Compelling and fascinating’ Middlesborough Evening Gazette
‘A revelation in telling us what it was like before women had rights’ 5* Reader review
‘One of those books that you can’t put down, loved it’ 5* Reader review ‘

A stirring tale of a woman with an iron purpose’ The Keswick Reminder on The Favourite Child (a top 20 in the Sunday Times hardback bestseller list)

‘a compelling and fascinating tale’ Middlesborough Evening Gazette on The Favourite Child (In the top 20 of the Sunday Times hardback bestsellers)


Now to be published by Canelo


The Castlefield Collector

I often interview people when I’m working on a book, and they happily find time to talk to me and share their memories of times past, the work they used to do whether in the mill or munitions, farming or forestry, in war or peace. I like to be able to properly describe some activity for my heroine during a particular scene or while a piece of dialogue is taking place.

For this book I chatted with Bella Tweedale, May Stothard, Bessie Jones, Alice Brook and Irene Baxter who all gave up hours of their time to talk to me about life in the mill during the war, plus Dolly Fitton who was 92 at the time and very generously allowed me to name the character in my book after her, as it seemed so appropriate. There is no better way of getting the feel of an industry, occupation or area than to talk to the people who have lived it. I asked them about their routine and how they acquired their skills? Where did they ache after a long day, and what were the problems and dangers in their work?

Dolly Fitton started in the mill as a doffer at 14, knocking off the filled bobbins, or cops as they were called, replacing them with empty ones. Her real name was Mary Ann but was more affectionately known to her family and friends as Dolly, because she was fairly small. ‘I were the scrapings up off t’mill floor,’ she told me, chortling with glee. ‘Eeh, it were marvellous in t’mill. You could hear them coming a mile off up from the mill. Clattering on the setts,’ she said.

When first published it sold remarkable well and has done so many times since, and received some good comments.

Where there’s muck, there’s mettle…

Dolly Tomkins has always known what it is to live hand to mouth. In the mean streets of a Salford struggling under the mantle of the Great Depression, the only one making a decent living is the talleyman.

Though Nifty Jack has a money bag where his heart should be, Dolly’s mam is in hock up to her ears and in dire need of assistance. But when Jack offers to wipe the slate clean, Dolly just can’t bring herself to trust him.

Instead, she takes him on at his own game and in the process endangers everything she holds most dear as a revelation about the past rocks the very foundations of her world.

This is an enchanting story of love and endurance perfect for fans of Nadine Dorries and Kitty Neale. Previously published as Watch for the Talleyman. 

Praise for The Castlefield Collector '
A story which in some ways could be written about today as easily as the 1920s' 5* Reader review

'This is my first novel by Freda and it will definitely not be the last' 5* Reader review

 'I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book from start to finish' 5* Reader review

 Chapter One

Dolly Tomkins put her arms about her mother’s frail shoulders and hugged her tight. ‘It’ll be all right Mam, you’ll see. Dad’ll walk through the door any minute with his wage packet in his hand.’


‘Aye, course he will, chuck.’


They both knew this to be wishful thinking. When had Calvin Tomkins ever put the needs of his family before a sure fire certainty? which was how he viewed any bet, whether on the dogs, the horses, or two raindrops running down a window. And since it was a Friday and pay day at the mill, his pocket would be full of brass, burning a hole in his pocket. Most women hereabouts would be waiting with their open hand held out to collect wages as each member of the family came home on pay day. Maisie certainly did that with the three children she still had left at home: Willy, Dolly and Aggie, but had learned that it was a pointless occupation to wait for Calvin’s pay packet. He wouldn’t give a single thought to his long-suffering wife and daughters, not for a moment. 


Dolly studied her mother’s face more closely as she bent to cut the cardboard to fit, and slid it into the sole of her boot. The lines seemed to be etched deeper than ever. Dark rings lay like purple bruises beneath soft grey eyes which had once shone with hope and laughter, and her too-thin shoulders were slumped with weariness. She looked what she was, a woman beaten down by life, and by a husband who thought nothing of stealing the last halfpenny from her purse in order to feed his habit, his addiction, despite the family already being on the brink of starvation.


Maisie handed the boots to her younger daughter with a rare smile. ‘There y’are love, see how that feels.’


Dolly slid her feet inside and agreed they were just fine, making no mention of how the boots pinched her toes since she’d grown quite a lot recently. They’d been Aggie’s long before they’d come to her, and probably Maisie’s before that, and their numerous patches had themselves been patched, over and over again.


Mending her daughters’ footwear was a task carried out each and every Friday in order to give the boots a fresh lease of life. Dolly wore clogs throughout the long working week, but in the evenings and at weekends when she wasn’t at the mill, she liked to make a show of dressing up. Worse, it’d rained for days and Dolly’s small feet were frozen to the marrow. She’d paid a visit to Edna Crawshaw’s corner shop and begged a bit of stiff cardboard off her, whole boxes being at a premium. This piece had Brooke Bond Tea stamped all over it but that didn’t trouble Dolly; the card was thick and strong and would keep out the wet for a while, which was the only consideration that mattered.



Now to be published by Canelo. 


Ruby McBride

Today the Manchester Ship Canal is a fashionable dockland area developed for leisure, commerce and housing. Affectionately known as the ‘Big Ditch’, it was formally opened by Queen Victoria in May 1894. Manchester was a fast growing city not only because of Lancashire cotton but the city was also strong on engineering and manufacture. Being landlocked, all goods had to be transported by road or rail to Liverpool docks in order to be exported, thus reducing profitability. The Canal brought shipping right into the heart of the city as well as employment not only to industry in general but also to the owners of narrow boats and barges who worked long hours in the canal basin, loading and carrying goods through the network of canals.

The day the Queen came to Manchester was a grand day for Ruby McBride and her young sister and brother. It’s glories fade into insignificance, however, when their mother, Molly, due to illness reluctantly entrusts her beloved children to Ignatious House, and the not-so-tender care of the nuns. Ruby, a rebel at heart, is always on the wrong side of authority. Her chief concern is to keep her promise to take care of Pearl and Billy, but when she is sixteen, the Board of Guardians forces her into marriage and she has to abandon her siblings, vowing she will reunite the family when she can. Convinced that her new husband is a conman, Ruby discovers life on the barge is not at all what she expected. She is furious at being robbed of the chance to be with her childhood sweetheart, Kit Jarvis, so resists Bart’s advances as long as possible. Only when Kit comes back into her life and jealousy between the two men causes events to run out of control, does Ruby realise which one she truly loves. But it takes the Great War for her to fulfil that childhood promise. . .

Ruby McBride has always been on the wrong side of authority. The grand opening of the Manchester Ship Canal is set to be a day of unfettered festivity for Ruby and her younger sister and brother. Even Queen Victoria will be in attendance. 

But the glories of the ceremony fade into insignificance when their dying mother delivers them to the imposing oak doors of Ignatius House. Abandoned in the not-so-tender care of the nuns, the siblings are soon separated. So when the Board of Guardians force Ruby into a marriage that sends her to a new home upon the Salford waterways, she makes only one vow: to reunite her family whatever the cost. 

This is an enthralling story of romance and rebellion perfect for fans of Rosie Goodwin and Dilly Court.

Praise for Ruby McBride
‘An inspiring novel about accepting change and bravely facing the future’ Bangor Chronicle

‘Compelling and heart-wrenching’ Hull Daily Mail 

Chapter One
21 May 1894

‘Rise and shine, chuck, kettle’s on.’

Ruby stretched blissfully, then lifted her arms and wrapped them about her mother’s neck in a tight, warm hug. Even if she was nearly eleven, she hoped never to be too old for a morning cuddle. ‘Is this the special day you promised us, Mam?’


‘It is, love, and if you don’t shape yourself, you’ll miss out on a very special breakfast an’ all. I’ve saved a bit of jam to go on us bread and marg this morning.’


The thrill of a day’s holiday from school made Ruby want to shout with joy, and jam on her bread took it into the realms of fantasy. She’d known too many mornings when there’d been no breakfast at all. Inside, she felt a bit sick with the wonder of it, and prayed she wouldn’t disgrace herself by not managing to eat the promised treat.


Molly McBride kissed her daughter and tweaked her snub nose. ‘See you wash yer lovely face and hands especially well this morning. We don’t want Her Majesty to see the McBrides looking anything less than their best, now do we, chuck? Not when she’s come all the way up from London to see us, eh?’


Ruby giggled as her mother gave a huge wink then, one hand at her hip and the other lifting her long cotton skirts, she sashayed away, nose in the air, just as if she were the Queen of England herself. Oh, she was a laugh a minute, her mam. But then she leaned over the table, clinging on to the edge as she started coughing, which quite ruined the effect.


Ruby felt the familiar jolt of panic but said nothing, knowing how her mother hated a fuss or any show of sympathy. ‘I won’t let it rob me of me sparkle,’ she would say, but the cough that had got worse all winter was a constant worry at the back of Ruby’s mind. She felt thankful that summer was almost here, for the warmer weather would surely ease it. And Mam didn’t want her to worry about anything today, not with the Queen herself coming to open the Manchester Ship Canal that had cost millions of pounds to build. ‘The big ditch’, they called it. Folk had been putting up flags and bunting for days, and there was to be a band.



Now published by Canelo.


Dancing on Deansgate

Jess’s problems, possessing an abusive uncle and a feckless mother, and with her beloved father away fighting in the war, she felt sorely in need of running her own life. She finally decided to do something positive, but didn’t find it easy to get the band underway.

She also worried if she’d ever be rid of the man she didn’t care for, and eventually find the one she loved and had lost?

Jess had hopes that after they’d run a dance of their own, they might sit up and people would take notice. There’d been little interest from the ballroom managers thus far, but over time she became skilled in creating a strong sense of beat.

They tried to look feminine as well as skilled musicians, and give the audience the glamour they craved. Halter tops, swirling taffeta skirts or slinky ones with thigh high slits. This would often present difficulties with a strapless gown, which would need to be pinned to a bra. It made it harder work trying to battle with inappropriate feminine trappings. A saxophone strap would be cut into a bare neck. High heels were uncomfortable when standing for hour upon hour and they would surreptitiously remove them. The drummer had a pair of flatties handy because of the bass drum pedals. Miss Mona would be under pressure to leave by some ballroom managers, or to spruce up her image and pretend to be younger than she actually is by taking off her spectacles.

They called it the Christmas Blitz, but there are no festivities for Jess, locked in the cellar by her feckless, tarty mother. And when Lizzie is imprisoned for shoplifting, Jess is sent to live with her uncle, a bullying black marketeer, who treats her like a slave. 

Jess’s natural musical talent offers an escape route - and the chance for love. But Uncle Bernie has never forgiven his niece for refusing to join his illegal schemes, and threatens to deprive Jess of her hard-won independence. 


   ‘Women don’t have the stamina that men have,’ said one.

   ‘Limited scope,’ said another.

   ‘Women are fine on looks but short on talent.’

This attitude incensed Jess and she would tell them in no uncertain terms that her girls could play In the Mood every bit as well as they could play Greensleeves. ‘We aren’t in the business of employing young ladies who think it might be fun to show off on stage, however charming and genteel they might be.’

One manager had the gall to say that women had no real sense of rhythm in a jam session, as they were hopeless at improvising. Another, trying to be conciliatory, remarked, ‘I see why you ladies are offering to step in, with all the men having been conscripted for service and bands desperate for decent musicians. But we’re looking for professionals, not amateurs. We need the best.’

Outraged, Jess’s response was sharp. ‘We are the best, and how can we ever get to be professional if we’re never given the chance.’

He gave a shake of his head. ‘Women aren’t expected to sit on stage and blow their brains out.’

‘We could blow the men right off it.’

No bookings were forthcoming at the top ballrooms such as the Ritz, the Plaza, or any number of others in and around the Manchester area. They spread their net wider, checking out more modest venues, and finally their first professional booking came. It was at a Lad’s Club in Bury. Jess thought the manager took them on out of pity. He didn’t, however, bill them as professional musicians, but as ‘Patriotic Angels with a Big Talent.’



Dancing on Deansgate is soon published by Canelo. 


Our fascinating holiday.

We had a wonderful cruise in Canada and Alaska, including Vancouver, Ketchikan, Juneau, Skagway, Hubbard glacier and many more. Fascinating!

After our cruise we then went on the Rocky Mountaineer, which was fascinating and lasted two full days, seeing marvellous views of the rockies.



We took this picture from the room where we were staying. Fabulous!


The Salford Sagas.

I have several favourite sagas and four of my original books which are part of my backlist will be republished by Canelo on 26th August. They have always sold well as have my others, including The Girl From Poorhouse Lane Series now published by Canelo and selling well.

I sincerely hope these other books will also do well for them. I will put up pictures of them closer to the time. But here are a few details of their stories.

Watch for the Talleyman.
He’s after more than your money… Dolly Tomkins knows what it’s like to live hand to mouth. In the mean streets of 1920s Salford, the only one making a decent living is the talleyman - and Nifty Jack has a moneybag where his heart should be. Dolly’s mam is in hock up to her ears, but when Jack offers to wipe the slate clean in return for Dolly’s favours, she just can’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she takes him on at his own game, and in the process is in danger of losing the love of her life.

Dancing on Deansgate 
They called it the Christmas Blitz, but there are no festivities for Jess, locked in the cellar by her feckless, tarty mother. And when Lizzie is imprisoned for shoplifting, Jess is sent to live with her uncle, a bullying black marketeer, who treats her like a slave. Her natural musical talent offers an escape route - and the chance for love. But Uncle Bernie has never forgiven his niece for refusing to join his illegal schemes, and threatens to deprive Jess of her hard-won independence.

The Favourite Child
Isabella Ashton has always been her father's favourite, but when she becomes involved with the new Birth Control Movement, Simeon is scandalised. It’s 1928 and running a family planning clinic in Salford is challenging but rewarding work, and Bella is grateful for the help of Violet Howarth, a big, generous-hearted woman who takes her in off the street. A friendship with Violet’s son, Dan, quickly turns to love. But Bella also becomes involved with handsome ne’er-do-well Billy Quinn, leader of an illegal betting ring, and soon finds everything she has worked for put at risk, and herself in mortal danger . . .

Ruby McBride 
The grand opening of the Manchester Ship Canal is a big day for Ruby McBride and her young sister and brother. Its glories fade into insignificance, however, when their mother Molly, due to illness, reluctantly entrusts her beloved children to Ignatius House, and the not-so-tender care of the nuns. Ruby, a rebel at heart, is always on the wrong side of authority, but when she is sixteen, the Board of Guardians forces her into marriage and she has to abandon her siblings, vowing she will reunite the family just as soon as she can.

Convinced that her new husband is a conman, she discovers life on the barge is not at all what she expected. She is furious at being robbed of the chance to be with her childhood sweetheart, Kit Jarvis, so resists Bart’s advances for as long as she can. But Ruby’s courage and spirit enable her to rise above the disadvantages of her birth and make a life for herself within the thriving community of waterways folk.

And on 23rd September they will next publish The Champion Street Market Sagas, of which there are six of them. More details of these later.


My Great Uncles

Herbert Akred (my great uncle)
Born 1890 Died July 22, 1917 in the First World War.
Pte – 27892
South Lancs Regt. 8th Bn

He had lived in: 13 Percy Street, Accrington or 14 Royd Street, Accrington. And was married to Agnes Froggatt and had a child: Bertha Akred.

He was 27 when he died in Belgian Battery Corner Cemetery
Ypres (leper) Arrondisement Leper, (West-Vlaanderen) Belgium
Plot: 1. F. 6.
Memorial 11582436

I wasn’t able to check where he was buried, as we didn’t visit Belgian when in France, maybe another time, and sadly I can’t find a picture of him.

He and his family originally lived in Norfolk, but moved up to Accrington to find a job in the Cotton Industry. His parents were: John Akred and Elizabeth Bunkall.

His brothers were:
Ernest Henry – born 1882
Albert – born 1884 - Pte Joined Accrington Pals 1st - 5th July 1916
Edward – born 1888 (my grandfather) married Clara Thompson (my grandmother), but developed Multiple Sclerosis and sadly died in August 9, 1938, before I was born so I never met him. He did not take part in the war as he was ill from quite a young age, and I do have this picture of him.

AKRED, Pte. Herbert, 27892 (8th Bn., South Lancs. Regt.); husband of Agnes Akred; lived at 13 Percy Street, Accrington; d. 22nd July 1917 (27); bd. Belgian Battery Corner Cem., Ieper.

Another great uncle of mine did take part in the First World War, and he fortunately did survive. I believe had about five children. Here is a picture of him that I found in the list of War details.

AKRED, Pte. Albert, 20960; b. 2nd March 1886 at Accrington, s. of John and Elizabeth Akred; marriage to Annie Midgely registered Q4 1908 at Haslingden; lived at 7 Nuttall Street, Accrington; e. 14th June 1915 (29); w. 1st/2nd July 1916; rejoined 11th Bn. from 3rd Bn., East Lancs. Regt. March 1917; w. (gas) 11th/12th April 1918; dis. (sickness) from 3rd Bn., East Lancs. Regt. 13th or 15th December 1918. [3, 43, 219, 221, 250, 253, 282, 284, 299, 314, 552, 579] Left: Albert Akred. Photograph from the Accrington Observer & Times of 11th July 1916.


The First World War in France.

We’ve recently enjoyed a wonderful holiday in France exploring the First World War, feeling keen to find evidence of my great uncle and my husband's uncle who were both killed. I didn’t find mine as Herbert Akred was killed in Belgian, which we didn’t visit. But we did find my husbands uncle.The first day we started at the battlefields of Gommecourt where the Pals regiments from the Midlands and London fought. In the afternoon we moved to Serre where the Accrington Pals and other Northern Pals Brigades were largely wiped out on the 1st July. We found David’s Uncle Norman’s grave in the Queens Cemetery near to the Accrington Pals Memorial, which has been built in Nori Bricks from Accrington.

Norman Lightfoot

The second day we saw the Ulster Tower and the Thiepval Memorial and museum and then went on to the Lochnagar Crater created by a massive underground explosion from explosives tunnelled under the German positions.

Thiepval Monument

At one point we saw reconstruction of the trenches in a village museum, which was fascinating and after we’d had a good lunch in the local restaurant.

Our final day we looked at the woods at Guillemont and the amazing Delville Wood, which was almost totally destroyed apart from one tree that remains. All round it the wood was replanted after the war. In the afternoon after lunch in Albert, we saw the excellent Museum in Albert which is underground and then moved on to the Red Dragon memorial to the welsh pals and the woods around it.

Soldiers belongings and shell casings.


We were taken everywhere in a coach, and visited various appropriate places showing the army members, and given fascinating details by Tim Thurlow who was excellent.

Tim Thurlow talking to us.

He said: ‘In 1914 they had joined up together, many into what in the North was known as ‘Pals’ battalions, in 1915 they had trained together in any number of caps and billets, and in 1916 during the Battle of the Somme, they all too often died together as well. They became what later historians called ‘The Lost Generation’ – the men who had marched to Picardy and found their graves in the poppy covered fields.’

And we saw many wonderful details of cemetaries.


Mujeres en el Frente

Mujeres en el Frente is number 1 on Sagas and Video familiar, plus 8 on Ficción femenina on Amazon.es - Spain.