Above photo, date unknown.

Above photo, circa 1947, kindly sent by Rory Kehoe.

Above photo, circa 1947.

Above photo showing a grill of the "Royal Norfolk Hotel," 2020.

Above photo 2009 by Chris Whippet Creative Commons Licence.

From their web site, accessed 1st January 2016.

Records of the "Royal Norfolk Hotel" go back to the beginning of the 19th century when a weatherboarded Inn known as the "Ship" stood on the site. In 1805 the landlord, Edward Hopper, was fined 5 shillings for having four potts short of measure. Thankfully today you won't be served any short measures in the hotel.

In 1825 there was a fight in the Hotel in which Thomas Page received a fatal stab wound. John Burton was convicted of his manslaughter and died himself soon afterwards. Before his death, however Thomas Page confessed that it had been his own fault and that he forgave John Burton. Following the unfortunate deaths the inn gained a reputation for ghostly and strange happenings, and was even left empty for considerable periods. It was only once the building was completely pulled down in 1901 and the Hotel rebuilt in the guise it stands today that the paranormal events came to an end.

The "Royal Norfolk Hotel" took its current name after an extended stay of the then Duchess of Norfolk and her young son in the late 19th century. Arrangements for her stay were rather hurried after the proprietor of the nearby "Royal Pavilion" hotel instructed the landlord of the "Ship" to "clear out his guests to make room for the Duchess" as his hotel was full. Understandably, the management were reluctant to get rid of their regular customers, and it was only after some last minute negotiation that the Duchess came to stay.

The Duchess of Norfolk is not the only grand person to have stayed: the Prince of Teck visited in the 1890s and even Queen Victoria herself reputedly stopped at the hotel.

Since October 2009, the "Royal Norfolk Hotel" has been run by the mother and daughter team of Sandra Wilkins and Georgia Walker, who have worked hard restoring the building to a now beautiful place to rest, dine and relax.

From an email received 1 March 2020.

The licensee of the Royal Norfolk Hotel from the late summer, or autumn, of 1944 to the spring, summer or autumn of 1946 was Eric Herbert (‘Bill’) Freeman (d.o.b. 3 February 1908). He was my father.

And then, from the time he left (in 1946) until some unknown date a few years later, the licensee was Jack Bushell. He had been an accountant in London, and was a friend of my father.

(1) When we moved from Banyers Hotel, Royston, to the Royal Norfolk Hotel, Sandgate, Jack Bushell retired from accountancy and took over the licence of Banyers. He lived there with his wife, May. It was his first experience of being a licensee.

(2) The freehold of Banyers had been owned by a company, Banyers Hotels Ltd. Jack Bushell bought that freehold, enabling the company to buy the freehold of the Royal Norfolk Hotel, Sandgate. That is why the Royal Norfolk was owned for a time by a company called Banyers Hotels Ltd. (It was, in effect, a family company, although a private limited company.)

(3) Then, later, when we moved on from the Royal Norfolk to the "Bull Hotel," Wrotham, Jack and May Bushell, following along behind, moved from Banyers to the Royal Norfolk. I believe that Jack was, again, the sole licensee. I do not know how long they were there for. I assume it was until Jack retired completely.

I know that the years are correct, but this is how I have estimated the months.

(A) In the summer of 1944, I was living at Banyers Hotel, Royston, where my father was licensee. We must still have been there in early June 1944, because, early one morning, I was taken out (a month after my second birthday) to see Royston High Street (part of the A10, at the time) crammed with what I now know to be military vehicles, driving very slowly, nose to tail. That was all the more remarkable to my parents, as the streets had been almost deserted up until then, owing to petrol rationing. I now know that this was one phase of the back-up after D-day.

D-day itself was on 6 June, but the vehicles that took part on that actual day had already to be close to the Channel ports (Folkestone, Dover, etc.) so that there would be no significant vehicle movements visible from the air. Back-up on D+1, D+2, etc., came from successively greater and greater distances, filling all the main roads, as detection from the air was by then of no consequence. What I saw, in Royston, was one phase of that.

So, when we moved to Sandgate, it must have been between July and December 1944.

(B) Sandgate.

We must still have been at Sandgate in early 1946. I recall being offered my first banana while we were there. How much is my own memory (aged nearly four) and much is my mother’s later telling, I don’t know, but apparently I associated it with children’s banana-flavoured toothpaste, and would have nothing to do with it, and started crying. The banana was then divided up among my parents and several staff, customers, etc. (I can certainly remember banana-flavoured toothpaste, and I don’t recommend it.)

There is a lot of inconsistency in the records concerning when bananas became available after the war, but January 1946 would seem the most likely.

Wrotham.

We must have moved to the "Bull Hotel" in Wrotham by late 1946, because I can remember being there during the snows of the terrible winter of 1946/47. That winter was terrible enough for it to have several web pages now devoted to it. The exceptionally cold weather began in December 1946, and the even more exceptional snow began falling in January 1947 The cold and snow lasted until March, when there was an equally sudden and catastrophic thaw.

I can remember crossing Bull Lane, outside the hotel, along a path cut through the drifts which were higher than I was (aged four and a half) on either side, and I can remember men with spades doing the cutting. Bull Lane was impassable to traffic.

We had already been at the Bull for at least some time (that is, a month, or a few months) when the snow had begun to fall, and my memories are of people’s surprise when it had only just (so suddenly and so very deeply) fallen.

So, when we moved from Sandgate, that must have been between February and November 1946.

Bill Freeman.