Built in 1920, a beautiful, compact, adaptable building, with movable partitions and a sprung floor for dancing and used as the church hall for parish events. [Where Ray Callaghan’s Dad would always sing:

                             “Chick, chick, chick, chick, chicken,

                               Lay a little egg for me.

                               Chick, chick, chick, chick, chicken,

                               I want one for my tea.

                               I haven’t had an egg since Easter

                               And now it’s half passed three.

                               So, chick, chick, chick, chick, chicken,

                               Lay a little egg for me.”

Much to the delight of Mrs. Callaghan and the mortified embarrassment of Ray]. Demolished over thirty years ago and the land left derelict, [it still is]. An unnecessary crime of corporate and civic vandalism, a sin. Despite the detritus of rubble some playground tarmac is still there evidencing where bright little boys and girls jostled and pushed and danced in and out of the fairy bluebells under the steady eye of Miss Gahn or Miss Wood and the smell of petrol from the garage next door, [still there].