Burnham-On-Sea’s 106-Year-Old GW Hurleys Newsagents Close as Site Becomes In Charley's Memory Centre
Nov, 29 2025
The shuttering of GW Hurleys on Burnham-On-Sea’s high street on November 8, 2025, wasn’t just the end of a shop—it was the closing of a century-long heartbeat in the town. For 106 years, since 1919, generations of residents walked through its doors for newspapers, sweets, stamps, and a familiar face behind the counter. Now, the space will become a community hub dedicated to In Charley's Memory, a quiet but profound shift that speaks volumes about what’s being lost—and what’s being chosen to replace it.
From Family Business to Final Notice
GW Hurleys was more than a newsagent. It was a landmark. Owned by Colin Morris at the time of its closure, the business had been in the same family since its founding. On June 3, 2025, ITV News interviewed Morris, who, with unmistakable resolve, said he had “no plans to retire yet.” That statement, broadcast from the heart of Somerset, felt like a promise. Five months later, on November 7, 2025, Burnham-On-Sea.com published a single, stark line: “GW Hurleys will close tomorrow and be turned into a new centre for In Charley's Memory.” No explanation. No farewell. Just silence where there used to be the clink of glass bottles and the rustle of morning papers.The abruptness stung. Locals who remembered buying their first comics there in the 1970s, or getting their Christmas cards printed in the 1990s, found themselves staring at a notice taped to the door. No public auction. No employee farewell. No press conference. Just a change of purpose.
Who Was Charley? And Why Now?
The name In Charley's Memory appears out of nowhere in the announcement. No website. No social media. No public spokesperson. The organization’s purpose isn’t detailed, but the emotional weight of the name suggests a personal loss—perhaps a child, a parent, a beloved community member whose death catalyzed this transformation. The decision to turn a long-standing retail space into a memorial centre implies a grassroots movement, likely driven by local grief and collective will. It’s not a corporate redevelopment. It’s a homegrown act of remembrance.Why now? That’s the question hanging over Burnham-On-Sea. Did Colin Morris suffer a personal tragedy? Was the property inherited by someone with different intentions? Did the building’s lease expire? None of that is public. The five-month gap between Morris’s declaration of staying open and the sudden closure suggests something deeply personal unfolded behind closed doors. Perhaps the weight of running a family business in a changing economy became too much. Perhaps the offer from In Charley's Memory came with conditions that made continuation impossible.
The Last Days of the High Street
The closure of GW Hurleys isn’t an isolated event. Across the UK, over 5,000 independent newsagents have vanished since 2000. Online shopping, declining newspaper sales, and rising rents have turned high streets into ghost corridors of shuttered storefronts. But GW Hurleys was different. It survived two world wars, the rise of supermarkets, the digital revolution, and the pandemic. It was one of the last true “corner shops” where time moved slower.Residents recall Mrs. Pritchard handing out lollipops to kids after school. Teenagers waiting for the Saturday football paper. Elderly patrons exchanging gossip over a pint of milk. That human texture—rare in 2025—is now gone.
What Comes Next?
The building will be repurposed, but no timeline exists for when the In Charley's Memory centre will open. Will it host grief support groups? Art exhibitions? A small library? A quiet space for reflection? The lack of detail is telling. This isn’t a commercial venture—it’s a tribute. And tributes, by nature, move at the pace of healing.For now, the windows are dark. The shelves are empty. The bell above the door won’t ring again. But in a town that prides itself on community, this isn’t just an ending. It’s a quiet rebirth.
Frequently Asked Questions
Why did Colin Morris suddenly close GW Hurleys after saying he had no plans to retire?
No official reason has been given, but the five-month gap between Morris’s June 2025 statement and the November closure suggests a private, possibly personal turning point—such as health issues, family circumstances, or an emotional offer from the group behind In Charley's Memory. The lack of public explanation underscores the deeply personal nature of the transition.
Who is Charley, and why is the new centre named after them?
The identity of Charley remains private, but the name implies a local figure whose death deeply affected the community. The choice to convert a historic business into a memorial space suggests Charley was beloved—not necessarily a public figure, but someone whose absence created a void that residents now want to fill with connection, not commerce.
Will the new centre be open to the public?
While no official details exist, the naming as a “centre” rather than a private memorial strongly suggests public access. It’s likely intended as a space for gatherings, quiet reflection, or local events—continuing the spirit of community that GW Hurleys once embodied, but in a more emotional, less commercial form.
What does this mean for Burnham-On-Sea’s high street?
The closure adds to the erosion of independent retail in the town, but the transformation into a community centre may signal a new direction: replacing profit-driven shops with spaces that nurture social ties. If successful, it could inspire similar conversions elsewhere, turning vacant storefronts into emotional anchors rather than economic liabilities.
Is there a way for locals to contribute to In Charley's Memory?
No public channels have been announced, but given the grassroots nature of the initiative, community members are likely encouraged to reach out through local councils or church networks. Many towns in Somerset have quietly formed memorial groups after losing long-standing businesses—often starting with shared photos, letters, or small fundraisers to keep memories alive.
How rare is it for a 106-year-old family business to close and be repurposed like this?
Extremely rare. Most century-old shops either pass to the next generation or close without formal transition. Converting a retail space into a memorial centre—without commercial intent—is even rarer. This case stands out as a poignant example of how communities are redefining value: not in sales, but in memory, belonging, and shared loss.