Welcome to Memories and Stories
Chapter One. My Early Days.
Chapter Two. The 1940's
Chapter Three. British Boys For British Farms
Chapter Four. National Service
Chapter Five. Wilton Driver
Chapter Six. Meeting Doreen.
Chapter Seven. Local Shunter.
Chapter Eight , Working as a Coach Driver
Chapter Nine. Holidays.
Chapter Ten. Health Warning
Chapter Eleven Rationalisation
Chapter twelve. Incidents or Accidents.?
Chapter Thirteen. Terminal Closure.
Chapter Fourteen. Our Move To Gloucestershire.
Chapter Fifteen. Concord.
Chapter Sixteen. Finally
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Springtime.
In springtime we would go to the old clay pits along the railway line near South Bank,we'd wade in the water up to our knees too collect frog spawn. If we were lucky enough and the water had not been disturbed too much we would also catch different species of newts and take them home in a jam jars to show our parents. We'd be told to leavethe newts outside and "Put some grass in the jars for the poor creatures", This was usually followed by, "Where have you been I've been worried sick. Now go and get a wash before you have your tea then get to bed" Mam would say,"I'll teach you to go missing all afternoon when I wanted you to go a message".
As for the newts they always diappeared during the hours of darkness.
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Summer Time
During the summer months we went along to the nearby beck and jumped from side to side playing follow the leader, those who weren't good at jumping were dared to jump certain widths with disastrous results, not quite reaching the other side we would land in the water getting our shoes and socks wet. Knowing we would be in trouble we would take our socks and beat them against a wooden log to try to get the surplus water out of them and try to dry them, but the socks were still wet when we reached home.
The wetness didn't look to bad on my grey socks but Olga's and Sylvia's white ankle socks were a muddy grey, I would then be in trouble for taking them with me and the other kids.
Come to think of it I received more good hidings for wet muddy boots and socks than anything else.
Saturday morning was he best morning of the week for we would go to the Hippodrome club in Middlesbrough.
It cost a couple of pennies to join the club and a very small entrance fee. There we would see our favourite cowboy films and cartoons. A serial film followed were as the film got to a very exciting part it would be stopped . To be continued next week.
There was also a good old sing song. A large screen dropped down over the stage screen and on it would be the words of a war time song.
We always kept a penny for our bus fare home but being hungry after the show we'd spend the penny on a stick of root licorice, or those things that look like black broad beans but tasted very sweet. Having no money left we had then to walk home. and trouble for not catching the bus.
Most of the time during the warm summer months we would play in our bare feet to save our footwear, and then we could play in the beck without any worries, contructing dams and trying to sail small rafts, usually with very poor results.
Football was a favourite, we'd kick a small tennis ball up and down the street the area between the lamp post and the fence would be the goal, occasionally we'd use a casey which was a proper football with a pigs bladder from doggy slaughter house inside the leather casing, but with twenty or so lads kicking the ball up and down the street the bladder only lasted a very short time.
There was no shortage of things we could do and never be bored, we could go across the fields and go looking for birds nests in the woods marked 'private' or make dens from branches of trees laid up against a large tree . and cover the branches with grass . It was warm and rainproof and could last for weeks or until bigger lads came along and smashed it up and destroyed it.
We did get into trouble from time to time for playing hide and seek in the cornfield at the back of our house. but that soon came to an end when the local bobby caught us, He took our names and addresses we were to frightened to do it again.
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Winter
The winters I recall as a child were always very cold enough to freeze the nearby beck and the older children would skate on it. We had a pair of skates and I often wondered how we came to have them, the only explanation I can think of is that dad had picked them off a scrap wagon in the steel works at some time, almost anything metal could be found there from time to time, metal bed frames, lawn mowers, bikes, even pieces of ammunition were found there after the war.
We would play on the frozen roads making slides, as the temperature dropped below freezing we'd throw buckets of water on to the centre of the road so that it would become frozen. We'd line up and take a run and slide one after the other to the end. Great fun but like all good things it didn’t last because some disgruntled parent or killjoy would sprinkle salt on the slide causing it to thaw, this meant that the group of screaming children sliding down at great speed would come to an abrupt halt and we'd all land in a heap in the wet where the ice had thawed.When the snow arrived it would grow into great drifts across the road making it impossible for the milk to be delivered by horse and cart. The horses were very intelligent creatures. The milkman or woman would collect a couple of pints of milk and walk up the path to make the delivery at the doorstep, the horse would take a few more steps onto the next house in readiness for the milk man to collect the next batch of bottles.
After a couple of days the snow would become compact and we lads and lasses would shovel it, making it into blocks the size of paving stones then we'd build them into igloos or forts. We also enjoyed ourselves snowballing each another.
We played outside during the dark winter nights every so often the sky would turn to a warm red glow, this occurred when one of the steel plants opened a door on the open hearth furnaces to feed more scrap into the white-hot molten metal. As soon as the charging machine pulled away from the furnace the door was closed again and the rosy glow would disappear. It lasted for a few seconds then it was complete darkness again but as there were a number of these steel plants within three or four miles of Brambles Farm and the work was going on all the time, the sky was very often lit up.
As soon as the snow disappeared and the weather got a little warmer we'd get the marbles out, or ‘allees’ as we called them, they were made of glass with various twists of colour in the centre and they came in different sizes. We'd scoop out a small groove in the soil at the bottom of the garden near the fence and from a certain distance gently throw them, one, two or even three marbles towards the groove to see who could get the most into it. At other times we'd walk along the gutter at the side of the road and take turns in throwing and trying to hit one the other players marble. If the other person hit your marble it then belonged to him.
The girls played with skipping ropes and sometimes with whips and tops, we'd all play with boolers (the rim of a cycle wheel), running up and down the avenue chasing after it, keeping it going with a piece of stick. Jumping garden fences was another favourite pastime but this often got us into trouble with the owners. Another game we played was, Tee mac and aleeo’, we divided into two teams, one team would run and hide while the other team stayed in base, they counted up to fifty then ran to find those who were hiding and one by one return them to the base. If the base was left unattended a member of the other team could run in shouting tee mac and aleeo and free those captured. We had no difficulty in making our own entertainment. We made bogeys from three pieces of wood, two axles off an old pram or push chair and four wheels. The axles and wheels were nailed on to two strips of wood, a longer length of wood was attached between the two sets of wheels, one end we fixed firmly with nails to the axle board while the other end we drilled with a red hot poker, through the centre of the front axle board we'd fit a bolt and nut and with two lengths of string fastened to the front end we could steer it.
Old bike frames were scavenged from the beck, a couple of small pram wheels were fixed and the contraption was used like an old fashioned hobby horse. Sitting astride it we propelled ourselves along with our feet.
Another pastime was flying kites, we made them ourselves with newspaper for the backing, a couple of thin pieces of wood for the frame, flour and water acted as the glue to hold it all together. String was a problem it was always in short supply but we got by. We then attached pieces of paper to the string pretending they were messages being sent up to the kite.
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The Gas Man
They were exciting days when every three months , one of the neighbours would mention that the gasman was on his way round the area.
As bairns we would always be going to the window to check on his progress along the avenue from house to house he made his way collecting money from the penny in the slot gas meters.Then someone would shout "Oh look he is at Mrs Eccle’s number eighty three. then it was Mrs Shaw’s number eighty five followed by Mrs Wilkinson’s number eighty seven.
"We are next "someone said. Then from the kitchen came a voice of authority. "Get away from the window, dont be nosey".We all sat down on the settee waiting for the expectant knock. Then Bang Bang on the front door followed by the gasman entering Gasman he shouted and then disapeared into the cupboard below the stairs. He took a meter reading before with a jingle of his bunch of keys unlocked the box that held many many pennies, By the time he had entered the room ,we the kids were standing around the table waiting for the clatter of all the pennies as they were emptied onto the pine table.Our eyes were agog at the sight of the money. The gasman without a word commenced to collect a large handful of coins and with nimble fingers shuffled the coins into a three inch column. then quietly counted in fours. four,eight, twelve. sixteen, twenty, twentyfour. (That was two Shillings in those days ) Ten pence in todays money. The twenty four pennies were carfully placed on the table in a stack. The counting went on for sometime each stack kept about two inches from the others until all of the pennies were counted.Reaching down to his side he took from his leather bag, a number of strong paper bags, and with the speed of lightning placed ten stacks of coins in each bag before sealing it with a strip of sticky paper. We looked on agast at the speed of which such a pile of pennies were counted. totaling the ammount up. he picked up a book to calculate the ammont of gas used.before turning to mam saying "Not to much rebate this time Mrs Spenceley. You will get more when the winter months arrive"."Mam mumbled something like aye you always say that". Then he was up and out saying good day he was gone.We stayed around the table looking at the small heap of pennie left as rebate.Mam checked the money giving us a penny each which made us happy in the thought that we could make a beeline for Mrs Thorntons for a bag of toffees.
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Noise
The noise made by the group of playing children would have put today's football supporters to shame. One night we were very noisy when an old chap, Uncle John who lived with the Powers family called us all together and asked us to tone it down . “There's someone dead in Stockton” he said, meaning our revelry was that loud it would wake the dead ten miles away. Having said that old John left smiling and went off to the pub for his evening pint of beer.
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The Works
Noise from the works was continuous due to the overhead cranes with their cogs turning and clanking as they lifted the heavy steel beams. Every now and then you could hear the loud metallic clatter when a large piece of metal was dropped on to another metal surface or on to girders, followed by the screaming of the huge circular saws cutting through the metal. The noise of the hardened teeth whining through the red hot girders would suddenly stop as they cut off the bloom ends at a predetermined length. You could also hear the charging machines that resembled a gun travelling up and down tracks in front of the furnaces, forever working, attaching its long arm onto a coffin shaped metal tub loaded with metal scrap or limestone, then swinging around to face the furnace. The door would open to allow the operator to discharge the tub into the brilliant white molten mass of steel, he'd be squinting through the dark blue lenses of a pair of glasses that were sitting on the end of his nose. He took little notice of the blast of searing heat that came to meet him as the furnace door was opened.
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Our Air Raid Shelter
We were a very large family, Dad was provided with materials to build a double air-raid shelter. He and a couple of his friends dug a very big hole in the back garden about three or four feet deep. They bolted corrugated sheeting together to form the roof and sides then lined the bottom and lower sides with concrete, covered the top with a good layer of soil and that helped to hide it. Finally dad built a shed construction to cover the entrance and placed a number of bunks inside for us, with a bit of luck we'd be safe. The air-raids at night were very frightening, the siren would give the warning, we'd all get up out of our beds, put on our coats as there was no time to dress, collect our gas masks and go out of the back door to the shelter. Mam and the older ones brought the patchwork quilts off the beds. The sky would be lit with beams of light from the search lights trying to seek out the German bombers as they slipped from cloud to cloud, once located all the lights would turn on the invading planes. The planes couldn't travel low over our area because of the number of barrage balloons in the skies around Middlesbrough and along the river Tees, they couldn't risk getting tangled in the balloons wiring but the constant drone of their engines would sound louder and louder, the guns from the local army camp would start firing trying to hit the planes and bring them down. When we sat in the shelter the funny part about it was that we always talked quietly as if afraid someone might hear. On one particularly heavy raid Mam was so worried for our safety that she gripped the candle she was holding so hard that her fingers made an imprint in the wax and the candle became misshaped. Looking through a crack in the side of the shed it looked brighter than day outside, it was a blue-white light and so bright. “I wonder what's happening out there” Mam whispered, then suddenly the door opened making us all jump, it was Dad. “Where’s the bucket" he shouted. Mam answered, “Upstairs”. Dad retorted, “Upstairs, whereabouts upstairs”. Mam spoke quietly so the neighbours couldn't hear, “In the bedroom Dad”. “For goodness sake hasn’t it been emptied yet”. It was used as a chamber pot in the bedroom at night as there was no toilet upstairs. Dad had wanted it urgently to put out some flares that had been dropped in a field next to our house by the german bomber, it was those flares that had made the brilliant white light we'd seen earlier.
I, like all the other members of the family always worried about going back into the house after an air raid in case a German spy had sneaked in while we were in the shelter. Our imaginations always ran wild on such occasions. On one particular night the bombing was very heavy, a bomb seemed to be screaming down then it stopped. “That was a whistling bomb” Mam said quietly, “and it hasn’t gone off yet, it sounded so close I wonder where it is”. There should have been an explosion but nothing had happened. Sitting very quietly we all thought the bomb was very near to our house, all was silent, there was no drone of planes or noise from the guns just silence, followed then by the all clear.
The following day I'd returned from afternoon school and was playing by the side of the house when a very loud rumble and thud seemed to come from the area of South Bank. Looking across towards the Gas Works there was smoke, dust and pieces of paper and debris billowing up towards the sky, the ground shook, I quickly made a bee line into the house. I now understand that it was St. Peter’s school in South Bank that had been blown up by the bomb that had been dropped the previous night.
We were sitting on the ground at another time when an aeroplane flew very low round and round the estate. I was told to go inside as it may be a German plane taking aerial photographs of the steel works, then suddenly the plane banked and hundreds of pieces of paper dropped from it as it passed over our house. They were propaganda leaflets and I think they had the face of Hitler and four Jack-boots on them, with the slogan:- “TO HELL WITH HITLER”. ( I would like a copy of one of those leaflets, to add to this page)
The Junior School at Brambles Farm was about half a mile from our house and whilst there we had air-raid drill. Very often the local siren would sound and frighten the living daylight out of us, the teacher would calmly muster us all together and take us across the playground to the underground shelter. Once there we sat on wooden seats, the teacher having calmed us would read out the register to check that we were all there for occasionally some of the kids would run home to be with their Mams. We'd sing songs and hymns to pass the time away and after a short time we'd be given a large rich tea biscuit and a drink of ice cold milk from a large white enamel jug. We stayed there until the all-clear sounded then we were allowed back into our class rooms.
I and most of those like me found that the most frightening time was when we'd just left school and were on our way home, the siren would start wailing, up and down, up and down it went and being young we'd expect the German aeroplanes to sweep down out of the clouds and shoot at us. Sometimes a kindly person would run out of their house and take us in until the raid was over but on other occasions we'd just run as fast as we could home. Quite often by the time we reached our garden gate the all-clear would be sounding. Some of the children were so frightened they'd be screaming for their Mams.
The following morning we'd all be very brave again and walk around the school playing fields looking for pieces of shrapnel that had fallen during the previous nights raid and our main conversation would be about what we'd done while the raid was at its height. During the worst days of the war we stopped attending the main school and had to go to Mrs. Reynolds house on Colledge Road at the top of our avenue, eight of us formed a class which was held in her back room, the back room of our house was also used as a classroom for eight older pupils.
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The Lady Next Door.
The lady who lived next door was Johns mother . John and I were playing in the fields when we heard the noise of an aeroplane, it was further over towards Smiths farm. It was flying very low just above the farm buildings and the engines were very quiet, then it landed in the next field to where we were playing. We thought that they may be spies, (imagination again). We ran back to our house but found no one in so we ran on to tell John’s Mam. She wouldn’t believe us at first then she got her coat and said, “Come on show me”. Now Johns mother was a rather well built lady and after a lot of huffing and puffing we reached the place where the plane had landed but there was a hedge stopping us getting to it. We found a place with wooden railings topped with barbed wire and John’s Mam hitched up her dress to climb over the fence, she was almost over when her undergarment got snagged on the barbed wire. John and I started to laugh at the sight of his mother’s pants caught on the wire, she was very annoyed and told us to stop messing about and help her. We tried in vain but she was too heavy for us, her pants were torn before she was free and didn’t she vent her embarrassment on us?
To top it all by the time we'd freed her the authorities were at the plane and all the public were kept well away. |
Rabbit Pie.
Harrisons lived nearby and they had a very large family and like us had very little money. Mr. Harrison didn’t work, he made a few shillings poaching rabbits from across the fields. He made very long nets that he laid along the hedgerows, the rabbits would slowly make their way out on to the field to feed and as soon as they were visible Mr. Harrison, who'd been sitting quietly out of sight would pull the net tight. The rabbits would panic and try to run for cover and get caught in the net.
Rabbit pie was often on our menu.
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Mams Death
Regarding Mam’s death, I don’t remember events leading up to it but I do recall that there was a lot of noise and what seemed like panic that night and some member of the family rushed off to get the Doctor. “Go and get Aunt Nellie” someone cried. Next morning things were very calm but there were tears in all their eyes although nobody said that Mam had died, I felt she was missing in the other room perhaps? “Get dressed and go out to play” someone suggested to me. I called on John next door and his Mother in her usual cheerful way said, “What was going on in your house last night?” She was smiling and expecting me to tell her that we had a new baby. I remember saying quietly “I think Mam's died”. What a shock I gave her, “Go into the house and play with John” she said, and pushing past me she ran along to our house.
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Wash Day.
Monday like most homes was the day for washing the clothes. We had a gas boiler in the wash house and when filled with water it was heated to boiling point. The water was then transferred to a large wooden tub. After adding soap to the hot water Mam would start off with the white clothes and sheets, they'd be ‘possed’ with a wooden posser or ‘dolly’ as it was sometimes called, this would go on for a few minutes then they'd be wrung out and transferred to the boiler. At this time the coloured clothes would be put in the tub and possed, overalls, socks etc. all got the same treatment. After the whites were boiled they were returned to the tub now filled with clean water for rinsing, then followed a final rinse with a little bit of dolly blue added to give the clothes a whiter look, and finally put through the wringing machine. This had two large wooden rollers and a large wheel with a handle attached for turning, the clothes were put through the rollers and the water was squeezed out. This was very hard work especially when washing for a large family. The clothes were then put out on the line to be dried in the sun and wind. The hot soapy water was then used to swill down the washhouse and all the paths around the house were cleaned each week. On Tuesdays the clothes would be ironed, then aired and eventually put away into the drawers and cupboards. The lady who lived on our other side was Mrs. Wilkinson and she kept a very mischievous monkey as a pet, very often especially on a Monday, wash day, it would escape from their washhouse. On numerous occasions it would make its way into our back garden, climb the washing pole then swinging along the line pull out the clothes pegs and let the washing fall to the ground. You could imagine the frayed tempers of Mam and Edna when they saw the newly washed clothes scattered across the garden. One day in particular Edna was so annoyed with the monkey that she dashed from the kitchen and found it in our washhouse, picking up the yard brush to chase it, the cheeky animal bared its teeth and made to attack her, she dropped the brush, ran back into the house and was afraid to go out again to collect the clothes.
It is difficult to recall some of the past particularly when it relates to a death in the family, it would appear that young minds at times succeed in blocking out such tragedies. During and just after the war we lost three of the family, Emily died after a short illness, Lena died of TB and Mam died giving birth to Pauline, who then went to live with Aunt Nellie.
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Opening Day.
 | THE FOLLOWING EXTRACT IS FROM AN ARTICLE GIVEN TO STUDENTS AND/OR PARENTS ON THE OPENING DAY OF BRAMBLES FARM SCHOOL.
Middlesbrough town council in 1920, acquired about 113 acres of land in the neighbourhood of Brambles Farm ( a working farm at the time) in the south- eastern extremity of the Borough boundary .It being there intention to build on the acquired land an estate for some 1,200 dwelling houses.
1930 saw the erection of the first block of houses by April ,1932 308 families were housed on the estate. Meanwhile the education committee were concerned to provide suitable school accomodation to cater adequately for the educational needs of the new housing development.
Accordingly, in February 1932 ,they acquired from the housing committee 8 acres of land for the purpose of erecting a public elementary school. The project of building the school was urged forward with all possible expedition. by the end of March 1933, The board of education had sanctioned the building of a school and given their final approval to the plans.
The tender of Mr T E F Whitear of Norton-on-Tees for the erection of the school at an estimated cost of £21,080-19s -3p was accepted.
The foundation stones were laid by The chairman of the education committee (Councillor J Wesley Brown;) The chairman of the buildings committee ( Alderman A Weatherhead; )The Vice- Chairman of the education committee and of the Elementary Committee ( Rev Canon W T Lawson ) on the 1st May, 1934.
The work proceeded according to schedule and without hitch , and the building was ready in record time of under twelve months , for the opening immediately after the Easter vacation 1935.
The opening of Brambles Farm School was opened on April 29th 1935 BY Concillor J Wesley Brown. |
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School Days
 | The above picture is a view we had from the school playing field across to Eston Hills around 1945. Before Thorntree Estate was built.
During my days at school I had many problems, the infants wasn't too bad as it was playtime most of the time. Like most children when they first go to nursery class, Mam took me, on being left in the playground with all those strange faces, I just turned my back on school and ran. I soon caught up to Mam on her way home but she just spanked me for not staying and took me back. I soon enjoyed playing with the toys, the slide and the rocking horse not forgetting the huge sand pit. During the afternoon we'd all have a rest, we had to collect an oval shaped mat which we placed on the floor, I often went to sleep and many times was still asleep when our Betty who was in a higher class than me came to take me home.
The junior class teachers were more strict and always seemed to be changing, they were either quite old or very young. The older ones had very Victorian ways but the younger ones soon left to go in the forces. I found arithmetic very difficult to grasp compared with the memorising of other subjects like history and geography. You'd have thought being one of a large family and all of us playing together we'd have taught each other the various subjects but it didn't work like that. Oh we played shops with empty tins and cartons for at that time most groceries were bought loose, weighed out in pounds and ounces and you could buy an article for a penny. Vegetable seeds could be bought for the garden at half a penny for any kind e.g. cabbage seeds. The coin acted as the measure, you placed it into the bag of seeds and with great care lifted it out for whatever was on it that was the amount you got.
I cannot remember being taught anything in detail but maths were a real problem.The whole class chanted the times tables and that was one thing that seemed to stick in my mind but when progressing to fractions, decimals or percentages I and many others were quite lost and still are to some extent.
Even in my school days bullying was rife both by pupils and intimidation by teachers. You couldn't go along to the teacher even if you wanted to and say you were being bullied, for in doing so you were laying yourself open to abuse from the teacher. Bullying was taboo and pupils who informed were also caned for the offence. When the school day was over the bully would be waiting for you again. I like many others was beaten by another boy but I couldn’t report him, I tried to fight him but could never get the better of him. There were times when I'd try to get out of school early and run hell for leather to avoid him but he'd be waiting round the next corner, and I’d get a further beating.
As I remember my school days towards the end of World War 2, I recall the teachers returning to Civvy Street to take up their professions again. I still feel sure that because of what they had been subjected too in the discipline of the forces they took their revenge on the pupils. For example, one teacher would not allow pupils to erase any mistakes they'd made when drawing. In a science lesson we were asked to draw a pulley with a length of rope attached, I drew a perfect pulley wheel but put the rope in the wrong position. Realising my mistake I redrew the rope in the correct position making the lines more pronounced. The teacher passing among the pupils quietly corrected one or two of the others who'd made mistakes but when he got to me he said, “Go and stand at the front of the class”, then another lad came and joined me. Fair enough I'd made a mistake but I'd tried to correct it, some of the other lads had tried to rub theirs out with a wet finger and had made an awful mess of the drawing. The teacher walked across to his cupboard and removed the cane from the shelf and coming across to us he said, "You two lads have made mistakes for which you shall be punished". He caned both of my hands twice forcefully, the pain and numbness in my fingers was terrible and I couldn't hold my pen to write because of it. After a while I dared to look at my hands, gently opening them, there across each finger on each hand appeared two set of blood blisters like double tram lines.
That night I showed Dad my swollen, blistered hands, maybe I expected a little sympathy but he just turned and said, “Well you must have done something wrong if you were given the cane”. Ah well! I was caned a number of times for the silly things that I did or was supposed to have done. Fear of the teacher was a major problem for most of us.
We, that's the lads in the Avenue, as we got older formed into gangs. We had running battles with the gang from South Bank, or 'Slaggy Island' as it was commonly known because of the slag heaps on two sides of the town and the steel works to the north. We'd fill our pockets with stones then run across the fields to Skippers Lane, once there we could see the opposing gang running along the lane to meet us. When they reached a certain point we'd start throwing stones at them. Very few ever reached their target but we'd shout charge, and run towards them scattering them on to the allotments, they soon regrouped and counter charged us, it was then our turn to run with them chasing us into the fields. Keeping a fair distance between the gangs there'd be a lot of verbal abuse shouted from both sides but very rarely did we come to blows, it always ended in a draw and an arrangement to meet the following night. We then made friends with the South Bank lads and would often go to the pictures with them. |
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A Special Girl
We were twelve, thirteen and fourteen years of age so often met up with some of the girls from South Bank. Kenny Graham and I met two girls on one of our trips to the pictures, the one I took a liking to was called Celia, The girls both wore school uniforms, white blouses and navy blue gym slips, we chatted about the usual things which school we went to, where we lived etc. It turned out that Celia’s Aunt Brenda was married to Clifford Coverdale, Cliff's brother John who lived next door to us. Each night I'd go along to South Bank to meet Celia, we'd sit on a fence at the side of the railway track and talk about our families. On rare occasions we went to Cel’s house to baby sit for her two young brothers one of the boys was named Barry. I always got the task of sampling their evening drinks before they went to bed, it was cocoa with a spoonful of ‘Cod Liver Oil and Malt’ stirred into it.
Celia’s home was a terraced house number 33 in Lower Graham Street in South Bank the centre of a long row of terraced houses, the front door led straight into the living room which appeared very clean but small compared to our house. It had a fire range, highly polished with black lead and the oven was on one side for baking etc., the house was always spotless. Cel's mam was a very friendly, jovial person always willing to welcome me in, I always admired her good nature and the way she laughed and joked with family and friends. We all became good friends and on occasions I had my Sunday dinner with Brenda, Cliff and Celia in her Gran's house a few doors away. My friendship with Celia ebbed and flowed for the next few years until I went into the army. Each week I'd phone her and exchange letters but I sensed things were not right. I then heard from Brenda that Celia was going out with someone else. I wasn't in a position do anything about it and her friendship with the other lad Kevin seemed to be getting stronger and stronger so I decided it was time for me to bow out, Within a very short space of time Celia and Kevin were married. I was left feeling very hollow inside but I carried on writing to Brenda and Cliff and visited them whenever I was home on leave from the army.
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Smoking.
Smoking!!!! Well yes as kids most of us smoked or had a crafty drag.There was some foul smelling turkish cigarettes called Pasha we took a drag of and tried to inhale the smoke like the filmstars did, only to land up in a fit of coughing and baulking our insides out.It was funny really we were aways frightened of being told off about smoking but it was the manly thing to do.(Or was it). I remember one funny incident when Harold and Kenny Graham and myself were walking along the road.sharing a little piece of cigarette.We saw a women and child approaching us some distance away.’Give me the ciggy Harold said I am the biggest she will not say anything to me.Harold held the cigarette in his pocket or so he thought. The woman got closer and closer. We were scared stiff in case she had seen us puffing on the cigarette. Passing us she said something about a pocket. We thought she had seen us and had said "I seen you put that cigarette in your pocket’.We kept turning around to see if she had gone but she kept shouting something to us. In the end she turned and started to walk towards us. We wondered what all the shouting was about, did she know us and was telling us she was going to tell our perants.It was only when we got close to her she was pointing at Harold saying "You silly beggars his coat pocket is on fire"At that it was to late the cigarette had burnt a hole in his coat pocket.On return home was the usual lecture from one of my elders when they started to sniff my breath, and catching hold of me me saying "Have you been smoking and with all the innocence I could muster said "No, who me, no not me."This was followed by "Well I know you have been smoking, I can smell it on you. I am going to tell dad when he comes in.White fibs, I assume we have all told them at one time or another. |
Selling Fruit And Vedge.
Five years later Uncle Dick like Dad and most of the other men kept an allotment, he kept hens and pigs. Waste food from a nearby factory gave him a constant supply of food for them but the swill as it was called had to be reheated according to government regulations. Dick would empty the swill into a large boiler then put a fire underneath it and bring it to the required heat. It was then cooled before being fed to the pigs. He also owned a horse and cart which he used for selling green groceries, fruit and vegetables around Grangetown. To earn a little pocket money I'd go with him, walking the streets and shouting Tatties,turnips apples, Banana. All the various vedge we had to sell. We'd stop at certain houses.(he must have been a rotten xxxxx.)he'd go inside leaving me to look after the horse and cart. I had to try and sell what I could. Thinking back he must have been having a cuppa tea.By it was a very cold job and I much preferred to help in and around the allotment. It was while helping with the animals that I decided I would like to make farming my career.
Thank you. Now why not take a look at Chapter Three.BRITISH BOYS FOR BRITISH FARMS.Many young lads from 1932 up until 1968 left home to be trained to work on farms.
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