K
Kandor
Guest
The House On Pooh Corner
Its 1957 and I'm 5 years old.
We have just moved into 143 Ashted Row, I can remember going up to see our 'New' house with my Dad...It had 4 bedrooms, two living rooms, a big back room/kitchen with a black leaded Fireplace and beyond that, a very tiny scullery with a single cold water supply...We also had two large cellars and luxury of luxuries...our own toilet.
There was a huge tree growing right outside out toilet door which I remember my Dad and my Uncle David having to cut down..On reflection, I just wish Dad had left it up a few more years, it would have given me something to hide behind as he completely hogged the loo...
That was my first milestone in '57, the second was I started Cromwell St School...something else happened there too, I fell in love, She was older than me, she was also taller and far more self assured, but I guess thats a requirement of a Teacher..Her name was Mrs Beeches...my second and equally doomed love was Valerie Brooks...she had the best figure on a 5 year old that I'd ever seen....Now, as I progress with this farce I call my life, I must point out, it gets a bit disjointed, its only because writing this down jogs my memory and I go off on a Tangent...bear with it, I might end up writing about YOU.
I learned to read at an early age, I can remember walking down to Bloomsbury St library and oh..that wonderful smell..Reading has given me such great pleasure over the years...Bloomsbury also gave me my love of Astronomy,
I can remember walking with my sister Norma and wondering why the Moon appeared to follow me, Personally, now I'm a lot older I put it down to my fabulous charisma and personality..
I used to terrorise a girl in my class at Junior school..I really wish I hadn't,
She had a sister who was slightly larger than the Honey Monster, she ambushed me one night and beat the poo out of me.
The sad part..(well, for me anyway) was that I'd been awarded a Poetry book from the 'Tree Lovers League' that very morning and in the struggle for my life against H.M. it must have slipped out my pocket and I lost it.
Ahh Quell Journee..
Did you know a rat could fly? to be honest, I didn't either but my brother Robert proved me wrong.
He owned the skankiest, mankiest collection of pigeons in history.
With most Pigeon fanciers (I prefer women myself) they like a nice groomed bird...for my brother, two legs and a beak were a bonus....
We also kept chickens at Ashted Row...to justify staying alive, each Chicken had to lay the meagre total of 41 eggs a day each..or..into the pot they went.
My favourite Chicken was Henrietta..what a bird!, what legs! what a kisser..oops..(delete, delete)
I came home from school one day and found her naked..she looked terrible without her feathers...she also looked sort of dead...
I have never been able to eat chicken since...
Educated on poverty, raised on pestilence...thats me.
Warm feet and other stories...
When I was living in Ashted Row, I used to share a bedroom with my 3 other brothers, actually, lets amend that, I shared a BED with my three other brothers...There was John, Robert, me and my kid brother Peter..It was called top and tailing in those days, there was two of us at the top and the other two down the bottom..
Of course there was one major snag...
Peter being aged only two, still wore nappies..Mom, if you are somewhere where you can read this...They leaked...
I was the only kid in school with nappy rash on my feet...Oh dear..I'm gonna have to stop, my insides are hurting from laughing...
Ahh...thats better! where was I? This was still a great imrovement on my earlier sleeping arrangements..prior to this I had to sleep in an old cot that because I was about 5 and way too big for, my Dad cut out two bars for my feet to go through when I lay down..The obvious problem being if I turned over in the night I dislocated both hips...
Dad and the Tramp
As I've written elsewhere, my Dad was a big man, he was actually the second smallest of his Brothers, with Reg, Les, David and Sam all a lot more physically imposing..( why I'm a blah blah midget is beyond me!)
And I did grow up on stories of how he'd spent a lifetime thrashing people..
But...I dont want to give you the wrong impression here, my Dad had an heart of gold and would give a man his last penny.
I remember an old Tramp called 'Bodger', somehow or another we always seemed to be feeding him, even though we had very little ourselves.
It seemed every fortnight he would turn up for a Sunday meal which Mom and Dad duly gave him, then he would be on his way with a couple of bob and Dads words ringing in his ears 'And if you show up again I'll punch you on the nose..'
Two weeks later, there was Bodger..my Dad never did get round to hitting him..I suppose Dad admired him in a funny way, a sort of kindred spirit.
And in those times I guess it was...there but for the grace of God...
All Set For A White Wedding
When I was 10 years old, my Sister got married to John, they actually did the dirty deed at St Mathews Church..it may have been Vicar Thomas who carried out the wedding, I dont know (I'll find out though when I ask my sister)..The reception was held at Nechells Green Community centre the year was 1962.
I remember it for several reasons, it was the first time I wore a suit for starters..I tell you now, it was so itchy, a penitent Monk wouldn't have kept it on for more than 5 minutes...My Mom had to leave the reception early because I felt a bit poorly, if I had known that this was the only white wedding Mom would ever attend of her childrens...well...you know....
Just across the road from the Centre is a white statue, I was on the 55 bus one day coming home with my Dad when a man sitting in front of us, turned to my Dad and said 'See that Statue? I made that.'
My Dad turned and said..'Its a load of rubbish, I hope they didn't pay you for it.'
The man got off at the next bustop without saying a word...
my Dad just smiled.
My Dad was just over 6ft 1ins, but it wasn't his hight that made him big, it was his bulk, and yes, from what I gather he got into loads of fights throughout his life, but not once did he ever lay a finger on me..or any other members of my family..
Now my Mom...arghhhhhh
Life was great fun in Nechells, we learned from a very early age as long as the Police didn't come to your door that within reason, everything else, was our business...
I, of course managed this superbly, however my weasel of an elder brother proved hopelessly inept...Because he was older than me, I was invariably and often, dragged into his wicked schemes....for example...
We once stole some plastic soldiers from Lewis's and hid them up the chimney in our bedroom..Our Mom chose that day...probably the only time in the last 100 years, to clean it out.
There was hell to pay....Being the clever and handsome one of the two, I learned quite quickly to scream long before she hit me...
I even longed for Stigmata so she wouldn't hit me at all.
My stupid brother just glared at her and sort of said 'do your worst'
I'm very pleased to report...she did.
It meant of course, she was too tired to hit me as hard.
I remember as a kid in Ashted Row, in the the middle of the Winters we had then, our house used to get really cold,
It was ok in the Kitchen with the leaded grate, it was even lovely in the Middle living room (Oh my word! MIDDLE living room, quite the snob huh?)
It was those two rooms you could cook a Pie in once the fires got really going, in fact during the really bad weather they were never allowed to die out.
But the rest of the house? Icebox City...(and if you want to know what hapened to Titus Oates, he ended up in our cubby under the stairs)
At times we would also have the odd power cut (or in our case the Electricty cut off) so out would come the candles...
It was magical to us kids back them..I never thought of my Parents though and why they hadn't got the money to pay the Electric bill etc...but then again, Kids dont do they?
Mom used to say that the blue lights in a coal or coke fire were Fairies watching over us..I carried that one down through my years and even today, my kids hear the same.
The rest of the house though was cold and damp, more than once I've put clothes on that had been hanging up in an old brown wardobe..and within 5 minutes I've began to steam because of the damp..
I still remember the Fairies though.....
There are Fairies in my Garden
And they fall down from the sky,
With broken hearts on broken wings
When children tell a lie.
There are Fairies in my garden,
If you only would believe,
Who knows what magic wonder,
That the human mind can weave?
There are Fairies in my garden
And if you want them all to die,
Then simply tell your children
That a Fairy tale's...a lie.
My daughters believe in Fairies...and why not?...their Dad does.
Its 1957 and I'm 5 years old.
We have just moved into 143 Ashted Row, I can remember going up to see our 'New' house with my Dad...It had 4 bedrooms, two living rooms, a big back room/kitchen with a black leaded Fireplace and beyond that, a very tiny scullery with a single cold water supply...We also had two large cellars and luxury of luxuries...our own toilet.
There was a huge tree growing right outside out toilet door which I remember my Dad and my Uncle David having to cut down..On reflection, I just wish Dad had left it up a few more years, it would have given me something to hide behind as he completely hogged the loo...
That was my first milestone in '57, the second was I started Cromwell St School...something else happened there too, I fell in love, She was older than me, she was also taller and far more self assured, but I guess thats a requirement of a Teacher..Her name was Mrs Beeches...my second and equally doomed love was Valerie Brooks...she had the best figure on a 5 year old that I'd ever seen....Now, as I progress with this farce I call my life, I must point out, it gets a bit disjointed, its only because writing this down jogs my memory and I go off on a Tangent...bear with it, I might end up writing about YOU.
I learned to read at an early age, I can remember walking down to Bloomsbury St library and oh..that wonderful smell..Reading has given me such great pleasure over the years...Bloomsbury also gave me my love of Astronomy,
I can remember walking with my sister Norma and wondering why the Moon appeared to follow me, Personally, now I'm a lot older I put it down to my fabulous charisma and personality..
I used to terrorise a girl in my class at Junior school..I really wish I hadn't,
She had a sister who was slightly larger than the Honey Monster, she ambushed me one night and beat the poo out of me.
The sad part..(well, for me anyway) was that I'd been awarded a Poetry book from the 'Tree Lovers League' that very morning and in the struggle for my life against H.M. it must have slipped out my pocket and I lost it.
Ahh Quell Journee..
Did you know a rat could fly? to be honest, I didn't either but my brother Robert proved me wrong.
He owned the skankiest, mankiest collection of pigeons in history.
With most Pigeon fanciers (I prefer women myself) they like a nice groomed bird...for my brother, two legs and a beak were a bonus....
We also kept chickens at Ashted Row...to justify staying alive, each Chicken had to lay the meagre total of 41 eggs a day each..or..into the pot they went.
My favourite Chicken was Henrietta..what a bird!, what legs! what a kisser..oops..(delete, delete)
I came home from school one day and found her naked..she looked terrible without her feathers...she also looked sort of dead...
I have never been able to eat chicken since...
Educated on poverty, raised on pestilence...thats me.
Warm feet and other stories...
When I was living in Ashted Row, I used to share a bedroom with my 3 other brothers, actually, lets amend that, I shared a BED with my three other brothers...There was John, Robert, me and my kid brother Peter..It was called top and tailing in those days, there was two of us at the top and the other two down the bottom..
Of course there was one major snag...
Peter being aged only two, still wore nappies..Mom, if you are somewhere where you can read this...They leaked...
I was the only kid in school with nappy rash on my feet...Oh dear..I'm gonna have to stop, my insides are hurting from laughing...
Ahh...thats better! where was I? This was still a great imrovement on my earlier sleeping arrangements..prior to this I had to sleep in an old cot that because I was about 5 and way too big for, my Dad cut out two bars for my feet to go through when I lay down..The obvious problem being if I turned over in the night I dislocated both hips...
Dad and the Tramp
As I've written elsewhere, my Dad was a big man, he was actually the second smallest of his Brothers, with Reg, Les, David and Sam all a lot more physically imposing..( why I'm a blah blah midget is beyond me!)
And I did grow up on stories of how he'd spent a lifetime thrashing people..
But...I dont want to give you the wrong impression here, my Dad had an heart of gold and would give a man his last penny.
I remember an old Tramp called 'Bodger', somehow or another we always seemed to be feeding him, even though we had very little ourselves.
It seemed every fortnight he would turn up for a Sunday meal which Mom and Dad duly gave him, then he would be on his way with a couple of bob and Dads words ringing in his ears 'And if you show up again I'll punch you on the nose..'
Two weeks later, there was Bodger..my Dad never did get round to hitting him..I suppose Dad admired him in a funny way, a sort of kindred spirit.
And in those times I guess it was...there but for the grace of God...
All Set For A White Wedding
When I was 10 years old, my Sister got married to John, they actually did the dirty deed at St Mathews Church..it may have been Vicar Thomas who carried out the wedding, I dont know (I'll find out though when I ask my sister)..The reception was held at Nechells Green Community centre the year was 1962.
I remember it for several reasons, it was the first time I wore a suit for starters..I tell you now, it was so itchy, a penitent Monk wouldn't have kept it on for more than 5 minutes...My Mom had to leave the reception early because I felt a bit poorly, if I had known that this was the only white wedding Mom would ever attend of her childrens...well...you know....
Just across the road from the Centre is a white statue, I was on the 55 bus one day coming home with my Dad when a man sitting in front of us, turned to my Dad and said 'See that Statue? I made that.'
My Dad turned and said..'Its a load of rubbish, I hope they didn't pay you for it.'
The man got off at the next bustop without saying a word...
my Dad just smiled.
My Dad was just over 6ft 1ins, but it wasn't his hight that made him big, it was his bulk, and yes, from what I gather he got into loads of fights throughout his life, but not once did he ever lay a finger on me..or any other members of my family..
Now my Mom...arghhhhhh
Life was great fun in Nechells, we learned from a very early age as long as the Police didn't come to your door that within reason, everything else, was our business...
I, of course managed this superbly, however my weasel of an elder brother proved hopelessly inept...Because he was older than me, I was invariably and often, dragged into his wicked schemes....for example...
We once stole some plastic soldiers from Lewis's and hid them up the chimney in our bedroom..Our Mom chose that day...probably the only time in the last 100 years, to clean it out.
There was hell to pay....Being the clever and handsome one of the two, I learned quite quickly to scream long before she hit me...
I even longed for Stigmata so she wouldn't hit me at all.
My stupid brother just glared at her and sort of said 'do your worst'
I'm very pleased to report...she did.
It meant of course, she was too tired to hit me as hard.
I remember as a kid in Ashted Row, in the the middle of the Winters we had then, our house used to get really cold,
It was ok in the Kitchen with the leaded grate, it was even lovely in the Middle living room (Oh my word! MIDDLE living room, quite the snob huh?)
It was those two rooms you could cook a Pie in once the fires got really going, in fact during the really bad weather they were never allowed to die out.
But the rest of the house? Icebox City...(and if you want to know what hapened to Titus Oates, he ended up in our cubby under the stairs)
At times we would also have the odd power cut (or in our case the Electricty cut off) so out would come the candles...
It was magical to us kids back them..I never thought of my Parents though and why they hadn't got the money to pay the Electric bill etc...but then again, Kids dont do they?
Mom used to say that the blue lights in a coal or coke fire were Fairies watching over us..I carried that one down through my years and even today, my kids hear the same.
The rest of the house though was cold and damp, more than once I've put clothes on that had been hanging up in an old brown wardobe..and within 5 minutes I've began to steam because of the damp..
I still remember the Fairies though.....
There are Fairies in my Garden
And they fall down from the sky,
With broken hearts on broken wings
When children tell a lie.
There are Fairies in my garden,
If you only would believe,
Who knows what magic wonder,
That the human mind can weave?
There are Fairies in my garden
And if you want them all to die,
Then simply tell your children
That a Fairy tale's...a lie.
My daughters believe in Fairies...and why not?...their Dad does.
