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I always had a tater in my bags (Trousers) that's why my nickname was taterbag. Secondly I was watching Midsummer Murders the other night and a man kept reffering his daughter as Duck, my father used to call mom that is it Brummie? Regards, David.

Love your work Astonian, and realise what our history means to so many people. The stories we heard about the hall would make your hair stand on end and even if ten percent only were true that still leaves a lot of bone chilling terror. Different times though and those involved long gone. Oliver...

I spent many happy hours in Sutton Library on the same side as Gill's , The Seven Hour Cleaners on the oposite side, the back row of the Empress and the Odeon, dancing at Maney Hall and on the right hand side going up Sutton Hill towards Four Oaks there was a high up wood working school run by...

Sounds like Gladstone Street in the thirties, cobblestones, fog, horse muck, running gutters, smell from HP Sauce and Atkinson's Brewery and a lovely sense of belonging to the finest people you'd ever wish to meet anywhere. Kind Regards, David..

Nearly choked on my faggots and peas when I read this one Bernard, went all down mi gansy and slopped on mi bags something 'orrible. Made my Day and thanks. Kind regards, David.

Frank Flight was a friend of my father's so once again old memories are stirred up by this forum. Lovely stuff. Regards, David.

Hey Lucy, spend as much time on the forum as you can, made me smile heaps. Regards, David

My Dad's Coal 'Oss had lips like velvet and when I cupped an apple half in my hand dad used to say, 'Flatten yand lad an you wum be bitten'. Regards, David

Please don't change it too much just keep it as I remember it in the thirties. Cool green grass, children's playground opposite the Villa Ground, the rose garden near the Aston Hall and all those wonderful stories about tunnels leading to Aston Church, Thomas Holte locking his daughter in the...

Hello David, my father always had horses in the early days of my childhood. Granddad Weaver had coal barges on the canal and dad used to empty them. He also had horses in the coalyard in Gladstone Street and I used to go down the stable with him to give the horse and apple while he curry combed...

Hey Stitcher that brings back an early memory of mine. Children Christened at Aston Church in the thirties used to get a birthday card every year up to age five. I distincly remember getting my fifth and was so impressed it was still siiting in the memory bank. Regards, David.

Hey Jean how's this then. Dad's cart horse trod on my foot in the coal yard when I was about five. I was blarting my lungs out, Granny White withered the horse for being only fir for glue, my sister grizzled because she wasn't getting any attention and dad struck a match on his cordroy trousers...

Hey Jean, I have my grandkids over for a few days and they don't stop grumbling. Whats for dinner Grandpa? Can we go into the park Grandpa to feed the ducks? Can we have another lesson driving your mobile scooter Grandpa? Grumble, Grumble, Grumble. Wouldn't be dead for quids though, can't beat...

Sorry to do this but where is Gladstone Street. I'm lost. Regards, David.

Reminds me when I used to pull the coalbags to the side of the lorry when I was an anklebiter. Thanks for old memories. Regards, David.

Hey Stitcher, my sister was the licencee of The Sailers Return just out of Brum on the Aston Side. Everyone reckoned it was haunted and there were some very strange happenings in the place with glasses flying unaided and coasters following them. Never believed in that stuff myself but my mother...

Hey mr mick, my email address is xxxxxxxxxxx. Send me yours and I'll start the ball rolling but don't mess around, my mate is very sick. Regards, David.

Ah Astonian, I can smell the smoke from here, well done old fella would bring a homesick tear to a glass eye. They reckon 95% of the Aston population started off in 'Lover's Walk' but I doubt it very much, no more than 80% I'd reckon. Regards, David.

An Italian man used to cycle around Aston before the war, he had a box on the front with the ice cream in it. We used to run after him singing, 'Oh no Antonio he's gone away, left me on my ownio, all on my onio, I'd like to meet him with his new sweatheart, and up would go Antonio with his ice...

Hello Wendy, and thanks for your kind thoughts. I was lucky to get him on the telephone just before he died as the nurse in Dudley Road hospital managed to get a telephone to him and we said our goodbye's. Hard being so far away on the other side of the world. Regards, David.