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Hello, John, good to hear from you. I lived down Long Street from you in Winterdyne Place which had Mrs Spencer's little shop at its entrance. I too went to Christchurch School in the 50s, where Mr Craggs was headmaster, and then to Golden Hillock Secondary Modern in the 60s. I expect you...

Indeed, Smudger, I remember the weirdness of the stories and pictures, but living a back-street life in Birmingham I loved all that. They were so colourful and rich in imagination. I remember one tale describing a dog with "eyes as big as saucers", and never thought it scary, just intriguing.

I lived in Sparkbrook as a small boy and my first library was on Mosely Rd. I remember going along for the first time to join and then I was allowed to choose three books to take away. I was surprised they'd let me just walk out with such wonderful items and trust me to bring them back. I recall...

I think it was the River Tame I used to see when I visited Hay Mills as a lad (not sure). It looked lovely meandering through the greenery, but was sterile through pollution and I always found that sad. I would love to have been able to fish in it. I hope it's able to support fish life now...

Goddards have long been makers of polish. Their silver polish is still popular today, so that's probably them urging us to "rub it in" on that sign.

Polly in a tutu? :eek:

Two blackjacks for a farthing? I only got four for a penny. I was being robbed!

Lady P, I seem to recall those coloured Rice Krispie things from the early 60s. I can't remember the name. "Rainbow" something might have a connection, but it's vague. I do remember they weren't very filling and were soon scoffed! Regards, Ray T.

And the pram wouldn't be found propped up on bricks with its wheels missing. :rolleyes:

Oxtail stew. Now there was another staple of our family. Mom used to make it with a real ox tails, none of your trendy tinned stuff, and we'd sit holding them at each end, nibbling the meat off. Such haute cuisine! Regards, Ray T.

Probably already mentioned, but sherbet dip was a favourite of mine in the 50s. This was a packet of sherbet powder and a hard candy lolly on a stick which was repeatedly dipped in the sherbet to transfer said powder to the gob. Delicious, but my teeth never forgave me! Regards, Ray T

Hello, Viv, yes, I also grew up through the 50s with a somewhat cold father and a warm mother. I think there was a definite problem in those days with men showing emotion. Things seem to have improved a bit nowadays, anyway. Regards, Ray T

I remember in the 60s when I was knee-high to a grasshopper, running to the outdoor in the Warwick Arms in Long Street with a jug to collect a pint of bitter for my parents. And I never had to be accompanied by an adult! Regards, Ray T.

Just found this old thread and it interested me because I worked at Birmingham's Fardons in the 60s as an apprenticed electrician. I suppose the firm I worked for must have been installing new equipment or rewiring old stuff. I do recall the smell from the vats when open was so overpowering...

The hang-em and flog-em spokesman, looks like.

Indeed, surely lichens and moss have a place on long-standing headstones.

And there was Suncap (I think that was the name), bottles of orange drink with a gold foil top we used to have as kids every Sunday morning. Delivered in an open-topped lorry and always ice-cold, I remember. Delicious! Regards, Ray T.

I remember playing as a boy in the tiny garden at the front of our back-to-back that was down an entry in Sparkbrook's Long St of a Sunday morning, when there'd come the shout of, "Wakey, wakey!", from the radio inside as the Billy Cotton band show started. By then, my mother would be cooking...

I should think that canal would be the Grand Union, Vivienne. Back in the early 60s, I lived an Acocks Green and would walk our dog Butch down the "cut" of a Sunday for a walk along the towpath. It was a fair walk to the canal, mind, and then we'd tramp the towpath for a few hours before...

Thanks to all for the lovely photos of old Swanshurst park. It was a favourite stomping ground when I was a boy in late 50s.