paul stacey
master brummie
In my part of Birmingham nobody was rich enough for "Brylcream", most lads used soap or some even lard or marg UGHHHH.
-
Welcome to this forum . We are a worldwide group with a common interest in Birmingham and its history. While here, please follow a few simple rules. We ask that you respect other members, thank those who have helped you and please keep your contributions on-topic with the thread.
We do hope you enjoy your visit. BHF Admin Team
Growing Up In Brum - Roy Blakey Inspired.
- Thread starter Roy Blakey
- Start date
Roy Blakey
master brummie
A further ' step ' on the growing up ladder.
Another step for many BRUMMIE young men happened during the time they were called up and doing their National Service. For them many new lessons, experiences, adventures and disciplines developed during this period.
Most of these young men on reflection seem to take the view that this period was adventageous and useful. Albeit a bit of an awakening.
NOTE : There already exists a ' thread ' on ' National Service ' on the Forum on which to post any general N/S thoughts and experiences.
Another step for many BRUMMIE young men happened during the time they were called up and doing their National Service. For them many new lessons, experiences, adventures and disciplines developed during this period.
Most of these young men on reflection seem to take the view that this period was adventageous and useful. Albeit a bit of an awakening.
NOTE : There already exists a ' thread ' on ' National Service ' on the Forum on which to post any general N/S thoughts and experiences.
Roy Blakey
master brummie
To oldMohawk. Those photo's that you posted ( #141 ) , for me , are smack on for projecting the image of inventiveness
and making something out of nothing that the kids of that time were good at.
Just as a matter of interest , were there enough ' bikes ' available or was there a bit of sharing necessary ?
Might it also be that you are on one or both photo's ?
and making something out of nothing that the kids of that time were good at.
Just as a matter of interest , were there enough ' bikes ' available or was there a bit of sharing necessary ?
Might it also be that you are on one or both photo's ?
oldMohawk
gone but not forgotten
Hello Roy - Yes I'm in both photos standing on the right. I can't remember much about the bikes apart from most of us I never had new bikes. I do remember my kite being caught on the wires of the pylon in the 2nd photo, it hung there for months and I suppose I was lucky that my kite string wasn't wet. Four of the lads in the pics (including me) are also in some pics I put on the forum in a holiday thread click/touch/here showing us ten years later and we were still inventive because we had to make a table using branches chopped from trees.
farmerdave
master brummie
Hi Roy. I grew up in Sarehole Road, Hall Green. Although I lived towards the industrial end with the Aldis Factory (lamps, projectors etc) and the Perry's Factory (windscreens), I was lucky that our house backed onto the River Cole. To get to the river all I had to do was go out of the back garden, past some allotments to a field and then to the river. Many a hour was spent with my fishing net looking out for sticklebacks or newts. Sometimes you could see a kingfisher flashing by. On stretches of the river where it ran slowly you could collect frog spawn. I used to sometimes take this to York Road infants and junior school where it was used to show the transformation of spawn into tadpoles and then frogs. The field beside the river was used to play cowboys and Indians and hide-and-seek.
Dave
Dave
Roy Blakey
master brummie
To farmerdave. Nice story . Another Brummie lad appreciating the fresh air and having a bit of an adventure. A bit special that, spotting the Kingfisher ( a fairly rare treat ).
Roy Blakey
master brummie
A street corner FORUM.
A sketch depicting an aspect of ' Growing up in Brum '.
A sketch depicting an aspect of ' Growing up in Brum '.
rosie
brummie
Hi Roy, I love that sketch! It reminds of my friends doing handstands up the playground wall with their dresses tucked in for modesty!
I mentioned before our moke was a two seater. My brother taught me to roller skate with a cushion tied on. My stilts were made from an old clothes-horse and the neighbours used to complain about the noise as we walked up and down.
rosie.
I mentioned before our moke was a two seater. My brother taught me to roller skate with a cushion tied on. My stilts were made from an old clothes-horse and the neighbours used to complain about the noise as we walked up and down.
rosie.
Roy Blakey
master brummie
BOB and his DOG.
Our kids group, at one period ( probably around 1945 - 46 ) got together with my Uncle Bob to attempt to train a young Greyhound dog with a view to eventually racing him. Uncle Bob acquired the dog from one of his friends and was obviously very keen to make him into a ' racer '.
Uncle Bob as a young man tried to join the Army ( WW1 ) but was discovered as ' under age '. He later became a ' Shop Steward ' and eventually became a ' Union Convenor '. He played the Mouth Organ with great skill and could also play the Violin, he also loved to have a ' flutter ' on any sport that he could lay a bet on. He was a great character. All my mates loved his company.
He eventually asked us lads if we would care to help him ' train ' the young Greyhound with a view to bringing it up to
' racing standard '. We gladly accepted.
So, we would all gather on the open fields of the then unbuilt DAVIS ESTATE, Kingstanding and over a period of a few months our main method of training the dog ( as determined by Uncle Bob ) was to form up on the edge of one of the fields and then we kids would hold the dog whilst Uncle Bob walked across the field to a point about 500 yards away.
On his signal we would let the dog loose and off the dog would race to wherever Uncle Bob was. Stop watch timed.
It became slowly obvious though as time went on that although the dog had got the physical capacity for speed it's
' mind set ' was more geared to ' stopping to smell the flowers along the way '. Eventually we reluctantly gave up on the project and this sloppy but loveable dog became Uncle Bob's house pet.
But we had all enjoyed the experience and it was another bit to add to the ' learning curve ' for all of us.
Our kids group, at one period ( probably around 1945 - 46 ) got together with my Uncle Bob to attempt to train a young Greyhound dog with a view to eventually racing him. Uncle Bob acquired the dog from one of his friends and was obviously very keen to make him into a ' racer '.
Uncle Bob as a young man tried to join the Army ( WW1 ) but was discovered as ' under age '. He later became a ' Shop Steward ' and eventually became a ' Union Convenor '. He played the Mouth Organ with great skill and could also play the Violin, he also loved to have a ' flutter ' on any sport that he could lay a bet on. He was a great character. All my mates loved his company.
He eventually asked us lads if we would care to help him ' train ' the young Greyhound with a view to bringing it up to
' racing standard '. We gladly accepted.
So, we would all gather on the open fields of the then unbuilt DAVIS ESTATE, Kingstanding and over a period of a few months our main method of training the dog ( as determined by Uncle Bob ) was to form up on the edge of one of the fields and then we kids would hold the dog whilst Uncle Bob walked across the field to a point about 500 yards away.
On his signal we would let the dog loose and off the dog would race to wherever Uncle Bob was. Stop watch timed.
It became slowly obvious though as time went on that although the dog had got the physical capacity for speed it's
' mind set ' was more geared to ' stopping to smell the flowers along the way '. Eventually we reluctantly gave up on the project and this sloppy but loveable dog became Uncle Bob's house pet.
But we had all enjoyed the experience and it was another bit to add to the ' learning curve ' for all of us.
Roy Blakey
master brummie
A sketch " Growing Up ".
No one was looking out for the " Bobby ".
No one was looking out for the " Bobby ".
rosie
brummie
Bobbies on bikes.....those were the days! They seemed to know everyone too.
My Mom lived in the same house from the day she married until she died, it was "round the corner" from where she lived as a child and where my Dad was born. Everyone knew her too so I didn't dare get into trouble.
rosie.
My Mom lived in the same house from the day she married until she died, it was "round the corner" from where she lived as a child and where my Dad was born. Everyone knew her too so I didn't dare get into trouble.
rosie.
Roy Blakey
master brummie
rosie, I think that was a fair point for many young kids. The thought that they needed to keep out of too much trouble and not embarass their parents or neighbours was a primary deterrent from overstepping the mark.
Roy Blakey
master brummie
Hey up , the Bobby's coming.
The street is nigh on full of kids playing in the road. Balls, Bats and Tin Cans are flying about everywhere. Games galore are in progress.
Round the corner comes the local Bobby.
As quick as a flash the road is empty and all the kids are now stood quietly ( mostly in a line up ) on the pavement awaiting ' Inspection' as he slowly passes by. All part of the fun.
The street is nigh on full of kids playing in the road. Balls, Bats and Tin Cans are flying about everywhere. Games galore are in progress.
Round the corner comes the local Bobby.
As quick as a flash the road is empty and all the kids are now stood quietly ( mostly in a line up ) on the pavement awaiting ' Inspection' as he slowly passes by. All part of the fun.
Roy Blakey
master brummie
Why won't the Girls be the Red Indians ?
( Late 1930's ).
Just come back from from the kids Saturday morning Picture Matinee.
Another ' Buck Jones ' Cowboy and Indian film. Not bad. Good Donald Duck cartoon too. Borrowed Mom's spare ' clothes line ' when I got back and made a Lasso like the Cowboys had. Again I tried to Lasso the gate post in the back garden, still can't get it right, the noose is too ' floppy '. I wonder if a bit of ' Starch ' on it would do the trick ( better not though, it might mess up Mom's spare line ).
Never mind though I'll get my Gun Belt and Cap Gun on and go see if my mates are ready for a game of Cowboys and Indians ( Can't get anyone to play the part of the Indians though, we've tried asking the Girls but they won't do it )
I wonder if a bit of Starch would do the trick on that clothes line.
( Late 1930's ).
Just come back from from the kids Saturday morning Picture Matinee.
Another ' Buck Jones ' Cowboy and Indian film. Not bad. Good Donald Duck cartoon too. Borrowed Mom's spare ' clothes line ' when I got back and made a Lasso like the Cowboys had. Again I tried to Lasso the gate post in the back garden, still can't get it right, the noose is too ' floppy '. I wonder if a bit of ' Starch ' on it would do the trick ( better not though, it might mess up Mom's spare line ).
Never mind though I'll get my Gun Belt and Cap Gun on and go see if my mates are ready for a game of Cowboys and Indians ( Can't get anyone to play the part of the Indians though, we've tried asking the Girls but they won't do it )
I wonder if a bit of Starch would do the trick on that clothes line.
Our Saturday morning matinee at the pictures was at the Olympia on Ladypool Road and what a madhouse it was, too, full of shouting, noisy kids. A lot of the seats had been torn open so that sponge rubber could be ripped out and thrown around. Like in Roy's picture house programme, Buck Jones always seem to be the hero who came galloping over the hill to the rescue just when the Indybugs (as we called them) looked like winning. Sometimes it was the cavalry who sorted it out....and we all stood up and cheered as the goodies won yet again.
On the way home we all trotted along spanking our right buttock as though riding one of the white charges and smacking its flank to make it 'giddy up'. My favourite game, though, was when our mom allowed us to make a pair of stilts out of a spare line prop. You sawed it in half, then sawed a few inches off each part and nailed, or screwed them on, as footholds. You could look over a neighbours six-foot garden wall when stomping around on your stilts.
Did any of you make little 'tanks' out of an empty cotton real, an elastic band, a slice off a candle, a short pencil or similar? You threaded the elastic band through the centre of the cotton reel and the wick-hole off the candle fat, put the pencil through the loop at one end and half a match stick to secure it at the other end, wound the elastic up by turning the pencil in a circle making sure you didn't snap the elastic. if you then placed it on the floor or table it made a pretty good tank to go with your toy soldiers who then battered the daylights out of the Hun. I sometimes think of those home-made, elastic-band-driven tanks when I trundle around to the paper shop on my disabled buggy.....! 'Technology' has moved on, I guess.
On the way home we all trotted along spanking our right buttock as though riding one of the white charges and smacking its flank to make it 'giddy up'. My favourite game, though, was when our mom allowed us to make a pair of stilts out of a spare line prop. You sawed it in half, then sawed a few inches off each part and nailed, or screwed them on, as footholds. You could look over a neighbours six-foot garden wall when stomping around on your stilts.
Did any of you make little 'tanks' out of an empty cotton real, an elastic band, a slice off a candle, a short pencil or similar? You threaded the elastic band through the centre of the cotton reel and the wick-hole off the candle fat, put the pencil through the loop at one end and half a match stick to secure it at the other end, wound the elastic up by turning the pencil in a circle making sure you didn't snap the elastic. if you then placed it on the floor or table it made a pretty good tank to go with your toy soldiers who then battered the daylights out of the Hun. I sometimes think of those home-made, elastic-band-driven tanks when I trundle around to the paper shop on my disabled buggy.....! 'Technology' has moved on, I guess.
Smudger
master brummie
Aye Shawcross i can remember making the "tanks", but i would never have remembered how to make one. Nowt wrong with your memory lad. I do remember firing paper clips from an elastic band, very painful when you got hit. Also having "real gunfights" with air pistols (we used to wear gas masks as health & safety) They were rubbish air guns anyway, the sort were you had to push the barrel into the main body & when you pressed the trigger the barrel would shoot out. You`d be lucky to hit the side of a barn from 20 yards! Were they called "gats"? I can vaguely remember a potato gun as well, but can`t remember how they worked.
paul stacey
master brummie
My dad made great tanks out of empty cigarette packets, we kids would build dens, which we turned into space ships, old milk creates and boxes with broken branches, we went to the "Bluebell Woods", to play hide and seek, and soldiers, fighting, the enemy, who just happened to be Germans, at this time, 1950's. We climbed trees, and we went "scrumping", in the vicars garden, he had apples, pears, plumbs and gooseberry's. If you was catched by the village bobby, he gave you a good slap round the ear with his rolled up cape. We went to the "Royalty", on Saturday mornings , but I don't remember any seats being torn but we loved Flash Gordon, and Laurel and Hardy, the "Cissco Kid", and Lone Ranger were our hero's, together with the great US Cavalry. On TV, was "Wagon Train", with Ward Bond, and Highway Patrol, The Whirly Gigs, and Torchy. Great days sadly gone and never to be repeated, when Half a Crown , was a fortune, and life was one great adventure. Paul
norfolk brummie
gone but not forgotten
Dennis, Was the Olympia also known as the "fleapit", or was that the cinema on the Moseley Road by Belgrave Road, called I think, the "Moseley", but I may be wrong on that one.
Really giving one's age away is remembering school desks with ink wells, and scratchy thin wooden pens with a metal nib. But, you know what - we could really write in those days. Most young people today, with ball point pens etc, write very badly. Those old type of pens helped me to write in a "coppersmith" type of writing. Must admit I don't use it today, but I can still use it if required. In fact, I wrote the alphabet in double writing in the copperplate style for my grand daughter and she thought it was fantastic. In the classroom when I was young the alphabet would be written across the top of the blackboard, and we had to copy the letters correctly. Eddie
Really giving one's age away is remembering school desks with ink wells, and scratchy thin wooden pens with a metal nib. But, you know what - we could really write in those days. Most young people today, with ball point pens etc, write very badly. Those old type of pens helped me to write in a "coppersmith" type of writing. Must admit I don't use it today, but I can still use it if required. In fact, I wrote the alphabet in double writing in the copperplate style for my grand daughter and she thought it was fantastic. In the classroom when I was young the alphabet would be written across the top of the blackboard, and we had to copy the letters correctly. Eddie
...Smudger reckoned there was 'nowt wrong with my memory' but like, many elderly folk, it's short-term that's the problem. I sometimes can't remember what I've forgotten a moment ago or what it is I'm supposed to be trying to remember...I can rattle off Aston Villa's winning FA Cup team in 1957 and the Blues team that lost in the Final the year before but what did I have for dinner yesterday? M-m-m-m, tricky one that....
Paul's memories made me feel quite nostalgic, when 'life was a great adventure' he rightly wrote.. Building dens with anything we could find in the woods, scrumping fruit, playing cricket on the fields with an oil drum as the wickets. The hard ball made a hell of a clang...you knew you were out! Cricket also on the corner of Ansell Road/Barrows Road (where I lived at No.21), one fielder always on cop-watching duty. I remember connecting with probably the only decent off drive of my life and seeing the kitchen window of the house opposite cave in. Our Mom wasn't best pleased when the angry occupier Harry Kenny demanded to know what she was going to do about it. As it turned out it didn't matter much....a year or two after that every window in the area was blown out in one of the worst of the 'brave' Luftwaffe's air raids...there was glass everywhere when we emerged from the air raid shelter at dawn...every house had to have white fabric to replace the glass. Difficult to believe now, eh?
Paul's memories made me feel quite nostalgic, when 'life was a great adventure' he rightly wrote.. Building dens with anything we could find in the woods, scrumping fruit, playing cricket on the fields with an oil drum as the wickets. The hard ball made a hell of a clang...you knew you were out! Cricket also on the corner of Ansell Road/Barrows Road (where I lived at No.21), one fielder always on cop-watching duty. I remember connecting with probably the only decent off drive of my life and seeing the kitchen window of the house opposite cave in. Our Mom wasn't best pleased when the angry occupier Harry Kenny demanded to know what she was going to do about it. As it turned out it didn't matter much....a year or two after that every window in the area was blown out in one of the worst of the 'brave' Luftwaffe's air raids...there was glass everywhere when we emerged from the air raid shelter at dawn...every house had to have white fabric to replace the glass. Difficult to believe now, eh?
We used to make tanks with a cotton reel, a match and elastic band. Great they were too.
...yeah, it was the fleapit, Eddie. A pretty apt name, too. I think the other one was the 'Moseley' as you say. There was the Carlton not far away and, along the Coventry Road, Small Heath were the Grange, the Coronet and the Kingston.
Heck, I envy you your copperplate handwriting. My handwriting has always been awful and the biro could have something to do with it. I remember our class being instructed by a teacher to never use this new-fangled ball-point pen 'because it will ruin your handwriting'. Not long after that everyone used them with school's blessing and the old ink wells and scratching nibs disappeared. What I do remember clearly is learning the 'times tables' by all the class chanting them out until we knew them. The likes of us old wrinklies still remember them now but I'm not so sure about more recent generations.
Eddie, I don't know if you'll remember my best mate at Golden Hillock Road school.....Alfred 'Bonny' Harvey? His dad, (of the same name and nicknamne), was steward of the BSA sports and social club and they lived in the lodge by the gate to the BSA sports field on Golden Hillock Road, opposite the end of Walford Road. Bonny became a pro footballer for a while and was on Derby County's books. Boy, was he quick...
Heck, I envy you your copperplate handwriting. My handwriting has always been awful and the biro could have something to do with it. I remember our class being instructed by a teacher to never use this new-fangled ball-point pen 'because it will ruin your handwriting'. Not long after that everyone used them with school's blessing and the old ink wells and scratching nibs disappeared. What I do remember clearly is learning the 'times tables' by all the class chanting them out until we knew them. The likes of us old wrinklies still remember them now but I'm not so sure about more recent generations.
Eddie, I don't know if you'll remember my best mate at Golden Hillock Road school.....Alfred 'Bonny' Harvey? His dad, (of the same name and nicknamne), was steward of the BSA sports and social club and they lived in the lodge by the gate to the BSA sports field on Golden Hillock Road, opposite the end of Walford Road. Bonny became a pro footballer for a while and was on Derby County's books. Boy, was he quick...
brummie nick
master brummie
norfolk brummie
gone but not forgotten
Hello Dennis,
I remember the name of Alf Harvey, but cannot honestly say I knew him as a friend. I certainly recall his Dad, and the BSA Sports Ground. I recall the visit of Birmingham City footballers to the ground when they played a cricket game. Merrick, Mitchell, Jennings, Dearson etc. I vaguely remember my father talking to Alf's dad during the day.
I shall be away for a few days (visiting friends). Will sort out some photos when I return. Regards, Eddie
I remember the name of Alf Harvey, but cannot honestly say I knew him as a friend. I certainly recall his Dad, and the BSA Sports Ground. I recall the visit of Birmingham City footballers to the ground when they played a cricket game. Merrick, Mitchell, Jennings, Dearson etc. I vaguely remember my father talking to Alf's dad during the day.
I shall be away for a few days (visiting friends). Will sort out some photos when I return. Regards, Eddie
Roy Blakey
master brummie
Growing up. How about that adolescent period ? ( Childhood to Adolescent ).
As you were coming into or going through this period did you find it a bit ( maybe more than a bit ) confusing when you were informed, almost in the same breath, the following wise words by your elders :
You're not old enough yet, you'll understand better when you grow up
NEXT MINUTE
Whatever were you thinking about, you're too old for that sort of thing.
THEN
You don't want to grow up too soon
NEXT MINUTE
For heavens sake, when are you going to grow up
You can't blame yourself for thinking at the time " Jeez, who am I, what am I ".
I liked a quote I saw recently ( written by a lady ) which stated : " Adolescence is like having only enough light to see the step directly in front of you ".
I think with a ' huff ' and a ' puff ' most youngsters get through this period. Takes a it of patience though.
Bit of a ' wobbly ' time me thinks.
As you were coming into or going through this period did you find it a bit ( maybe more than a bit ) confusing when you were informed, almost in the same breath, the following wise words by your elders :
You're not old enough yet, you'll understand better when you grow up
NEXT MINUTE
Whatever were you thinking about, you're too old for that sort of thing.
THEN
You don't want to grow up too soon
NEXT MINUTE
For heavens sake, when are you going to grow up
You can't blame yourself for thinking at the time " Jeez, who am I, what am I ".
I liked a quote I saw recently ( written by a lady ) which stated : " Adolescence is like having only enough light to see the step directly in front of you ".
I think with a ' huff ' and a ' puff ' most youngsters get through this period. Takes a it of patience though.
Bit of a ' wobbly ' time me thinks.
Roy's recollections of adolescence set me thinking and I don't quite recall it like that, myself. A chance to leave school, wear long trousers at last, get a job (hundreds of vacancies in the old tabloid Birmingham Mail), try and look grown up, put a sharp crease in your new long trousers, watch schoolgirls grow into young woman, take them home from a dance (kiss them goodnight at the doorstep, twice if you were lucky, how exciting was THAT!).
The pound you earned for your first week at work seemed a fortune even after mom had had five-bob to help with the housekeeping. Pretending to be older so that you were so that could go in a pub and buy a pint of beer, learning very quickly that having too much wasn't a good idea, playing football in a local league, changing in the open on the touchline, being thrilled when you could afford to hire a changing room. Having a shower in the pavilion...!!!!! How's THAT for posh. (Still a tin bath at home though, brought in out of the coalhouse and cleared first of coal dust and the odd spider before filling it from the boiler with a fire underneath). I did that the night before I got married (July 7, 1956) and had to hold the flannel in a strategic position when neighbours came in,( through the kitchen where I was in the bath) for a stag night drink
Then I thought about the modern adolescence and all the horrible, evil stuff that kids can be, and are, exposed to and how I wish that my own great grandchildren could be given the innocent adolescence that I and millions like me enjoyed. We could go on forever, couldn't we, us oldies...!!!!
The pound you earned for your first week at work seemed a fortune even after mom had had five-bob to help with the housekeeping. Pretending to be older so that you were so that could go in a pub and buy a pint of beer, learning very quickly that having too much wasn't a good idea, playing football in a local league, changing in the open on the touchline, being thrilled when you could afford to hire a changing room. Having a shower in the pavilion...!!!!! How's THAT for posh. (Still a tin bath at home though, brought in out of the coalhouse and cleared first of coal dust and the odd spider before filling it from the boiler with a fire underneath). I did that the night before I got married (July 7, 1956) and had to hold the flannel in a strategic position when neighbours came in,( through the kitchen where I was in the bath) for a stag night drink
Then I thought about the modern adolescence and all the horrible, evil stuff that kids can be, and are, exposed to and how I wish that my own great grandchildren could be given the innocent adolescence that I and millions like me enjoyed. We could go on forever, couldn't we, us oldies...!!!!
paul stacey
master brummie
We lived in a beautiful period of the 20th century Shawcross, and I never stop being thankful for it.
Roy Blakey
master brummie
DOWN THE CANAL ( Sketch ).Make your own Fishing Rod. Requirements : (1) Two Bamboo Bean Poles ( Tied together to make an extended length )
(2) One piece of a Firewood stick ( Slimmed down and shaped to create the Float. (3) Lengths of Twine ( To tie the poles together and to connect the Float to the Rod and then to the Fishing Hook ). (4) One purchased Fish Hook ( From the Angling shop ). (5) Some Earth Worms ( From the Garden or the Canal Bank ).
Extras : One Bottle of Water ( To drink ).
Have a lovely time.
Roy Blakey
master brummie
Apologies. Reposting ' Photo Sketch ' the right way up hopefully.