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I have a secret & other Stories

  • Thread starter Thread starter Kandor
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Kandor

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As a young boy, I used to go down into the cellar and lick coal...

The first Snowfall

I've been reading various messages here and how I envy people writing about clearing snow.
There is nothing that takes me back like watching snow fall just around Christmas.
We dont have it much here anymore, I suppose changing weather patterns etc..and I'm not silly enough to think all my Christmas's were white as a child, but I do remember it snowed at some stage every year.
My sister Rita and me would put on a coat (we only had one between us
then we'd go up to the chicken pen and sit in there watching the first flakes fall.
So to all our Canadian and American friends...dont look upon it as a bad thing..I honestly wish it was like that here.

Those Handbags and Gladrags

I was a compulsive sleeve eater when I was about 8.
Considering my clothes were rags anyway, at the end of the week I looked like a medieaval peasent.
My shorts were too long, my shirts too big..(with the top button done up, I could still pull it over my head.
And my legs in oversized wellies looked like a spoon in a teacup.
We used to get some of our clothes from Army surplus stores..
many's the time I went to school dressed as a Japanese General.
(Ok, thats a fib, but I had to get a golden oldie like that one in.)
Add to that my purple head, basin haircut..I reckon I cut quite a dash.

Things I Dont Miss From The Fifties

Itchy army blankets on the bed.
a Po UNDER the bed.
My Mom sitting on the upstairs windowsill with the window slid up, then pulled down on her lap so she could clean the windows.
No hot water.
Silverfish and mice.
Rancid butter.
selling firewood.
No TV.
No clothes except hand me downs.
always feeling just that little bit hungry.
my horrible next door neighbour.

No wonder I was a virgin until I was 46..twitch...twitch.

I can only swim so far...

We used to go up my Moms hometown of South Shields every Summer
for our holidays and for my Mom to re-hone her Geordie accent, me..I just used to nod and smile 'cos I couldn't understand a word.
But before you envy me, let me just say, I cant actually remember the sun shining.
I DO remember being on Marsden Beach in biting 100mph winds
Our main fun was dragging the dead carcasses of Polar bears and Penguins around that had perished from the cold...
We were poor (sniff) but we were happy..
I vaguely remember crossing the Tyne to go to the Spanish City and Whitley Bay, what we actually did there (apart from enjoying the cold in a new location) escapes me..
The only time in my whole Life I remember doing something with my Dad was in South Shields, He hired a little rowing boat and set off around the bay..
There were two major snags in this,
1) Dad couldn't row.
2) He was as drunk as a skunk in a bunk
On our 5th day at sea, I remember being shadowed by a Russian submarine just off Iceland...
I swear to this day, they never even tried to help us...
 
I'm Silly

Lol I always remember Xmas as a snowy time of year, even though I know that wasnt so? I guess it's because those Xmas's that were memorable for whatever reason, it had indeed snowed. Mom always put a Parrafin heater in the room at Xmas, so we didnt freeze, so I also associate the smell of Parrafin with Christmas.

We didnt have a po in our bedroom, we had a bucket, but then a po wouldnt have been up to the job with six of us sharing that tiny bedroom. I'll skip further detail here :wink:

I hated the taste of "BEST" Butter I used to eat the Ordinary Butter(Margarine) but even better, I liked the taste of lard with salt sprinkled on it, in fact I still do!! but I dont partake of this disgusting habit no more. :lol:

I liked fetching the bundles of firewood for neighbours, it usually meant getting my hands on a good sized "Laccy Band" this could be used for many things, but the two that stick out in my mind are, flicking my brothers bum, I'd usually get chased and battered for that, but oh wat fun!!! The other, and far more disgusting use of the Elastic would be to assasinate flies..... YUCK :cry:
 
A Bucket?

You must have had big bums in your family Rod
The Robinsons had a thimble each we were that pert. :lol:

I only remember it as a big hole in the ground, literally an old 'bomb peck'
From what I gather Holbrooks was a Pickling Factory or something and took a direct bombing hit in the War...you can correct me on this as I'm not that clear on how it came to be derelict nor what it produced.
Holbrooks ran alongside Ashted Row and from the top of a 55 or 56 bus, you could see into its ruins.
There were a row of little cellars half exposed touching up to the Ashted Row side and the one year we found some Steel Helmets and a few gas masks (Now these were put to excellent use as I shared a bed with three brothers)..
I remember it was the scene of many battles as we each built forts and horded loads of stones for our next epic battle..
The one year in our newest stronghold, Derek had lit a fire and Alan had got hold of some potatoes ...on a late Autumn night we held the potatoes on sticks and burnt them to a cinder as we talked into the night...we never spoke of dreams nor of faraway places, that was beyond us then..and we never spoke of tomorrow...I was 12 and we only talked of today.
And the burnt Potatoes?
The food was lovely and the company...ahh the company...was great.
 
Reel butta.

Funny that Rod, I used to love margarine, in fact that's all we ever could afford, and now if someone tries to spread marge on my toast, (or for that case Homer) I go barmy..
I'm a 'Reel Butta' guy myself.
I guess its because you Brummies were poor,
As I'm not from Brum, I guess I only slipped into poverty, I wasn't born into it.

I remember once tipping 846 Marbles down the hill at Erskine St.
(I know that figure is correct, I really do have a near photograhic memory for figures...sorry to boast there)
I was about 14 and really just a bit too old for those games..silly really, we seem all too quick to let our childhood go..(unless of course you listen to my Wife's opinion)
I remember I had told a load of little kids that I was going to do exactly that and there was an Army of them down the bottom trying to collect them.
Nechells in those days was highly user unfriendly, But the reason I think the streets were alive and buzzing was because so many families lived in high rise blocks or Maisonettes, very few had gardens and they all poured out onto the streets as soon as the sun shone.
That was the problem with 'New Nechells'...the higher the buildings, the less you could see the stars.
How can you build Community spirit on the 7th floor?
I remember the official opening of the Steam Train at the top of Hindlow Close.
It had been all boarded up for the official opening, when they took the boards down they found it had been stripped of all its brass and scrap metal..
I know who did it too..
To my eternal shame it was my elder brother (by 3 years) Robert.
I wish he hadn't but we were just kids from Nechells...
Times were hard and we did what we could to survive.

I remember around the time I started Duddeston Manor School that it was then I found I was also becoming aware of World events,
The Vietnamese War was just starting up and we were able to see it in all its horror., the fact it was in black and white made it no less gruesome.
The Americans were frightened of a further spread of Communism and a line from a Don Mclean song spins through my head as I write this,
'We had to bomb their cities 'cos they wouldn't agree, that things go better with Democracy'
The sheer duality and stupidity of it fills my mind.
Oh, well, back to the story of my days...
I suppose...
I often used to think I had a hard and sad life. now as I enter my 52nd year I realise it was no worse or better than anyone else.
OK, losing my Mom was a pretty big blow at what was a sensitive age, but I guess that's a story that could be screamed out all over the world.
What I haven't mentioned is the laughter..
Of my three brothers and three sisters, I am easily the least funny.
(I know, I know, it shows in my writing)
There have been days I have hurt through laughter and I'll tell you something, for every tear of sadness I've shed, I've wept 10 of happiness, how many people can say that? not many I bet.
I have a brother called Peter, I tell you now, he's the funniest man I've ever known in my life, I'm trying to get him signed up here and I really hope I can, for a start, he's a natural storyteller and he has a memory that's near photographic
Ahhh well, time to strip off...
That damned wallpaper

As wood for the fire was fairly abundant during the last days of old Nechells (prior to building Bradburne Way etc) we always seemd to have a roaring fire in our back room...I can remember walking home one lunchtime and I cut through the building site that was as I just said, Bradburne Way.
I used to wear Wellies a lot in those days (Feet froze in Winter, sloshed in Summer)
I can easily recall jumping in and out of the numerous puddles on my 800 yard walk back home for Lunch, Mom never let us stay School Dinners in those day, we had a particulary sadistic Teacher who used to say 'Paying School Dinners, come up here please, all the 'Free' wait at the back..' even then I had too much pride to be humiliated that way and be stood up in front of my class for ridicule..But anyway, I digress...
I was on about my 15th puddle and with a mighty leap up I went...and down I came...right up to my waist!...Wahhhhh! I was soaked in brown mud up to my neck..
I waddled home and my Mom upon seeing me went barmy.
The simple truth is, I had no other clothes to wear, so Mom had to let me have the afternoon off as my clothes were washed and ironed,
(Now comes the disaster)
Mom put my wellies next to a roaring log fire to dry out...it had to happen really...my right welly half melted and twisted round on itself..like a letter 'L' and the other one was like an 'I'...here, I'll put them together so you can see what I mean, now, this was my new genetically modified wellies standing together
I L
Of course it was all MY fault..if I hadn't jumped in the puddle then Mom wouldn't have had to dry my wellies out and then they would'nt have melted, stupid boy!
Well as I said, I had no other clothing...nor for that matter, footwear..
I walked to school like a crab learning ballroom..3 forward, 2 back...
I remember walking past two gossipping women as they stopped talking to let me pass by..
'Oh Doris, just look at that poor crippled little boy having to walk to school like that'
'Yes' said Doris, 'But hasn't he got nice wellingtons on?'.....
(ok, I made that last bit up, but you get my drift)
 
:D That 'Bomb Peck' Holbrooks that you talk about, is the place where I used to chuck 'My Papers' :oops: the ones that I couln't be bothered to deliver before school in case I was late. I worked for Harbons on Gt Lister St and I had to walk all the way from there up to Ashted Row. As that was where my round started and was supposed to finish, with the last paper, 'The Financial Times' going to Dr O'Keith. As I only had short legs it took me a lot longer than the time allocated, so any left in 'the bag ' at 8:20 went over the big fence and off home and then to school I went :) . Dr O'Keith and his daughter finally complained and I was threatened with the sack :cry: . Another time I arrived at Cardigan Works in Cardigan St only to find that the place had burnt down in the night, the fire-fighters were still dampening the place down and one of them got a free paper that day :wink: . I think that I may have mentioned before also that I stole a full sized picture of 'ELVIS 'out of one of the papers and said it had fallen into a puddle, so I had thrown it away :twisted: . I Bet they were real glad when I packed in 'My Paper Round' :D . Kandor hope you didn't get your papers from Harbons, as yours would have been one of the over the fence papers, living in Hindlow Pl as you did :!:
 
Harbons..

But I did get my papers from Harborns! for some unknown reason I remember them as Bennets when they moved to Revesby walk, the owner
was a white haired Professor looking type of guy..it was him who gave me my first paper round, no wonder I'm illiterate Chris! it was all your fault, I had nothing to read....
 
:D Thats right Mr Harbon was a white haired man, he nicked named me "Shoot ', thought if he said it often enough I would (shoot up) grow. His daughter also worked in the shop, she was the one who 'Put up ' the papers. The paper round you memtioned in your other post 'The Towers' was the round that my sister did until around Aug 1962 when she left school.
 
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