http://looeandpolperro.freeforums.org/images/smilies/shh1.gifGentlemen may I quietly whisper to you both just how much I am enjoying reading your reminiscences.
thanks for nurturing the spinal cords solo otherwise they can shrivel up and die!!
Where would we be without cords 
Thatâs the way I get when I drink the poitin Solo, stay away from it if you ever cross the Irish sea. ;-)
One of my neighbours called in today, she wanted me to put a piece into her wedding ring as itâs gone way too small to wear, (her words) she never thought her finger was way too fat for the ring, rings donât just go small by themselves. I did the job for her straight away as I donât like having other peoples stuff around for long, it fitted perfect and she paid me and that was that, this woman never smiles, a real sour puss, I never liked her but sheâs a friend of the wife and Itâs best to keep the missus happy.
She works in the nearby hospital, I told the wife they have a new procedure there now and only folks like her can do it, itâs called turning stomachs. She was not amused.
reminds me of the story of the guy who went into hospital to have his spine removed - that had to carry him home in a bucket!!
To be sure now Jem I cannot even gargle with the waters of life before Iâm overtaken. No doubt the cause being I have only the half o me thatâs oirish an all
[CENTER]Corner Nostalgioso â Issue 3
A Special â the English Country Rose Fete[/CENTER]
Thought Iâd put this special in as a supporter of the Rose Fete. Read with dismay on a local webpage news recently that despite surviving for 75 years it may very well not continue through lack of support and expertise! Come on you young guys and gals, give us oldies a bit of support too. A Rose Fete in the 50âs was an amazing event. It was a bit like Christmas in June/July. Here in Western Australia we actually do celebrate âChristmas in Julyâ. July is in the middle of winter, and pretty cold. So some of us crazy gals and guys, take off for weekends and hols in the south of the state, which is the coldest part and celebrate âChristmas in Julyâ, with real Christmas food, cards and celebrations!
A Cheshire village in the 50âs was pretty quiet and the two main exciting times were the summer rose fete and Christmas. The rose fete of course attracted the traveling fair, and that was a week or two of excitement and âthe big night out syndromeâ! Whether it rained or shone, it didnât matter. The fair ground was a honey pot to the âbeesâ of the village. We strutted are thing and met the girls for a fling. I managed to catch the last night of the fair in July â99. It was much smaller than I remembered and one of the stall holders confirmed the fact. The fair ground seemed to be loosing itâs appeal to modern entertainment and technology.
In the 50âs the fair took up the whole field practically and had every imaginable event. Dodgem cars, boxing rings where you could fight the resident boxer and win a quid or two. Ferris wheels, merry go rounds, hot dog stands etc etc. For us it was magic and we felt like kings for the night. I remember we all got dressed up in our best jeans, shirts and for some of us cravats and kept trying to bump into as many girls as we could and dare them to try the more dangerous rides.
In â99 on my return after 37 years away we turned out for the another local Rose Fete. A much smaller place and event than the my own village one. So come on donât âthrow the baby out with the bath waterâ. We can enjoy the new technologies but letâs retain some of the old world charm as well and support the revival of the âEnglish Rose Feteâ. It doesnât after all have to be exactly as it was in the 50âs. What about a ânew ageâ rose fete with modern themes and space âaged displays. Remember âachievement is only limited by a lack of imaginationâ
You seemed to have had a happy childhood and on into youth Gumbud, it makes a lot of difference to a person I think. Iâm enjoying your memories.
Nowdays the trend seems to be to blame the parents for everything thats wrong in folks lives, (Iâm not saying there are no bad parents) but itâs not right in my book, and itâs encouraged by officialdom,(probably cheaper than finding and treating the real cause) most parents did the best they could under the circumstances, beside itâs easy to blame someone when theyâre not here to defend themselves. We had very little to live on but we were very happy kids and we adored our parents.
AHâŠyâsee,I grew up [ish] in the Shetlands.
I was in a childrenâs refuge,but it was a magical time,as we kids all used to just rip our togs off and leg it over the cliff into the sea,swim out to âthe willyâ [a vertical pole of rock around 40 feet high] which was around a 1/4 mileâŠthen spend happy hours having climbed it to the flat summit,throwing each other off the thing. Seems strange to relate,but itâs true. I can recall the first time I was brought to the mainland going for a swimming lesson [which were compulsory at that time] in a public swimming bath-and very nearly choking to death as Iâd never heard of chlorine. When the teacher asked me what my problem was and I explained the water tasted like bleach,he explained about chlorineâŠand I got detention for a week AND 500 lines for shouting âWhat? You mainlanders swim in each otherâs piss???..YUK!â
YesâŠsilly to hear in this modern timeâŠbut we kids from the islands had never heard of such a thing. Ainât life just weirdâŠ
Lurve the memories chums, I am taking a back seat for a bit longer & am off to the Lake District for a retreat shortly.
Enjoy your retreat RJ and safe journey to you
Observing todays children we were undoubtedly far happier for the lack of material things. We made our own fun out of things we foundâŠor âborrowedâ.
Bogeys (Carts) were built from scraps of wood, a couple of wheels with a bit of rope for handle. You were always pushed off from the highest point we could find and if you went hell for leather downwards and stayed on, it was the best ride of your then life. (if you werenât popular you got got pushed even harder in the hope you would fall off). And I have never worked out why boys were the only ones to always lose their front teeth when it crashed. We girls never did!
Cricket was played on the street or a nearby field but off course girls were not allowed to play, but we could field.
We were sent out to play early morning with a doorstop buttie and a bottle of lemon barley water and spent the day playing in rivers, fields and hills being captured by Indians and rescued by pirates, and the only thing we feared was getting home late and having to face an irate Mother, who no matter that we had saved the world from total destruction, would always threaten to give you away to the gypsies the next time they were in town.
What luck it was to be be born when we were.
We had great fun with the carts or trollies as they were called here, there was always some older fella who knew how to make them up at a price, the wheels were made from steel ball bearings and the roar of several trollies racing down the street was like thunder, very little traffic on the street then.
On cold Winter evenings we would dip sacks into a bucket of water and wet the street to make slides, when it froze over we would run along for a bit then get down on your âHunkersâ (Your bum) using a pair of old shoes to sit on and slide. Great fun, so much so that come bed time we had to be dragged in pleading all the way to stay out for another ten minutes.:-)
âŠand donât forget scrumping! It was almost considered a right of passage to go scrumping successfullyâŠohhhh,the times we arrived back at the home with a jumper full of apples/pears/damsons/gooseberries etc [depending on place & time,natch] and matron would scold us for being thieves-then make us apple crumble for tea. If you didnât have bramble scratches and a few thorn-rips,you werenât trying hard enoughâŠand tomorrow,weâre going to make a raft! [wellâŠTRY to-we always seemed to sink JUST at the furthest point from dry land;but sâall part of the fun,innit!]
yes I remember scrumping vividly and was amazed that we never got caught - but we didnât hang about too much in and out in a flash.
[CENTER]Corner Nostalgioso â Issue 4
[/CENTER]
[CENTER]Social Life for Teens in the 50âs[/CENTER]
There was social life before girls and social life after girls. Looking back I think the former was definitely more fun. Sorry ladies! Firstly there was no cinema in our small village the nearest being 6-7 miles away in the next larger town, But, I think regular cinema going came into the âsocial life with girlsâ era.
Secondly there were no computers available and no computer games. But the old saying âwe made our ownâ fun was true and we had plenty of it. Looking back and analyzing it with hindsight, I would say that we certainly had more direct contact with our outside environment and nature. Staying indoors for socializing was never a good option. We usually had a collection of âmatesâ from within a small radius of surrounding streets, lanes, drives or avenues. After homework was rushed and finished we got out and about. Apart from the odd game of soccer and cricket, we often headed for the woods and surrounding hillside areas These areas were a treasure trove for rabbit hunting, frog spawn collecting and âJohn Wayne â western type gamesâ.
We could keep ourselves amused for days. I remember vividly in the summer months playing in the wheat fields that were adjacent to the newly built housing estates and often getting chased off by irate farm workers. The nearest river was of course another favorite spot, were we would gather raspberries and strawberries for pie making and head for a swim. It was pretty brown in color in those days and after reading some local notes on factory pollution I am beginning to wonder how we survived.
The challenge in those days was to swim the whole breadth of the river from our village side to the opposing village side, which appeared from a distance as a foreign country with foreigners living there! My uncle initiated the ceremony for me. First by getting me to swim a certain length of the river and then after he was confident I could make it, set out alongside of me to swim the breadth. I had much less confident but plenty of determination. As I got to the middle of the river my anxiety increased. Then I realized that turning back was the same distance as going on. I made the other side exhausted, but happy for a short while, until it dawned on me that I know had to swim back. But with some re-newed confidence this was achieved more nonchantly!
Another more formal side of village life was the clubs and associations. We had a choice of Boy Scouts, or a newly formed Boys Brigade. The BB uniform and band seemed more appealing so a group of us joined. The uniform was quite simple, a hat that sat on the side of the head, a leather belt with a white blancoed bag attached that never carried anything and that was it. We were advised to wear a dark jacket and trousers, and as most teenagers had a dark jacket for school in those days, that was no problem.
There was a whole range of activities available each week including drill marching and playing in the BB band. The only downside to the whole thing was the insistence on going to the Methodist church each Sunday, which some of us wagged of course. We hadnât fully realized that the BB was an offshoot of the church and designed to teach boys discipline and good Christian ethics! Still we put up with the religious side for the sake of the social side. The head officer was a kindly man, but always seemed very serious and not prone to too much laughter. He had in fact started the association from scratch.
Next issue â social life part 2 â it must be the entry of the girls!
Ah,yesâŠthat would be around 1964,which heralded the entrance into my visual awareness of two girls in particular - Angela Spice & Thelma Carr.
Prior to their entry into my otherwise female-free existence,girls had been merely creatures who had but two uses-scaring,and impressing. Then,those two arrived at the home I was in at the timeâŠand Thelma Carr in particular suddenly ruined my idea of girls as âdolly collectorsâ by being better than me at climbing treesâŠwell,THE tree,that grew on the green beside the home. Now,in and of itself,that wasnât such a big deal-but as she whizzed up the tree ahead of meâŠI saw her knickers!!! Yep-that was in 1964,the year I [admittedly accidentally] very first saw up a girlâs skirt.
BUT,it was a profound moment,for from that moment on,I never,not once,ever managed to be ahead of her when we climbed ANY treeâŠ#sigh#
Alison SpiceâŠwell,she was more sophisticated. Alison was good at-and interested-in âDomestic Scienceâ lessons,which invariably included baking cakes;invariably,when walking back to the home from school [yes,we used to WALK the 2 miles to school,not be driven by a glamour-model in the latest 4x4!] sheâd have a round tin in the crook of her arm with her latest cooking triumphs in it-and always,she offered me the first cake! Now-I realised I âlikedâ her,but had NO idea how or what to do about itâŠso weâd walk along the lane,eating her cakes and talking about whatever was in our minds. At the time,Yuri Gagarin was her hero,so I detested himâŠwithout really knowing why. Oh,the onset of puberty can be such a cruel & confusing time for a young chap. Both of them were still resident when I was [yet again] suddenly whisked off to the next home,so I never saw either of them againâŠbut Iâve never forgotten them,eitherâŠ#sigh no2#
ah Pug me old mucker, me old mate, me old cobber that was really a very sad story - NOW pick yaself up ; brush yaself down and get on wiv the rest of ya testosteroned filled life!!
Well,in trufe,I look at me now,compare me to thenâŠand the only thing thatâs changed is my age. On the outside,Iâm in my 60s,a battered,scarred and somewhat knackered vestige of those younger times. But on the INSIDE,ahâŠon the inside,Iâm still nearly eleven,happily making catapults, racing my pooches along the beach let them win] putting a housebrick in an empty cornflakes box and leaving it standing upright on the pavementâŠ[snigger]âŠand recalling Thelma âbestingâ me in tree climbing. I grew older,but somehow,growing up passed me byâŠand I donât give a hoot. I do my âMr Responsibleâ bit when Iâm at work-other than that,life is a playground and youâre âitâ!
You have the right idea Pug, good for you, your a man after me own heart.
Wasnât Oscar Wilde arrested for jokingly saying to another chap âYour a man after my own arseâ? or was it the other way around?;-)
[CENTER]Corner Nostalgioso â Issue 5
Social Life for Teens in the 50âs âpart 2
[/CENTER]
Social life for everyone in those days, in the small villages, often did emanate from the village churches. I remember volunteering to be an altar boy at the Church of England before I switched allegiance to the Methodist church. Although I had several training sessions on preparing the wine and bread and handing it to the Minister just at the required time, I never did get the timing quite right, and usually had to be prompted.
The minister, whose name escapes me without handy records, was a rather older, serious fellow, with a sense of humor I never managed to detect! I recall that I also had a stint in the choir group too. Despite his serious nature, I do remember the church hall being used for social events from table tennis tournaments, and later local rock and roll groups, so he couldnât have been to serious after all!
Table tennis was of course still a major indoor sport and we played in the county league and traveled all over each week, come hail, rain or shine to win or lose. I recall one vivid night, sometime in November. At this stage I had acquired a Dot scramble bike and I had taken another player as pillion rider. The outward journey was in half day light and fairly clear weather. Imagine our dismay at 10.30 pm on finding thick fog. Well we were stuck in some isolated village, so decided to head back home regardless. I was driving the bike with this much taller friend on the back. The headlights were of no use at all to see with, but I suppose warned others of our approach. We started off reasonable well, but half way through the journey had lost our sense of direction completely, and were sailing along on a wing and a pray. Suddenly without warning we hit a hedge and kept ploughing through it. I was bent over the handlebars peering into the night, whilst my mate was sitting upright on the back looking over my head. So unfortunately he got the full impact of the hedge. We both used superlatives which I think are still used today! The impact stopped the bike, and we got off unhurt, pulled it out of the hedge and continued more slowly and cautiously on our way, and finally arrived home much later.
The father of a close friend of mine, also in the Boys Brigade was the caretaker of the Methodist church and they lived in a rent free cottage at the back. So his son and I were co-opted to help clean the chapel hall and move the pews around. However there was an upside to the deal, we were allowed to use the hall anytime almost day or night, when not in use. The main attraction for us was a three quarter size billiard table. We spent many days and hours practicing our billiard and snooker game in absolute peace and quiet.
Transportation suddenly improves â Bus services were limited in those days, but to walk around the village was easy to do and a great way to keep fit. However our dream was to get our own personal transport system. So we all hung out for a bike of some sort. Top of the range was the racing bike with derailleur gears, next the racer with three speed and finally the âsit up and begâ, usually a heavy and steadier bike. Bikes opened up our social life considerably. We could now move all over Cheshire within certain limits and did. Once Iâd got my three speed racer, I struck a deal with my parents. Well I thought I had but being somewhat benevolent, I think they thought of the idea first. The money that was spent on the school bus fares now went into my pocket. So the ten shillings, plus another ten shillings from a paper round and then seasonal farm work, put be in the big spending league!
Great read Gumbud.
Well fancy you being an Altar boy, so was I, I didnât know your lot had Altar boys too, they used to say the Altar boys turn out to be the worst, not so at all.
I did join the choir but I didnât last long.