Gothic Horror Delicous Fright

November 1, 2018 by

GOTHIC HORROR – DELICOUS FRIGHT
If you ‘google’ gothic it says Gothic: belonging to our redolent of the dark ages, portentously gloomy and horrifying. This worked well with the Victorian’s morbid preoccupation with death and all thing black
I was born In the 1930s before the advent of TV and there were only black and white films at the cinema. This type of film seemed to revel in the gothic – Boris Karloff in ‘The Old Dark House’ was a prime example. If the film opened to a dark brooding mansion with lightening flashing you knew you were in for a bit of gothic horror and a fright.
There was a radio programme on Thursday nights at 9.30 p.m. called ‘Appointment with Fear’; these were tales of horror read by the velvet tones of Valentine Dyall. These tales terrified and delighted me in equal measure. Stories set your imagination racing to an extent that film can never match. My parents used to say, ‘You can’t stay up to listen to those awful stories it’s passed your bedtime and anyway they’ll give you nightmares.’ but I begged them to let me stay up and listen and they usually gave in to me. The Beast with Five Fingers, The Hands of Nekamen, The Middle Toe of the Right Foot and Mrs Amworth I think that tale frightened me most of all Mrs Amworth was a vampire who came knocking on a sick little boy’s bedroom window. Of course Mam and dad were right; when I went to bed I would look under the bed and hide under the covers.
It was not surprising that I was nervous in that bedroom as we lived in a huge Jacobean house on Lord Halifax’s estate in Knostrop. We only rented the house of course all the properties in Knostrop belonged to the Temple Newsam estate and all were devoid of electricity and not even gas in the bedrooms, I had to go to bed with a candle in a candle stick like Wee Willy Winky. The bedroom I slept in was a huge oak panelled affair and the ivy that grew on the outside walls had forced its way through the brickwork and was growing down the inside walls. Particularly scary for me was a panel which was of a brown fabric rather than the normal oak ones and running down the centre from behind was a ‘knobbly’ line of little bumps that had me in mind of the back bone of a skeleton being walled up behind. That is not to say I didn’t love that old house, I have never loved one more but it was a bit scary to a young lad with a vivid imagination.
I would have been about ten or eleven when a film came to our local big hutch of a picture house: Bud Abbot and Lou Castello in Abbot and Costello Meet the Ghosts. I suppose with those two in it, it was supposed to have been a comedy and probably it was to adults but for us kids it was a whole new experience, the class at school was buzzing about that film for a week, we were introduced to Wolf man, Frankenstein and particularly Dracula. The first time we see him we are shown a coffin with a candlestick on the lid, very slowly the candlestick starts to slide as the lid begins to open with a creak and then a hand grasps the edge of the coffin from inside. Wow! What an introduction to the vampire.
Universal Studios of America produced three vampire films in the early 1930s: Dracula, The Mark of the Vampire and The Vampire Returns. The main protagonist for the part of Dracula was played by Bella Lugosi – he of the black staring eye. Those early black and white vampire films might seem a bit jerky and corny today but at the time they were a new innovation, previously the monster had always turned out to be a man and brought to justice but Dracula he was the real McCoy, they shocked people and broke new ground.
So these films introduced me to ‘delicious fright’ and my imagination ran riot when I was in scary surroundings, for instance I was an altar boy at St Hilda’s Church at the time and sometimes I had to serve at the seven a.m. mass in the middle of winter when it was still dark. I would push my way through the great church door into the nave, which was pitch black, and no one else about some times there would be a coffin in the centre aisle where some poor soul had been left overnight before the morrow’s funeral. Then it was down a long dark passageway, still no light, and into the vestry where the cassocks and surpluses were kept behind a big black curtain, when I stood in front of that curtain I would think when I pull that curtain back ‘The Count’ will be waiting to grab me.
It was no better at home if you needed to go to the outside toilet in the middle of the night (which thankfully was rare at that age), I had to descend the oak staircase without a candle – I was not allowed to light a candle in case I burnt the house down – then into the kitchen where I would try to cajole the dog out of his nice warm bed to accompany me, he wasn’t happy but usually came with me then it was through a stone pantry up some steps into a washhouse and then out into the garden where the huge brick toilet lay in an veritable wind tunnel, by the time you got there you felt a long way from safety and civilization. On one occasion the dog who was sat alongside me suddenly gave out a great howl and the hackles stood up on his neck, I thought Dracula and all his mates were after me, I was back in bed and under the covers before he’d finished howling.
Knostrop in the ‘black out’ years added to the Gothic Horror there were a few old scary mansions there and one ‘Rider’s’ as we called it was necessary to be passed on our way to the ‘top’ as we called it. Knostrop was in a valley there were only houses no shops so if we wanted anything – fish and chips for instance – we had to walk to the top of the hill in complete darkness all the lamps were out due to the air raids. The gateway to Rider’s mansion was always the worst part it was always open and the interior seemed to lead to even deeper blackness. If you got past Riders you thought you were OK But of course you had to pass it again on your back down. Pauline, a lovely lass who lived next door, used to say, ‘When I go past Rider’s I call on my guardian angel to keep me safe.’

So, I had developed this fascination with vampire films, when we were lads a group of us used to go to the cinema and we’d take it turns to pick the film we would see. When it was my turn I always picked a vampire film which exasperated the rest of the lads a bit. Colin, god rest his soul once said, ‘Not another vamp film – you’re going to be a vampire you when you die, the fust fat ‘un’.
In the modern era I’m disappointed how the vampire myth has been prostituted and watered down to suit todays audiences who like crash bang films. I know it was only a myth to begin with but it was a good ‘un based on the tenets of vampire lore used by stoker in Dracula and those who set those tenets even before him: The vampire has to sleep in a coffin sprinkled with his native earth by day, direct sunlight can destroy him, he can’t cross running water, has no reflection in a mirror, doesn’t like crucifixes, garlic and holy water, he is invulnerable in the hours of darkness, has amazing strength, can change himself into a bat or wolf, can change local weather conditions usually making fog, can be killed by a stake through the heart but otherwise can live for ever.
My mother told me that when the stage play of Dracula was shown at the theatre Royal Leeds in the early twenties St John’s Ambulance Service personnel were on hand to minister to those who fainted with fright. Now vampires are not scary anymore they have vampire films for kids: The Little Vampire, Count Duckula. Instead of just the one vampire that nobody believes is slowly and climatically introduced they have armies of vampires being shot at by folk with wooden stakes

Max Schreck in Nosferatu
fired by crossbows. In the Vampire Diaries vampires are college students, heroes, lovers. One is tempted to think that making them vampires is just an excuse for giving ordinary guys super powers. If you dropped Max Schreck’s vampire as played in Nosferatu (1922) in among them I think those mamby pamby modern portrayals of vampires would have it away on their toes.

So, they debased my lovely vampire myth but I should cocoa, my fascination with the subject and my preoccupation with the rise and fall of the vampire myth has enabled me to write a dissertation on the rise and fall of the vampire myth which got me a Master of Arts degree.

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Back in leeds for the First Time in 63 years

October 1, 2018 by

Back in East Leeds for the first time in 63 years!

Before John’s tale, a date for your diary: The 2018 East Leeds Old Codger’s reunion will be held at the Edmund House Club, Pontefract Lane Leeds on Tuesday 6th Nov from noon for a couple of hours on.

By John Holloway

Finding the ‘East Leeds Memories’ site quite by accident two years ago did the trick – I was 9 years old when my family left Copperfield Avenue and I was determined to go back to have a look around the neighbourhood of my early years, well aware that it would be a very different ‘East Leeds’ and that I may not come across any of my old pals from childhood. I knew that my old school ‘St Hilda’s’ had gone – AND….. that the school building which replaced it on the same site had also been demolished some years ago! I suddenly felt very old! I was also well aware of the old saying ‘Never go back’. But things change – I was well prepared for disappointment.
With help and encouragement from Peter Wood and Eric Allen – both of who, I was soon to discover, were in my sister Linda’s class at school before she went off to Thorsby High School for girls – my wife Sue and I decided we would make a detour to Leeds on our way home to Orkney after our annual Holiday in Kent in November 2016, and spend a few hours in the Cross Green Lane area of Leeds. And what a treat it was!
Peter and Eric were waiting for us in the ‘Edmund House’ car park and instantly made us feel at home. We were right in the middle of my childhood ‘haunts’ – just 200yds from East End Park, and 100yds or so from my old house in Copperfield Avenue. We stepped out of the Taxi, and after warm hand-shakes and greetings, I took a long slow look around the immediate area. I was staggered! It all seemed so familiar – the mainly tree-covered East End Park looked the same (even the neat hedge around the bowling-green we later discovered); the curve of the railway lines past Neville Hill was still there, and further round to the right……yes, it was still there – the East Leeds Cricket Ground, tucked below the embankment up to the railway lines to the left, and Black Road to the right. I’m home! The only ‘landmark’ that had disappeared was the ‘Paddy’ railway lines across Cross Green Lane but hold on a minute, one major thing was missing – the whole of Taylor’s Farm to the east of where we stood. It now appeared to be one big industrial estate – no cows, no rhubarb fields! But hold on – one other important feature WAS still there – the recreation area including the football pitch where East Leeds used to play on Saturdays (and me and my pals after school for the rest of the week!). Wonderful. Peter Bradford (who I understand had a trial for Leeds Utd.), Ronnie Harvey, Graham Clarkson and Bobbie Taylor (all old school pals) instantly came to mind, and I do remember playing in goal for St Hilda’s School on the smaller pitch at the bottom of the sports field – with Paul Reaney (later to play at full-back for England) on the right wing. (Clever man Don Revie – he put his fastest runners at full-back and no ‘winger’ could get past them!).
Back in Eric’s car, our two hosts suggested a slow drive around the neighbourhood, and – once again – expecting the area to look nothing like it did in my youth, my first impression in the ‘Copperfields’ was that it looked almost exactly the same! There were a few porches added to the front of the houses, many of which had the same wooden fences to the small front garden as per the 1950s – and virtually no cars in the whole area – as per the early 1950s! It still looked possible to set up a washing-line right across the street as my mother and other neighbours did in the early 1950s, lifting it up with a ‘prop’ if a car or horse and cart should venture into the street. Looking up Copperfield Avenue, there was still the ‘gap’ in the houses along Cautley Road which gave us access to our favourite playing place – the ‘Navvy’ – yes, the one I fell down! Looking back down Copperfield Avenue towards Cross Green Lane, the only change seemed to be that one of our favourite ‘play areas’ (mainly marbles) to the right, had gone. It had remained the ‘bottom hollers’ (in fact a bomb-site from the war) until a small residential scheme was erected just a few months before our visit. Any chance of a quick game of ‘taws’ was foiled, but I looked down at my right thumb and forefinger which were already ‘tensed-up’, ready for the first ‘flick’ of the game. No exaggeration here – it just happened naturally. A sure sign I really was back in Leeds!
So all’s well with the world – the neighbourhood had hardly changed structurally and it appeared to be a very peaceful place to live, but standing outside my old house – No 10 Copperfield Avenue (at the front) and 10 Copperfield Drive ‘at the back’ – my mind went back to how everyone used the Copperfield Avenue entrance as their ‘front door’ for everyday use, whilst the ‘back door’ in Copperfield Drive was hardly ever opened except on Sundays. Everyone regarded the garden in Copperfield Drive as a place to relax (evenings and Sundays) and all the hustle and bustle of everyday life was confined to Copperfield Avenue. Driving a car up Copperfield Drive on Sunday was almost heretic, but traffic was hardly an issue in the whole area and we made good use of the flat road surface of Courtley Road for roller-skating – at any time of day!
As a young lad I had always thought that all the houses in the neighbourhood I lived in were fairly modern, like ours in Copperfield Avenue – built in around 1930 or so – but as we strolled towards Cross Green Lane with Peter and Eric I looked up at the houses and realised that those in Copperfield View were much older – perhaps Georgian or early Victorian? I then noticed a strange configuration of the windows at what appeared to be the ‘ends’ of each house in a row of quite substantial two-up and two-down houses. There are three windows (one above the other) in each house which do not ‘tie-in’ with a two-story house. Each house appears to have this ‘three-tier’ construction – some ‘inside’ the chimney stack and others at the gable end – outside the chimney stack. The chimney stacks would surely be the division between each household – other than the stacks towards the gable end of each row. The problem is far too complicated to explain in writing – hence the photos attached.(Myself aged 3 in Copperfield Drive – said windows along Copperfield View in back-ground, and one – taken at the same point from Eric’s car by Sue during our visit in 2017). If anyone can come up with an explanation please let me know! We have spent many hours during the long winter days here in Orkney trying to resolve the conundrum. (It is well worth ‘Google-earthling’ – ‘The Copperfields’ may have their own unique piece of historic architecture!).
Eric and Peter then gave Sue and I a ‘guided tour’ of virtually the whole area of East Leeds but I have to say that most of it was unrecognisable once we had passed the Cricket Ground heading eastwards. We did see the woods at Temple Newsam in the distance but everything seemed to be ‘new’.
Turning back towards Leeds through ‘Knostrop’ with Hunslet to the left was no more enlightening, but I suddenly realised that two things WERE missing – there was no stench from the Glue Factory where bones were rendered down – AND no huge fluorescent sign ‘Waddingtons’ where the ‘playing card’ factory formerly stood.
We had soon passed across Cross Green Lane and – after a quick look down the Navvy – now encased in chain-link fencing – we went for a slow look along Easy Road which I remembered as very ‘wide’.No ‘bug hutch’ Cinema in sight there but the area did look similar to how I remember it .
I quickly realised that my ‘sphere’ of activity as a lad in East Leeds was very small – virtually all between Easy Road and Cross Green Lane and I now wonder how on earth I managed to get all the way to Lady Pitt Place in Beeston every day for several weeks after school one year when my Mum was in hospital for several weeks. I caught the bus by St Hilda’s School into the centre of Leeds, changed to a No 5 Tram in Brigate (?) and got off near the top of Beeston Hill. My ‘nan’ there had Television (Wow! – Andy Pandey etc.) And I had beans on toast for tea every day. Sheer bliss. What else could a young lad of 7 or 8 want? I was back home by 7 o’clock, by which time Dad was home from work at Lever Bros Opticians. Great fun the Trams, and it is amazing that two brand new ‘single-decker’ Trams came into service in Leeds not long before we left for Gillingham in the early ‘50s.
There was still one more huge delight – and a real surprise – on the way back to the city centre to catch our train. The whole area directly before the brick railway viaduct was still a mass of flower beds – just as I remembered it as a lad. Not quite so colourful, being November, but an unexpected treat and a lovely ‘send-off’ as we approached the railway station.

So what was the biggest ‘change’ I noticed after 63 years away? The lack of small shops in the area around the Copperfields – no ‘Lightowler’s’ or ‘Mrs Woodward’s’ just round the corner. Where on earth would we get our ‘bubble-gum’ and ‘Dandelion and Burdock’ from today!

Sue and I would like to thank Peter and Eric for a wonderful 4 hours. Some people say ‘never go back’ – all we can say is: ‘It was worth every second!’

We hope to be able to come to the reunion this coming November. John & Sue Holloway.

2 photos to accompany text (at bottom?)

1) Myself in Copperfield Drive around 1947 (age 3?) note configuration of windows and position of chimney stacks on houses in the background (Copperfield View)

2) Same view in 2017 taken from Eric’s car, showing same ‘tier’ of three windows!

Great tale John Thank you

1) Myself in Copperfield Drive around 1947 (age 3?) note configuration of windows and position of chimney stacks on houses in the background (Copperfield View)

2) Same view in 2017 taken from Eric’s car, showing same ‘tier’ of three windows!

Great tale John Thank

Waterlooville the Lost Village

September 1, 2018 by

WATERLOOVILLE THE LOST VILLAGE
My old school teacher, who knew a bit, said that Leeds was at the most northerly point of the Yorkshire Coalfield. We were at the last point of ‘The exposed Coalfield’ where coal was relatively easy to win before it went much further underground to that which was known as ‘The Concealed Coalfield’ and became much harder to mine.
It would seem the earlier Victorians and those who mined even earlier (coal was mined in the area since the 17th century) made the most of coal being at hand and sank shafts all over the place, unfortunately they were reckless in their infilling of them and neglected to mark their positions on maps, the result is: they keep opening up. I recall one opening up on East Street another in the precincts of Mount St Mary’s Primary School which caused them to re-locate to Porta Cabins in the old Victoria School Yard. Others were found when excavating the railway cutting for the line from Richmond Hill to Neville Hill and yet others halted the construction of St Saviour’s Church. Further evidence of coal extraction is also to be seen by the pit spoil heaps at the Shaftsbury (Black Hills), Knostrop (red Hills) and in East End Park itself, also in many streams in the area running with orange mineral water from the old mine workings and the smell of leaking methane gas.
We were all used to seeing pit head gear at: Allerton Bi-Water, Rothwell, Swillington, Featherstone, Stanley and Lofthouse but our last and most familiar pit was Waterloo (Temple Pit – 1913-1966). This was the pit from which our lovely old paddy engines: Kitchener, Jubilee, Dora, Antwerp and later Sylvia were familiar sights delivering coal to the staithe on Easy Road or ferrying the miners to work at the pit itself. Temple Pit was located to the south east of Temple Newsam House near to a little road Called ‘The Avenue’, now disappeared too and not far off Bullerthorpe Lane at Swillington. The shaft was located in a deep cleft in the land so it was hard to even see the pit head gear; they sunk them in places where the land was lowest so they didn’t have so far to dig down to the coal seams.
There were three old shafts at Knostrop when I was a lad, two behind Knostrop Old Hall had not been filled in at all and had crumbling brickwork housings across the top which foolhardy kids would climb up and look down to the water which always rises to the height of the water table in old shafts. One was broken away at the side and I once saw a chimney sweep getting rid of his soot down there. The third shaft (Dam Pit) was located between the two plantations at Knostrop and the provider of the red shale spoil that hard cored our two ‘red roads’. The shaft was brick filled to about five feet from the top and there was still a bit of the pit head gear in place. We would dangerously play in the shaft oblivious to the fact, we later learned, that the shaft had only been capped off with timber that would probably have started to rot. I have visited that site lately, it was where the rifle club used have its pitch so that the red hills was a back barrier for its bullets, the whole area has been grassed over now but I can see a little ‘dimple’ forming where the shaft is. I wonder if anybody realises what that is? I wonder if anybody cares about the danger?
Now I’m coming to the disappeared Waterloo village. The first sod for Waterloo Colliery was taken on the eve of the battle of Waterloo, (1815), hence the name. Many shafts have been and gone between the first shaft and the end of mining in 1966. I have made a study of the shafts in the area and made my own map, as you can see there were a lot of shafts. I must point out that the map is a composite of several maps and covers a time period of over a century; they were not all in production at the same time. Please ‘click’ on maps to enlarge writing. In later years open cast mining has dredged the whole area. Once that has been completed they put the land back and leave it in good order but any historical landmarks are gone for ever. I did read where a Viking settlement had been found near to the River Aire but I cannot see any evidence of that been left for us to see. But I did speak to one of the operators on the open cast scheme and he said they had opened up galleries where the old Victorian miners used to work, he said they were like worm casts and he had recovered an old green bottle left by a miner after having his ‘snap’,

REMEMBER TO CLICK ON PICTURES TO ENLARGE

In David Joy’s Regional History of Railways in Great Britain he tells of a rail service to service the pits in this area as early as 1750, that began as wooden wagon ways that ran from Thwaite Gate to Temple Newsam that a decade later there were seven pits a network of wagon ways and an iron works.
A further search of the records showed that a pit village – the earliest purposely built pit village in West Yorkshire was built on a site between Thorpe Stapleton on one side of the canal and river and Rothwell on the other side.

The village originally called Waterloo colloquially grew the name ‘Waterlooville’. Although I must point out Temple Newsam in their guide book seem to refer the village as ‘New Market’ and they ought to know but I always thought Newmarket to be the colliery at Stanley. Anyway I shall continue to call it Waterlooville and it has completely disappeared. It is not unusual for pit villages to die when the mine is exhausted that is the nature of the beast but in the case of Waterlooville, on our very doorstep there does not seem to be a stick of evidence that it ever existed, no ruins, nothing. I have placed the village on the map (Please see map) as seemingly between the river and the canal, there were two streets a square and a school cum Sunday school. It is quite obvious there was a connection to the Temple Newsam Estate as the square is called ‘Irwin ‘Square’, the Irwin family were incumbents of the estate at the time and probably had a financial input into the village especially the school/Sunday school. There was also a bridge ‘Waterloo Bridge’ across the river to allow miners from the village to cross over the river on their way to work on the north side of the river. Of that too there is no trace.

Over a period of time I searched both sides of the river and the canal bank for the merest sign of Waterlooville, nothing. I did find some huge blocks on the side of the canal which I thought might have at one time been anchor points for the bridge but they were inconclusive. I regularly asked folk I met along the canal bank if they had ever heard of a disappeared village but without success, then speaking to the lock keeper at Fishponds Lock I finally stuck gold, he said he had once heard about the village from an old timer who had said there were remains of the old school wall beneath the old cement bridge, the one carried the trains that took coal from Fanny Pit at Rothwell to Skelton Grange Power Station, but that he hadn’t seen them himself. So I clambered across the Paddy bridge to the north side of the river and had to descend the steep banking at the other side which looked quite treacherous but some kind soul had attached a rope to a tree to make the descent just about possible and there looking back to the south side of the river I saw the old brickwork that the lock keeper said was the remains of the old village school wall. I took this photograph – I have had to whiten the brick work on the photograph so it would show up.
On another occasion I attempted to climb down the other side of the river onto the top of the wall that I could see from the north side to see what else I could find but the bank was very steep and slippery and covered in brambles and I could see the river was running very fiercely at the bottom and I could sense that a slip, and I’m not as nimble as I used to be, would have seen me washed away in the torrent, so I decided the better part of valour was to abort that particular quest

Thankfully some kind organisation has now built a bridge across the river near to that old cement bridge making it easier to see across to the remains of the wall of the old Waterlooville School building also making it possible for walkers from Woodlesford and Rothwell to walk all the way across to Temple Newsam.

Vera’s Contribution to Eddie’s Tale

August 17, 2018 by

Contributions to Eddie’s tale by Vera Belshaw

I have Just Read yours and Eddies July and August contributions. They were brilliant for its put down just the way it was, Immediately transporting back in time recalling people and places of long ago.
I was born in Ascot Street in 1927, lived in The Bank from 1929 to 1936 then moved to Sussex Crescent till the 50s. Found this picture among some family photographs. It’s Ascot Street party celebrating King George the V Silver Jubilee in 1936. I thought it might be useful for the East Leeds Memories site. I know most of the people there, the lady with the teapot is my aunt…Annie Douglas (known locally as, Annie Sanders.)

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Thanks Vera for that lovely contribution to the site.

Changes during my Eighty Years Living in East Leeds

August 1, 2018 by

Changes During My Eighty Years Living in East Leeds.
By Eddie Blackwell

It’s been a lifetime of changing and adapting to new things. When I think back over the years at the changes that have taken place, in both a physical and a social sense it’s amazing.
They say technology has moved things forward and of course that’s true. Communications for example, when I was a lad we had a Radio, with valves and condensers, one step on from a crystal set, it was the only thing in the house powered by electricity, that magical stuff that travelled along a wire, that you couldn’t see and didn’t really understand, until you experienced an electric shock, then comprehension suddenly dawned, it was powerful and sometime a dangerous thing, that must be respected.
The telephone was a red G.P.O. kiosk with a door, at the end of the street, it had a black box you put pennies in, then you Pressed A or B to speak or get your money back. There was very little vandalism in those days and a man from the G.P O. came around to collect the pennies from time to time, then another guy would clean the windows and sweep it out and sterilize the hand set, each kiosk had a telephone directory for local calls and intercity calls. If you couldn’t find the number you could dial the operator and speak to a lady, give her the Name and address you wanted to call, and she’d give you the area code and telephone number and ring the number for you if you wished, after you’d put the requisite amount of money in the box.
Suppose most communications were made by letter through the Royal Mail (or the G.P.O. as it was sometimes called) in those days, stamps were not expensive and you had two domestic postal deliveries each day Monday to Friday, one delivery Sat morning. Sunday was a day for rest and religion, except for essential services, hardly anything opened on Sundays. Shops and Cinemas were closed, Sunday newspapers were available and delivered, Public transport ran a limited service, and generally things happened at a more relaxed speed.
Today with mobile telephones people’s lives have changed completely, they even answer the telephone in the toilet, and they can’t leave the house or go anywhere without their mobile. I recall when car cell phones first came out, The Company I worked for installed a phone in my car, great I thought what a perk. How wrong could one be, I soon realised that I was now available 24 hrs a day, 365 days a year, there was no escape, if I didn’t answer they left a message. I was accessible 24 hours a day to the Company, the Customer and the men on site doing the work. Don’t get me wrong there were advantages that were good, and saved a lot of heart ache, and time, but at the end of the day working in Heavy Industrial Contracting, usually on a 24hr shift basis, the Company was the winner. I do have a mobile phone now, but it’s not in my pocket continuously, and I only use it for private communication, it’s not glued to my body 24hours a day.
Public transport whatever happened to that. Trams were the main form of transport when I was a lad, I think when they started in 1891 they were single deck Horse drawn carriages. Electrification was completed in Leeds in 1901 taking, advantage of Electricity produced at Whitehall Road Power Station which was located near the Leeds City Station just off Leeds City Square. Who makes these decisions to dispose of a network of trams that existed in Leeds, they were a cheap reliable environment friendly form of Public Transport, which fell victim to the smelly expensive diesel Buses, just think of the emissions that have been released into the atmosphere, since that one decision in 1959, do people ever think through the consequences of their actions. The world seems to revolve around eliminating jobs and saving money for short term profit and long-term disaster, all the money in the world can’t stop the Ice Caps from melting and the Seas from rising to consume the land, but reducing our toxic emissions into the atmosphere can.
I loved the Trams you could go from one end of the City to the other for just a few pence, and they inter linked with Bradford and Wakefield, in fact my Dad would say you can get all the way to Manchester and back by Tram, not sure that was true, but it sounded possible. I suppose in those days the most important thing was were you giving a good service to the Public, as opposed to today with privatisation, it’s does it make a profit without any consideration to giving a service. A sad change in philosophy with the emphasis on commercialisation a step in the wrong direction in my opinion. I once saw an Architects plan of an underground tramways system which had its central station under City Square and linked all of the outlying districts, this idea was from early 1900’s. Just think of the benefits of that today, no traffic jams no expensive link roads or one-way systems and no pollution, a fantastic scheme and very forward thinking. Had it gone ahead it would have saved millions upon millions of pounds in to-days money. regrettably it was shelved and the drawings filed to gather dust in a drawer somewhere.
Over the years things other things have changed dramatically, as a boy one of my jobs was, to go for this, go for that, and usually to the local shop. We had the Co-op which was the largest store I can recall, but generally it was the Corner Shop the Butchers or the Greengrocers, sometimes it would be into town on the tram to go to Leeds Market. Never ever did I have to go to the Supermarket they didn’t exist thank goodness. We do go to the Supermarket today, there like the old corner shop almost one on every corner but I preferred the old system, can you really expect to get the best deal from a Supermarket it’s there to make money. They rate their customers on how quickly they can get your money in their till, It’s true. One store we go to say you can’t put your goods in the bags at the till it slows the process down, they provide a table after the till to do that, well I suppose times money.
There was nothing to equal looking the Fishmonger in the eye and saying my Dad says can we have four cod stakes cut from the neck please, and he’d look down at me and say, your Joe’s Lad aren’t you I know just how he likes them, and I’d put them in the shopping bag and be off home to later put them in a pan cover them with milk and water a pinch of salt and pepper then turn the heat down to low after it started boiling, and let them simmer till Dad got home from work about 15 mins later. Then we’d do Mashed Potatoes and Garden Peas and Dad would make a Parsley Sauce delicious.
It was amazing what those words could do in our local shops my Dad says, and they always knew who my Dad was, I think he must have gone to school with most of them. Then there was the one if he was skint, where I had to say my Dad says can we have a one and a half lbs of stewing steak and he’ll call in after work on Thursday and pay you, I was always a bit embarrassed when I had to say that, but those days we lived hand to mouth, and you never missed paying, because if you did your credit would be no good, and we all needed credit now and then in those days.
Does anyone remember the Club Cheques and Whitsuntide Clothes, I was eight years old in 1945 and I think it was early 1946 before my Dad was demobbed from WW 2. Every year in those days you got new clothes for Whitsuntide, and Mum had joined this Club Check syndicate where you paid so much money every week and then when it was your turn, you got a club check of several pounds to spend, but you could only spend them in certain shops. Whitsuntide was fast approaching and in York Road opposite the Butchers shop, near the Star Cinema was Adleman’s, they sold children’s clothing and school clothes. Armed with the club cheque Mum took me into the shop for a suit for Whitsuntide. Well the first thing Mum said when Mr Adleman came out to serves us was, do you take Club Cheques please. We do Madam he said what a relief, if he’d have said no I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself. He then proceeded to bring out a range of clothes to suit our price range, I was still in short trousers at that time, and the one we chose was made from that woolly Blue material that they made R.A.F uniforms from, the colour suited me and the size was right so we settled on that and bought it, I can still feel it itching when I remember it, It wasn’t top drawer, but it served its purpose and I was set up for another year. I have a photograph taken on Whitsunday of that year which shows me in my new suit, together with my older sister Sheila, and cousins Greta, Shirly and Charles, all of us resplendent in our Whitsuntide clothes, they lived at number 3, Kitchener Street which is off Harehills Lane, Leeds 9 district. It’s not a very good picture unfortunately, but remember cameras were few and far between in those far off days, and film and developing was very expensive, we were lucky to have any pictures to record events. Can you imagine buying clothes only once a year, today it’s a regular occurrence.

When you consider the machine’s we use these days that were never there when we were young, and if they were there we couldn’t afford them, Vacuum Cleaners we used a brush and shovel, Washing Machine and Spinner, we used a tub and a poser, rubbing board and then the mangle, Steam cleaner, we used a mop with disinfectant in the water, Central heating and hot water, we had a coal fire with set pot for hot water, bath and shower, we had a galvanized tin bath that we filled with kettles of hot water, and went to the swimming baths for a shower, Fridge and freezer, we had a larder which was a small well ventilated room with a thick stone slab on which you put your food containers if it looked all right, and the smell was OK, tasted right then you ate it, always remember my Grandad would say, there’s nowt wrong with that lad get it eaten. No use by sell by best before dates just plain ordinary common sense.
We used carbolic soap for most things washing and suchlike we didn’t have a soap for your face, a soap for your hands, a shampoo for your hair, soap for your body, there are more products now for cosmetic purposes it’s commercialisation gone mad, a Marketing mania, just think of the number of different shampoo’s there are on sale, I think they’ve even got one for if you don’t want to wash your hair, if you consider the money that’s been spent on developing these products it must be ginormous, and you’re paying for it all when you buy the goods.
Then there’s the fast foods, in my early days we had Pork Pies (growlers we called them), Sausage Rolls, Cornish Pasties, Fish and Chips, and that was about your lot, I remember in 1956/57 when the first Chinese Restaurant opened in Boar Lane then it wasn’t long before the takeaways started to appear, now there’s a takeaway for almost every nationality you can think of Italian, Greek, Chinese, Japanese, Tia Land, Indian, U S of A, Turkish Moroccan, the choice is endless, and there must be a demand for these foods otherwise they wouldn’t be in business for very long. I must say I’ve always enjoyed my Fish and Chips, I can remember going to the original Quarmby’s Fish and Chip Shop that old Mr Quarmby ran, it was in Ascot Street on the corner with Cross Ascot Street opposite where my Grandma lived. One and a halfpenny worth of chips in a little triangular bag, lashed with salt and vinegar, and the vinegar running down your arm I can feel it now after seventy odd years, it’s amazing how a little thing like that never fades from your memory, and is treasured for ever.
I suppose your falling asleep by now thinking we’ve heard it all before, what’s he going on about. Well wake up now I’m about to take you on a ride on a magic carpet. “On wings of song for sailing to distant lands we’ll go”. Air travel has opened the four corners of the World, North, East, South and West, anywhere in the World you can go and rest. The speed at which we travel now it’s difficult to comprehend, before air travel became affordable to the majorities it took days to travel distance we do in hours now. There is a downside of course, each Jumbo Jet you see as a vapour trail in the sky burns one gallon of fuel per second to maintain its flight, that’s a lot of pollution every day seven days a week.
My dad joined the R.A.F in 1941, and he left a book at home called the History of the Aeroplane, I was only just three years old at that time, but it was the only physical thing that I could latch onto that my Dad had, and I looked at the pictures and I tried to understand the words. Then as the years passed and I could read what the book was about, I became fascinated by Aircraft and flying, and the early attempts that were made, I know that we accredit the Wright brothers with the first successful controllable flying machine, and rightly so, but there were others before them, some who gave their lives in a valiant attempt to imitate the flight of the bird. There was a picture in the book of Otto Liliethal flying his glider down a hill on 29th May 1894, I still have that picture imprinted in my memory from all those years ago. It’s a fascinating subject and I started designing and flying model Aeroplanes at a very early age, and I still do, but I only try and simulate natural flight using air and gravity, Gliders. Before I finish I must tell you this, Dad and I used to dream of manpowered flight and we’d design wings and things to try and achieve this, but we never had any money to build anything. One of the things we designed we called Mothman,

I’ve still got the drawings somewhere I’ll post them if I can find them, a couple of years ago I did look them out, and I said I was looking for a volunteer to fly the machine, and my Great grandson said I’ll do it Granddad, how cool was that.
Finally the motor car, I learnt to drive in 1960, I was doing my National Service which was two years of your life wasted, and I thought, I may as well do something that will be of benefit to me when I get out. In those days the mechanics of the engine were easy to understand, and most owners could do their own minor repairs and servicing. Over the years the access to the engine has been made more and more difficult until now without special tools and instruments it’s no longer possible to perform anything other than a water oil lights and tyre check, if you look under the bonnet it’s just all boxed in with no access at all to the engine. It’s just unbelievable that they would go to so much trouble to prevent you from accessing the engine, today without a diagnostic machine for your model it’s almost impossible to do anything at all, and then every activity needs a special tool unbelievable each vehicle is now a captive maintenance market for the manufacturer.
I know I’ve rambled on a bit but I’m putting that down to my age. Peter wrote a story in December 2016, the Magic of Aeroplanes which inspired me in 2017 to build a model Handley Page Victor, I’ll try and include some pictures of it which may be of interest. I know I’ve not covered everything that’s changed in the last eighty years in this tale, perhaps that’s fuel for another story sometime in the future.

I Fear Our Old East Leeds May be Unloved Today

July 1, 2018 by

I FEAR OUR OLD EAST LEEDS MAY BE UNLOVED TODAY.
Followed by a poem: A True Tyke by Eddie Blackwell

When I have a nostalgic wander around the old area (Cross Green, Richmond Hill and East End Park), that bit of terra firma that we old East Leedsers look back upon with great affection, I cannot help but think that the lifeblood has been drawn out of the area. These streets used to be alive with excited children on their way to and from school, usually tarrying to indulge in their children’s games. Now it would seem mams take they children to school, mostly in cars if they have them. I do not image the present incumbents will bother to take a trophy such as a street name plate, or as I have, secured a brick from the old demolished St Hilda’s School, to regale my back garden.

I do not blame the present custodians for the demise of the area, many do not have the East Leeds heritage and although the housing stock has been improved since our day and there are many satellite dishes adorning the walls, they have lost almost all their amenities. Motor cars or busses whisk them out of the area for shopping and pleasure whereas we, more or less a self contained society, lived cheek by jowl with each other and had most things at hand without having to leave the area. This resulted in the development of a good community spirit and a great street corner society. I do not traverse the area after dark but I cannot imagine, after taking in the metal grids on the doors and the large concrete semi-circular spheres blocking off our once friendly streets against ‘joy riders’, that they enjoy good natured banter under the street lamps.

They do not have any pubs, we had twelve or thirteen. They don’t have any cinemas; we had five within walking distance. Primary Schools: We had ten now they just have a new Richmond Hill School, A new All Saints School and a jumble of Porta Cabins.

Perhaps for those who wish to worship we have seen the biggest amenity loss of all. Here is a list of churches and chapels written down by an old Richmond Hill resident in the 1950s: Mount St Mary’s R.C. Church, St Saviours C of E Church, Richmond Hill Wesleyan Methodists Chapel, Bourne Chapel Primitive Methodists, All Saints Church of England, York Road Baptists, St Hilda’s Church of England, Bethel Mission Friends Adults, and Temple View Mission. Zion Clark Lane Chapel. Usually these institutions had Sunday morning service, Sunday school and sometimes even-song so we were kept busy on Sundays and pretty much in touch with community. They all had social attachments: clubs, Scouts, Guides, Boys Brigade, Parties, Jumble sales, outings, camps etc.
Today, St Hilda’s and St Savours survive with tiny congregations, Bourne Chapel, I think is the surviving chapel and Mount St Mary’s has removed to St Therese’s.
Shopping: Dial Street had as many shops in the 1950s as the whole area has today.

Perhaps the biggest difference of all between that which we had and that which is lost today is ADVENTURE! They can’t go for adventures down black Road – It’s a motorway, Red road it’s a grey footpath, Nozzy with its pond it’s an industrial estate. They can’t jump on the back of the paddy train for a ride home or down the navvy it’s all fenced in. They can’t even get chucked out of the Princess by Big Ernie or The Easy Road Bug Hutch by Abe, the local cinemas don’t exist anymore.
What they CAN do, that we could not, is sit inside on a sunny day with a lap top, a mobile phone, i pod, x-box, play station or tablet and while away the hours indoors.
Weren’t we the lucky ones?

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And now a poem by Eddie Blackwell
.A True Tyke.
When I was a young lad there were twelve of us in our family
Mam and Dad nine older sisters and me I was the youngest,
We lived in a hole in the Cemetery covered with asbestos sheets,
Dad was a grave digger so we lived on the job so to speak,
We were that poor that the Church Mice used to leave scraps for us to eat,
And in return we used to chase away the cats to keep them safe,
Well my big sister always said one good turn deserves another,
And she should know she works outside the Town Hall but she says,
Business is slow yet one day she earned £2 and that’s a lot of pennies,
Dad beats us all to sleep with his belt when he gets back from the pub,
And we have a big hole in one corner covered with a wooden pallet,
It acts as a drain when it rains but after a while it starts to smell,
Then Dad fills it in and digs a fresh hole in another corner,
He says we may have to move shortly because the floors a bit muddy,
He’s digging another hole for us to live in at the other side of the cemetery,
They’ll be new neighbours but their always very quiet and reserved,
My younger sisters work in’t Mill 18 hours a day seven days a week,
The pays not good but they say it’s better than’t Town Hall steps,
Well I’m in my late 70’s now and I’ve lived through WW 2 and the 60’s and the 70’s,
It’s been a hard life full of drama and tragedies scrimping and scraping,
I’ve just had a walk through the City Centre it’s changed a lot,
People begging and complaining about living in shop doors,
They don’t know their born these days living in a shop doorway,
It’s like Buckingham Palace they just don’t know when their well off,
Well T.T.F.N. keep smiling be happy and don’t let the bugs bite,
If they do bite ‘m back they go down well with salt and pepper.

 

Historical and Romantic Messages in the Trees

June 1, 2018 by

Historical and Romantic Messages in the Trees.
Hidden away in a woodland walk within earshot of a busy East Leeds suburb can be found an intriguing record of historical events and romantic encounters carved in silver birch. Here to be seen is a treasure house of dates and messages – some of amazing antiquity – for anyone prepared to search ‘the graffiti of the trees.’ Remember to ‘click’ on picture3s to enlarge.


Until I chanced upon this magical grove I, like many others no doubt, had imagined tree carving to be a form of vandalism but on consideration after experiencing this magical place, I believe that perhaps we might consider tree carving rather more as a tablet of local history or an even more romantically, as a memorial to the carver made in their own hand, rather than one carved later on a tomb stone by the hand of another.

Since stumbling on this enchanted grove of silver birch I’m sold on the latter idea. My attention was first arrested by a date seen out of the corner of my eye as I wandered through the trees ‘1936’, I thought WOW! That carving was made even before I was born and I looked closer with more respect. All around were carved hearts, arrows and initials some contemporary, some of the 1950s, 60s.70s 80’s. ‘Legge 74’ had been particularly busy his name was carved on lots of trees. In between these I found the odd ‘gem’ such as one for 1922 I thought of the Charleston era in which that had been carved. Then one for 1926, I thought at that time folk were probably in the throes of the national strike. One for 1918, the Great War for Civilisation was ongoing. I became enchanted by the place, I should have been home by now but I couldn’t pull myself away.
On the same tree was carved ‘Teddy Boys’ and ‘Queen’ a sobering thought, these cults are now almost a generation apart. ‘Fat June’ must be an angry modern girl for her portrayal is in aerosol spray. Are they the genuine? Well I’m convinced they are. For a start the older ones are at prime carving height later ones are higher or lower, evidently the bark stays art a constant height it does not move up the tree as it grows later and carvers had to carve in any spaces that were left. The older letters have spread slightly as the circumference of the tree has increased and better seen from a distance and anyway who would want to fake a date on a tree?

What of the lovers who carved their names here like Billy, Jed, Liz and the rest in 1921? If one considers the optimum age for tree carving as say fifteen or sixteen then those carving in 1921 would be long gone by now but at that date they were probable young and beautiful. This spurred me on; I resolved to find the oldest date I could. Surprisingly carvings sixty years old didn’t seem much fainter than those carved ten years ago.
I found one for 1912 and marvelled that the wind and the rain had failed to erase the makings I wondered if those carvers knew that the war that would turn the world upside down was just around the corner, perhaps they were just happy in blissful ignorance? On one tree is carved ‘Miner’s Strike 1902’, ‘Master’s Mines Lockout 1926’ and on another tree ‘Miner’s Strike 1912’, ‘Hull Harbour War 17th April 193- The last figure unfortunately obliterated anyone recall this historical event?
carving –MM 1891


The tranquil spell is cast as the decades merge and one’s own problems can be seen for what they are worth, just another entry on a tree. Some of the dates seem incredible old but indistinct or over carved so I discount them in my search. Finally one is found as clear as crystal ‘1893’ The naughty nineties’ and then with only the nine carved the wrong way round’1879’ carved by the long dead hand of a Victorian lover, two world wars a depression and a recession ago.

I thought of how a primary teacher could take her charges for a nature ramble and unwind a history lesson at the same time.

I have no doubt that older carvings are there to find of those who lived and loved and passed this way.

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Just an update on the remaining pubs in our old East Leeds for the good old boozers among you: well there ain’t none left! They pulled the Cavalier down earlier this month and that was the last.
The Bridgefield, Black Dog, Yew Tree, Prospect, Waterloo, Dog and Gun’ and The Shaftsbury are history, The Spring Close is a derelict hulk, The Cross Green is a kid’s play house. The Hampton, and The Shepherd are nice blocks of flats and it looks like The ‘Fish Hut’ is going to be flats too, The ‘Slip’ is a supermarket, The White Horse seems to be sometimes open sometimes closed.
The Edmund House Club, East End Park Club and the Easy Road club (under a different guise) are still up and running but the nearest pub is probably the Hope Inn.
Some good news The East Leeds Cricket Club is still alive and well and they have put the clock back up outside York Road baths/library.

Don’t Let Our East Leeds Memories Pass Beyond Living Memory

May 1, 2018 by

DON’T LET OUR OLD EAST LEEDS LEGENDS PASSBEYOND LIVING MEMORY
The East Leeds I fondly remember includes a few folk notorious for their good works or perhaps their eccentricity that brought them to the attention of the rest of us. I take the liberty of including a few iconic events and places, including some from the greater Leeds area This is not scholarly research but just from my own memories or heresy. Please forgive my mistakes or omissions. These must be written down and remembered, many are about to pass from living memory and will be lost. Embrace them while you can.
*Means other tales on the site have reference to the entry.

Remember to ‘Click’ on pictures to enlarge
In no particular order:
*BIG ERNIE: Was commissionaire/chucker out at the Princess Cinema. Who does not remember Big Ernie in his green uniform standing outside the Princess organising the queues or sat besides the screen eating his sandwiches and balling out miscreants who went to the toilet too many times or for general quiet. As everyone in the forties and fifties surely attended the Princess Cinema his voice must have been heard by more East Leedsers than anyone else’s.

DORIS STOREY: Doris was a great local, international, swimmer who trained at York Road Baths. She won the breast stroke gold at that which was then called The Empire Games and it was said she would have won the Olympics if they had not changed the technicalities of the breast stroke. She later ran the family fish and chip shop near the Star Cinema.

14th  of MARCH 1941: Big date in East Leeds history: Richmond Hill School hit by German bomb. It was during the night so no casualties but the pupils were scattered about around other schools and some evacuated.

*WILLIE KNOTT: Willie was a school boy champion in everything he attempted. He was a giant of a lad at school complete with moustache and legs like tree trunks already at a time when we left school at fourteen. Attended Victoria School but he was a hero to East Leeds lads in general He represented Leeds City Boys and Yorkshire at football, cricket, and Swimming. He was the best at everything he attempted including fighting, which ranks highly among schoolboys – when Willie walked past we stood aside in awe. He ran in the English School Championship sprints, some say he won others say he came third but whatever, the school bought him a bike. When he left school he signed for Leeds United but ironically, as he had been so huge at school he must have had his growth spurt early and he did not in the end grow tall enough for centre forward or centre half and he drifted out of the professional game. But which of us would not have taken that to have lived Willie’s school days as a tiger?

Willie is in the centre of the back row
*JILL ROBINSON MBE: Jill launched a group of amateur artists: The Show stoppers who raised a shed full of money for good causes.

*EAST LEEDS CRICKET CLUB: still going strong after all these years when the fabric of old East Leeds in general falls away.

*ABE WHITE: Genial, Jewish, roly poly proprietor of the Easy Road Picture House. He was always attired in his dress suit and greeted patrons with ‘I hope you enjoy the show tonight’. He was strict on miscreants but always a gentleman. His two sisters looked after the pay box and the interior. The Easy Road Picture house was not the most salubrious of cinemas but always claimed it had the best ‘Talkie’ in Leeds.

PAUL REANEY: Attended St Hilda’s, Ellerby Lane and perhaps Parkside Schools? He played for Don Revie’s great Leeds United team of the sixties and seventies. He could run like a stag and went on to play for England.

*‘CLEGGY’: Woodwork teacher at Victoria School and absolute legend for creating fear amongst the pupils. I didn’t attend Victoria Day School but attended his woodwork class on Friday afternoons along with lads from other schools. If you misbehaved he let fly with the pieces of ‘two by ones’. Before you met ‘Cleggy’ you would be painted a picture by those already attending they would say he lays you hand on the desk and asks, what do you want the chisel or the mallet. If you say mallet he lays you head on the bench and hits the bench with the mallet a few inches from your head so your head bounces up and down, if you say chisel he lays your hand on the bench and goes in and out the fingers with the chisel if you move your hand you’ve lost a finger. I have to say I never saw him do that trick but we were all terrified of him even the usual villians. The upside was: if you really tried he’d help to make you into a good carpenter.

*THE PADDY ENGINES: Kitchener, Jubilee, Dora and Antwerp In their green livery and later Silvia.

*MARY/VAL MILNER: Director of the famous film ‘Brought to Justice’ made entirely by the children of Ellerby Lane School in 1953.

LEEDS RHINOS: won 16 trophies in 13 years: eight Super League Championships, three World Club Championships, two Challenge Cups, and three League Leader’s Shields. In 2015, their finest year they won all three trophies – the Treble.

*HARRY BENDON: Who, who lived in our area in the forties and fifties will not have memories if Harry? He was a character and a half. He was a good singer around the local pubs and clubs but often could not resist blotting his copy book with vulgarity. I remember Harry in a smart camel coat with his a concertina. He is once said to have put his window cleaning ladder up against a bus standing outside the Corn Exchange and while whistling away started to clean the upstairs windows. I recall a night in the Scotsman Pub, a fracas was going on and the police were called, things were beginning to look really nasty. I expected fists to fly and arrests to be made when out of nowhere Harry turned up the middle of them all and started playing his concertina. The whole melee erupted into laughter and the situation was saved.

*TUSKY: (rhubarb). Our staple diet.

The 61,62,63,64 bus routes.

ROCKING HORSE: Rocking Horse was a bit before my time but those older than I remember him as a policeman with a rocking gate who had his beat in our area. This was at a time when gambling was frowned upon. ‘Pitch and toss schools’ of which there were many in the area were illegal. Rocking Horse would try to catch the culprits but the neighbourhood was friendly and would allow culprits to run into their houses and out the back door, if there was one. He was old school policeman and warmed to the locals by administrating a cuff behind the ear rather than to arrest.

REG PARKS: (Mr Universe) lived in the Saville’s.

*SOUTH ACCOMMODATION ROAD SUSPENSION BRIDGE: with its great, bowed, green, parapet that Jimmy Thrush daringly crossed on his bogey.

MR SHAW: Scary manager at York Road Baths.

DOLPHUS: The park ranger on east End Park in the 1940s.

MULLIGAN’S MANSIONS:  (Bridgefield Place)

*THE OLD PRIMAY SCHOOLS; Hilda’s, Mary’s Vicky, Ellerby, South Accomm, All Saints Saville Green, Charles’s, East End Park Special School. York Road board School, the Bombed out Richmond Hill School. All with their teachers good and bad.

*THE NAVVY: our dangerous playground

*THE PUBS: Gone but not forgotten: Cross Green, Bridgefield, Black Dog, Fish Hut, Waterloo, Prospect, Slip, Hampton, Shepherd, Yew Tree, Spring Close, Cavalier, Shaftsbury and Dog and Gun.

*HARRY: Waiter extraordinaire at the slip, He would come waltzing through a busy concert room balancing a tray of seven or eight pint glasses on a tray above his head without spilling a drop and he would have already calculated the note you were going to give him and have the correct change already worked out and ready in his top pocket.

*AGNES LOGAN STEWART: (Mother Agnes) opened St Saviour’s Institute a school and home for girls from dysfunctional families in Knostrop in 1872 and staffed it with sisters in holy orders. She wasn’t in holy orders herself but wore the dress of one. She was a woman of private means and boundless energy and also opened the St Hilda’s School for boys in Cross Green Lane, all from her own funds.

RED ROAD AND BLACK ROAD: Portals to adventure.

*EAST END PARK: Happily spruced up and still with us

*SNAKEY LANE: One pitch now instead of the two we had but it’s a good ‘un.

CHARLIE ATHA: Had a bicycle repair shop near the Princess Cinema. He could just about build your bike up from a single spoke but you had to catch him when he wasn’t in the Shepherd pub.

THE CHURCHES AND CHAPELS: St Hilda’s, St Mary’s, All Saints, St Saviours, St Patricks, New Bourne Chapel, Richmond Hill Chapel, Zion Chapel and others long time closed with their great incumbents that looked after our wellbeing and tried to keep us on the straight and narrow. Lots attended then, few now.

*THE KNOSTROP EXPERIENCE: Knostrop House, Knostrop Old Hall, Knostrop New Hall Knostrop Institute, Thorpe Stapleton Hall, The Humbug House, The ABC Houses. Most of them stood for hundreds of years but all sadly demolished during our watch.

*STOURTON SCHOOL FOOTBALL TEAM: a tiny school by modern standards but one year in the 1930s they became school football champions of all England.

*THE BASINS AND THE BLUEBELL WOOD: Pleasant features on the walk from Cross Green to Temple Newsam.


*ATKINSON GRIMSHAW: a bit before our time – born in 1836 but he lived in Knostrop Old Hall and was a wonderful moonscape painter – The way he deals with artificial light passing through windows onto wet pavements makes him my particular favourite painter. His pictures of Leeds, Liverpool and Whitby in particular hang in Leeds and national galleries and now sell for ‘telephone number’ prices.

WOODBINE LIZZIE: Lizzie was not particularly an East Leeds woman but probably the best known lady in Leeds in the 1940s. She would stand in the entrance to the Whip Public House In Duncan Street – near the three stumps – in a moth eaten fur coat and hat and ask you for a Woodbine when you passed , if she didn’t get one she’d let you have a barrage of obscenities not usually heard from the mouth of a lady.

JOHN CHARLES: John was not an East Leeds lad not even a Leeds lad he was Welsh but he played for Leeds United in the 1950s and his standing was so high amongst we East Leeds youngsters I feel he warrants and entry. He was 6ft 2ins when, not like today, when 6ft 5s are not abnormal. He was a giant on the field. A sight not to be forgotten was John dropping the ball down from his chest and accelerating up the field tacklers more or less melted away rather than getting a tackle in and there would be john tucking the ball into the corner of the net and walking back and he was impervious in the air – one season he scored 40 goals. When he was transferred to Juventus lads cried openly In the street. The £65,000 we got for his transfer (what would he have brought today?) helped us build the new West Stand He was always a gentleman into the bargain. Big John, the Gentle Giant.

ALMA: Genial conductress on the 61/62 bus and member of the Showstoppers troop

*THE CINEMAS: The Picture House Easy Road, Princess, Star, Regent Shaftsbury, Hillcrest, Victoria, Premier, Strand and Regal. (The Shaftsbury had double seats at the back for courting couples)

*THE QUARRY: Located at the back of the Easy Road Picture House. Dirty, but An adventurous playground for the Easy Road gangs.

*DAVID WILSON: He jumped all the way down the navvy for a bet, five comics and six pence. He didn’t get the comics or the six pence; he did get a broken arm but also legendary status for the feat – look he’s mentioned here sixty years later.

BOB BATES: Ran Mount St Mary’s football teams for years and years and better years and the boy’s club too. He could be seen marking the Snake Lane football pitch out before a match all on his own with little thanks, the lime we used to use for the job blowing all over his good suite. Sometimes his best players let him down and didn’t turn up but he just got on with the job. To me he was a prince among men.
NEVILLE HILL HOPPER AND SHED WITH CLOCK:

RED WALLS: Where we would paddle and fish for tiddlers, and sometimes get glass in our feet..

*THE ARMY AND POW CAMPS DOWN BLACK ROAD/KNOSROP: With their ack ack guns an barrage balloons.

*CHUMPING: They only seem to have communal bonfires today.

*THE GREAT WINTER SNOW SPORTS OF 1947.

AIR RAID SHELTERS.

THE CANE FROM THE TEACHER.

LEEDS UNITED : THE REVIE YEARS: We won the cup in 1972 and the league championship in 1969, 74. And two European trophies. We won the championship again in 1992 but not under Revie.

TRAMS:

*THE MARKET DISTRICT BOY’S CLUB: It was supposed to have been opened by The Parish Church to keep us lads off the streets but it became much more than that.

THE RICMOND HILL WHIT WALK: Disappeared with the demise of the pubs but before that it was run from The Cavalier and later The Prospect pubs. It went down Dial Street and on to a couple of circuits of East End Park. Crowds would turn out to cheer the walkers. There was a money prize and I can remember Jimmy Croll won it on a couple of occasions.

DOLLY DAWSON: legendary Hunslet rugby League player and genial ‘mine host’ of the Hampton Hotel.

THE PREFABS: Much better accommodation than the properties they replaced.

THE MONKEY BRIDGE: Iron bridge where dare devils would trapeze hanging above the navvy.

GEORGE TOOTLE: George was blinded by his time in the boxing ring, he too was an old Hunslet ruby league player’ He was a popular figure who lived in Knostrop Old Hall during the war. Knostrop was very dark during the ‘black out’ and George endeared himself to the folk of Knostrop by singing in a low rumble when he came home in the dark with his three littler guide dogs. so that females of the area knew it was only old George and not to be afraid.

THE GINNEL: Spooky little tunnel between Fewston  Avenue and Easy Road to allow the paddy train to pass overhead on its way to the coal staithe.

THE RED HILLS and the THE BLACK HILLS: The Red Hills at Knostrop the Black Hills near the Shaftsbury.

EDGAR STREET CLINIC: ‘Our own Little place of horrors.’

:

YORK ROAD LIBRARY AND SWIMMING BATHS: Have been closed for a long time and I thought we were going to lose them but they have put the clock back up and they say it’s going to be a gym

I’m sure there are more that deserve a mention if you can think of any please send them on a comment

Joan’s Tale

April 1, 2018 by

JOAN’S TALE

Recently, we have sadly lost one of our stalwart story tellers: Mrs Joan Elliot (nee Dobson). Joan was a lovely lady and enjoyed a long life. She wrote one of the first tales on this site, and I feel one of the best, back in 2007: The Pantomime.
It tells of a time of great camaraderie. On the 14th of March 1941 Richmond Hill School had been bombed out, the sound of those bombs dropping was about my earliest memory. In the same year the local children put on a pantomime in an opening in St Hilda’s Crescent to help raise money towards the City of Leeds war effort, specifically to pay for the production of the aircraft carrier, H.M.S. Ark Royal. All across the city were boards pointing to the progress of the fund.
A few houses have been demolished in St Hilda’s Crescent and the opening is somewhat wider than when I took the photograph in 2007 but Joan’s house is still there. I often have a nostalgic trip around the area and if I see any of the present inhabitants of St Hilda’s Crescent about I try to tell them of the provenance of the opening and the pantomime put on here in 1941 to raise money for the Ark Royal, but unfortunately, although it is hard to imagine any other event in the history of the street as being so magnificent it would appear that today historical provenance counts for nothing and they look at me as though I’m some lunatic dropped in from the planet Zog. In deference to Joan and because it was put on the site so long ago and I don’t think many of you will have read it I’m going to give you another chance to read it now: The Pantomime: see what you think

THE PANTOMIME
By Joan Elliot
My life in 1941 revolved around: going to school (St Hilda’s) and to the Easy Road Picture house on Monday and Thursday nights; these were the days when the programme changed. If we went with an adult the cost of admission was 7 ½ pence. We were very lucky in that my life long school and after school friend was Vera Wood; she had a sister older than us called Mary. Mary was a very lovely young lady and talented in many ways, she was particularly good for us for she could take us into the pictures and act as our chaperone.
School at that time was quite boring, Johnny North, our teacher, had been one of the teachers brought back from retirement to take the place of the teachers who had been called up for the war; he was far too old, must have been in his seventies and to us young ten year olds that seemed absolutely ancient. Then we got the ‘call to arms’ as the saying goes. The city of Leeds had decided to buy an aircraft carrier: ‘The Ark Royal’. It was think time! What could we do to help raise the money; Save jam jars? Collect rags? Neither of these seemed an option, we didn’t get enough jam to make saving the jars worthwhile and we had lots of uses for rags ourselves; rag rugs was one (if you don’t know what rag rugs were ask one of your elders). Then one of the gang came up with an idea: we’d have a concert.
At that time Frances Ladler, was producing the pantomime, Cinderella, at the Theatre Royal. That was the answer; we would do a copy of that wonderful show. Fortunately for us, the mother of one of the girls in our class was a cleaner at the theatre and she brought us home some old programmes left behind by theatre goers. At the back of Mr Wood’s garden in St Hilda’s Crescent, there stood a big shed, this was our property, or so we thought at the time – I think it really belonged to the railway, which ran along the bottom of the gardens {The Navvy}. We spent hours in that shed, always busy doing something or other. From now on it was to be our pantomime workshop.
First of all we had to get a cast together; there were plenty of willing girls but the boys were another ‘kettle of fish’. We managed to get Peter Dunhill to play Baron-de Broke and Keith Hobson was Buttons, Vera Atkinson played Cinderella and Vera Wood Prince Charming. I played Dandini. I can’t remember who played the ugly sisters but I remember that half our class at school were in there playing some part or other. From that very first day our lives were taken up with: planning, begging, sewing and borrowing old frocks to cut up and make into other things. At this point it should be remembered that at the time the war was in full swing and not a lot was left; clothes and food were on coupons, plus anything of any use was taken up for the war effort but we were given lots of help by our parents and relatives. After a lot of fun and planning we began to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
The next worry was: where to hold this magnificent production as the shed was certainly not big enough? The houses in St Hilda’s Crescent were in pairs and between each pair of houses there was a yard were the back doors of the houses faced each other. We decided that one of these yards was to be our theatre. We borrowed draw curtains for the bottom of the yard and draw curtains for the top. The scenery was painted on old rolls of wallpaper out of a neighbour’s attic. The stage at the top end near to the gardens was made higher by wood lent to us by another kind soul. I must say at this point that the generosity and kindness of all our parents, relatives and neighbours could not have been better, everyone by now wanted to help.
On the night of the show chairs came out of every house. Mrs Wood’s piano was put under the window and Mary Wood was the pianist. In the shed all the costumes made by the girls taking part in the show were ready.
The show opened and ran every night for a full week at two pence for an adult and a penny per child. We played to a full house every night for a week and raised a grand total of £20 for Ark Royal.

Great tale, Joan and there are still a dwindling few around who can remember that special week over 75 years ago!

 

A Camping We Shall Go

March 1, 2018 by

A camping we shall go.
By Eddie Blackwell

It’s 1953 I’ve just turned 15 years old and the Summer Holidays from school have started. I’d only had three holidays since I was born in 1938. The first holiday was in 1947 the year Dad was demobbed. We went to Scarborough and spent Dad’s gratuity pay. We stayed at a boarding house over a Fish and Chip shop it was on a hill in Eastborough in Scarborough, which was not far from the Foreshore Road, and that beautiful sandy beach, there were Punch and Judy shows, Donkey rides and of course the old bucket and spade to make Sand Castles and Fortresses, we had Ice cream, candy floss and peppermint rock the weather was good. There were the Amusement Arcades and the penny slot machines, and the laughing Policeman, Dad and I spent ages watching and laughing at him it was a kind of infectious laugh that just came out and all your worries and problems just seemed to evaporate with the laughter, and you were happy that war was over your Dad was home and the future was before you. I remember one of these roadside photographers took a snap shot of me walking along by the lagoon in the Harbour that the rowing boats were hired from. Dad paid the man and the picture was posted onto you, I wish I could find it, black and white of course, but he’d caught me in the air, both feet were off the ground I was still in short trousers and I was loping along, I’d made a friend at the boarding house a young Lady called Shirley, she was in the background but she couldn’t keep up with me I was literally walking on air.
Food rationing was still on and the Men that were staying at the boarding house decided to go on an early morning fishing trip, so they hired a boat and off they went. They had a wonderful catch, Dad said the fish were jumping into the boat and they handed the catch over to the Lady of the house to cook for tea. The fish and chips that evening were delicious everyone enjoyed them, and one of the men said that was so good I could eat it again, (They knew they had caught far more than the fish that had been served for tea) and he said could I have seconds please, well that was it the Lady came in and said you’ve all had more than sufficient and she stormed out. Turned out they’d sold the rest in the Fish and Chip Shop. Every Family left the following day it was a matter of principle. Dad said we’d almost spent up anyway it was the Thursday of that week, and we packed up and came home. I remember carrying the case after we got off the Tram in York Road to walk up Pontefract Lane, passed the Princess Cinema, The Sheppard Pub, Charlie Atha’s Cycle Shop, then turning at Woolstons Chemist into Devon Street and home to number 29.
The next holiday was with the School to Interlaken in Switzerland and I’ll never forget that, it was a life changing experience. It was June 1949 I was in my 11th year Mum and Dad had scrimped and saved to finance it for me. We travelled over land by train across the Channel by Ferry onto Paris then through by train to Bern then by coach to Interlaken.
Interlaken is situated between two lakes Lake Thun and Lake Brienz. It’s a fantastic place and from the Hotel we were staying at you could see the Jungfrau and its snow covered peak. To wake up in the morning and see those mountainous peaks as you looked through the window is something you can never forget, it imprints itself in your mind and fills you with awe and amazement that such beauty can exist to lift your spirit out of your everyday life into another world where the Mountains are touching Heaven itself, we had a great time, Each day your Eiderdown was fluffed on your bed like an inflatable balloon, we’d never seen anything like it, we’d never had such luxury, and the food you could eat as much as you liked, and if you wanted something different to what was being served because you didn’t like it they would cook it specially for you. They were very spicy meals that were being served, and our Teacher Mr Child said he would give a prize at the end of the week to the one who ate the most.
Guess who won, well it had to be me, my Gran always said I had hollow legs so nobody else had a chance.
Each day we went on an excursion to a different location either by coach or by ferry We went across the lake then by road to Lucerne, saw the Bear pits in Bern, had snowball fights in the Mountains in brilliant Sunshine, went on the chairlift rides up the Mountains, up and down the Fenicular Railways all powered by clean Hydro Electricity then one night we were all awoken by a buzzing and were told not to open the windows it was the night of the June Bug, never did find out what kind of bug it was, but they were crashing into the windows making a heck of a racket then it all stopped as suddenly as it had started, peace and tranquillity had returned, except for Jack McAndrew’s snoring everything was quiet, then tap, tap, tap, on the Big French Widow, Mr Child and one of the Lady teachers had been out for a Drink and had been caught up in the chaos of the June Bug and got themselves locked out, so we opened the windows and let them in by this time Jack had woke up, and he said this is going to cost you Miss, we were told we would get a thousand lines if we were locked out. That’s only if you call out the Hotel Staff She replied, and I’ll speak to you tomorrow, now go to sleep like a good boy, a busy day ahead of us were going to the Jungfrau, and it’s an early start we leave at 9 am prompt.
The Jungfrau the highest mountain in Switzerland it has a cog railway that takes you to 11,332 feet, and they have what they call a snow blower that keeps the railway operating throughout the year. This snow blower was an old machine the cladding was made from wood, its powered by electricity and runs on the track it has two ginormous metal impellers at the front they fragment the snow and ice and blow it out to the sides of the track clearing the way ahead for the train to run on the track, we never saw it in action but you could imagine it tunnelling its way through. We were not very rich in those days and there were no mobile phones, so I didn’t have a camera to take pictures or anything, but it’s imprinted in my memory. I’m fortunate that there’s a Lady who lives at the end of our street was in the same class as me at school and she went on the same trip and has pictures of the waterfalls and the trips we went on. Happy days when you were young and innocent and the future was before you.
Oh I’m forgetting I did go camping with the Scouts to Low Water Farm near Clapham, in the shadow of Ingleborough. The first night we were raided by two Shire Horses who were in the field but our tents were those Ex-Army Bell Tents with thick guy ropes and deep wooden pegs, so they kept away from those, but the kitchen area was just about destroyed. The second day it started raining and we got washed out, a disastrous experience everything was wet through, so the Camp site was abandoned.
As I recall we marched from the Farm to Clapham and where housed in a Church Hall overnight, with palliasses and blankets to keep us warm. It was a strange place with huge carved wooden trusses that supported the roof but it was dry. We stuck it out then on the following day, we were given the option of staying on or going home but most of us decided to returned home. All in all I suppose I was very fortunate, many children of my age never had any holidays at all.
I had a friend called Harry Sharpe who lived in the next street which was Wykebeck Avenue running parallel with Halton Moor Avenue and we decided to go camping during the Summer Holidays of 1953, and we chose Malham Cove as the Ideal spot to spend our Summer break.
Frankie Laine was the top of the Hit Parade with “Girl in the Wood”, we had two Kit Bags full of tinned food a little 6ft-6in. tent that needed reproofing a primus stove and the other essentials and we were off, we went by train to Skipton then waved down a United Red Bus to take us to Malham, then we walked through the fields with our kit to Malham Cove.
We had no previous knowledge of camping, apart from my disastrous Scouting experience, so we were playing it by ear. The Cove was a formidable sight and a shallow stream meandered from the bottom which was reputed to be the source of the River Air, there was a small island in the stream and we decided that this was an ideal spot to pitch the tent, which we were to regret in the early hours of the following morning. We got the primus stove working, filled the kettle and made a pot of tea we agreed to take turns with the chores. Then we walked to the road and into Malham to get some bits and pieces, the Lady in the shop said we should go and see the Farmer and let him know we were camping in the cove, which we did. He asked where we had pitched the tent and we told him, be careful there he said the sheep climb in that area looking for feed, and they can dislodge rocks so keep well back from the face of the cove, I’ll look in on you when I’m passing but be careful and don’t do anything silly. It can be quite dangerous round there particularly at weekends when the Rock Climbers are about. Now go and see the Mrs she’ll probably have some cake or tarts on the go. Wow it was like home from home lemon curd tarts, still warm from the oven the Farmers wife was a lovely Lady and she wanted to know where we lived, and what were we going to do when we left school, she said she was born and bred in Malham and had lived there all her life, she had two young children a boy and a girl, one was in the infants school the other in the junior school, in the village, if you have any problems come back and we’ll help you sort them out, but be careful in the cove the waters can rise suddenly and the rock face is unstable.
We said we’d be careful and left with a bagful of goodies, the day was creeping on and Harry said I think we’ll have Irish stew tonight, and he set about opening a few tins. I primed and started the stove and away we went, would you like some rice pudding for afters Harry said… “I met a Maiden in the Wood and she said to me child” he was singing the song from the top of the hit parade and I joined in…“Remember me Oh Remember me. Remember for the rest of your life”… We were having a great time all was well with the World, we could shout and sing to our hearts content and nobody was saying be quiet. We had our Irish Stew and our Rice Pudding it was great, then I washed the pans and plates in the stream, the sheep were coming around to see what we were doing and the light was fading, so we decided to get ready for bed, we had inflatable lillo’s and sleeping bags and we settled down for the night. My feet were stuck out of the bottom of the tent but I was tired and I didn’t care I was comfortable and off to sleep we went, happy dreams.
In the early hours of the morning I woke up, and Harry was awake as well. My feet are wet I said, and Harry said I’m wet through, it had started raining during the night and the Island was no longer an island we were completely flooded out, it had been raining hard up on the Tarn and the meandering stream was now a torrent fortunately the rise was in the early stages so we recovered what we could and found higher ground, but a lot of our tinned reserves had gone, we made ourselves as comfortable as we could and dosed until it was light, by this time the stream was a raging torrent, and Harry said I can’t swim, don’t worry I said I have a Bronze Medallion for life saving and I’m a very strong swimmer. Eventually dawn broke and we made an evaluation of our situation, the tent and basics we’d managed to recover, so we re-pitched the tent on the higher ground above the water level, set up and lit the primus stove and made a cup of tea…. “She moved her tiny hands, and she made a little turn, she swayed in the wind, just like a graceful fern”… We were not deterred, but we did need some breakfast.
You OK Lads, I like the song, it was the Farmer I thought about you last night when it started raining, get yourselves over to the Farm and dry out the Wife will make you some breakfast, it won’t rise higher than that so your safe pitching there. The Wife loves music and that hit parade, but don’t go spoiling her I’ve got her just right, and off he went with his dogs, checking on the sheep and looking for eggs from his free ranging Hens. We were dressed and off like a shot across to the farm. I thought he’d be checking on you this morning the Lady said, he was worried about you last night when it started raining hard, the water rises unexpectedly when it rains up over the Tarn, I can see you got wet through, go warm yourselves by the fire, and I’ll make you some breakfast, it’s the most important meal of the day you know…“I vowed as she vanished, that when I was full grown, I’d have a girl just like her, to call my very own”…Bacon and eggs with beans tomatoes and Sausage, tea bread and butter you just could not fault it. I’m talking 1953 commercialization had not penetrated those rural areas and we were just two townies out of our environment
who needed help.
I’ve been hearing some singing coming from the Cove it acts like an amphitheatre, and echoes the sound down to the village, I love this modern music and that Hit Parade have you been playing music over there. Yes, we have a little radio and Harry took it from his pocket and turned it on, IT was a transistor radio his Dad worked in the Electronics Industry and this was the latest thing. Oh we’ve never seen anything like that around here it’s so small, and she pointed to the big box radio she had in the Corner of the kitchen, Harry said these will be all the rage next year, my Dad got it for me, but there not on the market yet, we asked if we owed her for the breakfast, but she said no it’s just nice to talk to someone from a big City and to hear what’s going out there. There was no power to the farm but they had a generator and a huge gas tank which provided for their needs, the roads were in good condition, but they did get cut off from time to time during the winter.
Off we went back to the tent, things were drying out slowly, but the sheep had been sniffing around in our absence, and we had to chase them off. We were amazed at the places they got to on the face of the Cove, we certainly couldn’t have climbed up there without ropes and harnesses, although we did try but deemed it was too dangerous and if you lost your footing and fell who knows
where you’d end up. We were still in good spirits the sun was shining and we had plenty to do, I was tidying around and making the tent ship shape Harry was sorting the rations and seeing to the kitchen, Harry said we’ve lost a lot of tins in the flooding we’ll have to go and walk down the bank and see if we can recover them, if we find any that’ll be your job because I can’t swim and you’re a strong swimmer, but the waters flowing quite fast now it could be a bit dodgy even for a strong swimmer like you, did I detect a note of sarcasm in that remark, no It was flowing fast and looked deep. We’ll take a rope with us Harry I’ll tie it on with a bowline knot, and if I get into difficulty you can pull me out, can you remember how to tie it
Harry said, yes you form a loop put the end through the loop around the back and through the loop again sorted I said it’s easy to tie and untie and it won’t slip. Mm was all he could say, then added well don’t blame me if it goes wrong. It won’t go wrong I said, and we may not need it anyway. I love this camping there’s always a new challenge, so your never bored.
Lunch was a sardine sandwich, we’d been lucky to have stored the bread in a sealed plastic bag which had protected it and kept it dry, we’d had a good breakfast and we were still quite full, afterwards we set off on our quest to recover any tins we could see in the river, I’d got my rope on just in case and Harry was hold of the loose end, come on boy he shouted pretending that I was a dog on a lead, so I growled back at him showing my teeth he laughed but took the hint, and didn’t do it again as we meandered along the banks of the river it started to widen out and form a stream which calmed it down and it became shallow, there’s one Harry was pointing and I went in a tin of Pears none the worse for wear in all we found several tins but the corned beef and Irish Stew were nowhere to be found and by this time we were approaching a little footbridge that crossed the river before it entered the village. We stopped there and returned to camp with our recoveries Harry said it’s not bad but it’s not good we’ve enough grub for tomorrow but then it’s tinned fruit with condensed milk, so we decided to stay another night then make our way home. We called at the farm and said we would be leaving tomorrow and thanked them for their help and kindness.
We arrived home the following day which was the Thursday, Mum said I thought you were stating for a week, yes Mum we were but we ran out of food. Did you enjoy it, yes it was great, what’s for tea I’m starving.
“and now I am a grown Man, and I’d marry if I could, but I can’t forget the memory of, that girl in the wood.
Remember me oh remember me. (big finish)
REMEMBER FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE…
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Thanks for another great tale, Eddie.