Childhood Reminiscences 1941-1951

claytonx · 31-10-2011, 16:14

Before my chilhoodwas done
The days seemed longer
Full of freedom and fun
Lasses & lads playing together
Mainley outside whatever the weather
Roaming over the hills & far away
Violence and fear no part of our day
Trustig,truthful & troublefree
Innocent,carefree,happy were we
Doors left on latch
Or string through the letterbox
With door key attached.
Neighbour looked out for neighbour
Always ready to do a favour

There are more verses to come slowly (one finger only works)

cashman · 31-10-2011, 16:55

nice one.

garinda · 31-10-2011, 17:14

Thanks for sharing that.

Things have changed.

Some for the better, and some not.

I've arrived at the conclusion that whenever your childhood was, it's remembered with a golden hued fondness.

That's because most children are somewhat shielded from the harsh realities of life.

You aren't necessarily told if your dad's probably going on short time, or there's no money for the rent man this week, or your gran's not very well but can't afford to call the doctor out.

Childhood should be a time of innocence, and fond memories, and happily for most of us it was.

Wynonie Harris · 31-10-2011, 17:19

Coming along nicely, Claytonx. Keep typing!

claytonx · 31-10-2011, 18:32

Big hearts with open doors
Sparse coverings on bare floors
Rag rugs by firesides
A welcome present for new brides
Sideboard gleaming in the firelight
Rubbed with masion polish bright
Gas light and cobbled street
Living rooms small but neat,
On the wireless,Hancock,Murdock and Horne.
The BBC where home entertainment was born

Mothers in curlers and pinny
Standing at the door singing out,
For their Winnie or Minnie
To come home,tripe and onions for tea
Bought fresh from the UCP
Kettle simmering on fireside grate
Cups and saucers with doily on plate
Home made bread biscuits and pies
Fresh from oven a lovely suprise
With beer collected in a jug
For fathers supper mug.

Streets of tram lines for horse drawn tram
Manure for gardens,where the horses ran
Bells dinging people clinging,
Tramlines singing,strap hangers swinging
As they where transported around town
Travelling to work,or for a beer at the Rose &Crown
Then the trolley buses swished silently by
Powered by overhead rail and electric supply
Street parties and family sing song
In parlours where Aspidestra belong
Tin baths and tipplers down yards
Glowing coke fires and fire guards

High stacked chimneys on cotton mills
Distinctive landmarks on northern hills
Low lying weaving sheds alongside lodges
Where illicit swimmers knew all the dodges
Filled with fish, a fishermans delight
Women in clothes black as night
Lyl stockings,clogs and shawls,
Trawling around the market stalls
Clog irons sparking on cobbles
Where high heeled ladies hobble and wobble

Local drapery shops selling goods
Stiff collars,cuff links and studs
Fleece lined liberty bodice vest
Rubber buttons harnessed it around our chest
Hand knitted woolly socks scarf and gloves
Made by mum for all she loves
Heavy tweed coats,Sunday best
Easter time bonnets better dressed
Knocker up and lamp lighter
Demob suits fitting looser or tighter

Silver Cross coach built pram
Monday washing day for mam
Boiling babies bottles and teats
Lines of washing filling back streets
Hand ringing boiling and possing
Busy day no time forgossiping
Dolly blue brings out the white,
In lines of nappies what a sight.

Corner shop, ration cards and slate
Paid off on Friday,unless wages late
Fresh baked white loaf,crusted black
Wrapped in fragile tissue paper sack
Bacon slicer cuts rashers thick or thin
Also Spam or Corned Beef from a tin
Doorstep milk delivered by farmer.
By horse and cart in churns much warmer

Doorsteps and flags dubbed white
With donkey stones was socially right
Or painted cardinal red instead
Then pity anyone who dare to tread

Rag and Boneman's barrow patrols the streets
Collecting old clothes in exchange for treats
Goldfish in jam jars swinging by string
Or a paper windmill for anything you bring
Concrete bunkers on seaside promenades
Corrugated air-raid shelters in backyards
Flags and bunting line the street
Trestle tables spread with lots to eat
Street parties full of fun
Maypole dancing in the sun
May Queens processions down our street
Field days an annual treat
But nothing ever stays the same
Except memories,that stay bright as any flame

Eric · 31-10-2011, 18:47

I remember most of it ... not the horse-drawn trams ... but the other stuff, yes. And conkers ... and bonfire night ... and Stanley at Peel Park

We've sure as hell come a long way; but I sometimes wonder about the direction we took

Wynonie Harris · 31-10-2011, 20:13

Quote:

Originally Posted by Eric

and Stanley at Peel Park

We've sure as hell come a long way

Not really come that far...it's only about half a mile to Livingstone Road.

Eric · 31-10-2011, 22:33

Quote:

Originally Posted by Wynonie Harris

Not really come that far...it's only about half a mile to Livingstone Road.

Bet you the pies aren't as good

mobertol · 01-11-2011, 00:22

Just read this out to my Aunty -she remembers it all clearly except the trams like Eric because they are the same age. She thinks the rhymes are brilliant.

She remembers in the summer going out down the backs and pressing the tar bubbles that formed between the cobbles in the sun with a stick to burst them.

jaysay · 01-11-2011, 09:59

Quote:

Originally Posted by mobertol

Just read this out to my Aunty -she remembers it all clearly except the trams like Eric because they are the same age. She thinks the rhymes are brilliant.

She remembers in the summer going out down the backs and pressing the tar bubbles that formed between the cobbles in the sun with a stick to burst them.

Ya and getting a clout when you went home with tar all over your fingers a clothes, was a devil to get of, remember the old lady using butter to help get shut

susie123 · 01-11-2011, 11:25

Quote:

Originally Posted by jaysay

Ya and getting a clout when you went home with tar all over your fingers a clothes, was a devil to get of, remember the old lady using butter to help get shut

Oh yes I remember doing that, and the butter!

Anyone else remember the pig bins in the back street where you put any food waste, not that there was much in those days. Painted green I think. Wouldn't be allowed now, it's all got to go through official recycling, not straight to the farmer.

You really hit the spot with those verses, Claytonx. Thank you and well done.

groove · 08-11-2011, 15:10

Groove thanks Clayton X for that poem. Groove regrets that he did'nt know the joy of youth till it had gone. A magical, mystical precious time.

Margaret Pilkington · 08-11-2011, 15:14

We couldn't afford butter...we had to use lard!
I remember it all...except the horse drawn tram.

Margaret Pilkington · 08-11-2011, 15:15

We didn't get goldfish from the rag and bone man...we got donkey stones.......far more practical.

Margaret Pilkington · 08-11-2011, 15:19

Quote:

Originally Posted by susie123

Oh yes I remember doing that, and the butter!

Anyone else remember the pig bins in the back street where you put any food waste, not that there was much in those days. Painted green I think. Wouldn't be allowed now, it's all got to go through official recycling, not straight to the farmer.

You really hit the spot with those verses, Claytonx. Thank you and well done.

There was never much waste in our house so the pig bins didn't get much from us.
Ma used to use up leftovers and feed them to us in different disguises.