i remember when.....
- Thread starter littlemo
- Start date
Even though it was almost 67 years ago I well remember that Wednesday afternoon in January 1937.
The location was the classroom of the "top-class" lads situated in the recently opened extension behind the old building of Spring Hill Council School.
That afternoon we were a restless bunch of 13 yr olds, soon to thrust into the vulgar world of Industry with its ABC culture. There we were, sitting in orderly rows facing the blackboard and the formidable Mr Garnett, he with the most deadly cane in the school. Most of us were wearing darned Jerseys, patched pants ( short ones of course in those days ) and with few exceptions wearing clogs. Concentration was difficult, our minds were focussed on more important things than mere schoolwork, but Mr Garnett made no allowance for what he was unquestionably aware of and that fearsome length of Bamboo worked overtime. The schoolboy belief that a hair laid on ones palm along with a dollop of spit would cause the cane to break was shown to be simply wishful thinking. As usual on these occasions the clock slowed down, but 4 o`clock finally came and off we stampeded up Fife St and down Richmond St ( not road then) with our clogs clattering on the pavement in the forlorn hope that we would get there before it was over.
I`ll leave it there and see if anyone can say what it was about.
The location was the classroom of the "top-class" lads situated in the recently opened extension behind the old building of Spring Hill Council School.
That afternoon we were a restless bunch of 13 yr olds, soon to thrust into the vulgar world of Industry with its ABC culture. There we were, sitting in orderly rows facing the blackboard and the formidable Mr Garnett, he with the most deadly cane in the school. Most of us were wearing darned Jerseys, patched pants ( short ones of course in those days ) and with few exceptions wearing clogs. Concentration was difficult, our minds were focussed on more important things than mere schoolwork, but Mr Garnett made no allowance for what he was unquestionably aware of and that fearsome length of Bamboo worked overtime. The schoolboy belief that a hair laid on ones palm along with a dollop of spit would cause the cane to break was shown to be simply wishful thinking. As usual on these occasions the clock slowed down, but 4 o`clock finally came and off we stampeded up Fife St and down Richmond St ( not road then) with our clogs clattering on the pavement in the forlorn hope that we would get there before it was over.
I`ll leave it there and see if anyone can say what it was about.
[quote author=Dave link=board=nostalgia;num=1059916385;start=40#46 date=08/10/03 at 20:33:33]Wonder how many people have STILL got Stantons pop bottles???
Using them as hot water bottles
[/quote]
THey are useful. After all
"QUOTATION: Continental people have sex lives; the English have hot-water bottles.
ATTRIBUTION: George Mikes (1912–1987), Hungarian-born British humorist. How To Be An Alien, ch. 1, sct. 6 (1946)."
Using them as hot water bottles
[/quote]THey are useful. After all
"QUOTATION: Continental people have sex lives; the English have hot-water bottles.
ATTRIBUTION: George Mikes (1912–1987), Hungarian-born British humorist. How To Be An Alien, ch. 1, sct. 6 (1946)."
I was forgetting, Bert, matches kicked off earlier in winter back then as floodlights hadn't been invented. Remember my dad telling me about the match - Bulloughs closed down for the afternoon, so their employees could go and watch the game. Like, you he went on a coach to Maine Road to see their subsequent defeat at the hands of City.
plastic dishes with daz that got water logged and tomato soup stained the inside.
Toast on an open fire. mmmmm
Playing £ Shillings and pence, kit Can and "Quinio cocio in the st till dark and listening to Radio Caroline till we were dragged in by the scruff of the neck.
Toast on an open fire. mmmmm
Playing £ Shillings and pence, kit Can and "Quinio cocio in the st till dark and listening to Radio Caroline till we were dragged in by the scruff of the neck.
Talking about toilets i remember the newspaper, slinging your bum over a wooden plank with a hole in it.The old tin bath that came out every Friday in front of the fire while your parents were boiling the water up on the gas cooker.Where neighbours talked to each other and kids could talk to strangerswithout you having to be worried.
Them were the days.
Them were the days.