firbeck
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Posts posted by firbeck
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There was a Teddy Boy gang with amazing quifs and DA's that I seem to recall was a combination of blokes from Firbeck, Bilborough and Fernwood Estates that regularly used to wander up and down the Nottingham Canal in the late 50's armed with a variety of air guns and even 22 rifles, shooting at anything that moved.
You could tell when they'd been visiting, the canal was full of dead frogs in particular, pike, any unfortunate birds and even cats, I even knew them to shoot at cows on the opposite bank.
We were scared stiff of them, if the cry, 'It's the Teds', was heard, we were off.
One day however, without going into detail we caught up with a peadophile/peeping tom who attacked us with a mallet, so we set the dog on him and he legged it off down the canal. Guess what, who should come round the corner but our armed to the teeth gang of Teds. 'Whats up lads?' when we told them, they went for him big time, he got peppered and was last seen being persued up Moor Farm Lane, God help him.
There was a particular oak tree along that stretch of the canal that they used for target practice, they were fond of those airgun darts with flights and we used to try and dig them out with a pen knife. During my little walk at Easter with my son, we found the oak tree, looking a little sad, but still there. Amazingly, while going through mothers loft, I found a tin full of juvenile treasures including one of those darts that I'd prised out the tree, 50 years on and fired by one of those Teds:-
Does anybody want to claim it.
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Mariag
You are away from here, we have the 65th Anniversary of D-Day coming up, my father risked his life on the beaches and I can drive 20 miles up the road to Duxford and witness the flight of an actual Spitfire that possibly flew over his head and shot down a German aircraft on the day, in fact it flew over my house last week, most people in the street stopped and watched it in awe. It's a very emotive thing and it extends outwards from there. A few weeks ago our Aviation Day team stood a few feet behind a Lancaster Bomber as it ran it's engines up, the type of aircraft in which thousands of aircrew died to prevent us from becoming part of a Fascist Empire. I challenge you not to feel emotional in such close quarters to one, probably an experience that you have never had.
Similarly, when I was a kid, steam trains ruled supreme, it was the way of things, to be able to go and see one of these snorting, noisy, smoking monsters running on the mainline today is something else. When I went to see one at our local station the other week, the station was packed with people, hardly any of them were spotters, it was local families that had seen the event on the TV news and wanted to experience something of a past age and, boy, did they love it.
Sorry mate, I'm not having a go, what has the Arabic nation got to offer you instead, how to painlessly kill a camel perhaps without allowing themselves to become contaminated.
There could be some 8F's lurking out in the desert though, perhaps you could look out for them.
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How old are your kids mate, I'm just wondering how long it will be before the rot sets in, they're ok when less than about 8 or 9, then it gets difficult, especially when they're with mates.
Mine loved Mildenhall Air Fete, mainly because once you went through the gate, that was it, you were in the USA and all that went with it, he really believed he was Stateside. He fell in love with the Snake Slide, that was it, sod the aircraft I have to go on the Snake Slide. 'Jack, the Red Arrows are about to perform', no, I want to go on the Snake Slide, strop........
I remember going to Finningley once,'Can we go on the Tornado flight simulator', OK, so in we go, unfortunately so did all the pilots from the 'Patrouille de France' just for a laugh, that was it, he ended up sitting with them and had a wonderful time. Unfortunately he expected all the other display pilots to turn up and have a go and wouldn't leave the damn thing. Fortunately the simulator was situated next to a parked up F-117 complete with ultra cool pilot wearing 'infinity shades'. What was so funny about that was that he was well into Star Wars at the time and genuinely thought it was something to do with the film, he couldn't believe it was a real aircraft. Pilot gives him a little chat and a signed photo of the a/c, what happens, 'Yeah, cool, but can we go back to the simulator in case the Red Arrows pilots want a go'.
Taking him to football matches was a terrible problem too, he would really nag to go, then very quickly get bored, a Tesco bag full of Lego usually solved the problem, talk to him now, the football mad 23 year old, and he's horrified as to how he behaved, but thats kids for you, totally unpredictable, I suspect that you have it all to come.
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Ok Chrissie, Nidge Hoad, Bilborough Grammar, form 6b, year 1967 to 68, he lived down towards Western Boulevard and had previously been to another secondary school, I don't recall which one, Whitemoor? He lived with his mum, she may have been divorced, I seem to remember that their house was quite big. He put himself across as being a cool dude when he arrived, I know he hung around the clubs in the city, and had a knowledge of errrm 'blues and bombers', well he said he did.
I'm not being rotten, he was a good lad, we got on really well, I can think of a few adventures where we found him a little gullible a few times though. He could spin a yarn, but it must have been difficult to transfer to our school with no other mates, when we were all well established in our friendships and traditions, you would inevitably have to prove yourself to find acceptance, not that we tended to find that a problem with anyone.
I recall an incident on the school Geography trip to North Yorkshire. He hated our geography teacher. We were banned from the village pubs but found the local workingmans club. On the last, frosty night, staggering back to the youth hostel, everybody, including the normally sensible kids, decided to p@ss on this particular teachers car, Nidge took it a stage further and peed in the petrol tank, result, car broke down on the way home.
We got seriously interogated when we got back by the teacher and the headmaster, but we wouldn't give him away and all chipped in for the repair bill instead.
Years later at a school reunion I asked the teacher concerned about the incident, 'I knew damn well it was that silly pr@tt Hoad, he was the only idiot capable of doing it'
Fair enough.
Sod it, heres the school photograph that was taken from, you may know, or in fact be, some of the characters in this mugshot.
6B, Bilborough Grammar School,67-68.
Back row, from the left:-
The always cheerful Brian Abthorpe from William Sharp, smashing bloke, Andrew 'Chimp' Hacket, Julian 'Nobby Robbo', sorry, forgot your name mate, Nidge Hoad.
Second row from the left:-
Phillip Heath who I'd known since I was 5, Tim 'Dool' Buxton, my decadent pal also from another secondary school, what adventures we had, Yours truly, Andrew Small, sorry forgot, the unfortunately much unloved Gordon Boot, poor lad, Ian 'Freddy' Fretwell, everyones pal.
Please note I refused to wear the appropriate tie and got away with it.
Where are they now, I don't really know about the whereabouts of any of them, does anybody know.
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Chrissiec
I know it's a distant shot, but this is Nidge in the centre of the 3, in typical pose at Silbury Hill, Wiltshire, wearing his typical gear, including the trilby.
I have a good shot of him in a posed school photo, and in colour in the Lakes, but I don't want to embarress the rest of us:-
If anyone wants to know, that's Jacko on the left and John Peck on the right, in case anyone knows them.
Thinking about it, I'll publish the picture of BGS 6B if you really want me to, some of you might find yourselves.
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Surely it's Stalingrad, no creative, social minded architect in this country would ever conceive such a monstrosity in an historic British city.
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I know an old fool who now has his 40 year old children constantly remind him that they were, in reality, rather bored with cricket matches every weekend!
Cheers
Robt P.
I know the feeling, until we were short and my youth got the chance to play in my team and turned out to be a real star at 13, funnily enough the opposition kept calling him 'Arkle', he didn't understand that!!!
He loved it, and was bloody good at whatever he did, batting, bowling and particularly fielding, but did the schools encourage cricket at the time, no-way, a waste of a good talent.
Sorry about that Beefsteak, but I know you played cricket.
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Just a suggestion.
I found that the best airshows going for all the family are the Shuttleworth Collection displays near Bedford. It's a fantastic place, the kids are free and there are so many other things to do as well. Their main summer display is 7th June, but the sunset shows are brilliant as well. It's very informal, you sit around in grassy areas with your picnic and the aircraft are really in your face, it never seems to be crowded. Admission also includes the Bird of prey centre, the Swiss Garden and the childrens adventure playground. The collection of flying vintage aircraft is the best in there is anywhere and has the oldest flying aircraft in the world, when they wheel the really old stuff out, it's awe inspiring to watch and the kids love it. If you've never been, it's hard to describe what it's like, probably the only experience of a typical pre war or even Edwardian airshow that you're ever likely to experience and so laid back, no razamataz or commercialism, even the bar is a garden shed, Charles Wells bitter too.
I know that when I was a single parent, I used to take my son and his mates to various airshows, but Old Warden was different, they could wander about with impunity because it's very small, they had lots to do and they loved all the barnstorming and balloon bursting, apart from wondering whether some of these really old and unique aircraft would ever get off the ground.
Even Bip might enjoy it, he'd appreciate all those women parading about in their Edwardian dresses!!
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Would that be 'Nidge' Hoad, turned up at Bilborough GS 6th Form in 1967, was a bit of an artist and self alleged Jack the Lad, went to Trent Poly and became Social Secretary. On a geography trip to the Lake District insisted on rather stupidly ascending mountains in bad weather dressed in denim Levi Jacket and jeans, with a waterproof hanging round his neck with a bit of rope. Adopted a lizard as a pet during another trip to Swanage. Last seen and sworn at in 1972 when he didn't get round to obtaining me a ticket for the Focus concert.
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I'm afraid I would have driven off, or never invited them in the first place. Liz's old man wants to come with me and see the Britannia Pacific next Saturday, but he's right well organised, he'll probably sleep with all his on clothes the night before.
Incidentally, why was the BBMF displaying at Northwich.
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For you aviation enthusiasts, following a disastrous season of inactivity due to engine problems, Sally B has been fitted with another replacement engine. She was due to have a test flight from Duxford last friday but required a part to arrive from the USA. The first flight is now due next Thursday at 13:00 hours from Duxford, in case any keen types happened to be in the area, I thought I'd let you know. As the French 'Pink Lady' is unlikely to fly again, this is the only airworthy B-17 in the world outside the USA and as such it is quite a momentous occasion, well I think so anyway, I'll try and get up the road to see it.
Sally B with the Hungarian members of the family, Uncle George from Budapest and the father in law from Tapiozeli:-
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I think that the reason markets are succesful here is that we have a series of rural traditional market towns, Braintree, Witham, Dunmow, Halstead, Saffron Walden, Haverhill, Sudbury, within a triangle of 3 cities, Chelmsford, Cambridge and Colchester. Each one of these cities has an excellent shopping centre, but traffic and parking is a nightmare, so who can be bothered to go, it's such an effort.
While all the market towns have suffered the fate of losing the traditional town centre shops to the big supermarkets, they have at least retained the twice a week markets and subsequently they are considered an excellent alternative to the supermarkets and are popular. Not only that, people are very chatty down here, despite what you may think, and the markets provide good meet up areas between folk from different villages that come in on the rural bus service and the regular traders, 99% of whom, incidentally, are traditional white traders, many of them 'Loveable East Enders', the only one I can think of who isn't, is our friendly local Sikh, a smashing bloke.
My old man used to come down from Nottingham quite regularly and stay with us when we lived in Finchingfield. He always maintained that this area was one of the last bastions of what he considered traditional British society and made the most of it, travelling to all the markets on the village buses and getting well known, he loved it.
Pity we have to put up with THAT poxy airport.
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I hate to tell you Beefsteak, according to the AA, Winsford to Fairford 135 miles, Truro to Fairford 214 miles, you're making a terrible mistake abandoning the Salt Mines for those lovely China Clay quarries..........................
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Thats a really sad scene Poohbear, you must feel as if you're banging your head against the wall.
Oddly enough I've just been out and passed through Great Bardfield village which is having it's annual garage sale and market today, it was absolutely packed, thinking that everyone would be there and ignoring Braintree Market today, I came through the town centre and found that packed out as well.
The market ethos seems to be popular down here, I know it's a long way, but is it worth giving it a try, though I'm afraid that we have a resident sweet trader with a similar display to yours.
I reckon you could park up in a local campsite and find a busy market in every different town every day of the week down here.
Daft idea, I know, but I'm only trying to help.
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It's amazing what you come across sometimes. A few years ago I was talking to one of the regulars in my ex-father in laws pub in Huddersfield, Cleggie, a real Yorkshire hard nut and Jack the Lad. It turned out that his father had just died and Cleggie had put out a load of his old stuff for the binmen. The next evening I found myself presented with boxes of assorted railway magazines going back to the 1920's, including original Bassett Lowke and Hornby pre war catalogues, amazing stuff. Unfortunately he'd chucked his Hornby Dublo trainset away, sob, but did manage to find an original Dublo LMS Duchess of Atholl, not bad in exchange for a pint of Tetleys, which is all he wanted for these gems, he was just pleased that they would be appreciated.
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You're right Rob, this old batch of railway magazines I've found are reminding me of a lot of things, I was reading one on the bog today and theres a picture of brake tenders in use in the NE, I also found the initial publishings of the Beeching Report in 1963, if that had been carried out to the letter we wouldn't have had a railway system left, it makes horrific reading.
It's very interesting to note that my son has just come back on the branch train from Witham to Braintree, put down for closure by Beeching and since electrified and very well patronised with an hourly service direct to Liverpool Street, it makes me wonder how many other lines that were actually closed down would have proved succesful in the long term.
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Would that be an old BR Departmental that used to operate around Horwich works.
Anyway, hint taken, back on track, this is a steam special from the old days, privately owned Flying Scotsman on a special at the wonderful, wiped off the face of the earth Trent Station, July 1966:-
Oops, sorry, it came out a bit wonky.
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Newccy Brown, on special offer at Netto for 99p at the moment.
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Eyam was another that seemed like it was miles away from the town.
That was so you couldn't catch the plague mate.
I recall staying at Earls Court YHA in London and nearly being chucked out the organisation by a bitch of a warden. We had an altercation with some devious French kids the night before, they tried to steal our food, but didn't realise that we spoke French and didn't appreciate being threatened and told to f### off in their own language. The next morning they tiptoed about and we overslept, they then reported us to the old cow for not doing our duties. She went ballistic and confiscated our cards, despite our offers to stay late and sweep up. In the end she conceeded that we had so many Youth Hostel stamps in our membership books that we couldn't be all that bad, in other words she had picked on the wrong people and knew it. She still banned us from going there again, not that we minded, the warden at another London Hostel, Highgate was fantastic and used to let us in at midnight.
There were some memorable wardens, the one at Sandown IOW looked and sounded just like Eric Morecambe and made the most of it, he really was hilarious.
We stayed at Swanage for a week on a school trip, the warden was a bit of a misery, but by the end of the week had brightened up considerably to the point where we had him in stitches most of the time. A couple of weeks after we got back, the school received a lovely letter from his wife explaining that he knew he hadn't got long to live and died shortly after we left, he'd told her that our school group had given him a really happy final week in charge. We were in tears, we hadn't got a clue that the poor bloke was terminally ill, so we all chipped in and sent a bouquet of flowers to his funeral, poor old boy.
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Our happy band of hikers during Easter 1966 standing underneath the dreaded room 13 at Ilam Hall.
That was a very eery Youth Hostel to stay in, ghostly figures in the coal cellar and strange noises in the night from room 13. I gather that the place has just had a makeover:-
Not as creepy as this place though, Rudyard Lake. We were woken up at night by loud tapping noises at 4:00am, coming from the room next door, followed by a strange glow in the room, we all hid under the covers. The next day we got the warden to open up the room next door which was a disused storeroom full of dust and undisturbed for a long time:-
Hippo Girl
Edale still has a station, but all it is now is a couple of platforms with a bus shelter.
We got snowed in at the Youth Hostel and had to abandon our ascent of Kinder Scout, yes I think the hostel is called Rowland Cote, Beefsteak. The next day it was chucking it down with rain and freezing cold, so we decided to cheat and catch the train to Buxton from Edale:-
Happy hikers Easter 1966:-
Not quite the end of the story, a certain sign fell off the door at Edale waiting room and now resides on my shed:-
The other sign by the way was rescued from the old canal bridge on Trowell Road near Wollaton Colliery, just before the bridge was demolished with dynamite.
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Yesterday was the 100th anniversary of the Youth Hostel Association, yes it passed me by as well, until I noticed a programme all about it shoved on BBC4 at 21:00, shows how much the media thought of it.
The programme was fantastic, they found loads of archive film stored in their headquarters in Derbyshire that hadn't seen the light of day for many years, much of it in colour. Clips of some of these films were shown and characters involved with them were found and interviewed.
I'm sure that many of you went happy hostelling, either with school parties or on hiking trips to the Peak District, do any of you have a few tales to tell about your experiences.
I found some of my badges in mothers loft:-
So many missing, we went to every Youth Hostel in the Peak District at some time or other during the 60's, I recall Oakenclough being in the middle of nowhere between the Cat and Fiddle and Leek and having no proper running water. Edale had a benevolent warden who let us stay in when it snowed. Leam Hall had a warden who saved my trip by giving me a waterproof canvas cape after mine had split in the horrendous weather conditions.
We stayed at Elton at the same time as a party of schoolgirls who invited us to their dorms then locked the door before we could get in.
The one that stands out in my mind is Matlock, we were staying there waiting for the girls to arrive, only to find out that the rest of the place had been booked by a party of handicapped kids, we were horrified. In the end, we had the most fantastic evening with these kids, I recall one girl who could not communicate with anyone and was completely deaf, yet could play Chopin absolutely note perfect on the piano, poor old Carl who stammered so much, yet wanted to play snap all night.
Thats what the YHA was all about, getting involved with people that you would never meet in your lives, and enjoying the experience.
We loved it, basic facilities and early to bed, but you could always do a deal and let people through the window, followed by horrendous joke telling and farting competitions in the dorm afterwards, as long as the Warden didn't hear.
I suppose some of you think it all sounds a bit sad, but it was great fun at the time when you were a youth and didn't have much money.
Did anybody else go to any of these places in their heyday when you had to rough it a bit.
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I'm off again, funny what you find, not quite steam, I know, but can anyone recall these odd beasts:-
The brake tender, shoved in front of diesels when they replaced steam on the unfitted coal trains due to the inadequate braking capacity of the diesels, why this one was stuck on front of a breakdown train, taken off the footbridge at Trent Lane Crossing, April 1965, is beyond me.
Heres another one, attached to one of the original Peaks taken at Toton depot in the summer of 65:-
They were always shoved in front of the loco and looked ridiculous, I don't think that they were used for very long, I recall lines of them dumped at Toton in the late 60's, wasn't it an East Midlands phenomena.
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I've got all tearful thinking about the old tandem, it had disc, as well as cantilever brakes, 3 speed Cyclo gears and remained pretty much unchanged for most of our ownership, I wonder what happened to it, it was a Sun tandem, why the old man didn't dismantle it and store it in the garage is beyond me.
I've been trying to find a particular photo that I know I have somewhere, meanwhile, exactly 30 years on from that last picture, you can see it peeping just inside the frame on the right of the picture:-
This was our epic trip from Nottingham to the Isle of Wight, we stopped for a sandwich next to the GWR mainline near Didcot, this was the Bristol Pullman passing at speed. Shortly afterwards while struggling up the hills near Watership Down, the Cyclo gears decided to reduce themselves to bits and bounce all over the road. We grovelled around in the traffic and found every part, which had to be put back together. We didn't have any more trouble until I'd dropped my mate off home several hundred miles later and the gear cable decided to snap while travelling back alone along Glaisdale Drive.
Rog
I found the picture of the Peak and the pumping station, not such a good picture as I remembered it, but you can just make out the building and the chimney in the top right of the photo:-
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I've been worried about you Fynger, I reckon that you've been concentrating on that banjo too much.
Incidentally, did you see Taj Mahal on Jools Holland last week, playing the blues on a banjo, it wasn't pretty, but quite remarkable.
My old man sold the Tandem for £6 to some kids, many years ago when I was away at college, I was not impressed, what a loss, it had been part of the family since the 1920's, it was in fantastic condition and I still have boxes of spare parts. I have a similar vintage tandem stored in my bike shed, it needs a lot of work to get it back on the road, it will be restored eventually, but it will never be the same.
Mum and Dad, somewhere in Leicestershire, 1937, on the fabled tandem:-
B-17 Sally B to fly again
in Owt' Abaaht Nowt !
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Despite murky weather down here, you'll be interested to know, or judging by the response to this thread, not really, that Sally B has just completed a succesful test flight, thats alright then, all is well with the world.