Jill Sparrow

My personal favourite is 'Once to every man and Nation/Comes the moment to decide' which could be seen as slightly topical at present! The tune is Ebenezer, also known as Ton Y Botel. Ends on a striking tierce de Picardie (a major chord). It was a Manning School favourite but I've rarely heard it sung elsewhere. If you aren't familiar with the tune, Loppy, have a look. The words are also fascinating.

What's wrong with the words? It's a fine poem by William Blake, alluding to the legend that Christ visited England as a child. I love the whole hymn and sing it regularly around the house!

Or joined up writing. Children usually started by writing patterns in a specially lined handwriting book. My writing is atrocious which is why I type everything!

I'm English. Always have been English, always will be English. From today, I will be purchasing nothing European if I can avoid it, despite the difficulties that may cause me. As a protest. Thank heaven for Aussie red wine!

I met my friend, Jane, at around 10.10 on Tuesday morning outside Berridge. We were slightly early, so walked down to Brushfield Street. As we stood there, a woman came walking along and she turned out to be the girl who is sitting on the other side of me on the 1963 photo! She still lives in the area. The odd thing was that she hasn't changed. Just looks older! We're all now 61 instead of 5.

Cherchez la femme! Ben doesn't need to leave the UK to do that!

In her early teens, my mother went to dances at the church hall and on the way home down Churchfield Lane, used to run past the graveyard. This was war time and blackout regulations were in force which would make the old graveyard even more eerie. I believe there was a legend that the churchyard was haunted by a cavalier, or a Royalist, to give the proper term. The place was given a facelift in the early 70s, I think. There are still gravestones but these are embedded flat in the ground or ranged around the boundary walls. My grandmother attended this church and was a member of the

I was more your Shirley Temple!!

1963 Plastic windows and murals but little else has changed...except we've all grown up. Front row, 5th from the left is me. 6th from the left is Jane who came along on Tuesday!

Here's an even older wedding photo at St St Peter's. 1945. My father's cousin, Jean Bullough marrying Jack Sadler. The Bulloughs lived on Alfreton Road in one of the Victorian villas which are now mainly flats and bedsits. My great aunt Eva, older sister of the infamous Kate, is on the right. Next to her, my father's younger sister, Hilda. At 89, the only one still alive.

I am indeed, CT. 3rd row back, 4th from the right. For those who weren't able to be there, we have been invited back...because we behaved nicely and thanked everyone for letting us visit. So, there could be another trip!

Reservations about this. Preferred it as it was 50 years ago. I hadn't been back to this area for 31 years and was astounded by the amount of traffic going over Bobbers Mill Bridge!

The Whitemoor as seen on Tuesday. Still recognisable, despite the changes.

How many Berridge children have secreted themselves inside this niche situated in the playground which fronts the old infant building, hoping to be left behind when the bell rang at playtime's close? I know I did. Just for old times' sake, hid in there again on Tuesday!

Some things have survived. The Pheasant on Prospect Street!

On my visit to the area this week, I had a wander past the old Player's sites. Paid a visit to St Peter's church. I can remember when this was full of higgledy piggledy graves, overgrown and ivy clad. Now, it's a peaceful green space but, again, littered with rubbish. Clearly, also being used as overnight accommodation. The west door today. And on 25 June 1949. My parents' wedding. 70 years ago.

Sitting on this exact spot, facing the stationery cupboard in Mr Parr's classroom, in spring 1969, I sat my 11+ exam.

The junior entrance as it was in 1969.

Through this door...and it's the original, although painted black in my day...I walked with my mum one cold morning early in 1962. I was just 4 years old. The door led to Miss Smith's office and my mum wanted to put my name down to begin school in the November when I'd be 5. Unfortunately for me, there were vacancies and the following week I was at Berridge...almost a year too soon! In this fireplace, now bricked up, burned a roaring coal fire. And, here, pushed into a corner and covered with dross, is Miss Smith's Victorian desk. I

I shall be wishing the same thing on Sunday, Margie. I still find it hard to see the cards for mothering Sunday and not buy one but there will be a large vase of flowers next to her photo.

The old junior entrance, used in 1969 when I left and still in use today. Berridge is not as spartan as it was in my day. There is now carpet throughout the school and blinds at the windows. Classroom ceilings have been lowered to preserve heat and improve acoustics. However, the one thing we all noticed was the smell of Carbolic soap! There was none...but the smell remains. It must be ingrained in the fabric of the building! The rows of washbasins in the entrance vestibule are gone, replaced with receptionists and log in computer screens!

Yes, it was emotional. I stood outside the Brushfield Street gate earlier in the morning and the memories came gushing back of my mum who passed on 9 years ago. Oddly, I've discovered that my paternal grandmother, the infamous Kate, lived at 131 Brushfield Street when she was a child. She may even have attended Berridge for a time. The house has been demolished but stood almost opposite the school gate.

This is the former tuckshop to which PP is referring, on the corner of Oakland Street and Berridge Road. In my day, it was run by Mr and Mrs Merriman. They were probably in their 50s. They sold general grocery items but also sweets and ices. Penny drinks were a favourite or 3d drinks if you were feeling flush. Lovely people the Merrimans. They emigrated to Australia where their son was already living. Someone else bought the shop but it was never the same. It closed long ago. The windows and doors now bricked up. Who ran it in your day, PP?

I doubt it, Margie. Not until many years later did she tell me about it and she always tried to make school a positive experience.

One good thing was discovering that the outside toilets had been removed. I've written about my very distressing experience at the age of 4 years in the self-flushing toilets in the corner of the infant playground. The playground is now a car park but, in the corner where the loos once stood, I found evidence of their previous existence in these glazed tiles!