Bilboro-lad
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Posts posted by Bilboro-lad
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In 1967 it was well known that he lived in Burton Joyce. We wanted him to open our school sports day on Stoke Lane but he wanted a thousand pounds. We ended up getting Forest footballer Frank Wignall (also of Burton Joyce) for twenty pounds.
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I had a few minutes to spare so this is hot off the press:
The saddest of seasons is the autumn
Under grey leaden skies, just waiting to cry
Nature’s lost interest and is preparing to sleep,
The hibernating creatures will slumber so deep.
And many will not re-awake.
The fields once golden are now muddy clay
The farmer is waiting for the frost.
The lone hardy walker in the far off field
Lost in her thoughts of what might have been.
If ever she’d met that man of her dreams.
The crow wheels across the sky to the wood,
She’s raised her brood and now they’ve left,
The walker now near out of sight,
She wanders home in the cold twilight
To an empty house once more.
Melancholy days of sad refrain,
Of dogs and masters in the rain.
If I have the choice,
But I guess I won’t.
I hope that I die in the autumn.
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The nights closing in reminded me of a very happy time when I was about 12 - 13.
I would come home from school in late November/December (Glaisdale in Bilborough) and being as we came out at 4.15 we always walked home in the dark, often in rain or fog, sleet or snow.
Anyway when I arrived home my Mum would have a huge roaring fire going in the front room. I'd go upstairs and get changed and come back down and sit by the fire. My Mum would bring me my tea and I'd sit with it on my knee watching the TV. Oddly, I remember the TV being in colour.
So me and my younger brother would sit in the firelight watching The Littlest Hobo, Tom's Midnight Garden, Huckleberry Hound show, Tom and Jerry etc.
After the cold walk home it was very much appreciated. It was only later that I found out that my Mum was in the house all day with no heating whatsoever, her nose used to drip and her hands were like ice - but we NEVER came back to a cold house. Not even once. Times were tough in the mid 60s and coal was a luxury. It's at this time of year that I always remember those times.
Some days I'd catch the number 13 to my Dad's shop (if my Mum was there), that was really interesting too; especially in the winter of 62/63.
She died 6 months ago aged 93. She was a VERY good Mum.
What I'd be interested in hearing, is:
What was your experience of coming home from school in the dark in the 50s and 60s?
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Well I'm not fond of christmas songs (apart from the Chris Rea one), so can I include "A winter's tale"? (David Essex)
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I didn't post it as my view on things. It is the view of the City Council whereby every trace of Christianity is removed from the decorations. Never see Santa now, or the nativity (Always my favourite as a child). All we get now are polar bears and fir trees, and square box presents.
Lets just cancel the whole thing. That's my view.
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It's not Christmas now. It's the 'Winter Festival'. Don't go upsetting people will you?
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Why don't they simply combine it with other tests that you might have like cholesterol?
You can't get a GP appointment as it is, without everyone panicking about prostate cancer.
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If screening was advantageous, then like breast and cervical screening, it would be done. Apparently that isn't the case with prostate cancer. Most of us die with and not of it.
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PSA tests are not reliable. Too many false positives which is why they aren't done as a matter of course.
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Well i've never seen that before.
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Oh yeah I remember that, the signalman used to come out of his box, up the steps on the far side and actually chase us. I guess it was the junior really. Tall lanky lad.
We used to try and drop bangers down the engine's funnel too.
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Who used to make a 'genie'? Break a banger in half, tip out the gunpowder and lay the fuse next to the little heap and light the touch paper.
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Another thing we used to do was tie bangers to the stick of rockets and try to time it so it went off at peak altitude.
We used to unwind catherine wheels and use them like an oxy acetylene welder.
Oh and we used to stick bangers in dog poo and try to time it to go off when someone walked past.
Life was fun as a kid in Bilborough.
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We used to break the sticks in half to make them fly all over the place. Also, if you laid them on a smooth road they would take off at a low trajectory,
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We used to make a banger gun. Get a piece of pipe, bash one end to seal it. Make a wooden handle then light a banger and slip it down the barrel, followed by a marble. They could be pretty lethal. Went right through a fence paling or dustbin.
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64 or 65 was terribly wet, never stopped raining all day and night. We couldn't get our fire started so my dad (bloody fool) threw petrol on it and just about set himself on fire.
And then being as it was so wet we lit the fireworks in the porch, which was fine until we lit one called, 'Mine of serpents' that blew a couple of dozen firey balls into the air in one big burst and we were all in the porch. Pandamonium is a good word.
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It's the cheap and nasty cooking salt and cheapo vinegar, and the fact that they are always freshly cooked that makes seaside chips the best.
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My daughter was born on Christmas day so we shifted it to 25th of June and called it her Summer Party. The only difference was she never got a year older.
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If that had been in america then the correct answer would have been 6 thousand years old.
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Show me where I have made a personal insult. Better still if we ignore each other.
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Not quite a rhyme but we used to go up the street shouting:
"Polish it behind the door".
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Mary had a little lamb,
Its fleece was black as charcoal.
She took it down the garden path,
And kicked it up the 'bottom'.
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You had to point to the relevant bits of your body when you said this one.
"Milk, milk, lemonade,
Round the back, chocolate's made."
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Hey Bilbraborn, do you remember that odd practice where a single guards van would leave that little siding on the left via gravity and freewheel across the line and down under tin bridge to god knows where? What was that all about? I think it was about 1pm or somewhere around there.
Also, if you went up those spoil heaps there was quite a big lake on the top of one of them and thick mud on another. Hot sands was the most fascinating though, if you dug down 6 inches you came to glowing embers and if you weren't careful you'd sink up to your knees in red hot cinders.
summut serious
in Owt' Abaaht Nowt !
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It's smoking, drinking and being fat that is the killer. Sort those out before you do anything else.