Chulla

Thank you Lizzie, Mike and Compo for you kind sentiments about my poem. Believe it or not I am not into poetry, it was just that I felt at the time that I had to say something to counteract the propaganda being said about the gallery. I have been past it many times and have yet to see anyone going in to it or coming out. As for 'looking forward to the next one', I did write one other, some twenty or more years ago, and like the above, just put it away. Nothing to do with this thread, though.

When the Contemporary Art Gallery was built at Weekday Cross, someone associated with its construction said that it blended in with the surrounding architecture - High Pavement. Where was Specsavers when we need them!. This tactless statement encouraged me to put pen to paper and in a poem relate the way that our city has lost its architectural heritage. I wrote it in the style of John Betjeman and then put it away. This thread has reminded me of it, so it seems the best place to give it an outing. Betjemanian Lament Come friendly bombs and fall on Notts, On hideous structure, munici

#32 and #33. Just caught up with this thread. The rising intonation at the end of an Australian's remark is described as aquizzical. Regarding the way heducated people speak in pronouncing flat vowels, such as barth and parth for bath and path, it makes me smile when they get caught out and cannot lengthen the vowel without it sounding ridiculous. Such a word would be 'black'. They could not say blarck, so they say 'bleck'.

#1403. In Mucky Uckna' they would say 'gode watch' with the latter pronounced as in match.

#32. Having thunk a little more about this, I think it was Les Bales, not Fred.

Yes, we did have Pearce's ice cream van come round, but Bales was the first, though he did not come round the Circus. Old man BaIes' combo (BSA sloper, I think) had two tubs with the ice cream in. All was prepared by hand, that is, he hand-filled the cornets and the sandwiches. I cannot remember him selling suckers. I always thought that Pearce's ice cream was the best. Its suckers certainly were - you could suck them and they did not turn to clear ice, as other's did. I remember seeing a lad come out of the shop on the opposite corner to the Barleycorn with a cornet in each hand and run a

Just picked up this thread. I well remember Bales ice cream, at one time the only one that came round the Bells Lane Estate. I say came round, in fact he always parked his motorcycle combination on Bells Lane, at its junction with Dulverton Vale. His son Fred was then a conductor on the No.22 service (and probably the No.1 and No.7 also). He eventually took over his dad's ice cream round, but had a van. No musical chimes in those days, just a couple of paps on the van's hooter.

For some reason #24 posted itself before I had finished! The other major venue was the Dancing Slipper, Bill Kinnell ran the jazz nights there, but I never warmed to the place. He also ran the jazz nights at the Boat and Horses at Beeston Rylands. Had some really good nights there. That is where I first saw Britain's greatest jazz band (though many might not agree with me, mainly because they never heard them). They were the Original Downtown Syncopators, who played the style of music of the Original Dixieland Jazz Band. If you never heard them then kick yourself! My pal Johnny Bennett and m

I was into the local jazz scene during the first half of the 1960s. The TBI was the regular venue, with the Mercia on Tuesdays nights (I think) and the guest band on Fridays. The Mercia moved to the 360 Club (ex-Liberal Club) on Highbury Vale, Bulwell for a while. Met the wife there.

Paulus. Didn't like the look of that long ellipsis after your message!

You might have mentioned how much I look like Errol Flynn in his prime! Tom's son married a girl named Stocks - Stock's B&S Driving School.

Katyjay, Thinking about it, Tom Bridges might have gone and lived on Broxtowe Lane after he retired. When he had his vegetable round he lived in a council house in the cul-de-sac on Ainsdale Crescent. I knew his son (but cannot remember his name). He married a girl who's father was the owner of the Beeston and Stapleford (B&S) driving school. Tom's son and his wife lived in a house/bungalow built on Jackson's field.

I could see all those views from my front window - if wasn't for the houses in between!

There's a nice example of an Art Dco building on Talbot Street - on the right-hand side going down just before you get to Clarendon Street.

When they were filming Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, the Nottingham Panthers had their annual dance at the Sherwood Rooms. I went and saw Shirley Ann Field and Norman Rossington hand out the prizes/trophies.

I assume that all their husbands (if they had one) had signed the pledge. In which case they would look more miserable than their wives.

#51 Wigwam Lane, Hucknall. On old maps the lane is called Wigram Lane. I suppose the locals used to call it Wigwam and they decided on that name eventually.

Carni, The ink was contained in a can, about four inches in diameter, half open at the top with a long, thin spout - tubing, really, not like a teapot spout. We always used black ink. Pens were wood with nib in one end. There were two kinds of nib - one that had a fine point, and one that had a wide spade end. We only used black ink. You could use a fountain pen, if you had one, ink didn't have to be black. We were taught to write in the Marion Richardson style, a very bland style that had all the ascenders upright - italic writing was strictly taboo. The crossbar of a letter t had to be on

At Crane school we had ink monitors, who would fill up the wells. I remember when one lad dropped some carbide into a well causing it to bubble up over the desk.

T G Hepburn was Nottingham's finest railway photographer - I met him once and he sold me some prints. Authors Ian Brown and Brian Stevenson put a nice selection of his pictures in their publication T. G. Hepburn, Railway Photographer, published by Nottinghamshire County Council in association with RAS Publishing in 1998. The railway gave him trackside passes, resulting in the best local 'action' scenes in the steam days.

#35 Mick2me. Regarding the uses of the word nigger, it should be remembered that when some of us were young just about every brown-coloured dog had this name. Are you saying that someone cannot post a message that says, for instance, 'we had a dog named nigger when I was young'. Similarly, many women had nigger-brown-coloured coats. How far is Nottstalgia political correctness prepared to go?

Yes, I remember Gordon Clay (I think it was, not Cley) when I was in the ABC in the early 1950s. His office was above the headmaster's (Thomas Gunn). Last I heard of him was a few years ago, and he had reached a ripe old age - in his nineties, I think. A nice man and one you couldn't fall out with.

Yes he did, but he re-appeared in the film Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

During the war I lived with my grandparents in Cheltenham Street, Old Basford. In 1944 I went to the infants at Southwark Street School. I remember November 1945 like it was yesterday, sitting on the floor with the other kids, playing with toys, when the headmistress walked and told me that my dad had come to collect me. He was just back from India and I hadn't seen him for three years. I walked up the street holding the hand of what seemed a stranger. How's that for a memory.

#44. I did not start using the MGO buses (never went on their trolleys) until the late 1950s - on my way the Gate Inn in Awsworth to play darts. Actually, I cannot remember the doors, but the interiors were always nice and warm from the heater, suggesting that the heat couldn't escape. The trolley buses were sold to Sheffield Corporation, who, I believe, were the last council to have them. Another internal bus sign, not seen nowadays was No Spitting.