Mot the hopeful

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11 Excellent Nottstalgia Content

About Mot the hopeful

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  1. Mot the hopeful

    Is it Just Me, or Does Anyone Else Hate Christmas !

    Where was " The Dog and Gun" .. ?
  2. Mot the hopeful

    Hairdressing

    Peppers on Trinity Square were good for mens hair.
  3. Mot the hopeful

    Do something or not

    Interesting, fly. I wonder how House of Fraser staff will react to their imminent zero-hours contracts. But give Ashley his due, his proposal contains concern that shopping is changing, and fast. I no longer live in the city but remember Nottingham as a vibrant pleasant place to follow the other half as she delightedly tripped from one store to another. I reason that, as always, market forces will win the day, but this is not a bad thing. The focus will be on personal services ie., nail bars, hairdressers, cafes, barbers, restaurants, jewellers and very high end clothing stores. People will still want an outside social experience. I fear that some more long established names, eg. Debenhams, will bite the dust, but in time these will be replaced by different, more dynamic enterprises. Also, if Amazon , who make colossal profits from online retail, were compelled to have high street stores, what interesting places they would be.
  4. Mot the hopeful

    Do something or not

    Much in the news is the "decline" in what is collectively called "the High Street". Mike Ashley ( love him or loath him, he knows the contemporary business world), has produced an interesting solution. He suggests that any company that produces more than a certain percentage of its TOTAL profits via online sales, should be compelled to have a high street presence. This is from a tycoon who has made his fortune based on the internet. Should there be a solution or will we allow the market jungle to self regulate ?
  5. Mot the hopeful

    The Nottingham Suburban Railway

    Viewing some old maps on the internet, the cutting I mentioned previously was the Arnold side of what is called, on the 1930's map, the Mapperley tunnel. The other side emerged at Gedling Pit. This area was a magnet for most boys in the area, especially when the line fell into disuse. The steep sides of the cutting were the site of many climbing competitions, gradually working your way up to the virtually perpendicular sides at the actual tunnel mouth. Long lines of what looked perfectly serviceable coal and goods wagons, were parked in the cutting for some time. This was probably around the time of the Beeching cuts. The whole area was approached from down a long rustic lane off Sandfield Road in Arnold. This lane was lined with various highly productive fruit trees, the remains of a long gone orchard, ....….. literally ' Nirvana' for small boys . At the end of the lane ran a stream of clear water, which the locals referred to as "Jonahs". Crossing the stream brought you to a large field, dotted with the odd huge tree providing another climbing experience. Along one side of the field ran the railway line leading to the dark menacing mouth of the tunnel. This tunnel was an awesome sight to a small boy, as light did not penetrate far into it's cavernous maw. With the constant dripping splashing of surface water penetrating the overhead brickwork, considerably amplified by the acoustics of a large empty space, it struck apprehension into the youthful heart. An ongoing dare amongst the assembled gang was to walk through to the other side, which, as you could see no daylight from the Gedling end, was regarded as an heroic exploit, and never previously achieved. A crafty chap ( whom we shall call Fynger ) saw an opportunity to considerably enhance his standing in the group by taking on this chilling feat. Dumbstruck we watched his nervous form clumping down the sleepers, his only aid a feeble dimming light from his bike lamp. As the open mouthed crew watched the frail beam suddenly went out completely, seconds later an awful caterwauling scream erupted from the murky abyss. This was enough for any eight year old heart. Tumbling and tripping over one another, the intrepid gang fled the scene, wondering what tale they would recite to Fynger's mournful parents. None of us wishing to face the music. we all took a sacred oath of omerta before going home. At school the following Monday, jaws were agape as Fynger swaggered through the school gates, apparently non the worse for his meeting with the underworld. "Did yer do it, did yer do it..!! repeated the excited mob. "Ah course, ah course, nowt to it", bragged the hero. Fynger revelled in his newly created persona for quite some time, but years later when I met him in the pub, he confessed that he when the lamp gave out he had lost his nerve, tripped on the rails and put his hand on something soft and slimy, hence the scream. He frantically crawled back over the sleepers, and finding no one at the tunnel mouth, hatched his plan for eternal notoriety. Never trust a lad from Redhill.
  6. Mot the hopeful

    The Nottingham Suburban Railway

    Thanks CT and Phil Mayfield. As a boy I remember an, (what seemed to me at the time), immense railway cutting, which the local lads referred to as "Jonah's". What was used to fill this..? as, if I remember correctly, the whole area was developed very quickly in order to build the new High schools and housing estates. I hope it wasn't spoil from the nearby colliery.
  7. Mot the hopeful

    The Nottingham Suburban Railway

    Only recently been made aware of the past Nottingham suburban railway. Tracing the old route, it seems the stations were very close to each other. What type of engine would be used to haul these trains ?...as they are required to do a lot of starting and braking.
  8. Mot the hopeful

    Albert Brown !

    To save blushes, a name has been tweaked …… In my younger days, I had the immense pleasure to be the object of the affections of a stunning young lady, whose parents ran several chip shops around the city. The smallest ( yet strangely. the busiest, ) was on Bunbury Street , very close to the Bathley Streeet junction . On Bathley dwelt a flamboyant character we shall name Marmaduke, ( guess who ) , who was one of the regular clientele. I distinctly recall our first encounter.... " Well helleeeew honky tonk !...... cooed Marmaduke. " Whah ?...……...stammered yours truly " My, you're a big boy and no mistake …….he trilled. I stared aghast at this bizarre apparition, mostly transfixed by the chiffon scarf wrapped tightly round his scraggy neck. Behind Marmaduke in the queue for chips was another regular named Baz, an immense council workman, who had to come through the chip shop door sideways. " Lerrim alone Marmaduke " he grunted, " he dunt look like a wuftah to me..!. ( No PC in those days ). I was hastily bundled into the back room by the delectable girlfriend who laughingly informed me , " It's alright , he's only like that when he's pissed " ……(apparently a not infrequent event.) Later that evening I was leaning on a pillar outside Lyons ,waiting for the Arnold bus, when I spied Marmaduke mincing across Slab Square directly towards me, his purple bootees flashing in the twllight. Fortunately the No. 69 wheezed to a halt at that moment and I leapt aboard. As the bus pulled away he looked up, gave a quick wave , and I swear, blew me a kiss !! In a state of deep paranoia I spent the next few days talking in a deep bass voice, taking extra long strides, and frantically checking my shirt tails weren't hanging out. Our paths crossed quite often at the shop, and I gradually realised he was a rather sad , sometimes amusing, harmless old buffer. (or should that be harmless old bugger ! ) He excelled himself very late on one very warm sultry summer night, when having picked up the gorgeous lass from the shop, I stopped my newly acquired motor at a secluded lonely spot on the Embankment. As we were engaged in a torrid passionate clinch, a leering face topped by an unmistakeable orange hued coiffeur burst through the half open window. looked me straight in the eye, and warbled " Oooooh….you are a tease !!! The beauty emitted a tooth rattling scream as I crashed through the drivers door and promptly nose dived into the duck muck.... due to my bellbottoms falling round my ankles...(belt came loose, don't know why). I staggered to my feet just in time to see a familiar little white mac disappearing into the War Memorial gardens. Plodding back to the car I was distraught to find the object of my carnal desires convulsed with mirth..engulfed in shuddering waves of laughter...at my bedraggled appearance, thereby ruling out any further steamy activity. The moment, like Marmaduke, had gone.
  9. Mot the hopeful

    What were they..?

    Many thanks for swift replies. Picture the scene... Sweltering midsummer afternoon in mid fifties, a motley collection of well scrubbed small boys are waiting outside said cabin for Akela, a diminutive very well spoken elderly lady, to lead them on their nature walk. Just outside a well worn cart pulled by a huge horse was awaiting the return of it's equally huge driver. During it's enforced wait the horse was steadily depositing a vast pyramid of steaming dung, around which the assembled flies were having a feast. Akela jabbed her gnurled walking stick in the air, bringing the advancing column of eager boys to a sudden halt. At that moment a brawny, soot covered figure in a long leather apron emerged from a doorway opposite. "I say my man, kindly remove this animal " breathed Akela in her cultured Oxford accent. At which, the black streaked colossus roared ( in broad arnold) "F.......ing wait, yer F......ing nosey old cah..! Slight pause..... Akela advances to the rear of the now curious horse and, raising her ancient walking stick, declares ( in even broader arnold)... "If yuh don't F.....ing shift this F...ing old nag, and F....ing sharpish,...I'll whack it on the a..se and yuh won't F....ing catch it till next F...ing week..!!! The courtyard echoed to the sound of many small jaws dropping to it's gravelly floor as the chastened curmudgeon leapt onto the driving seat and clattered away. You can't judge a book by it's cover.
  10. Mot the hopeful

    What were they..?

    Sorry, these cabins were on Cavendish St. which runs parallel to Bond St..just checked my map. They were separated by a small courtyard big enough for car parking and emergency vehicles...They were fully equipped with a large kitchen and a coke fired central stove. As per original post ...who built them and why?
  11. Way back in the late 50's to early 60's, on Bond Street , Arnold , were two long , low wooden cabins. They were on the right hand side as you walked up from High St. They were used around this time for Wolf Cub and Girl Guide meetings, and looked as if they had been built for some years. Who originally built them and for what purpose..?