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6.5 million bricks in its construction, and I bet many old railwaymen from Bulwell have some for posterity.

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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 w

It is thirty years ago that the great benevolent monster in the village I was brought up in fell silent for ever. At its peak it employed just under 2,000 men and was the focus of a thriving village.

Mmmm, not much left then Phil ! 

^^^ VERY, VERY SAD!!!!!!^^^ that such a place could have been destroyed like that.

 

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!ESSENCE OF VANDALISM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

by the occupants of the building in the background.

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3 hours ago, IAN123. said:

When this and the Bulwell Viaduct came down...i had to get the 141 to town.B4umn-KICMAAsg43.jpgNorthern Bridge..is that a 2cx?

So many memories from that one picture,,

Northern Baths,, school swimming,,which i hated.

Catchems Pub,, many family 'Wakes' in there

Oakleigh lodge,, Grandad a founder member,,

Saxondale drive,, where Grandma and Grandad lived,

Mandalay street,, where Mr Richards my first Marsdens manager lived

Bulwell lane,, where many family members lived,

Under the Bridge,, 1963,, got fined for speeding

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Avoided the Baths completely after leaving school,,just couldn't take to Swimming...........finally went for adult lessons when i was 30,so i could learn me kids......which i did,,..........still not keen though,,

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On 12/23/2018 at 8:07 PM, IAN123. said:

Dated a "swimmer" years ago Ben...she lived on Fraser Square..i were'nt keen..Carlton Forum  vs The Heathfield?

 

Funny thing is Carlton Forum is where i went for Adult lessons with 3 or 4 other chaps of same age (30 ish) young lass that taught us was brilliant,,learned me to swim on me back,,which i still do when forced.,,however 5 or 6 years ago tried swimming on me back at a Villa we rented in Spain,,and i'd forgot how,, bit embarrassed when 9 year old Grandaughter saved me,,...........still rags me about it........lol.

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Sounds like an experience I had in Canada, Ben.   I was trying to skate in an outdoor rink.  A little kid came flying by and stopped on a Dime.  He looked at me  and said, "What's up Mr.  Can't you skate?"  "No I can't"  I said.  He looked at me pitifully for a minute,  Then he said, "Where you been?"  I had to laugh.  Still can't skate either.

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I used to live in one of those rows, Ian: 61 Byron Road, the second one from the colliery. I took the photo just before I left the area.  Been down that shaft many, many times.  Had a grizzly neighbour next door whom I called "Old Crab face". One day she knocked on the door and walked right in as usual in those places and shouted "It's only me, Old Crab Face!" I was stunned and she just laughed - "Walls are thin and when you happen to have a glass on the wall and an ear on the glass, they are even thinner!" She said.  Served me right! We became good friends after that and remained so until her death some years later.

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Somewhere, I have a terrible photo of thee pit taken from the front bedroom window in Byron Road, Annesley Rows. I am currrently sorting out thousands of old photos and if I chance upon it I shall post it here.  When I worked there the winders were still driven by STEAM, with electricity replacing the steam winders only just before I left in 1969.

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Compo, I visited the Papplewick pumping station a few years ago, I'm sure they have one of the steam winders there, there was someone who" worked 'em at pit "

Great visit, 

Regards

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I am not sure where the winding engine came from but at the side of the main engine house there used to be a shaft where they used to raise the coal from a pit tunnel. Again not sure from which pit it came from, but it amazed me that all those years ago they could drive a roadway underground several miles long then sink a shaft and it would connect together in the correct place. For those who have never been to the pumping station it is well worth it , especially on days when the engine is in steam. British engineering at its finest.

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2 hours ago, trogg said:

it amazed me that all those years ago they could drive a roadway underground several miles long then sink a shaft and it would connect together in the correct place.

 

A little bit of thread drift coming up... Just how did they do that in the days before GPS and lasers.

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Brew: The engineers did their sums and the miners did their tunnelling - they were a bit good at what they did.

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Brew, "How did they do it without GPS and lasers?" Well GPS doesn't work underground anyway, so they still drive roads underground the same way they have done for a couple of hundred years, they use highly skilled surveyors, Instead of using lines these days, they use a laser unit mounted on the roof and pointing dead on line on the road face. The roadheader or miner driver use that as a guide.

In shaft mines, the datum is the dead centre of both shafts and as you get off the cage and look up to the roof in pit bottom, you'd see a surveyors base mark, a pin driven in the roof, all measurements are taken from this point outwards. There are also datum pins at various places underground that have to be checked every so often to make sure ground movement hasn't moved them from the original positions on the plans.

I might also point out, if you want a piece of land surveyed today, the surveyor wouldn't rely on GPS, it's not accurate enough for a legally surveyed property line.

Most of the sections in my part of the US were surveyed over 150 years ago, including the state line between Arkansas and Missouri, with a theodolite and a surveyors chain, and are deadly accurate to less than a second.

The chain was still used in the 1960's and collieries back then still used the chain for measuring roadway distances, apprentice surveyors were nicknamed "chainboys" as they had the honour of carrying the heavy chain around for the surveyor. My guess is they were glad to be rid of the chain...LOL

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Eee, the things you learn on 'ere. I used GPS as an example of our techno age, I know they don't work underground. 

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Brew, when I was an apprentice at Clifton Colliery, we had the head surveyor lose his survey ticket. It was a pretty close call, he was out by ten degrees on 12's face ten degrees to the west where we came very close to the Bunter sandstone measures, had not one of the junior surveyors found out there was an error, the pit could have been flooded by an inrush of water, killing everyone underground.

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It is thirty years ago that the great benevolent monster in the village I was brought up in fell silent for ever. At its peak it employed just under 2,000 men and was the focus of a thriving village.

We lived within 250 yards of the shafts and my earliest memory of the mine was walking to and from school four times a day. You could see into the winding house from the road and hear the hiss of the steam from the winding engines. Feel the soft mist from the wooden cooling tower. Watch the wire rope glitter in the sun as it went out from the winding house and over the wheels on the headstocks and down into the shaft. Hear the rumble of the coal preparation plant and the crash as the buckets on the aerial ropeway emptied the waste on to the pit tip to be smoothed out by the growling dirty yellow bulldozers. The chuff - chuff of the little tank engine and the clank of trucks as they were marshalled in the sidings. There was a time in the coldest winters when you could walk down the steepest hill in the village without slipping because of the line where the hot water pipes that supplied the houses kept the road free of ice and snow.

The warm smell of the canteen and a blue riband biscuit when I used to meet my dad at the end of his day shift. The miners welfare provided great sporting facilities and of course beer for the adults and pop and crisps for the kids after a  walk on a warm Sunday afternoon. The ever present sounding of the hooter calling the men to work was a reminder, in my youth, to get out of a warm bed and get off up to the canteen to catch the paddy to Mansfield.

I am glad I was not there to see the headstocks dynamited and then cut up for scrap or tons of rubble being tipped down and then concrete capping off the shafts or the demolishing of the canteen. The only obvious sign of the mine that is left now are the engineering workshops that have been converted into factory units, even approaching the village you would not guess that the rolling green country side and fishing ponds were once the pit tips and washery ponds. There is a generation in the village now that never knew the mine and life has inevitably and thankfully moved on.

 

In memoriam of that benevolent monster, the 22 men who lost the lives and many others that were injured in mining the  black gold that lies beneath Nottinghamshire

 

 

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Photo The Chad

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