First ever trip alone....

[Smiffy49 590]

Can anyone recall their first outing completely alone?

Trip to Grantham - 1960.

Apart from an occasional bike ride over to my aunt's house in a suburb of Nottingham I had not, at the tender age of nine, ventured very far alone.

I still remember that particular bright sunny day, it was the second week of the school summer holidays. The long hot days it seemed would stretch out forever, well at least hopefully until September. All of my friends at school called me Smiffy for obvious reasons. I did not know it at the time but I was about to embark on a journey that would be repeated many times over the years to come.

Today as I walked over Trent Bridge, having just passed the cricket ground, I felt a growing sense of excitement tinged with mild anxiety.

The waters of the Trent slid by silently under my feet and glimmered in the sunshine. The avenue of trees on the embankment, now in full leaf displayed a wonderful canopy of green reflected in the river at the bottom of the steps.

I was soon over the bridge and at last on the city side of the river. Across the road a corporation green trolley bus waited quietly at the terminus.

Hopping nimbly onto the rear platform I entered the lower deck. The walk had made me fairly hot so away from the glare of the bright warm July sunlight the interior of the bus seemed cool and musty, but somehow welcoming. Slotting into an empty seat halfway down the aisle I fished out my fare in readiness for the short journey into town and tried to look confident.

The bus conductor was a thin stern looking man dressed in a crumpled company uniform and he wore rather small spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He lowered his head slightly to give me a quick glance before finally checking the pavement for stragglers. There was a pause then two short "ting tings" followed by a "hold tight" The bus set off with a slight jolt and as we gathered speed an increasing low whirring noise came from somewhere under the floor.

Looking back at the shimmering waters of the Trent I nervously checked again for the two pencils in my top pocket. Finally my hand thumbed the new Ian Allan ABC in my side pocket, a prized birthday present from my Uncle George. "No going back now" said a tiny voice in my head. I was startled by another voice much louder "fares please!" The butterflies in my stomach fluttered as I quickly passed over the fare. My ticket, looking like a pink tongue, popped out of the conductor's silver ticket machine and a few coppers disappeared into his deep leather bag.

My thoughts turned to the now somewhat worrying fact that I probably should have told my parents the truth about my planned outing. Instead I had given them a vague story about engine spotting with some of my friends at the station. I had purposefully not added which station.....

As the bus moved along I noticed with some amusement how on each corner the heads of the other passengers would sway and nod gently in unison.

I smiled to myself forgetting my nerves, they reminded me of a field of corn in the breeze. The conductor shook his bag as he skilfully kept his balance by leaning against a chromium plated pole next to the stairs leading to the upper deck. He whistled a steady monotonous unrecognisable tune, casually sorting the silver and copper coins.

Just about twenty minutes later and after many stops the bus turned into Parliament Street. I got up from my seat ready to get off and pressed the bell to alert the driver. I had travelled this route many times with my Dad, so knew all of the stops by heart.

Having stepped down onto the pavement I raced along Milton Street towards Victoria Station. Glancing up at the imposing clock tower and with only five minutes to get my ticket or miss the train my heart pounded. Once inside the station I saw an ornate sign in the shape of a hand. The index finger pointed to the left and the word "Tickets" stood out on one side. In front of me a large man with an equally large suitcase unfortunately eclipsed my view of the panelled ticket office. Peering round his side I saw that he was in deep conversation with some unseen person behind a small glass panel set into the wall. After what seemed an eternity the man picked up his suitcase with a grunt and walked off in the direction of the platforms.

I quickly stepped forward, a face appeared behind the glass panel and a muffled voice addressed me. Not being totally sure who the man was talking to and unable to hear clearly what he had said, I foolishly looked around expecting at any moment for my parents to come rushing up. Just then the glass panel moved with a squeak and slid upwards, the voice spoke again. Alright young man, where to? The words sat in my dry mouth but eventually came out....Return to Grantham.......please.

You had better look sharp said the ticket clerk as I handed over the money. I glanced over my shoulder and waited for the change.

Safely clutching my ticket I nervously looked around again and trying to look casual moved off towards the platforms. The tannoy announced that the next train to depart from platform six would be the 9.30 to Grantham. I quickly broke into a sprint not having time to take in the cavernous cathedral like atmosphere of my surroundings.

Platform six was over the other side so with a quick dash, two steps at a time, I scampered up the stairs and over the wide footbridge. Down the other side I leapt the last four or five steps and landed in a heap at the bottom. Opening my eyes I saw from my now horizontal position a row of maroon coloured coaches. I was quickly hauled to my feet by an unseen pair of hands. A whistle sounded from somewhere down the platform and someone called out hurry aboard please !

I frantically tried each handle of the coach next to me but my hands were wet with perspiration and would not grip. Just then a hand came past me and easily opened the door, blimey it was the large man with the suitcase... Get on young lad, he shouted, or you will be left behind. I have an hour to wait now for my next train, missed the last one ! blasted British..... The last man's voice was cut off by the door as it slammed shut behind me.

The coach was empty so I settled down into one of the seats just as the train started to move out of the station. I wanted to make sure that I would have a good view of any engines that might come into view during my journey. Gosh, I had not even had time to make a note of the locomotive in charge of my train ! With my face pressed flat against the window I looked back to wave a thanks to the large man, but as the platform slowly slipped by I could see no sign of him. Semi darkness filled the compartment as we drifted southwards into the short tunnel towards Weekday Cross junction.

Straight ahead lay the familiar old GC line to Leicester and the south. My only trainspotting outing until now had been limited to this section, in particular the Wilford and Ruddington to Loughborough area. It was on one of these visits that I had first heard some of the older boys talk about the sights and sounds of Grantham and the mainline express trains. My imagination had been fired up and now having saved up my pocket money and after telling a few misleading fibs I had drummed up the courage to visit what was to many a train spotters mecca.

A we emerged from the southern portal of the tunnel the train gently lurched to the left of the points at Weekday Cross. Looking across to my right the junction signal box came into view. Below I caught a brief glimpse of the tops of Barton and South Notts buses waiting in the circular Broad Marsh bus station. We slowly gathered speed and with bright sunlight streaming through the windows I felt a mixed feeling of wellbeing, freedom and growing anticipation. I watched the white smoke from the as yet unknown locomotive drift lazily past the window.

From the elevated blue brick viaduct we now ran parallel with an industrial landscape dotted with small workshops and storage yards. A man on a ladder cleaning a window turned half around to view our train. A cat on a low wall nonchalantly watched our procession go by. Almost as quickly as our speed had increased I felt a gentle tug of the brakes.

We coasted along and just a few minutes later crossed over London Road, slowly pulling into the High Level station.

All seemed well with my world, the locomotive simmered quietly at he head of the train and further back I heard doors open and slam shut as a few more passengers got on.

After a few minutes of silence followed by a shrill whistle from the platform and immediately answered by a whistle from the engine, we were off again.

Next stop Colwick, Grantham here I come !

[FLY2 10,108]

Brilliant Smiffy, absolutely brilliant. I well remember my first trip alone, it was Crewe. I think it was 57 or 58, I'd be about 12, but I told mum I was just going to Derby. I had a fascination with the names of the ex LMS Jubilee class. What wonderful names they had. British Colonies, famous Admirals, famous battleships and mythological creatures. I can't remember the exact fare, I think it was 5 bob or thereabouts. The train went past Nottingham shed . Nothing much there that was rare. Then Derby, likewise, as I'd been several times previously. Next was Stoke, some oddments but many cops. Then the magical Crewe. I couldn't get the numbers down fast enough. Cop after cop after cop. Pates, Jubes, Scots, Semis and Prinnies plus loads of "rare" Black 5s. I continually ran from north to South all day till about 3.30 pm then I thought I'd better head home. I had butterflies all the way hoping mum & dad wouldn't find out. They didn't, so I thought I'd chance a trip to York, another magical place I'd heard about. So later in the hols I had a mid-week trip to York. I found a replacement for my paper round and off I went. Again, not much to Sheffield Midland then a change of train to York . Again absolute bliss A1,2,3 and 4,s plus B1, B16, D49, and V2s. As an added bonus, more rare Jubes, this time Trans Pennine ones. The journey back was even better, as I came home via Sheffield Vic, a change of train then a trip down the GC to Notts Vic. I wish I still had my note books. My mother, who thought train spotting was a complete waste of time threw out all my note books and many ABCs when I left home in my late teens. I never forgave her. Even at her funeral 30 odd years later I still could not forgive her.

I carried on spotting till July 62 when I left school. Things had changed by then. Not much at Vic, and bloody diesels every where.

Great days.

[StephenFord 866]

Wonderfully atmospheric description Smiffy. Is there going to be a chapter 2 - pleeeeaase?! I could read this sort of stuff all day.

Just one small comment - I don't think it was platform 6. That was one of the south end bays on the side nearest the main entrance on Milton Street. From how you describe it, you had to cross over to the far (eastern) side, and got on from one of the two through platforms immediately at the foot of the stairs - 7 on the right, or 10 on the left.

[Smiffy49 590]

Basfordred & StephenFord, Thanks for your comments, sadly - as I'm sure we all know - the years do play tricks with memories.

The overall picture is still there but the finer technical detail fades, so a bit of guess work has to come in.

Once again thank you for advising me on that, no problem.

I am working on another chapter and maybe others too? It will be nice to be advised on any small (or large) technical mistakes as they emerge as I want to make my posts & memories as true to life as possible. Thanks chaps !

Smiffy

[bamber 128]

How things have changed.

There are modern parents who fret endlessly over their twelve-year-olds going to school on their own.

[FLY2 10,108]

You're right Bamber. I don't remember the exact time I started spotting, early to mid 50's I think. We lived on Garnet St up Gordon Rd and mum always dragged me off shopping on Saturdays until I nearly fainted in C&A's, it was so hot and stuffy. From then on, she would leave me standing on the railings on Parliament St bridge overlooking the south end of Notts Vic. I sometimes managed to climb on the wall, but it was a bit scary about 60ft up. Can you just imagine a parent leaving an 8 year old these days. It's unheard of. Other than getting grubby, and one day scuffing my gaberdine mac, i never came to any harm. I did encounter one unsavoury character when I was spotting in Princes Street Gardens Edinburgh in 1959, but I was 14 then and soon moved elsewhere. I never told mum and dad as they would have wanted me to quit spotting. Anyway, dad had pre warned me of such types a year or so earlier. No harm done, just an incident that shapes the way you think later in life.

[loppylugs 8,429]

Don't have anything quite that adventurous to report but I do remember my first trip alone. I lived in Netherfield at the time. I had a cousin who lived on Castle Boulevard near Abbey Bridge. He was into camera's etc. probably what developed my interests in such things. He would probably have been into computers in this day and age. Anyway, he had an old wind up gramophone and lots of big old 78 rpm classical records. I used to love to hear that old machine play, probably planted my love of music too. I think I was probably about eight years old. Managed to get myself onto a Trent bus in Netherfield to Huntingdon street. Walk across to slab square and pick up a city bus to Castle Boulevard. My parents knew I was going so I didn't have any explaining to do. Stayed for tea and made the trip in reverse. It was summer so light until quite late. I assume if I had not returned they would have sent out a search party. Maybe not:-). Nothing special but probably a trip few kids would be allowed to make in today's crazy world.

Great thread BTW.

[Cliff Ton 10,470]

Nothing like the distances involved in the contributions so far, but I remember my first trip into Nottingham on my own.

I was probably about 8 or 9 and I'd persuaded my mum I wanted to go from Clifton into town on the bus on my own just to prove I could do it. So one evening when I got home from school just after 4pm, I stepped out into the big world.

I don't remember the bus journey itself, but once I got into Nottingham my route was a bit short and sweet. Not out of nerves or panic, it was just that having got there I couldn't really think of anything to do or anywhere to go.

From the old Broad Marsh bus station (the horse-shoe-shaped version) I walked out of Broad Marsh, past the infamous Tower pub, and then on to Lister Gate, past BHS and Woolworths who were there then; up Albert Street passing Marks and Spencer who are still there; and then along Wheeler Gate past Sisson and Parker. Then turned left up Friar Lane past Tobys, and finally stopped at the junction with Granby Street (what is now Maid Marian Way but it didn't exist then).

At that point I'd run out of ideas about where to go, so I turned round and came back the same way, got back to Broad Marsh and got on a bus back to Clifton. In a way one of the most pointless things I've ever done, but in another way one of the biggest steps I ever made.

[DavidA 153]

I was traumatised by being put on the bus aged about 7 along with my younger brother and sister on our way to school. It was only 4 or 5 stops but it took forever... and I was too small to reach the bell. This was a regular exerience too.

[darkazana 1,736]

Smiffy49 you have the rare talent of a true story teller. I was enthralled, I haven't heard the sound of your voice, but felt I could hear you telling your tale all the same.

You should find yourself a publisher. I would buy your book. Look forward to reading more. Thank you.

[Bilbraborn 1,594]

From the age of about nine I regularly used to cycle from Bilborough to Trent Station. Also to my mate who lived in Stapleford. I used to cycle to Annesley steam shed around that age as well.

[poohbear 1,360]

Aged 12 used to cycle from Sherwood...ring road...Clifton...Gotham...Kegworth to our weekend riverside bungalow.Old army knapsack with sandwiches on my back...Just over an hour.

No worries...no mobiles...just... "Get back before dark!" Sometimes biked there Saturday with my older brother and his mates and my parents turned up Sunday morning.

[MelissaJKelly 2,124]

Loved the story Smiffy, as an English Lit student I appreciated reading something truly beautiful and use of metaphor, may I quote;

'As the bus moved along I noticed with some amusement how on each corner the heads of the other passengers would sway and nod gently in unison. I smiled to myself forgetting my nerves, they reminded me of a field of corn in the breeze.'

Love piece of story telling and like everyone else want to read on :D

How things have changed.

There are modern parents who fret endlessly over their twelve-year-olds going to school on their own.

You're not wrong Bamber, I wasn't allowed anywhere on my own until much later than most people have stated on the thread. I was allowed to catch the school bus with my sister at 11 but my Mum insisted on taking us to the bus stop even (my sister was 15 at the time). Even when meeting friends in town my parents would escort me there and then leave me to my own devices! To this day one of my parents still meets me off the bus if it's dark/late, and I'm now 21! Oh how times have changed.

[benjamin1945 16,165]

Cup final day 1953,(the matthews final) i was 8 and decided i would venture to Jelly Lake at moorbridge,which is now a nature reserve at the corner of Hucknall rd and Bestwood rd,its 2 mile from where i lived on Andover rd.I thought my mates had gone there.

Its where we used to go in a gang to catch Newts,Frogs and tadpoles,when i got there none of my mates were there,only another gang i"d not seen before,)they had Air guns and were shooting F)rogs the small pond was full of dead ones.I was really upset and angry and demanded they cease.Ofcourse they took no notice and turned me into their target and was shot in the ankle.

I ran all the way home and getting there no one was in,so i went to my aunts on the next road,and about 12 of the family were there,all watching the cup final my aunt was the only one with a telly). It was a while before i went anywhere alone again.

and oh yes MY MATES HAD GONE TO VERNON PARK!

[FLY2 10,108]

I hate cruelty to defenceless animals, I suppose the "frog shooters" progressed to terrorising cats then bullying younger children and have since done time for violence or worse.

[Bilboro-lad 294]

I went to Glenbrook school in Bilbotough and my parents furniture shop was near Bentink Road on Alfreton Rd so I had to catch the number thirteen every afternoon from aged 8 to 10. I loved it.

[Smiffy49 590]

Thanks to all for your encouragement, I do hope to post a follow on for this at some time.

A publisher? that's something I would not know how to go about, I just like writing down events as I remember them.

Once again, thanks for your posts, very kind.

Smiffy

[Commo 1,292]

Good `un Smiffy, leave `em wanting more, we've only just reached the Trent and I can't wait to pass through all the villages on the way before we even get to Grantham.

Did you have the nerve to press the bell on the bus yersen? Something I'd always wanted to do, that bright red button in the silver surround, the sole preserve of the conductor in those days.

Gerron wi` chapter 2!!

[StephenFord 866]

Not quite so Commo - I seem to remember a notice in most NCT buses which read (I don't know why all this useless jargon remains in my memory when I can't remember what I had for breakfast yesterday!) : "Passengers are permitted to ring the bell ONCE only to stop the bus. The starting of the vehicle is restricted to the conductor." I think the two statements were placed either side of a picture of the red button with the familiar "PUSH ONCE" surrounding it.

[Commo 1,292]

Cheers Stephen, that info has left the memory banks completely! I had equated the bell pushing desire with the urge to pull the communication cord on the train, but couldn't afford the £5 fine for improper use, and to be able to use the petrol pumps when Dad occasionally used to put petrol in the car. Strange how those things (other than stopping the train) have become the norm today.

[MelissaJKelly 2,124]

I went to Glenbrook school in Bilbotough and my parents furniture shop was near Bentink Road on Alfreton Rd so I had to catch the number thirteen every afternoon from aged 8 to 10. I loved it.

Do you know what your parents furniture shop is now by any chance? Sure I've passed it if it's on Alfreton Road

[BulwellBrian 107]

I made similar trips to Grantham but I was a little bit older.

[notty ash 371]

My mother trusted me to walk or catch the bus to school on my own from the tender age of seven or eight. It was about a mile along a main road each way. The only problem was once when I caught the bus home, only to remember that I was supposed to be meeting my mum and my little sister in town after school, which was the opposite direction. I had no money for the fare back but managed to bluff my way on and off the bus OK - late but safe.

I started cycling on my own aged 11, going quite long distances as I grew in confidence. Never a problem!

[Bilboro-lad 294]

#21.

Melissa. If you go up Alfreton Road towards Bentink Road there are a group of shops on the left just before you reach the school. It was the first shop out of about three. Last time I looked it was a curry house.

[MelissaJKelly 2,124]

I know the place what a shame these lovely buildings with history are now takeaway shops