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Another popular destination when we lived in Arnold was (what we called) Woodthorpe Park - I think its official title is "Woodthorpe Grange Park". I didn't like going there - it typically involved walking one way, bus t'other, but I think I found the place boring - not much for an only boy to do - sometimes having two sisters put a real damper on my exploratory nature!

Did you never explore the old railway tunnel? A bit spooky in the middle where there was a short period where you couldn't see daylight at either end. Closed off many years ago.

Woodthorpe Park is great for sledging (not the cricketing kind though this might be a feature nowadays) ;) and also has a fine little pitch and putt course.

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We were fortunate that my dad had a car even in the mid forties. He worked for the Ministry of Food and needed transport for his work, I think. This meant that we were able to have trips out on summ

Sundays as a Ten year old in mid 50s meant Football at 10 oclock on Bulwell Common Sunday Dinner 1pm Sunday school in the old Church Hall............only occasionally Best clothes and trip to Gran

Now where shall we begin?? My memories of a Sunday from way back when consist of getting up, A bowl of tinned Grapefruit and a Bacon sandwich, off to Church/Sunday school, home for dinner (1.30pm on

Did you have to sit on the board they put over the chair arms.....weren't they evil back then.

Did you, or anyone else, have to suffer that place. I recall, starting from the window, we had The Hunchback, The Pole, The Nancy Boy and The Boss. The Boss was the spitting image of the teacher out of the Back Street Kids. They only had one hair cutting technique, the short back and sides. After being savaged they used to apply this creamy hair gel that set solid, you could have been blown away in a tornado but the hair would remain as cut.

The Nancy Boy was the one to be avoided at all times, he was always keen to deal with boys, gave me the creeps, our hearts would sink if he called your name.

One day I went in and asked for a Boston, they had to have a conference to decide what to do, I ended up with a short back and sides, never went in there again, possibly my first act of serious rebellion against my old man.

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Got it - your mum must have been related to mine!

But what was the connection to the Long Eaton/Sandiacre area? Did your dad have connections there - it just seems unusual that you would venture to Trent Lock rather than Nottingham, The Embankment, or Wollaton Park. I guess I am just surprised that Trent Lock may have been something of a "tourist" destination! I suppose we always simply took it for granted!

Unlikely, mum comes from Leyland in Lancashire. We did used to go to the Embankment etc, but it was easy and more interesting to cycle along the Erewash Canal, I think the old man liked to wind up the fishermen, but he always liked to be different, and of course find decent pubs and good train spotting places, if there was somewhere interesting off the beaten track, the old man would find it.

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But, Pete, it is clear your mum also made you wear your school outfit when you went "out". We were also always supposed to be "perfectly presented" when visible to the public! I had to laugh when I first flew to South Africa - mum and dad drove me to Heathrow - and I was wearing jeans and a rugby shirt. Mum was mortified! (I was 25 years old!) Years later when they came to visit me in the States, they would arrive in their "Sunday best"! Personally, I prefer to be comfortable!

I was always very envious of the kids who were allowed to go out, or to school, in "scruffy" clothes and I have no memory of ever seeing my dad without a tie!

Sorry to hijack - but it seems to fit with this thread - how many of you had to get similarly dressed up when you went out on outings, picnics, etc.? I think it was a sign of the times we grew up in - parents wanting their kids to always look their best!

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Another one of ours, which has had a brief mention, was Wollaton Park .

"Two and two halves to Wollaton Park" My sister and I would chorus as the conductor approached us on the top deck of a '39' from Carlton Square to the terminus by the shops on "Crown Island" Wollaton. Then it began, the long trek to 'The Hall' walking down Harrow road then up th avenue that went past the golf course, always covered with lovely Fallow Dear. I recall my father walking along picking up coins along the once , (Somebody must have had a hole in their pocket)

Up the hill into the Natural History Museum, and a quick wander round to see all of the Taxidermists work from over the centuries, not forgetting to pull funny faces at the Gorilla and (What always looked like to me any way) The Sabre Toothed Lion!!

It was then back outside to the "Camellia House" and a walk down the hill and round the lake. Their was always a fish skeleton on the shore of the lake near the old bridge that crossed the now dried up out flow. There was no outflow any more (Tootle Brook) as some American GI's had taken it upon themselves to chuck in a few hand grenades to catch some 'extra rations' during their billitation there in the war. I don't know if they caught any fish but they cracked the base of the lake causing the water to seep out that way to the brook instead.

We would leave by the gate on Derdy road and then walk up to Middleton Boulevarde for the long trek back to "Crown Island" for the bus back home in time for 'Tea and Medals'!!

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If we went to Wollaton park it would be the bus (Bartons) to the gate on Derby Road: HERE

Looks like the gate is closed these days? thumbsdown

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... I think it was a sign of the times we grew up in - parents wanting their kids to always look their best!

Yes, very much so...casual clothing was such a rarity.

Formal clothes, with obligatory tie, also carried over to early working days - whether it be at a desk, behind a wheel or on a machine. Easy to claim current sloppy clothing mirrors falling 'standards'...but somehow doubt it!

Reminder to Eric...you did promise not to apologize for a hijack :rolleyes:

Cheers

Robt P.

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Thats the first time ive seen those heavy gates on the wollaton park derby rd entrance....it was always wrought iron gates....looked nicer.

It is in fact a wood partition with an industrial fire door & self closer. I agree, it has looked better before the wood.

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Quite often Sunday was the day to go and visit relatives usually D*rby or East Leake. Sunday tea was usually finished off with a dish of tinned fruit salad and Carnation milk. I'm surprised that no ones mentioned Church yet, not as though i went.

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I'm surprised that no ones mentioned Church yet, not as though i went.

'Scuse me !!!! my first post !!!!!Cough cough!!!

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...a dish of tinned fruit salad and Carnation milk.

... and bread and butter! I still like soaking up tinned peach "juice" with a slice of buttered bread - strange or what?

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Yup , it happened in our house hold too!! although I think I only tried it once .

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Our house had bread and butter with tinned fruit and Carnation too. When we got married, my hubby and I insisted we eat the fruit and cream, sans bread and butter. We felt quite daring, LOL. I don't know who started that idea, most likely to fill up the kids who had hollow legs.

I went to sunday school as a nipper, took my sixpence I do believe and got a picture stamp to lick and stick in a book. When the page was full, if I remember rightly, it formed a whole picture. I wish I'd kept my book for posterity.

I was lucky as a kid in that my dad had to have a vehicle for his work, which meant we could get around quite a bit on weekends. When I'd given up on Sunday school, Sunday mornings were spent getting out from under mam's feet while she cooked the joint. Dad was a great believer in 'visiting' and so we went all over Nottm for him to visit relatives, his old school chums, old work mates etc, for a natter. Sometimes in the autumn we'd go nutting, either in Broxtowe Woods for cob nuts, or further afield for chestnuts. Some days we'd go in Bulwell woods and walk through till we could see Hucknall aerodrome, and look at the planes. I once picked a bunch of what I thought were pretty white flowers and in passing some kids afterwards and hearing them laugh at me, wondered what I'd got. They turned out to be stinking nannies, a kind of garlic plant I think. After lunch, mam would like a ride out, so we'd go to Matlock, Crich, or just ride round the countryside. For a full day out we'd go to Skeggy. Sometimes we'd do the airshows with eldest brother in tow [he worked at RR, plane mad!] and go to the Canadian shows at Langar, or the USAF shows at Mildenhall or another one that has gone right now, and I'm sure someone will fill in the gaps. Most of these trips out were in a Commer Cob van with no side windows or seats in the back. Elf and Safety would have a field day.

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The 'Pretty white flowers' sound like "Bears Garlic" and god do they stink!!. There was a large patch of them growing down the Beeston end of Highfields and my sister and I used to run like the clappers (Holding our noses) past that bit !!

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I am very privaliged in that I have been invited for a guided tour of USAF Mildenhall in a couple of weeks time !! Whilst in the area I shall also be 'doing' USAFLakenheath, keep your eyes peeled for a few 'close ups'!!

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With reference to your "smelly flowers" they would be a member of the Ramsons family, probably alium ursinum strong garlic smell, usually grows in wooded area's, plenty in D@rbyshire near the Derwent and Dove rivers, sorry to have bored you with that info,

Ian you lucky person, the Heath and the Hall, guess I'll just have to stick it out with the Typhoons

Rog

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O.K. I'll come out to play with you the day before Rog !!!

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Suites you sir.

Wild Garlic grows in our garden, it's fantastic, we use the flowers as an additive to our barbecues, speciality, tomatoes, mushrooms, done up in a foil package with a large dose of the Garlic flowers laid over the top, great.

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Other Sunday jaunts were to Sherwood Forest [go inside the Major Oak], Trent Bridge embankment, or fishing on the Trent. Not that I fished, but dad and his 2 brothers were keen fishermen, so the 3 families would go and make a day of it, pitching a tent, Primus stove for the cuppa. Often this was Gunthorpe, or Stoke Bardolph, I can still remember the smell of the river.

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