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I have been putting some of my memories in the Clifton late 50's topic and most of my memories are of the 60's so I thought it best to start a new topic so as not to confuse any new members,or older ones for that matter,

Right the swinging sixties,what a great decade to grow up in,great music,great fashion (although I never was a fashion person) and such freedom to be enjoyed,I was eight years old when the new decade was born and I decided that I was turning over a new leaf,I was going to behave from now on,dint last long,maybe a couple of days before I did something to upset me mam,I was late home for a family visit to my uncles,now I liked the guy but I was down a field near Thrumpton looking for fossils as you do,me and a mate called Robert had found this large rock about a foot or so square or squareish and a light grey in colour, and we carried it from the junction of what is now the A453 and the Thrumpton lane all the way to the Gotham road,for those that know the area it was a small lane that linked the two roads,turn left to Clifton,turn right to Gotham,it was a long way for the two of us to carry a rock,we were walking along the Gotham road when  car stopped with an elderly (well elderly to us) couple in it,they kindly offered us a lift and dropped us off at the top of Farnborough road,cracked it I thought,I will be home in time,WRONG,I got an almighty telling off when I got in for being late and spoiling everyones day  AGAIN,now me being all grown up by now answered me mam back in a rather forcefull way,she went pop I did a runner and grabbed me bike out of me dads garage and rode off like me arse was on fire all the way to me grans house in Bilborough Glenbrook crescent to be exact,thats quite a lot of miles for a kid on a single speed bike,just as I got there would you believe me mam and dad pulled up in the car and I caught for a gudun under the earhole,all the bloody way to Bilborough from Clifton to get a clout,there was no justice in the world that day,the fossil by the way turned out to be a piece of old cement that had gone hard and had a few nice patterns on it,

 

Rog

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Got to know Clifton very well in the 60s.........mainly thru working at Farrands on Southchurch drive,big store for a Farrands (later became Savemore),some great staff        from the Gay fruit/veg manager to Trevor the bolshie Butcher........not forgetting the beautiful check-out girls.

Me and the deputy Manager crammed 4 of em in the back of the company mini-van one night and took em to the Sun-inn at Gotham City,.........stopped by the Police on the way back.........told em just giving the girls a lift home........he said ok lad...........but made the girls get out and walk..................took em ages to meet up with us in the Winning Post.................lol.

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Annswabey,Their name was Pavier,they lived about halfway along Glenbrook on the inside of the bend (right side) if you are coming from Wigman road,they went to live there from Albert street Bulwell when all the old houses were being demolished.their prefab was one of the first to be re-built in brick

Ben,thats a fair walk from that road to the Winning post,did you wait for them before you got a drink or did you have to buy your own while waiting for them?slywink

 

Rog

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It occured to me mam that in order to drive the devil from me it would be a good idea to enroll me in the local cub scouts at the school,Highbank juniors,they accepted me as a young cub (don't think me mam mentioned the devil) I was took down town somewhere on Friar lane to get kitted out with my uniform which consisted of a dark green knitted crew neck pullover,a cap of dark green with gold piping coming from the center to the outside of the cap,a neck scarf of the correct green with gold edging ,a woggle (ladies please) and some garters for me socks,they had little green tassles to hang down the outside of me socks,I turned up at the meeting to be met by a load of boys that I knew from school so I soon settled in,after the initial roll call I was put into a cub pack with five other boys,we had a leader who was a "sixer" he had stripes on his pull over to show his authority, we had to learn the salute which was two fingers of you right hand touching the temple on the right side of your head,I was good at that after watching many cowboy films that had the US cavalry in, I could salute as good as John Wayne,I remember we had to sit down with a bloke called "Skip" he was really Highbanks caretaker but hay ho when in Rome and all that,anyroad he suddenly said to our group "Whats the time?" I answered him with the correct time and he signed my cub scouts achievement card to say I had passed my time keeping test,I thought if I carry on like this each week I will be the most decorated cub scout in the pack,( being able to tell the time was taught to us at Berridge road school) yet another testement to good teaching techniques at Berridge,anyway I did become a usefull member of the troupe and went on to get several badges for my pull over for me mam to sew on the sleeves,I had to wait until I was a bit older before I could progress to become a proper Scout and have a knife to put on my belt, but thats for another day

 

Rog

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Rog  Asked my brother but he doesn't remember them on Glenbrook Cres.  He remembered an Alan Pavier, though, at Glaisdale School.  This would have been in the 50's

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The name doesn't ring any bells Ann,their was some Paviers that went to Player school,late 50's early 60's but other than that I don't know,interesting to find there are more in that area though

 

Rog

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Being a cub scout meant I had to go out on "Bob a Job week" usually the Easter week, this was where we cub scouts were let loose on the local community to do odd jobs for them for money to raise funds for the scout movement,as the name suggests usually a bob or shilling to do some menial task,it could be fetch some shopping for the lady of the house or wash a car for the gent of the house (not many women drove cars in them days) I called at a house on Glencoyne road opposite Chedder road where the annex to Highbank school was,I think it's the Highbank community center now,anyroad,this gentleman asked me to dig his front garden as part of the Bob a Job,I got stuck in digging my way through this clay type soil,bloody hard work I can tell you,about five hours later I had finished,completely worn out,blisters on me paws,sweat on me brow you know the works,he duly gave me,,,,,you guessed it,a shilling,A SHILLING for what amounted to a days hard graft for a little kid,tight sod, after we had done our Bob for a Job we were supposed to give the house holder a sticker to go in their living room window to alert other cub scouts that someone had already done a job there and to no longer bother them,I dint give that tight sod a sticker but let all me mates know what happened,he must have got rate pi$$ed off with all the cub scouts banging on his door every five minutes asking "Bob a Job mister"my faith was restored the following day though when on Summerwood lane I knocked on a door and asked the question, this lady answered and asked me if I could nip to the shops for her,well the shops were only at the top of Summerwood about 100yards away,when I got back with her shopping she gave me half a crown and told me to get some sweets for myself,what a lovely person,there was quite a few like that and the scouts funds swelled quite nicely through the generosity of the Clifton community apart from that sod on Glencoyne road.

 

Rog

 

 

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I was eight years old the school football team had got through to the semi final of the schools trophy and it was to be played somewhere the other side of town,anyway there was a bus trip going and for sixpence you could secure your place on that bus,fast forward to the week before the match,some kid had been writing swear words on the classroom wall,nowt too serious I dont think but non the less swear words,Mr Wood the head master was non too pleased as you can imagine so he organised a spelling test for the class,I can only imagine to see if there was any similarity to the letters or words on the wall,spelling test duly completed and would you believe some of my letters/words resembled some of the swear words along with a couple of other boys,we were frog marched to the front of the class to be humiliated,my friend Raymond was slowly walking to the front of class when Mr Wood gave him a shove and more or less kicked him out of the door,this upset me very much as I had never seen such actions from a teacher,I was that upset that I shouted out "it was me" just to stop him hitting Raymond,all three of us was lined up in front of the class like victims of a firing squad to get the cane across our hands,one each for my friends and two for me,It wasn't me who did the writing I just wanted the violence to stop,anyroad me mam found out and you can guess what happened next,yep I got the full force of the ever present stick,right, fast forward again to the Saturday morning of the football match and me dad took me to the school and waited for the teacher and bus to arrive,when they got to the school gates in front of all me mates and their fathers me dad said in a loud voice to the teacher,"Roger's not going to the match because he wrote the swear words on the classroom wall and got the cane for it" how humiliating,in front of everyone,all me mates,their mums and dads and the teachers,bloody hated my childhood,I never wrote anything on the classroom wall,no justice eh?

 

Rog

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Right the time came for me to join the scouts,I progressed from cubscout to full blown boy scout,khaki shorts and short sleeved khaki shirt,neck scarf with a leather woggle, beret,brown leather belt that you could hang all sorts of important things on, and of course the sheath knife, I had been after a sheath knife all the time I was a cubscout but was never allowed one,now I had one I didn't have a clue what to do with it but it was there just in case,not long after joining we had a weekend camp down the bottom of Coddy's farm Clifton,somewhere the other side of Clifton pond from the grove,all the Clifton scouts were there,we made camp fires,boiled some spuds and beans for tea,still no use for me knife,needless to say we didn't get any sleep that night because we kept messing about,building the fire up,raiding other groups little camps that type of stuff,before we went on camp we were given a list of things to take with us,spare socks,towel,soap,fork spoon you know the usual stuff plus a stave,now this was for all intents and purposes a stick about six feet long and maybe inch and half diameter similar to a brush stave/handle,where it all went wrong was me dad read the list wrong and read STOVE instead of STAVE,a quick nip down to the army and navy stores to buy me a stove,proper brass thing that ran off parraffin,did I feel a prat arriving with this thing in a bag,so Roger was the laughing stock of the whole camp,I arrived home that Sunday afternoon tired,aching from carrying this bloody stove, lost points for the troop because I didn't have a stave and lost me bloody sheath knife,

 

Rog

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For some reason I managed to discover girls,not got a clue why,I recieved a letter from a girl wanting to meet up with me,she was a Clifton Hall school girl,and as far as I know I had never had any contact with that school or for that matter anyone who went there,now this girl arranged through a mate of mine to have this meeting in the woods at the top of Havenwood rise,so I gets dressed up in my best ice blue jeans,polished black winkle pickers and Beatles black T shirt,spot of hair cream and I was ready to take on the world,there she was,nice looking girl of about the same age as me (13-14 years)she has long brown hair,white tennis shoes,navy skirt (above the knee but not by much) and a crisp white blouse,I was sure I could see an halo behind her head,she was bloody lovely and I asked myself why she would want to have owt to do with me,couldn't believe my luck,sooo I thought I would play it cool by saying eyup me duck are you Ch***l?she said she was,I casually leaned against this big tree and started to impress her with tails of fishing,football,cycling you know the usual chat up lines from a complete idiot,despite all that she WAS impressed and said she wanted to meet me again and invited round to her house the following weekend for some tea,a quick respectful goodbye peck on her cheek and we parted company,as I stood up from leaning on this tree I discovered the trunk of the thing had been on fire at some point in the past and it had deposited soot all down the backside and legs of me ice blue jeans,I looked a right prat as we said goodbye and an even bigger prat when I got home and was re aquainted with the ever present stick near the back door,"Look at the state of them jeans" screamed me mam and duly laid into me with the bloody stick,that was my introduction into discovering girls and the pitfalls associated with them,could it get any worse?

 

Rog

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I joined the cubs at Clifton, I think it was the St Francis troop. Gran bought the uniform and I felt really special as I turned up and was assigned my little group. I liked the way my mam did the kneckerchief which had the two tails combined so it looked a little like a normal tie. Me mam did it that way OK?  so I liked it. The sixer of my troop decided that the two tails should be separate and twisted with a little knot tied at the ends. This did not go down well and I put back. He started pushing and demanded I do as I'm told and he was a sixer and in charge. One pair of broken specs. one bloody nose and a sixer who suddenly lost all interest in my kerchief ended my cub scout membership - and I never got my 'punching out a bully badge'

I then joined the Boys Brigade (bucket bashers) who met in a wooden hut on Lanthwaite Rd. I enjoyed my time there for quite awhile until a certain kiddie fiddler captain decided it was my turn.

The freedom we had to roam was great. Walk to Bluebell woods at Bunny to collect great armfuls for me mam. Over the fields and down Fairham Brook with my dog. Fishing down the Grove, scrumping ( note: do not stand on the back of a cow to reach). At the top of Fanrborough there was still a farm where we were convinced the man there had a special trestle set up to chop off our heads. It was actually a trestle for sawing logs but hey we were eight years old right? 

As a teenager Clifton was at that time probably the most boring place on earth to be. No cinema, no pool but six churches and seven pubs. There was a youth club once a week on Southchurch but that was it.

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Great memories Brew,sounds like your sixer was a little corporal,good on yer for putting him in his place,I remember the farm at the top of Farnborough road just the other side of "top field" as we called it,we had some great games of football on that field,dads and lads matches about 20 a side,great summers we had,you mentioned scrumping,did you scrump the back gardens of the houses down the village? there was one that backed onto the grove that in order to scrump you had to plan it with military precision because it dint matter where you got to the apple trees you could be spotted from the house,also the vicarage orchard that could be accessed from the ash pad alongside the village green,I remember keeping conk (lookout) one day whilst me mates went in to get the apples and pears,I was up a tree so could see my mates as well as have a good view down the ash pad when suddenly the local booby came walking down the pad,in a loud whisper (if there is such a thing) I called to me mates "Quick Spider Bol***ks is  coming",I called this a few times until the policeman shouted to me "I'll give you Spider Bol***ks Roger,come here and shout your mates too" I got a clout round the earhole with his gloves and all of us was frog marched to the vicarage to face the vicar who set us to on picking up all the windfall apples and pears as punishment,he also gave us home made lemonade and said we could keep the fruits,not much fun though having the stuff given to you,much better to scrum

 

Rog

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Heh yes plantfit I scrumped apples there and others places too. There was a stile that led to an orchard and on to the Grove. It was there I learned not use a cow as a step ladder. Strange though, when you walked through the village main street there was a place where you could just walk in and there were apples and pears, some scales and a little tin with a few pennies in it. You helped yourself weighed out the fruit and left some money. We always paid 'cos if you didn't it was stealing. Scrumping wasn't stealing, not really. I mean it's scrumping not stealing so that's OK.

Next door was a cottage that had a well and the old man would always draw us water to drink. Cold as ice and probably wouldn't pass a fitness test today but we thought it was great. Further along was a post office/paper shop (Allens?) where I had my first paper round. A morning delivery, an evening delivery and money collection Sunday plus selling sweets and chocolate from the paper bag - seven shillings and sixpence a week. Go past the dovecote over the main road was a real blacksmith (to the rear of what is now the police station) who would let me pump the big bellows to made the coke glow. I wasn't strong enough really but with his help we made it work.

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I too remember Jack Jack the blacksmith,as kids we would take our buckled bike wheels to him to straighten out,I think it was threepence a wheel,by the time we got home at the top of Farnborough road they were buckled again.used to love watching him work the steel,Allens papershop in the village used to sell Woodbine cigarettes in proper packets containg three cigarettes and two matches,I think they were 7d or 9d not sure now,the idea of the two matches and three ciggies was you gave one ciggie to a mate and used just one match to light two ciggies leaving you with one ciggie and one match for later,me and a mate called Dave bought some one day and I remember it getting stuck to his bottom lip,when he pulled it off his lip bled for England,he was in a right state,a bit further down the main road on the opposite side of the road was a small cottage that, in the warm weather the owner would sell ice cream,suckers and small bottles of pop from a side entrance to the property,don't think it was a proper shop just something they did during the summer months,can you remember that mound of earth more or less opposite there? A Mr Motley built a bungalow on there in the early 60's using brick and cedar wood,he called it cedar cottage,he was a teacher at Highbank juniors when I was there, across the road again,maybe opposite the shop was Rose cottage owned by a Sea scouts leader,not sure of his name now but a big chap,military type,the old Ice house down the grove,(belonged to the hall)mainly filled with rubble but if you took a rope and a mate with you he could haul you out after you jumped in it,so many memories of that time Brew,thanks for the reminders,keep em coming

 

Rog

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I don't remember the mound but I do remember the sucker lady. The ice house frightened me after I jumped in and couldn't get out again. My friend and I had seen 'the big lads' do it so of course we had to do it. Again the ubiquitous clothes line came into play but instead of my pal pulling me out I pulled the rope out of his hands. Some fishermen got me out but not before I'd scared myself silly.

Mentioning the hall brought back a memory. At school we had something called a leadership class whereby we could choose what to do for the afternoon. Imagine the teachers surprise when we volunteered to do cross country running! What they failed to realise it was the same afternoon as girls at the hall had netball. We ran down there like lions, came back like lambs.

Did you go all the way to the weir? It was often deeper than I was tall with white foam that looked like soap suds. Actually dangerous for little kids to play so close to the fast moving water when the edge was invisible. As an adult I'd have had a dickie fit if either of my two had done the same.

As a teen I once took a girl for a walk down the grove. She dressed in a mini skirt, white blouse and huge stilettos. Not exactly good for walking on grass or over the stile, even less so for going down the bank to the water. As you know it's almost a 45 degree slope. The stilettos made good brakes, dug in and stayed where they were - she unfortunately didn't. It didn't help that I was laughing like a drain at the sight she made at the bottom. Blouse torn, skirt up round her waist, no shoes and her beehive hairdo looked like a bomb had gone off. Pity as I really fancied her.

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To restore plantift's faith (and that of other people) in Nottstalgia as it should be, I've been digging around in this old thread and realised there are a lot of references I recognise which I'd missed first time round. 

 

On 26/02/2017 at 6:31 PM, plantfit said:

I too remember Jack Jack the blacksmith, as kids we would take our buckled bike wheels to him to straighten out,I think it was threepence a wheel,

I remember him being there as well, although I always found the whole place a bit spooky - like a slightly dark fairy story. The building has survived, although it's no longer a working smithy.

N27ARFH.jpg

 

On 26/02/2017 at 6:31 PM, plantfit said:

 across the road again, maybe opposite the shop was Rose cottage owned by a Sea scouts leader, not sure of his name now but a big chap, military type,

In the mid 60s I'm sure the occupants of Rose Cottage were a family named Bird, which may be who you're thinking of. It used to look a bit more cottagy than it does now.

yYtHJx3.jpg

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I don't remember the smithy having all  that frontage, I remember it as almost directly on the roadside. Am I wrong?

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Here is an example  of a topic that I had little interest in and did not look at it until this morning. I have now read through it all and it is a gem.

Thank you Rog :cool:

 

My two recollections of Clifton are from the 50's. One was when I had to deliver the butchers order there from Hartley RD on the heavy butchers bike. A lot of the butchers customers from around there had been re housed on the brand new Clifton estate.

Second memory was when I used to cycle to fish in Fairham Brook and seeing all the building sites. At that time the Trent was badly polluted and Fairham Brook was a complete contrast, being crystal clear and full of Roach, Dace and Chub. My fishing pal, Malcom (Rusty) Phyllis at 15 was a fellow apprentice at the ROF who lived in the Medders and then moved into a new Clifton house. He was a much better fisherman than me.

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10 hours ago, Brew said:

I don't remember the smithy having all  that frontage, I remember it as almost directly on the roadside. Am I wrong?

 

I hadn't noticed that but it looks like your memory is right. For those who don't know the area, this is the same place as the top photo (and it's dated mid 70s).

pVJ0b7P.jpg

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Thanks CT, just as I remember it

 

Rog

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68 Terminus near the top of Farnborough road,outside Colin Rowbottoms house more or less opposite

Pastures avenue

 

Rog

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