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Baznotinnotts

Starving

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My mother-in-law used to to say she was starving, but the house had plenty of food and she'd just eaten a Fray Bentos tinned pie and a plate of wagon wheels, before the size was reduced. Having spent many years in Yorkshire, where they speak proper, sithee, even with flat bowels and a lot of theeing and thouing I thought to be starved was to be hungry, but apparently one may be starved with code, er, cold. She also turned old into ode, so an ode man is not a variety of poet, but merely ancient. As she was from the west of Notts this way of talking is perhaps nearer Derbyshire.

Ta ra, B.

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In my younger days before I moved to the delights of a Yorkshire mining village we used starving/starved as meaning cold or freezing. Once asked for a cheese cob in a sandwich shop up there, they didn’t have a clue what I was on about! 

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11 minutes ago, Stavertongirl said:

In my younger days before I moved to the delights of a Yorkshire mining village

I left this place, a mining village and birthplace of the current Doctor Who

Skelmanthorpe(Shat) and District ... Shattered..

and arrived in Nottingham in 1967, to start my teacher training course at Clifton. My name was incidentally dropped into a post for Berridge School and I picked this up on Google. My most traumatic teaching practice was at Beardall Secondary, Hucknall. I have never fully recovered and decided to teach Juniors. In several moments of idleness I've been posting bits and pieces. Now I live in Stroud, but as my much better half was born in Sherwood Rise, there are reasons to return, as well as purely sentimental motives.

Just up the road in glorious Glos is

 

Haresfield, Gloucestershire - Forest fan in exile lives here (not me) ... one, two, three, four , five, if you want to stay alive, don't go in the Trent End ... Ian, Ian Storey Moore ... Sir Brian Clough, in the top one etc.

so must be another exile, but I've never knocked .

Cheers, B.

 

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You were sent into secondary schools, too, Baz?

 

When I applied to teacher training college (PGCE in my day), one made the choice of primary or secondary on application. I find the thought of having to experience secondary rather daunting!  I was very fortunate in my TPs as PGs who could provide their own accommodation were in a position to choose their school, more or less.  Others had no choice.

 

North Riding College in Scarborough was then part of Leeds University and the place where the 4 year BEd students spent their second year. The rest of us were PGs, on bursaries! Those were the days.  North Riding didn't train secondary teachers.

 

I had friends in Whitby and, as I stayed with them, all my main TPs were in that area. Others were sent as far afield as Bradford, Middlesbrough (rough), Huddersfield, etc.  I had a pretty easy time but there was a school in Bradford where, due to an outbreak of dysentery, the PGs placed there were ill,  couldn't complete their required time and were not permitted to qualify, needing to do an extra term.

 

I spent my final TP in a little rural primary 2 miles outside Whitby where the only problem was the all pervasive aroma of cow muck. One soon adjusted to it.

 

Just out of interest, which qualification did the 3 year Clifton College course lead to in the 60s?

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Well you are certainly familiar with God's own country. I moved north from Wellingborough in the back of a van in 1960 to huge culture shock, coal dust everywhere and noisy woollen mills belching our filth from those chimneys which have mostly been Fred Dibnered. The biggest shock, however, was the dialect. I couldn't understand a word, and you know that when locals detect a foreigner they become even more dense in their language. Anyway I soon adapted until by 67 it was grass not grarse, vowels securely flattened. I had spent four years at Huddersfield Tech, and then to Clifton. A college friend married my sister, and it was his funeral which last took me to Nottingham. Sick of the transit etc.

The initial qualification was Certificate of Education, but in the mid 70s I went back to Clifton on two evenings a week for three years and gained a B.Ed, with an immediate and very welcome increase in salary! Then came lots of interviews, and eventually a move to Gloucestershire, where they talk funny.

... and just because I'm a compulsive snapper

Whitby ...

 

Regards, B.

 

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2 hours ago, Stavertongirl said:

In my younger days before I moved to the delights of a Yorkshire mining village we used starving/starved as meaning cold or freezing. Once asked for a cheese cob in a sandwich shop up there, they didn’t have a clue what I was on about! 

Try living in Sussex SG. They still think I'm a foreigner even after 33 years. Love to ask 'em if they've mashed.

Still, at least I no longer have to show me passport at the Thames crossings. Just renewed my EHIC card, so hope it works oop Nottingham. 

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Thought you meant Sussex. How terribly amiss of me.

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On 7/27/2020 at 6:49 PM, Baznotinnotts said:

 My most traumatic teaching practice was at Beardall Secondary, Hucknall. I have never fully recovered and decided to teach Juniors..

Cheers, B.

 

 

I moved to Beardall school from Trent Bridge 3 months before I left school for good: I was scared stupid as new kids at Trent Bridge got beat up. (unless they were big) Got to Beardall & nothing happened, they were like pussy cats compared to the Trent Bridge lot, mind you managed to get the cane on my last ever day at school, lol... 

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2 hours ago, colly0410 said:

moved to Beardall school

The teachers were scary, liked to play bridge a lot and send you up, but the girls, some only about five years or so younger, were very nice to me, but in 1968 there was a lot of machismo from the lads that summer on the verge of leaving, perhaps to go down the pit, or to become millionaires, who knows, but after all those lovely children at Berridge it had to be primary. We've passed a lot of water since then ...

Excuse me what does machismo mean?

It's Spanish for pizoing about and showing off

B.

 

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I was there from April till July 1968 then left to go to Moorgreen pit for my NCB training, I never became a millionaire. Bill Driver was my form master, woodwork teacher Buffer White caned me on my last day, other teachers I remember are Mr Petty, Mantle, Simpson & Mrs Daft. (when I heard her name I fell about laughing) I could have been one of the machismo lads showing off, but as the new kid & being the smallest in the 4'th year I tried to keep a low'ish profile. A few show offs who were ready for leaving I remember were lads named George, Killer Thurman & Popeye. As I was the new kid  on the block some of the girls took an interest in me & I loved it. There seemed to be lots of pretty girls there & I dated Linda in the third year, till she caught me kissing her best friend... 

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1 hour ago, colly0410 said:

Moorgreen pit

I taught at the Beauvale School, not a million miles from Moorgreen pit, from 1970 til 1980. The PTA organised trips for parents to exciting places like the Nottingham telephone exchange, but the most memorable visit was down Moorgreen mine. It was very warm, breezy and when the lights were put out, er, dark. The manrider and the confined coal face gave a real view of a difficult and dangerous job. Respect!

B.

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What year did you live on Holden Cres.Baz? I lived on Spencer Dr. just up the road from there i lived there from 1950 until 1968 and i can remember the estate being built i think it was Costain that built it. Before that there was a big house there surronded fields and trees which belonged to Charlie Hanson part of the Hardy Hanson breweries .When i was about 8 years old i remember going to Garden Fetes there every year it was very colourful i believe the house was called either Nuthall House or Nuthall Lodge. Across the road from the opening on Watnall Road in the 50s was a small army barracks and every so often would hold army exercises in the woods and fields.

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