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Back in the early to mid 50s, there was considerable barge traffic going up and down the Trent. I am not talking of your yuppie, floating homes or narrow boats but the real thing. Big, long and wide low lying barges carrying freight and sometimes towing another one.

You could feel them approaching with the deep throbbing of their motors through the water and the drop in the water level along the banks as they approached and then the wash from their wakes.

Now, for ROT boys with nothing better to do, we found it amusing to bait the bargies with name calling and throwing stones at them. It was like stirring an ants nest and the threats coming from across the water promised some really serious physical damage to our persons if they ever caught us. Some people had no sense of humour and it wasn't as though many stones hit their boats. Even less was their expectations that they could have caught us because the first indication of the barges heading to the banks was a signal to run like hell.

Never saw one barge come to the bank and as soon as we ran, the barges continued their journey. Like I said, just one of our games of which the bargies always lost!

Things took a serious note when one day we were gathered at the old swings, slide and roundabout recreational area overlooking the playing fields at the top end of Wharf Lane. It was known as the 'Rec' and was our meeting place day and night and where we pondered the meaning of life, girls and enjoyed a ciggie whilst working out who we could annoy next. The Rec was our area and another gang in ROT, good mates who we went to school with; had the steps of the old Church Hall as their domain. Anyway, this particular day, the local Constable drove up and asked us if we had ever baited the bargies. As if!!

It seemed the bargies had complained about getting ambushed every time they went past ROT and wanted something done about it or they would. Not us Constable. Be warned was the official response and he took off but not before asking where we got the money to buy ciggies and if our parents knew we smoked.

Now. since most of the lads will have moved on now, one way or another; I will let you into a secret that we were all sworn to uphold on the pain of death! Ashley, if you are feeling fit, you might like to see if it is still there.

Go down Wharf Lane and take the path that leads up to the walk along the top of the cliffs. A short distance along the top, there was a path that leads down the cliff to a small level area with a seat and views over the Trent. Take the path down further until you reach the bottom and then walk back along the bank towards the bottom of Wharf Lane. The flat ground betweeen the cliff face and the river disappears and you then can hopefully follow what used to be a narrow path along the lower part of the cliff face and which went through to Wharf Lane eventually. Not many people ventured along this track and there were many trees growing along the river edge and up the cliff which caused the ground to be nearly always wet and slippery.

Anyway, as you go along the track, look about a third of the way up the cliff face and you will see the mouth of a cave. Difficult to see but it was our cave. It was not very deep but could seat 6 or more of us and gave us a great view of the river through the trees and more importantly, bargies!

It was some weeks after the visit by the Constable at the Rec and we were in the cave when along came 2 barges. We started yelling and throwing stones and getting a few hits when a bargie on the last boat changed the rules for ever.

He lifted a rifle over his head and then started to fire in our direction. It would have been a 22 and the sound of those bullets cracking through the trees above us stopped us in our tracks. He would have let off at least 6 shots and looking back; I guess he was firing well above us and meant to give us a good fright.

Well, he surely did that and bargies were our best friends after that and the sport of bargie baiting was finished for good.

Strange thing about that incident? Not one of us told our parents or even considered telling the police! Would have got a belting for being there in the first place and then told it served us right for not listening to the nice policeman's warning.

They were great days to be alive!

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Nothing to what the bargies called us! Not even close to what the local Constable called us when we let several rockets go from the Rec whilst using the slide as a launching platform. Low angle of trajectory x distance resulted in the rockets exploding over the centre of ROT one night. Main crossroad of Bingham and Shelford Road, shops and police station 3 doors from centre. Apparently everything cascaded down around the place and of course, there were a couple of aerial mines as well.

Should have paid us for the show as we heard it was quite spectacular and the Constable said dangerous as well. At least it gave ROT something to talk about for a few days. Only thing wrong was that we never got to see the result of our efforts.

Local Constable really came fast down Wharf Lane and drove straight up to the swings where we were innocently sitting; having let off all the fireworks by then and enjoying a quiet ciggie or two.

Not us Sir.................think the smell of recently exploded fireworks gave us away though.

Heard later that even the local Constables had a laugh about it later but the one that came down on the night was really pi$$$d off, believe me! Funny how the oldies in those days had no sense of humour. Probably reminded them of WW2!!

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You didn't have ancestors in the Arnold area by any chance did you? :biggrin:

Nottinghamshire History 1913.

'It is unfortunate that it has to be recorded that "as recently as 1820, when stage coaches were running daily between Nottingham and the north, the coachmen would complain of Arnold and Daybrook as the worst places they passed through, stones being frequently hurled at the coaches, to the great annoyance and danger of the travellers, both outside and in." Fortunately the children of the present day are taught in their schools lessons of courtesy, and how to behave, not only to strangers passing through but to all persons they meet.'

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Sorry Poohbear,

West Bridgeford and Sheffield with Sneinton and Birmingham the next generation back on the mother's side. Got a good ( slywink ) education at the old Arnold County High School if that counts?

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  • 1 month later...

As a kid growing up in the '50s we lived in Lincoln. My friends and I would go to the Brayford (which was like an inland dock) and ask to ride on barges from there to Newark loch and then catch a ride back. The bargies were good to us and looking back you have to say how much the world has changed. Of course the barge traffic has gone but in this day and age seven and eight year olds wouldn't be allowed to wander around so freely for fear of what might happen to them.

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the big barges i remember well in this area but from netherfield side were the gravel barges about one an hour up and down the river i learned to swim on ratcliff bend and would swim across to the little cafe onthe caravan site on the other side of the river not posible now because of the built up banks but so many happy memories.

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Big Mac

I lived in Lincoln at that time and lived next door to the cattle market on Nottingham Terrace Vine Street, off Monks Road. I went to Monks Road School. Used to knock about with some lads that lived near the old bus terminus on Marks St? One was a bit simple, Alan Ellis.

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