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The Bleeza


paul mann

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I remember the bleeza, the rake, the claise horse, and the fire guard. My granny used to put turps on the coal to help get the fire started!!!! She had a kettle that she used to rest on the coals and it was caked in soot . Then she would get a flimsy hanky and lift it off to pour water into the tea pot. How we survived our youth is beyond me. Sparks would fly from the fire due to dodgy coal and they would land everywhere. We had a crescent shaped brown hearth rug that had more burn marks on it than a blacksmith's apron.

Edited by keith lockey
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I remember the bleeza, the rake, the claise horse, and the fire guard. My granny used to put turps on the coal to help get the fire started!!!! She had a kettle that she used to rest on the coals and it was caked in soot . Then she would get a flimsy hanky and lift it off to pour water into the tea pot. How we survived our youth is beyond me. Sparks would fly from the fire due to dodgy coal and they would land everywhere. We had a crescent shaped brown hearth rug that had more burn marks on it than a blacksmith's apron.

Keith, that brings back some memories, the claise horse and the burns in the carpet in front of the fire, still it protected the oil cloth

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During nearly 40 years living in London I wasn't allowed to burn real coal fires due to the London Clean Air Act even though some of the houses I lived in retained the fireplaces. The place I now live in allows coal burning and as a result I light one every evening - it's all very satisfying and brings back those memories of being a kid.

I've got a coal man who delivers bags of Black Diamond coal in big sacks humped on his back from the lorry just lke the old days ... sadly not the hessian jobbies of old but polypropylene ones. Crumpled newspaper, sticks, coal and a paper bleezer, but you're right about the size issue ... only Mrs Symptom's Sunday Times is the correct 'old' size; I've been meaning to get a lump of steel sheet to make a bleezer since I moved here but haven't got around to it yet so the flaming bleezer usually goes up the chimney.

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The worst experience we ever had was when a brick worked loose in the chimney. (It might have been the chimney sweep's brush that did it.) Anyway, every time we lit the fire a bank of smoke would billow back into the room so we couldn't have a fire on - and it was in the middle of winter. The council workman turned up the next day and said he wasn't allowed to go on the roof on his own - carrying bucket of cement, trowel etc etc. I told him in no uncertain terms that we were'nt going another night without a fire, so he bent the rules and allowed me to go on the roof with him. The term brass monkeys applies. We got the work done and had a fire on that night. BUT - I would never never never never have a coal fire again. All the heat went up the chimney and you had to be sitting practically on it before you could get warm. Me and my bro argue about this - he would have one tomorrow.

But anyway, back to chimney sweeps, can you remember them burying the soot in the garden!!! You would be putting plants in the next month and hit a soot spot.

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I sometimes get the smoke billowing in but apparently here it's due to weather occlusions ... high pressure 'holding the smoke down'.

I got my chimneys swept when I moved in here and the sweep left the bagged-up soot on the hearths for me to get rid of - cheeky sod. I get them done annually but I bin the soot - couldn't put it on my garden 'cos the dog would roll in it. It bad enough that the woof rolls in steaming horse apples and seagull squits (they REALLY do honk) but I couldn't cope with soot.

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We would "hap-up†the fire (a bucket of coal) then take a shovel of the ashes from under the grate and put on the top of the coal to slow down the burning! hopefully it would last until the next morning, fire guard was in place of course!

Blyth News was our favourite bleezer (but divint use the picture page) until we got posh and I made a steel blazer!

Bath nights you had to pull out the damper to heat the water.

Front grate was just big enough to roast chestnuts on!

People couldn't wait to get rid of the big old iron fire place (side oven, hobs, mantelpiece etc) and put in a modern tiled one, now they are collector pieces!

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remember when the bleezer was so worn away that you put the newspaper over the worn out bits and of course you had to be ready for the flames to catch hold of the paper and push it into the fire otherwise it would try to burn the fireside rug.

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I remember when you used to huddle round the fire as you were frozen down the back of you. You ran into the next room and ran back it was so cold no central heating, and all the women had mottled legs with being that close to the open fire. Those were the days.

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Well my happiest memories were living in Alexandra Row, Barnton. I remember my mam cooking on the "range" and having a bath in a tin bath in front of the fire, we had an ootside netty complete with the obligatory nail, the netty was attached to the coal hoose over the road from the hoose it was bliddy cald in winter "actually it was cald ALL the time", I remember ice on the INSIDE of the windows of our bedroom, "clippy mats" were all over the floor and the lino was,nt very warm as it was laid straight over the concrete floor it was on reflection quite a hard life but I think it makes you appreciate what we have now.

Happy days as they say...... :thumbsup:

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the lone ranger wrote: "i remember the coal fire we used to toast a slice of bread on it".

Of course, this classic technique wasn't restricted to folks like us here ... remember the ruling elite always got their fags to toast their crumpets by holding the toasting forks in their clenched, naked buttocks. Ah, happy days at Eton, Harrow, Winchester, et al.

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During nearly 40 years living in London I wasn't allowed to burn real coal fires due to the London Clean Air Act even though some of the houses I lived in retained the fireplaces. The place I now live in allows coal burning and as a result I light one every evening - it's all very satisfying and brings back those memories of being a kid.

I've got a coal man who delivers bags of Black Diamond coal in big sacks humped on his back from the lorry just lke the old days ... sadly not the hessian jobbies of old but polypropylene ones. Crumpled newspaper, sticks, coal and a paper bleezer, but you're right about the size issue ... only Mrs Symptom's Sunday Times is the correct 'old' size; I've been meaning to get a lump of steel sheet to make a bleezer since I moved here but haven't got around to it yet so the flaming bleezer usually goes up the chimney.

I can remember the coal being delivered to our house at West Lea loose and by the lorry load. Ye had te shul it in the barra and wheel it up the back te the coal hoose. Me dad was a polis so we had te buy wors. The miners on the estate got a free ton o' coal ivery month ah think. Tha'd be these piles o' coal shinin' in the sun in front o' different hooses on the estate.

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The worst experience we ever had was when a brick worked loose in the chimney. (It might have been the chimney sweep's brush that did it.) Anyway, every time we lit the fire a bank of smoke would billow back into the room so we couldn't have a fire on - and it was in the middle of winter. The council workman turned up the next day and said he wasn't allowed to go on the roof on his own - carrying bucket of cement, trowel etc etc. I told him in no uncertain terms that we were'nt going another night without a fire, so he bent the rules and allowed me to go on the roof with him. The term brass monkeys applies. We got the work done and had a fire on that night. BUT - I would never never never never have a coal fire again. All the heat went up the chimney and you had to be sitting practically on it before you could get warm. Me and my bro argue about this - he would have one tomorrow.

But anyway, back to chimney sweeps, can you remember them burying the soot in the garden!!! You would be putting plants in the next month and hit a soot spot.

An soot was good fo' keepin' slugs an' snails oot the garden.

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I remember when you used to huddle round the fire as you were frozen down the back of you. You ran into the next room and ran back it was so cold no central heating, and all the women had mottled legs with being that close to the open fire. Those were the days.

Tha's even a name for the red mottled marks wimmin would get on tha bare elegs - erythema abigne, known as toasted skin syndrome.

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Then there is the art of laying the fire.

Cinders paper and only one match allowed if you had done it correctly.

I now make up for those days by lighting garden fires.

Sorry everyone, the smoke can be a problem.

You can now call it renewable energy!

Someone wrote a song about being 'a fire starter'

We could send smoke signals if the computer crashes!

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