Poem

[Malcolm Robinson]

This might be the best section for this.............

I remember the cheese of my childhood,

And the bread that we cut with a knife,

When the children helped with the housework,

And the men went to work not the wife.

The cheese never needed a fridge,

And the bread was so crusty and hot,

The children were seldom unhappy

And the wife was content with her lot.

I remember the milk from the bottle,

With the yummy cream on the top,

Our dinner came hot from the oven,

And not from the fridge; in the shop.

The kids were a lot more contented,

They didn't need money for kicks,

Just a game with their mates in the road,

And sometimes the Saturday flicks.

I remember the shop on the corner,

Where a pen'orth of sweets was sold

Do you think I'm a bit too nostalgic?

Or is it....I'm just getting old?

I remember the 'loo' was the lav,

And the bogy man came in the night,

It wasn't the least bit funny

Going "out back" with no light.

The interesting items we perused,

From the newspapers cut into squares

And hung on a peg in the loo,

It took little to keep us amused.

The clothes were boiled in the copper,

With plenty of rich foamy suds

But the ironing seemed never ending

As Mum pressed everyone's 'duds'.

I remember the slap on my backside,

And the taste of soap if I swore

Anorexia and diets weren't heard of

And we hadn't much choice what we wore.

Do you think that bruised our ego?

Or our initiative was destroyed?

We ate what was put on the table

And I think life was better enjoyed.

[Vic Patterson]

That about sums it up! I consider myself lucky to grow up in such "hard times†with great parents.

Is this your writing Malcolm? love it

[Malcolm Robinson]

No Vic but this is:

The Spirit of Bedlington.

Bedlington's just about a dog,

It's quite often been said,

If that's what you believe

Gi'yoursel a smack on the head.

Steeped in history and culture and grime and true grit,

the Bedlington folk would call you a great….twit.

Back in the annals of time forged out of great sweat

The town now standing owes no one a debt.

Back where it began no one is quite sure,

But it must have been olden and really secure.

The Town first written about thanks to St Cuthbert the monk,

his mates, at rest, the Danes and Normans, to debunk.

For long times later under Durham was placed

So the Town was not Northumberland based?

A great Hall for the privileged and Bishop to use,

A court building too for assizes to muse,

King John himself liked to stay in the Town,

Not sure he was welcomed, without so much as a frown,

These must have meant that the Town was of import,

lucky to live here, not a place of last resort.

The people around for their daily bread did need,

The Bishops mill on the river to grind out their feed.

When this mill went idle another came through

To power the Iron Works and give work to the crew.

At first the jobs were all for some nailers

But soon they became world famous railroad railers.

Built on coal and iron in times more recent,

The folks hereabouts living lives really decent.

Birkenshaw, Longridge and Gooch to name but few

all men of good grace bound up with Bedlington hereto.

The sign above the Works for the Bedlington Nailer

"We live by fire and water and iron and God's favour.”

Soon changed to make the Iron horses so new

Running on the rails which were Birkenshaw's breakthrough.

Soon coal was the king and many a pit

Sunk into the earth thought never to quit.

The town now had jobs but never was clean

Its bikini line never to be seen.

The Auld Pit came first and then came the Winnin,

Next off the blocks came Cambois but for swimming.

Thousands of miners digging out the black gold

The pennies they earned to keep their household.

Our dogs must now make their timely debut,

No yapping or casting and certainly not blue.

Bred from Old Flint up country they came

But it's Bedlington where they found their great fame.

The Town and its history so long in the past

Its role in the county so obviously miscast.

More history than others of similar scope

A resurgence of pride we all but do hope.

The people who lived here for such a long time

Now mingle with others just in their prime.

New houses and buildings bring people by the flock

The problem is now, development gridlock.

No thought has been put into what folks might do

So the money they can spend locally now just says adieu.

To the shiny cathedrals of metal and glass

Leaving our local traders to feel second class.

It's the pressures of life this modern were told

But its our local shops we see having to fold.

Change will come when it is least expected

All standing together, no interest more vested.

A proud people and Town of once in the past

No longer just subject to verbal bombast.

[Brian Cross]

Well done guys both were brilliant !

[Keith Scantlebury]

Aye, Nostalgia aint what it used to be , is it ?

[John White]

Excellent!

[Eileen]

Brilliant just what i needed thank you.

[Alan Edgar (Eggy1948)]

My new hero.

[Maggie/915]

Your a poet Malcolm and I guess you do know it!

At Westridge I learnt the poem

William the Conqueror 1066

Said to his captains, I mean to a fix,

England to Normandy go out and borrow

Some bows and some arrows we're starting tomorrow..

This is where he landed