wonky

oh yeah..that stevie..(the money was resting in my account)..bebside welfare was know to us either as billy baldys or the testical ward..most of the fellas had had testicals removed and it was usually the topic of conversation.finaly closed its doors a few weeks ago..sure could tell some tales about the club and its resident drinkers and some that didnt drink..in fact...if there had been more people drinking it would still be open..think stevie was from axwell drive god bless him and save him...

i was at glastonbury back in 87,new order were on top of the bill..it was an experiance i wont ever forget.hoping to either secure tickets for 2015 or planning on going for the two week full holliday as a volunteer..to any one who dont know..you can exchange your labour skills for tickets and camping..they will take rubbish colectors,car park and security jobs..slurry workers..riggers and welders..almost anyone willing to do a full day or nights work..i have been trying to get involved with an instilation like the mutoid waste company. most of their members from the eighties went on to work with archaos and are now in the big time..a friend of mine will be performing there this year..(vynal burns) a world champion street performer,,worth checking out on line if you cant make the festie... if my memory serves me corectly..at the 87 festival there were few portaloos and most of the toilets were of the roman type with just a long plank of wood with holes cut in...remember queueing and once i got in and had a look i couldnt go..ended up walking miles to find some bushes..it was horiffic..there was a time in the eighties i was on a site during the construction of docklands in the east end..monday morning the bogs would be blocked and wrecked from the paddys weekend beer and currys..glastonbury have a simalar effect. not for the feint hearted.

nah ... me mother was telling me on skype that there was a stevie clark had the bebside garage years ago who had three sons but he died years ago apparently..dont know if thats a relative but just in case ..sorry for your loss..lol..'theres not much about bebside me mother dont know and if she dont it will be her buisness to find out..

http://youtu.be/Hihp_Jjdnsglol symptoms..no..it was deffo lief garret..all the lasses were gagging for him and i was a cheap alternative..sadly a one hit wonder too..http://youtu.be/Hihp_Jjdnsg

smelly nelly..twice a week, couldnt wait for RK..there she was all yellow or blue and dangling well..lol..i was for ever dropping me pencil and it was certanly full of lead in those days..as for wood work and metal work..the teachers must have all went to the same collage..one fella would say.." god gave us ears for two reasons, ones for listening and the other is for twisting when your not listening"..he`d then pick you up by the ear and drag you round the room..(in most cases it was me)...and truth be known i probably had it coming..one night after school after a brutal lesson ,my self and trhis lad fawky who was a right bad lad broke into the school woodwork room and stole the cash box that was for the job money..13 quid in coins and we bought loads of fireworks..it was an absolute fortune..not content with that i climbed on the desk and did a really nice poo in the top drawer and off we went..monday..first lesson was woodwork and the police came in..had a look round..had a good look at me and fawky lad and went out...moments later the caretaker came in and proceeded to empty out the drawer with a little coal shovel and some sawdust..we were crying inside and could not look at each other..loli can still see it clear as day,,30 odd yrs later..gas.. usually at this point i would appologise but sadly it was a case of sweet revenge and what gos around comes around..i hold my hand up now..lol school trips were a gas too..the on nature walks the pervy teachers would open a gate for the lads and make the lasses climb over..we all knew what they were at just too young to understand..there was always some poor kid that had nowt for packed lunch and couldnt afford the vindolanda pencils and would usually discrase the school by stealing one and the most vivid memory is there was always a girl sick on the bus..thats one thing you dont forget..this girl deborah was sick next to me and i can only describe what came out as dried white dog poo in a watery gravey..i can still see it..30 odd years later clear as day.. all those teachers who said id regret being a fool and playing the clown..were wrong..i ended up in ireland working for the circus as a welder and saw the world..if i met the sadist teachers now that im all grown up...well...i`d probably pleasure them..

aye thats blyth for you..hit first questions later..that was all enemy teritory for me too..i went to bebside and then on to tynedale..guess i was one of the lucky ones because the girls all fancied me with my lief garret looks and i was most of the time fast enough to avoid any bullying...there was a few occasions i tried bullying myself but didnt have much luck at it if the truth be known..it was always an adventure though when some new lass from blyth would move schools and end up having to sit next to me as a punnishment..i was always the one who would have to give the tour and hand out the pencils ect. bebside had a great history buzz about it and it was a subject i was keen on..the teachers were a little on the mental side bordering sadistic but anyone who showed an interest would be of no trouble to them and treated with respect.. "god help the thickos the teacher would say"tynedale was a place i had to go and was a difrent buzz altogether..fierce competition for the ladies..growing pains and sprouting hair in wierd places..teachers looked good and hormones were raging..we had one teacher who was a total fantasy..one who would wear a difrent colour tights and dangle her shoes in a provocative manner every day, a bloke who was so badly pock marked he was called crater face or pitsa face and a gay teacher who was really understanding and cool...just dont go round to his house the lady teachers would say..lol aye...bebside..half terrier..pure mongrell..oh happy days..

many happy returns..foxy.

hey !! thats south mall talk..(thats..should i get a solicitor) cork speak...lol

well ..with out me going off on one of my long rambles i was just wondering how the fourum members felt about the big bedlington song..i just came across it on the facebook site and after three listens to the preview i am absouloutley stunned..finding it very hard to contain my words of opinion..heres a few,,its kind of reminds me of that james stewart film where he was a ghost and there was that awful happy song in it..its got tinctures of munchkin from the choclate factory and cant decide if its jazz or trance thrown in for safe measure..that casio keyboard sound hasnt been used since the very early eighties and if i can be honest,,i think we need to turn them down..i really dont want to knock the song writer so i am not going to..i am just abit concerned that i could end up with it on the wey aye pod just after unapalomablanca..cant wait for the finished version so i can truely decide if i like it or not.. i know i am not the best of musicians myself and that my (ukulele toilet song) on utube hasnt been as sucsessful as i had hoped but do feel it is important to be honest in our opinions and remember that song writers have feelings too.. if there is any course to ramble and be blatantly honest i will..cheers..wonky

aye it will do me eggy...beats the pants off the big bedlington song..lol

thats wrong..i will have four our fathers and two hail marys..lol

the band stand is exactly as i remember it from as a child...i can remember it so far back that i had to climb up it i was so small to the last time a few weeks ago i hopped up the front and realised i had grown quite a bit since the last time..i shared some happy times at the bandstand and remember the picnics well though did not really take much heed of the speaches that went on..there were some famous fellas up there though..as it stands now its looking pretty drab and dated..reminds me of killingworth of the eighties and places like that..if it were to be refurbished and funding was available surely it would be more feasable to knock it and move with the times and update it..attlee park is a natrual ampitheartre and a decent stage or bowl a little further down the hill would make more sense..use the natrual slope and create somthing wonderfull..painting a blank concrete wall is always going to attract vandals to grafitti so build somthing with natural stone and it wont look so attractive to the bungo loves lovebug brigade. surely the councill would stage more events,,opera..sit down on the grass and watch a movie.. dont quite know how the two main homeowners neighboring the park would react to planning ect but i am sure that if planning was right and people clung together the place would be wonderful again..on my last visit a few weeks ago i went down there for a walk and hung out in the carpapk for an hour or so and noticed it was mainly old ladies with special doggie ramps for their poor half crippled dogs that were using the park..all well and good when they clean up,whitch they did but the park has so much more to offer on a sunny day. who was it that said if we build it people will come ??...anyways...

yes anne from hartford they really were stylish shoes worn by miss choppington in the picture and a dream for a foot fetishist..lol..compared to the other frumpys in the pic she sure would cut a nice rug on the dance floor..its funny people keep stuff like that..my wife has a whole room full of shoes and still chooses to wander the house and street in her slipper boots that are hanging off her feet..what really disturbs me the most about this picture is the toilet paper that is on the ground..either some miner who was squatting on his honkers in the budge left it behind or it was dragged in by the heels of one of those frumpys and has been overlooked by the photographer..i really am puzzled by this also are those shoes slingbacks with a kitten heel...cant sleep...lol

A Cavan driver is pulled over by a Garda on the N3 from Dublin on his way home. The Garda approaches the driver's door. "Is there a problem Garda ?" The Garda says, "Sir, you were speeding. Can I see your license please?" ... The driver responds, "I'd give it to you but I don't have one." "You don't have one?" The Cavan man responds, "I lost it four times for drink driving." The Garda is shocked. "I see. Can I see your vehicle registration papers please?" "I'm sorry, I can't do that." The Garda says, "Why not?" "I stole this car." The Garda says, "Stole it?" The man says, "Yes, and I killed the owner." At this point the Garda is getting irate. "You what!?" "She's in the boot if you want to see." The Garda looks at the man and slowly backs away to his car and calls for back up. Within minutes, five Garda cars show up, surrounding the car. A senior Garda from the serious crimes squad slowly approaches the car, clasping his half drawn gun. The senior Garda says "Sir, could you step out of your vehicle please!" The man steps out of his vehicle. "Is there a problem Garda ?" "One of my men told me that you have stolen this car and murdered the owner." "Murdered the owner?" The Garda responds, "Yes, could you please open the boot of your car please?" The man opens the boot, revealing nothing but an empty boot. The Garda says, "Is this your car sir?" The man says "Yes," and hands over the registration papers. The Garda, understandably, is quite stunned. "One of my Garda claims that you do not have a driving licence." The man digs in his pocket revealing a wallet and hands it to the Garda. The Garda opens the wallet and examines the license. He looks quite puzzled. "Thank you sir, one of my Gardas told me you didn't have a license, stole this car, and murdered the owner." The man replies, "I bet you the lying bastard told you I was speeding, too!"

lol..ross noble is cool though a little on the plump side...robson green ARRRAGH !!..he gets on my goat that bloke..wandering round the world wavin his northumberland flag and pretendin to be a serious fisherman..its a wonder he catches anyting at all with all that screaming on like a big girls blouse..he really is a bloke that is up himself...once he was at the garage on the roundabout at bebside trying to push in the queue for petrol..driving his fancy mercedes benz..my mate gary wasnt having any of it and put him right.." just coz your robson green a\nd all the women are swooning after you dosnt mean you can jump the queue for petrol...coming down here from your fancy bungalow up woodhorn or where ever you come from""" and so on.priceless i can tell you..he went a bit red in the face and signed an autograph for some swooners and went off on his way..with out petrol..lol,,

another reflection from days gone by, offloaded for the writers group and beddys in general...a true story about love. The Blacka. Many a happy time was spent in the shadows of the Black Bridge be it throwing stones at the station gangs or just throwing stones in the river. If the tide was in it was all about the biggest splash and if the tide was out it was all about the plop or splat...I was a splatter myself. A great big Mackey rock and splat! My mate Reggie was defiantly a plopper, didn't matter how hard he could chuck a stone it always went plop. If the tide was in it would gan ploop!! The gang fights that went on in those days, being the late seventies through to the late eighties was just boys being boys, the usual my dad can fight your dad stuff. In them days some of the lads didn't even have dads so that in itself was deffo worth fighting about. I honestly can't remember any one getting hurt; the odd cracked head or burst nose from a lucky shot with a stone is all I remember. We spent more time running away from the station lads and the rest of the time it was us chasing them...someone would all ways end up crying and that would have been a good day. I was born into this world a mongrel. My dad was pure terrier of the Wood lane breed and mother was from the other side of the tracks being Bebside.I was always destined to be different, I was constantly back and forth over the river throughout my childhood and always in the shadows of the bridge and surrounding woods,, Granddad Bedlington would often come and get me and my brothers and trail us through the woods as far as Stannington to that massive conker tree and back again for teatime. We might pop in to an aunties along the way back for some pop and biscuits. The days were long then, as you get older you get more sense, I would never dream of walking so far these days, especially with three kids full of questions. He was a mighty man though and his kindness and stories bode me well. Granddad Bebside was a different cookie altogether, one time at the allotments by the old Bebside reservoir we went off for a walk along the tracks towards the Black bridge and came across a gang of station lads on our side. I was a bit nervous and Granddad chased them back with stones from the tracks so I'm guessing that my stone throwing is hereditary. "Bliddy Bedlintoners" he was saying to me. I could never work that one out but had to agree for some strange reason. By the time I was about fourteen or fifteen Bedlington girls were looking pretty good to me and I was often found lurking around the Blacka, girls would come down from the station or Bank top estates to play on the swing. That was usually the start of the fighting. It was our swing on our side of the river and not to be shared with Bedlington. The lasses could have a go if they waited their turn but when their lads showed up all hell would break loose and someone would end up going home to tell their brothers. Whatever it was about the Bedlington lasses in their bananarama garb ,.though they were fine they were just as hard as their lads and would turn on you in an instant. All buddy old pal one minute and splitting ya heed with rocks the next. The Blacka swing was mighty though. Either from the rock or the girders. One swing oot then the call for boarders, before you knew it there might be ten hanging on to that swing, or somebody's jumper or trouser leg. If it hurt it was more of a ride. If you fell off or the odd time it snapped you were a hero. If it snapped and you hit the brambles it was the funniest thing in the world. If there was blood it would be talked about for the whole summer. Years ago there was an old tugboat that had been towed up the river and tied up just at the other side of the Blue Bridge. Well we went along one day and robbed the rope off it and built the best swing ever, The rope was as thick as your arm and took about ten of us to drag it.in all it took about two days to get it into the bridge and drop the swing but it lasted for years. The railway men couldn't even shift it. Too much effort. In the end the railway men burnt it and even then it was more difficult than they had anticipated. In the summer months we would often traipse through the Hapenny woods to Bobby Pringles and rob his apples and pears. Not just a few but as many as was possible to carry. Bulging lumpy jumpers. This meant as well as running the gauntlet with the station lads you also had the added thrill that you might actually get shot. Bobby had a shot gun and he wasn't afraid to use it. That poor bloke was tormented by us and it is now that I am older and wiser that I really feel for that bloke. He's long dead now god rest him and if I ever get the chance to meet him in the afterlife he can have all my puddings, that's for sure. Times were hard enough in the eighties without having to deal with some yobs trampling and stealing your crops. We would take the robbed fruit to the bridge and just throw them at each other. It wasn't very often that the fruit would be ripe enough to enjoy although some of the Bebside kids actually did eat them, but in hindsight. They were probably starving. One time he actually caught me in his orchard, dragged me into the house to phone the police. I was crapping myself. I was probably ten or twelve at the time. He got the full info from me, who I was, where I was from. Who my grandparents were and sent me off home with a turnip for me Granddad. A while later me Grandma Bebside gave me two pence and sent me back up for another. Off we went to the garden and he gave me a few strawberries and sent me back off with a turnip. Granny Bebside was telling me that he used to drink with my granddad at the club. It was all part of the lesson I was being taught. Trips to the orchard were not as frequent after that and the dark nights were rolling in. It was back to the Blacka for a swing as Bobby Pringles was too far to go on a school night. Years later in the dead of night during the time I was smitten with this lass from the rows, I climbed the bridge and painted a slavvery love message right across the middle. Six foot high lettering, BUNGO LUVS LUVBUG, right across the whole width of the river for all to see. You could even read it from the road bridge. How cool was I eh? About a month later it was all over after her dad tried to kill me. There was a little meeting with the two families that we weren't invited to, more cups of tea and a ginger biscuit later and she was dragged back to the other side of the river never to be seen again. Untill the top club disco anyways. Months later the graffiti was still there. And months after that, and even more months after that, .There was no getting away from the fact that Bungo loves Luvbug, and that was that. By the time the painters came I had moved on and grown up, though the bridge has been painted a few times since, whenever I return to Bedlington on family visits I can still see the stain. It will always be there where I left it. No black paint in the world can cover up the love I had for Luvbug and the happy times had in those shadows under the bridge. Jesus. Is that the time?...

i dont think it matters where theyre from..a cream cake is a cream cake in my book..personaly...i like a cream doughnut slit up the middleand stuffed to overfill and a sqirt of red jammy sauce..yummy !!

aye,the budge, happy memories of courting this lass from the rows and kissing and cudling in the budge at the red lion waiting for the bus home..cant remember what time the last bus was at but remember well the happy tingly feel of being in love..her mother would often say.." dont be hanging round all nite in the budge as someone will be telling your dad and you know what will happen then" lol..there was a few times that i would miss the last bus just for that extra time together and end up walking home to the sound of my mother saying.."have you been up to bedlington with that dorty lass again". there was definatly a strong smell of wee in the corner and a strong smell of woodbine too.. the guy in the above picture wearing the glasses was a trendsetter in his day..i just paid 150 euros for some specs like those..gok wans frames,pure designer stuff..i was wearing them at work and one guy asked did they not have any other ones and another said the last time he saw glasses like that alf garnett was wearing them..lmao

well ..ive been talking to the parents and opened up a whole can of worms !!..lol my grand parents were from purvis row and were moved out to front st,bebside a long long time ago..mother couldnt date it exactly..she remembers visiting her uncle harry there as a child .she reconed most people from the furnace area were moved to cowpen 1st and then rehoused again when the new houses at kitty brewster were built. she also said that most people who would be able to remember these houses would probably be dead by now. witch was somthing i had kind of worked out myself.lol. since opening this can of worms she is going off to see my great uncle who is still of this world and 15 years older than herself to find out more.. one fact she did get right was it was before my time and the houses had definatly been demolished before she was courting my dad..figures mentioned were.1943,1947.1953..though what this means is beyond me !!..just like my history teacher said in an old school report...james does not listen,his mind is elsewhere.must try harder..think he might have been right..cheers,

lol..tarry tooty..remember it well and still use it on ocasions..now days its been replaced by hammerite for a car underbody..

great pictures..the last time i saw the place looking like that it was in a local history lesson back in bebside middle school and i also couldnt put a date on it...lol its amazing that this has all gone now..i recognise loads of the surnames in the list and growing up in bebside there were quite a few that were probably rehoused around kitty brewster estate..we used to dig for bottles down there and would often find the odd blue medicine bottles..the place must have been rank with illness i`m guessing..it would be interesting to find a date..i will ask me mother at the weekend..she knows evrything my dad tells me.lol

aye..lol. ferry travel is certanly hit and miss.. i remember the days when duty free was available onboard irish sea crossings..blokes would get onboard with a sack barrow and book a day return and fill them with slabs and tabs..its all diferent now though as the average price of a pint onboard is about 7 yoyos and onboard shopping is very limited..we once went to france with irish ferries on a booze cruise with the van and hit storm force ten around lands end..4 hour delay into cherbourg..20 hrs at sea..it was horrific.the crew were puking up..all outside doors were locked and there was nowhere to escape the rolling of the ship..we had our pallet of wine ordered and decided to drive back from cherbourg via the euro tunnell,,into.england then ireland rather than get back on the return ferry..i drove through the night and the next day and we arrived back in roslare about an hour after our original ship docked..never again, sure it was about 800 mile in total..if your planning on buying loads of slabs ,get a landrover..lot less hassle..lol

well, after loads of hassle online trying to book ferry tickets using a 12 euro off voucher i had to complain to corprate stena in denmark to achive any results..finaly got my booking sorted and they refunded my 12 euro..when i arrived at dublin port last week to check in i was rewarded with free upgrade to the plus lounge. to anyone who does not know what this means..its basicaly first class.. as much free tea and coffe as you can posibly injest, free papers,really posh napkins, free wine and buiscuits, fruit and juices.the chairs are realy uncomfortable and the noises from the dishwasher just ruins any chance of a peaceful journey.on the way over to wales we had so much fun watching all the posh people blatantly trying to get their money back for the extra fare they were just stuffing packets of buiscuits and fruit into their pockets and bags. it was obscene to say the least and as a matter of pure discust i would not give the poshies the satisfaction of saying the same about me so i did with out. out of pure spite, i did with out.why on earth someone would want to fill their bags with this crap is beyond me. i can only say that i am glad i did not pay for the upgrade..you can only drink so much coffee before you need the bog and lets be honest here..why would you want all those bananas in your handbag madam ? on our return journey from holyhead to dublin we were greeted at the checkin with another free upgrade to the plus lounge..it was a night time sailing departing at 02.30am..the ship was only loading by one ramp due to technical reasons and we were delayed by another hour..we had a cup of free coffee, read the free paper witch by that time was old news and had abolt upright sit down in a nasty chair. the boat was packed and there was loads of small children running amock in the lounge..forget about getting any sleep in here tonight. the parents of these kids were sending them back and forth to the free buffet of chrisps and bickies and any nanas they brought back was placed in the handbags...there was an indian family in the plus lounge that i am sure were using the voyage as a means to stock an army of corner shops..the greed of some people never fail to amaze me.. on my next trip back to the uk i will not be availing of stenas plus lounge and will be bringing my own flask onboard and finding a quiet spot under the stairs for a lie down in peace..there is not much point in renting a cabin for a three hour journey as you get woken by a bing bong on the tannoy informing you of any delay and any offers in the shop should you want to buy some david beckham smelly for your armpits. thanks to stena for the experiance but..next time..i dont think so..team wonky.

a while ago i aquired some tickets for the spring adventure down in yorkshire....off we went and stopped off at the ribblehead viaduct for the night in wonkys tent.. we then headed off to harogate for the show where i was selling my wonky cookers to cover diesel costs ect.. after the show we headed home to bedlington and had some chill time with the family..one day during the holliday i went out alone for a spin through times gone by and ended up in humford with wonkys van.,..after a while and some nice chat with a birdwatcher in the woods i headed off on my merry way again..had a spin by the blacka to see the long grass what all the fuss was about.. and dropped by the oval shops to see it with my own eyes. i then had a blast up to the red lion for a pint of shandy and had to park round the back for maggies sake..lol....then feeling a bit peckish i headed off towards the station in the hope of finding some food for the belly..i was pretty sure there would be a cafe open as it was mid afternoon and lo and behold..the lights were on at kings..i hesitated a while and gave in to temtation..went in and ordered..i ordered a doner kebab and coke and after a min or three was presented with a bundle the size of a small baby..they threw in some chips too..well..i had had the kings kebab before..late at night but this was another experiance altogether..it was massive..not even jonny vagas could have managed it..the salad was fresh and crunchie and the sauces were nice too. though the kebab its self was satisfactory..there was not much love given to the making of it.. i have said before that a good kebab must be made with love and on this occasion it was more of a case of..."that should sort him out"..like the last ocasion i went off to furnace bank to eat it..i gave it my best shot and had to post what was left into the rubbish bin in the carpark..off then to cambois where i was witness to some fly tipping on a small scale.. and spent another half hour with the feet up and the belly full waiting for naked bathers.. so...kings for quantity..wonky ramsey.

..lol..i had to look twice there..i thought it was mike harding,(the rotchdale cowboy). handing a cheque over..