Canny lass

Are you serious? You are asking stonemasons how they can HELP with repairs to headstones which they have erected over the past FIVE years! Shouldn't you be TELLING them to PUT IT RIGHT!! I'm quite sure the average life expectancy of a gravestone is more then 5 years. The relatives of the deceased should be asking for their money back. I agree with Merlin - it smells of shoddy workmanship!

Who knows what, if anything, goes on in the head of a cooncilla Merlin! Maybe they think that nobody visits the graves in the old part of the cemetery - It would probably never occur to them that children could possibly play there or walk their dog there - or maybe the stakes were from a cheap load of off-cuts all of which were under 2 feet in length. I have to agree it's odd. Like you I would have thought that gravestones which are 5 times as heavy,, and possibly 5 times as old, as those in the new part of the cemetery would be those most likely to topple over. As matter of interest has anybody asked why these stones have become unsafe? Do you think we should go back to the old days when you had to wait quite a long time, 6 months I think, before putting up a headstone so that everything had a chance to settle back into place.

Hope the reading goes well Paul. To everybody else out there READ THE BOOK! I have and it's a great read.

Thanks for the pics Malcolm. Like yourself and Merlin I'd also opt for the word desecration. However, if a group of youngsters had done that it would be called vandalisation! That fits the bill quite well too. I fail to see how the level of safety can possibly have been improved by these measures. Would those structures really prevent a stone from falling over? I find it hard to believe. I think those posts would be ripped out of the ground by the shear weight of the stone against the tie wraps. Thank goodness nobody thought of that solution here! Much better with headstones laid flat on the ground until safety can be restored. Perhaps you should just lay the cooncillas flat on the ground until safety - or sanity - is restored.

I'm trying to imagine the scene with stakes and tie wraps. It sounds a bit like a cure for vampires. However, in all fairness a falling gravestone can cause more damage than a claim against the Cooncil. Just a couple of months ago a 10 year old girl was killed here when a gravestone fell on her. The interim solution here was to check the stability of ALL gravestones nationwide. Those that were found to be potentially unsafe were laid flat on the ground until safety can be restored. I can add that in some cemeteries this was the majority of gravestones but the result was in fact quite pleasing to the eye while at the same time reducing the risk of other injuries to churchyard visitors. Perhaps this could be a solution in Bedlington.

I second that!

OR you can go to http://synergyradio.co.uk scroll down and click on listen live. Add it to your favourites and you can listen whenever you like without going to the community page. Works great!!

Happy Birthday from me too Vic.

A woman brought a very limp pet duck in to the vet. As she laid her duck on the table the vet pulled out a stethoscope and listened to its chest.After a few minutes he shook his head and said sadly, "I'm sorry to have to tell you that your duck has passed away". The woman became distressed and cried out "are you sure"? " Yes", said the vet, "I'm quite sure". "How can you be so sure", said the woman. "You haven't done any test or anything. He might just be in a coma"! The vet rolled his eyes, turned and left the room. He returned a few minutes later with a magnificent black Labrador. The duck's owner looked on in amazement as the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the examination table and sniffed the duck from head to foot. He then looked up at the vet with very sad eyes and shook his head. The vet patted the dog on the head and took it out of the room. He returned after a minute with a black cat. The cat jumped onto the table and delicately sniffed the bird from top to bottom. when it was done it sat down, looked at the vet with sad eyes, meowed softly and strolled gracefully out of the room. The vet sat himself down at the computer and after typing a few words he printed out the bill and handed it to the woman. Still in shock, she took the bill, glanced at it and cried out "£350". "You're charging me £350 just to tell me my duck is dead!" The vet shrugged, "I'm sorry" he said. "If you'd just taken my word for it the bill would have been £50, but with the lab report and the cat scan it's £350".

"17 to start, then renew @ 70" - does that mean you have to take a driving test again at the age of 70?

Just to redress the balance a bit, Brian... Why do blondes often have bruises around their belly buttons? Because blonde guys aren't too bright either!

Sorry about the spelling Keith. Little bit of Swedish slipped in with that k (can't have a c before an i without it sounding like an s). However, your right. Mario it was.

Keith, I honestly wouldn't know what a cup of coffee in Bacci's tasted like. Just read what Symptoms has to say about the place! Definitely not a place for the tender gender of Netherton. No, give me Jimmy Millne's any day. He was a great host as well. He went from table to table talking to everybody. Sometimes he'd greet you in the doorway, escort you to a seat, carry your shopping bag and get your coffee from the counter. Made you feel like royalty. Symptoms, In answer to your query about the cafe at the station, that wasn't Bacci's. It was Moscardini's, or Moskies as it was better known. Can't remember the guy's first name. Pete would probably be able to tell you.

And don't forget the coffe bar he opened alongside the department store. One of the best cups of coffee in Bedlington at the time!

Could be the bottom of the saucepan when its been my hubby's turn to make the porridge.

Looking forward to it John.

Can anybody remember : when didthe Coop moved from it's original site next to the pit into the single-story, prefabricated building opposite the Institute at Netherton? when did the coop finally close? when did Esther (Rochester) who had the corner shop at Netherton move into the building?

No, it's me that's Canny

Coughs and colds were treated in our house by placing a dish in the oven containing malt vinegar and 4 or 5 'black bullets'. Anybody remember them? When the sweets had melted the mixture was stirred and used as an inhalation under a thick bath towel. If you had a high temperature at the same time you were tucked up in bed with a shelf, from the coal oven, wrapped in a blanket so that you could 'sweat it out'. The medicine box in a colliery house was very sparsely equipped. Andrews Liver Salts, senna pods and Golden Eye Ointment seemed to be the main stay and these could apparently cure any medical complaint known to man! Splinters, which couldn't be got at using a pair of tweezers, were removed by making a poultice of Fairy Household Soap, warmed and softened then, mixed with sugar. The poultice was left in place a couple of days and drew the splinter out. Perhaps the strangest 'cure' I came across in Netherton was using coal dirt from the pit to strengthen your back. My father never washed his back. He shunned the pit baths when they opened because they had showers, which meant you couldn't avoid getting your back wet. He washed after work in a large enamel bowl on the floor in front of the fire. He often got us children to wash his back but always told us to 'not touch the black bit, just wash around it. This was a patch about a foot square. In the mid 50's my father was found lying on the ground half way between the pit head and home in an unconscious state. He'd collapsed on his way home due to a burst duodenal ulcer and become unconcious due to blood loss. He developed perotinitis as a result and spent several weeks in the RVI after an emergency operation. They saved his life. Was he grateful to these men and women of the medical profession? No - because they had washed his back while he was unconscious. He was not amused and he said his back was never the same again.

I also remember the communal taps in Netherton Colliery. They were set into a white tiled alcove in the walls of the back streets. I can't remember how many there were but I would take a guess at one tap to every 6-8 houses. We were quite lucky and lived only 2 doors down from the nearest so we didn't have far to carry our water. In our house, and in many others, it was the job of the children when they came home from school to fill the 2 enamel water-buckets that stood in the scullery. They were very heavy. I remember going with my brother who was one year older than me. Between us we just about managed to carry a full bucket. If either of us went by ourself we had to make several trips with a smaller enamel 'pot', like a very large tea mug and fill the buckets at home. We also used to fetch water for some of the old folks in Third Street. I particularly remember 'Granny Watson' a widow who lived two doors the other side of 'our' tap. She always gave us something when we collected water for her - couple of Rowntrees fruit gums was the usual but one day she didn't have any sweets at home and she gave me and my brother a brass shovel from her companion set! (was it called a companion set - a stand with fire irons hanging on it, usually a shovel, a poker and a pair of tongs?) Helping the elderly and infirm was an accepted thing which none of us questioned. If one of them called you over when you were playing in the street and told you to go a message for them you just did it. Eventually, I'm not sure exactly when but some time later in the late 50's early 60's, they put cold water into the houses. A couple of families even installed a boiler and a bath at their own expense, the latter under the workbench in the scullery. Others stuck to their zinc bath in front of the fire.

I also remember helping to make proggy mats in the 50's. The mat frame was a permanent feature, leaning against the wall in the livingroom/kitchen and in the evenings or at week-ends it was balanced between the table and 2 chairbacks. The radio was switched on and the children had various jobs in the mat making process while we listened to a play or music on the 'wireless' as it was better known. I don't ever remember my father making mats so it clearly wasn't a mans kind of thing.(They were probably out tending to their leeks)! My job, being the youngest, was sorting the clippings into piles of different colours ready for use. The older children cut 'clippings' and the oldest ones actually got to do a bit of 'progging'. Like Bediesathome I can remember the proggy mat being put on the bed as an extra blanket but not just over the feet. It weighed a ton and a littlun like me couldn't move under the weight. It's no wonder I was flat chested as a teenager! I think it was probably used more for its restraininjg qualities than its heat retaining properties! You had no choice but to stay in bed and lie still. I can remember a few times, when clippings of a certain colour were running out, that there was near panic and we children were sent with a clipping in our hand to go and ask the neighbours if they had anything in a similar colour. My mother's sister lived in Bristol and was obviously a bit of a progger too as odd clippings would come in the post with a request for rags of a similar colour. I don't suppose progging had reached the masses in Bristol at that time so she had nobody to ask. Knitting was also a popular pass time and I remember that wool was bought in 'hanks' or 'skeens.' I don't remember the term 'yarns' but maybe it was a local thing. We children also got the job of winding the wool into balls but we used to turn a dining chair or stool upside down and stretch the skeen over the legs and wind it from there.

Colliery lass myself so I'll look forward to that!

Really good site John. Already added to my list of favourites, right up there with bedlington.co.uk! Looking forward to many happy hours reading.

I think your right. Jimmy it was.

Thank you, thank you, thank you and yes it was a goodun! I'll have to change my profile now as I'm no longer a "pensioner in the making". I'll get round to it when this hangover shifts itself.