Symptoms

Latest photo in from the Palace showing the new parasite/bloodsucker/freeloader baby having its first meal courtesy of one of the under-housemaid wet-nurses:

What was Wilf doing in London 9 months ago?

A snug. I hope you weren't being rude Micky ... snook?

Blimey, I've just been to my local Tesco megastore and discovered you can still get bags of dried 'farter peas' (labelled 'Marrowfat Peas').. Read the instructions and it's the same as Granny used to do only they say to plop-in a teaspoon of bicarb for the soak; Nan was much more efficient ... she use a bicarb tab.

Right again Foxy. A brilliant place.

GGG I know what tax breaks are, maybe I should have put that phrase between inverted commas to hint at any additional financial benefit derived, however obscurely, from anywhere other than private finance. I'm sure you'd agree that License Payers' shouldn't be supporting, however obliquely, any private club; I'll not be suprised at the vast, additional shed-loads, of income to be generated for that club being linked to the venue being televised.

I agree with you GGG that the Beeb are chickenshit scared of giving offense to anybody and as a result their output has become bland, just like ITV. I think they should challenge and stir-up a debate but they always appear to 'run scared' of poor headlines in the Daily Mail (and similar organs) and the bile honked-out by backbench MPs. So I'm not sure that it's the once powerful NUJ that dictates what goes on there, I blame the ex-business and ex-political 'suits' for determining what we see on the box.

Eggs wrote: "Today's teachers would not entertain a class this size - 43 pupils."

Give Mr Gove, the Tory Education Minister, time and a teacher/pupil radio of 1:43+ will become standard in state schools.

Navigation much beyond Bedders relied on the AA gazetteer (the yellow handbook) ... I don't know if they still do these??? The white gauntletted saluting AA patrolmen on their motorbike/sidecar combos, the big yellow AA phoneboxes, the AA phonebox key. The gazetteer had a ton of stuff in it; my favouite was the list of numberplate registration districts as one of the games we played whist on the journey was to see where various cars came from, for example, YNL 919 was registered in the Toon as was NTY 756 (NL for N/cle & TY for Tyne). By the way both those numbers belonged to various vehicles my Dad had over the years and I still remember ALL the reg nos. These car spotting games were easy to play because there was so little traffic on the roads back then. Town info could be sought in the gazeteer for all those little places that you had to pass through, early closing days, locations for filling stations, distance planning, hotel stuff, camping sites, etc. The book was the only source for this info ... no web searches or phone helplines back then.

Other favourite places we went camping for weekends in Northumberland was up Ingram Valley and beyond Alwinton. The waterfalls and deep pools in the river at Alwinton were great places to swim and slide ... but cold!!!

After additional thought I'm not even sure that the Beeb (a 'publically-owned' corporation) should have televised it.

Years ago in the late 70s I was invited to lunches at The Royal Blackheath Club and another time at The Shooter Hill Club (in SE London) by my old neighbour Maurice Bowyer ... he owned Castle Golf Equipment in Borough (south of the Thames) ... he was a member of both clubs. In The Shooters Hill bar there was a white line painted on the floor and women weren't allowed to cross it to get anywhere near the counter and at Blackheath entry to the premises (even for lunch) for women was by invite only.

I don't have a problem with Private Members' Clubs determining their own membership rules. However, if these same clubs receive any financial support from 'the public purse' IN ANY FORM WHATSOEVER* then they must open their membership books to all.

* Charitable status, tax breaks, funding from Sports Council (or similar public bodies), grants for infrastructure and other facilities, and so on.

In 1953 my Dad bought a pre-WW2 Armstrong Siddley 15HP car from his childhood friend Stan Burke for £5; Stan had a breakers yard at Shiremoor. The car looked like a gangsters' car from one of those old American movies ... spare wheel strapped to the side, running-boards, etc. This old beast ran well for maybe another 3 years until the engine block split going up the A1 bank north out of Morpeth. We had our first family holiday with this vehicle ... a rented caravan at Beadnell; I have clear memories of watching sand lizards on the dunes.

When the Armstrong Siddley died my Dad then got a Vincent Black Shadow (1000cc) motorcycle & sidecar combination on/in which we went down to Brighton. The following year we went to Devon and Cornwall with it ... we went camping. I've got a photo of us at Weston-Super-Mare aerodrome about to get into a plane for a flight over the town and beach. This was all in the pre-motorway days ... memories of going through all those old towns on the old A1, now by-passed. It was the height of the Cold War in the late 50s and I have a very clear memory of going past RAF Wittering (right next to the A1 in Lincolnshire) and seeing dozens of big rockets ready on their launchers .. I suppose they must have been anti-aircraft missiles waiting for Ivan to fly over to nuke us.

Gideon have just given the prospectors a big tax-break to look for and develop the stuff

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-23368505

I was thinking about that last post I did and the ref to baked beans; on reflection I can't recall having many baked beans as a kid but do remember 'farter' peas. Many here will remember these beasts ... dried peas left to soak overnight, with a bicarb of soda tablet chucked-in for good measure - the peas would be cooked as part of the meal the next day.

Eileen - when we had our 'camps' in Foggon's Yard and Dowsen's Buildings (mid 60s) I do remember the houses being well-built of sandstone (have a look at Foxy's #8 post above - those cottages on the forecourt of the Lion Garage looked very similar). I suppose they were demolished because they didn't conform, or couldn't be easily made to conform, to the appropriate dwelling house standards of the day ... they were one down - two up plus scullery. Just imagine what nice, bijou little properties they could have been. They certainly would have had to put new plumbing in 'cos we had all the lead out to melt down to make fishing sinkers ... 'spooners' made by pouring the molten lead into a tea spoon, a dessert spoon or a serving spoon depending on weight required.

I wondered if the folks in Foxy's 2nd snap (his #18 post above) are waiting for the erection of Dr Trotter's Memorial in 1899 although the clothes suggest a short time later ... early Edwardian. They all appear to be in 'Sunday best' and all the kids have shoes on and the fella at the front with the homberg hat seems impatient for an arrival of some big-wig ... maybe the coal-owner/aristo was arriving to open the Doctor Pit new chimney/screens in 1902 or a bit later in 1909 the new shaft.

I remember big lumps of coal mixed in the loads and these had to be broken into smaller, easily managed sizes, with a big ball-pein hammer my Dad kept in the coalhouse (we called the hammer 'the lumphammer').

Yep, KeithL's right about piles of blankets and a hotwater bottle ... the bed was freezing when first entered but eventually warmed-up. One trick was to stick your head below the sheets/blankets and hope the hot breath would speed-up the warming process ... this practice was a bit nasty if baked beans had been consumed that evening.

When looking through the archway in Foxy's first snap the cottages to the rear, and which formed 'the Yard', are gone.

I think I've posted before that inside the barber's shop there was 'terraced' bench seating along the back wall where the victims sat. Up until the age of 14 my Dad used to take me to get my hair cut there ... short back and sides - I wasn't given a choice. The deed was done with those manual clippers ... I don't think they used lekky ones in there. Once I'd joined a group at 14 and wanted/needed long hair the forced snipping ritual ended and the locks were allowed grow.

"I think you ended up complicit in his lie Wonky, by listening to the apologists like Sym!" ?????????????????!!!!!!!!!! My advice was ethically grounded.

and

"Really it was always a private matter between him and his family and once that was sorted the rest doesn't matter."

Basically and clearly my original point!!!!!!!!!!

"She might have gone to the Royal Grammar in the Toon." Or Dame Allan's School ... I'm sure it was one of the posh independents.

GGG - yep, the Patton's house was a bit further up as you say. The Patton's had a fruit and veg shop opposite. They had a son and daughter; Jeremy, the son was a friend of mine and the daughter was a little older and was very, very attractive (but I can't remember her name). She might have gone to the Royal Grammar in the Toon. Obviously, I lost contact with Jeremy when my folks moved from Bedders ... I wonder where he is now?

Foggan's Yard was derelict but still in decent condition in the mid 60s ... we had a 'camp' in the loft spaces and it was via the yard that we gained access to Jimmy Millne's orchard; I vividly recall masses and masses of rose bay willow herb growing in the yard. Dowsen's Buildings, at the top of Hartford Road (next to the old Sally Army buildings) was another similar 'derelict' yard to Foggan's; we had a camp here as well, this time in the cellar area. I remember, the last of the residents just up and left (maybe they croked?) and after the house was cleared and barred shut there was a ton of stuff left. We helped ourselves to WW2 gas masks, old ration books, tin helmets, a stirrup pump (later turned into a banger-gun). Maybe the old guy had been a warden during that last bun-fight with Fritz?

Maggs - you're right about Monday washday ... I also remember there being some Bye-laws preventing hanging laundry out on a Sunday.

With the advent of universal hire-purchase in the 1950s my parents bought an English Electric washing machine ... a big, square creamy green thing with a circular lift-off lid on top and an electric mangle above. The tub had a big aluminium vertical agitator inside. My Dad wore shirts with detachable collars so the collars were washed separately in the tub with starch and Dolly Blue; it was always my job as a nipper to remove the collarbones* before the wash and to replace them after ironing.

*collarbones for our younger viewers were 1/4" wide by about maybe 2" long strips of white plastic which slipped into small pockets at each end of the shirt collar, thus maintaining the collar shape, i.e. no curling. Years later these old collarbones were often use as 'emergency' guitar plectrums when the real one broke or couldn't be found.

Below is a picture of the beast (I found the snap on the web):

Our method of knocky door ginger was to fasten a length of black sewing thread to the door knocker then reel it out to where we hid, usually across the road in some garden opposite. A couple of light pulls of the thread was enough to activate the knocker, the victim would open the door and we'd let the thread go slack. When the victim closed the door we would immediately strike again causing much confusion to the victim; our best score was four repeats before we were clocked and the chase began. What a laugh.

We'll have to burn more coal in the powerstations to keep up with Micky's A/C lecky consumption.

Reports have come in that he's been away for a themed weekend:

This 'coal-shovelling racket' was similar to the 'potato-picking racket'. I remember a lad* at Westridge who had the 'concession' at Ridge Farm - come the picking season he would stand in the cloakroom at school and take names of lads who wanted work. He'd ride on the tractor in front of the pickers and was paid 10 bob, the pickers were on half that. Oh, and you had to bung him a shilling.

*I'm not going to name him as I know his older brother is on the Forum.

Thanks for that photo Foxy ... my pal's front door was the one immediately behind that petrol pump. I can't remember the lad's name. I'm sure it was a BP garage in the 60s.