POSTINGS OF THE WEEK FROM THE FACEBOOK GROUP
22 May 2020
I was there (Alfred St School) from 1946-1952 when Miss Singleton was head until she was killed in a car accident in 1952. We rarely saw her and when she did appear she always got us to recite the now very un-PC "I never should play with the gypsies in the wood..." The boys left at 11, usually going to Huntingdon Street School where, it was rumoured, Mr. Spungin kept his strap in vinegar on a window sill. This, and other rumours, motivated me to go to grammar school. The brightest boy in our class lived at the Gordon Boys' Home on Cranmer Street and wasn't even allowed to take the 11+. Other kids' parents couldn't afford the cost of uniforms, PE kit, etc. and a lot of talent was wasted. We also had the strap or Scottish tawse but it was rarely administered by our top class teacher, Mr Christie, who, it was said, had served in the Black Watch and instilled in us his hatred of war. I remember the magazines he distributed to us which had the most awful photos of German and Japanese atrocities. I don't think he had any complaints from parents and I can't remember any nightmares although I clearly remember some of the photos. Another teacher I remember was the delightful Miss Unwin who took the reception class, and Mr Drury, whose discipline was poor. We played a game with cigarette packets in the yard, competed to see who could pee over the toilet wall into Alfred Street (nobody could) or went up to St Andrew's Parish Centre (we didn't have playing fields) and played a game with bean bags. Other memories are of Empire Day when we were all given tins of Ovaltine tablets, the regular visit of the nit nurse, and the slaughter house round the corner on Egerton Street - we were sometimes held in the playground at lunchtime if the terrified beasts were being driven to be killed.
I was there (Alfred St School) from 1946-1952 when Miss Singleton was head until she was killed in a car accident in 1952. We rarely saw her and when she did appear she always got us to recite the now very un-PC "I never should play with the gypsies in the wood..." The boys left at 11, usually going to Huntingdon Street School where, it was rumoured, Mr. Spungin kept his strap in vinegar on a window sill. This, and other rumours, motivated me to go to grammar school. The brightest boy in our class lived at the Gordon Boys' Home on Cranmer Street and wasn't even allowed to take the 11+. Other kids' parents couldn't afford the cost of uniforms, PE kit, etc. and a lot of talent was wasted. We also had the strap or Scottish tawse but it was rarely administered by our top class teacher, Mr Christie, who, it was said, had served in the Black Watch and instilled in us his hatred of war. I remember the magazines he distributed to us which had the most awful photos of German and Japanese atrocities. I don't think he had any complaints from parents and I can't remember any nightmares although I clearly remember some of the photos. Another teacher I remember was the delightful Miss Unwin who took the reception class, and Mr Drury, whose discipline was poor. We played a game with cigarette packets in the yard, competed to see who could pee over the toilet wall into Alfred Street (nobody could) or went up to St Andrew's Parish Centre (we didn't have playing fields) and played a game with bean bags. Other memories are of Empire Day when we were all given tins of Ovaltine tablets, the regular visit of the nit nurse, and the slaughter house round the corner on Egerton Street - we were sometimes held in the playground at lunchtime if the terrified beasts were being driven to be killed.
23rd May2020
Just prior to the demolition of Peas Hill Rise we moved to a new location in 1967. When our new neighbours got to know us they enquired as to where we used to live. The mere mention of St Anns immediately made them take a step back and look apologetically at us as if to say "you poor things, how awful for you!" I fully expected to find a food parcel on our door step at some stage. For some reason the mention of St Anns brought thoughts of filth and famine. Well let me say right now that although no one was rolling in money as a street we were clean, tidy and house proud. The women of the street could be seen scrubbing the front step every week. My mam blackleaded the fire grate every day.
We had an outside wash house with a big copper boiler that needed to be lit on the Sunday night so it was ready for the Monday wash. Buckets full of water were transferred from the scullery to fill it up. Mam used a dolly ponch to pummel the clothes clean, and she really gave it some welly. I had the feeling some days she was drilling for oil. The steam coming from the wash house was incredible, you could lose two stone in weight just walking from the wash house to the other outside "house." These days people would pay a fortune to use it as a sauna.
My responsibilities at this time were two fold. On Thursday once a month I had the task of standing next to the coal house keeping score as the coalman emptied his sack (if you'll pardon the expression). Now and again just for a laugh he'd try and sneak one of the sacks back to his cart upsetting my calculations. This didn't fool me. I had eyes like a toilet rodent and was quick to point out this discrepancy to him. Twelve sacks of coal we ordered and twelve sacks we were getting!
But I'm straying from the point. Wash day was different. Having wrung out as much as could be wrung out by hand the washing would then be put through our mangle to squeeze out as much water as possible. I was in sole command of this piece of technology, which when not in use stood in the yard with my dad's old gabardine coat covering it. Because my mam suffered from rheumatism turning the wheel of this equipment was too much for her so I was promoted to the task. Let me tell you using this contraption was no easy task. Trying to get a double bed sheet through the wooden rollers was like trying to push a duvet through a letter box. You could control the height of the rollers by operating a big screw on top of the frame and just once (and only once!) you'd get your fingers trapped between the rollers, calling out in agony things like "Oh deary me, I've trapped my finger in the mangle, struth that hurts, silly me" (or words to that effect).
If we were on schedule we'd have five minutes and mam would bring me a cup of tea. I'd take mine and sit on the coal house step and contemplate what made the world tick. I was an inquisitive child. I wanted to know things, for instance when Alexander Graham Bell invented the first telephone who did he ring up to see if it worked? Who discovered he could get milk from cows, and what did he think he was doing at the time? I always thought the bloke who invented the wheel was an idiot, the man who invented the other three was the real genius! Anyway I digress.
Tuesday was pegging out day. Just about every house had three or four clothes lines stretched the length of the back yard, hoisted up by the home-made props. With the white bedsheets strung across the properties it looked like the entire street had surrendered to some approaching enemy! On a cloudy day I would be on amber alert scouring the sky, ready to sound the alarm on the first sign of rain. Anything that sounded like distant thunder would have me standing on the kitchen chair looking upwards like a plane spotter checking for incoming.
Then on Wednesday it was ironing day. Our electric iron was the sort that had to be coupled to the kitchen light socket after you'd removed the bulb. The choice was hot iron or light on, you couldn't have both. I stayed well out of that procedure ever since the day I accidentally picked up the hot iron thinking it was the bloody tea caddy! I remember the saying at the time was "Clean and paid for, washed and cared for."
Thursday was shopping day, usually at the little Co-op at the top of Dame Agnes Street and Friday was the day we paid the bills, such as the milkman, rent man at his office in Alfred Street, and National Deposit contributions. I think Saturday was my mam's day of rest, spent building up the strength to kick start the copper again the following night. This task was performed every week, every month, 12 months of the year.
I had visions of me eventually being slumped over that clapped out mangle gasping for my last knockings. I didn't want to go that way. I wanted to live a long and full life like my grandad. He was my hero. He still had an active sex life at 84. He lived at 86 so he didn't have far to walk! When I died I wanted to go peacefully like my grandad, not yelling and screaming like all the passengers on his bus! We didn't have much but what we had was well looked after.
At the end of the day we were St Anns!
We were clean! We were proud! We were knackered!!
4 May at 16:38
………. remembering st Ann’s and sitting on the pavement kerb with my feet on the cobblestones funny looking on them there wasn’t a lot to see but how many had previously walked over them or drove over them or cycled or gone over with a motorcycle or prams then you realise a lot has happened there in St Ann’s on Northumberland Avenue that’s where I sat down it was just at the end of Loverseed Vale coming down from Union Road it was just an alley not even three foot wide the men in Bamfords would call me from the window and might want some milk fetching. There was that same smell when I went inside the work shop some was the materials they used and wood but the most distinctive was from the glue pots that were bubbling away.
I remember Wagon Train on the tv and Wishbone the cook in it and Will Favour some time when I came back from the errand they gave me a wagon wheel because my mama didn’t buy them I don’t know if she didn’t know about them or because of our Italian culture I went for broken biscuits sometimes from Wyymands the shop on Union Road next door to the Fox and Hounds in a bag.
I remember the square metal tins they kept the biscuits in I do funny when I went to the shop I didn’t look at the things and sweets that I couldn’t have you went for what you wanted. I always remember she was cutting meats on the red slicing machine, people used to ask for one or two slices, can you remember of the different meats corned meat or ham did they have hayslet it used to croon her other hand she was holding out and then put it on that like grease proof paper you could use it for tracings to copy a picture or we did that other way with the pencil lead.
I remember the flat ever-ready torch with the round big dome magnifier on the front they shone a long way in the dark I can remember and people on their bikes had the light on them back and front some had dynamos they didn’t need batteries in them I remember we used to try to recharge the batteries near the fire when they had gone I remember one time at Loverseed vale I put one in the fire I don’t remember if I accidentally dropped it in or got it to close at the edge of it but there was an explosion my papa looked at me with a mad face 😡 I kept my head down I didn’t know I had caused it but it was frightening because it was loud I won’t say it was like a bullet going off because I didn’t know what that was like Robin Taylor used to wrap silver paper around the tops of matches and then set light to them I can remember and they used to explode and he used to laugh I don’t know if it was because of the Frite on my face when it happen and I jumped I remember me and Terry and Lenny White in the winter in the dark seeing bikes with the lights on them and we would go switch them on and off just to see the light come on we didn’t leave them on you didn’t do that in St Ann’s
I remember the cuprboads both sides of the fire place if you didn’t have a sideboard it was your main storage in them can you remember if you didn’t have a range fire place they used to put the dough in there with the yeast to rise we said them is it proof now and you wasn’t posh if you just a fireplace but that’s along with so many things in St Ann’s didn’t matter but I tell one thing The people of St Ann’s did know what mattered they had fought and worked for it I know I write from the heart the people have made me like that I didn’t do it myself there always seemed plenty to do in St Ann’s we playing one game or another with Kenny Chester he lived closer to me that Meccano set them little nuts and bolts was wore out the spanner’s was shining we made cranes and we used to lift thing’s up with them and sometimes they tipped up when we purposely tried to lifting some things heat like cars and lorries or trucks he had has well his dad Arthur Chester worked at co-op the one at the top of Parliament Street you went upstairs to the top or the lift depending on how of a messing about mood we was if we had gone to see him from school Kenny would just say let’s go see my dad he knew we would get a bit of a treat we used to sit right in the far corner I don’t know if it was so he might get a telling off but Jenny’s mama didn’t live with him and he never spoke about her I don’t know the full circumstances of his death apart from her got divorced at a young age and went out to Africa where he died god rest you mate we was good true friends his two older brothers are still alive Robert in Africa and Terry in New Zealand some on this site new rob Chester they moved from Bulivant Street to Northumberland Street .
Funny when was young and mates we never had any pictures taken together apart from the school ones you realise later in your life you might want to look at them I remember seeing chubby Ali in toys ar us 2004 and he told me about Kenny but didn’t know a lot about his death just he had passed away we just lost touch like a lot because of the demolition it was too big an undertaking to have rehoused 30’000 people but was there approximately 10’000 or so houses people and some have written it was a slum area but the way they have put it across was like every were you look was slums why I don’t know because like you and I both know that simply was not true even though people will always be able to read that we can’t stop them but can keep writing what we all know to be true and that is St Ann’s was not a big slum area far from it grossly exaggerated mostly by those that was waiting for the hand out yes I know like some of you the people of St Ann’s was not slum people that’s one thing I know in my heart of hearts we all know parts got run down landlords greedy not keeping up repairs rottenly and then passing the book we all know there some in rent areas you’re never going to get 100 percent in any place but look how much different it is now from then so who was right but most of us have happy memories of St Ann’s and that the way it’s got to stay we wouldn’t want it any other way
………. remembering st Ann’s and sitting on the pavement kerb with my feet on the cobblestones funny looking on them there wasn’t a lot to see but how many had previously walked over them or drove over them or cycled or gone over with a motorcycle or prams then you realise a lot has happened there in St Ann’s on Northumberland Avenue that’s where I sat down it was just at the end of Loverseed Vale coming down from Union Road it was just an alley not even three foot wide the men in Bamfords would call me from the window and might want some milk fetching. There was that same smell when I went inside the work shop some was the materials they used and wood but the most distinctive was from the glue pots that were bubbling away.
I remember Wagon Train on the tv and Wishbone the cook in it and Will Favour some time when I came back from the errand they gave me a wagon wheel because my mama didn’t buy them I don’t know if she didn’t know about them or because of our Italian culture I went for broken biscuits sometimes from Wyymands the shop on Union Road next door to the Fox and Hounds in a bag.
I remember the square metal tins they kept the biscuits in I do funny when I went to the shop I didn’t look at the things and sweets that I couldn’t have you went for what you wanted. I always remember she was cutting meats on the red slicing machine, people used to ask for one or two slices, can you remember of the different meats corned meat or ham did they have hayslet it used to croon her other hand she was holding out and then put it on that like grease proof paper you could use it for tracings to copy a picture or we did that other way with the pencil lead.
I remember the flat ever-ready torch with the round big dome magnifier on the front they shone a long way in the dark I can remember and people on their bikes had the light on them back and front some had dynamos they didn’t need batteries in them I remember we used to try to recharge the batteries near the fire when they had gone I remember one time at Loverseed vale I put one in the fire I don’t remember if I accidentally dropped it in or got it to close at the edge of it but there was an explosion my papa looked at me with a mad face 😡 I kept my head down I didn’t know I had caused it but it was frightening because it was loud I won’t say it was like a bullet going off because I didn’t know what that was like Robin Taylor used to wrap silver paper around the tops of matches and then set light to them I can remember and they used to explode and he used to laugh I don’t know if it was because of the Frite on my face when it happen and I jumped I remember me and Terry and Lenny White in the winter in the dark seeing bikes with the lights on them and we would go switch them on and off just to see the light come on we didn’t leave them on you didn’t do that in St Ann’s
I remember the cuprboads both sides of the fire place if you didn’t have a sideboard it was your main storage in them can you remember if you didn’t have a range fire place they used to put the dough in there with the yeast to rise we said them is it proof now and you wasn’t posh if you just a fireplace but that’s along with so many things in St Ann’s didn’t matter but I tell one thing The people of St Ann’s did know what mattered they had fought and worked for it I know I write from the heart the people have made me like that I didn’t do it myself there always seemed plenty to do in St Ann’s we playing one game or another with Kenny Chester he lived closer to me that Meccano set them little nuts and bolts was wore out the spanner’s was shining we made cranes and we used to lift thing’s up with them and sometimes they tipped up when we purposely tried to lifting some things heat like cars and lorries or trucks he had has well his dad Arthur Chester worked at co-op the one at the top of Parliament Street you went upstairs to the top or the lift depending on how of a messing about mood we was if we had gone to see him from school Kenny would just say let’s go see my dad he knew we would get a bit of a treat we used to sit right in the far corner I don’t know if it was so he might get a telling off but Jenny’s mama didn’t live with him and he never spoke about her I don’t know the full circumstances of his death apart from her got divorced at a young age and went out to Africa where he died god rest you mate we was good true friends his two older brothers are still alive Robert in Africa and Terry in New Zealand some on this site new rob Chester they moved from Bulivant Street to Northumberland Street .
Funny when was young and mates we never had any pictures taken together apart from the school ones you realise later in your life you might want to look at them I remember seeing chubby Ali in toys ar us 2004 and he told me about Kenny but didn’t know a lot about his death just he had passed away we just lost touch like a lot because of the demolition it was too big an undertaking to have rehoused 30’000 people but was there approximately 10’000 or so houses people and some have written it was a slum area but the way they have put it across was like every were you look was slums why I don’t know because like you and I both know that simply was not true even though people will always be able to read that we can’t stop them but can keep writing what we all know to be true and that is St Ann’s was not a big slum area far from it grossly exaggerated mostly by those that was waiting for the hand out yes I know like some of you the people of St Ann’s was not slum people that’s one thing I know in my heart of hearts we all know parts got run down landlords greedy not keeping up repairs rottenly and then passing the book we all know there some in rent areas you’re never going to get 100 percent in any place but look how much different it is now from then so who was right but most of us have happy memories of St Ann’s and that the way it’s got to stay we wouldn’t want it any other way
26 Jan 2020
Like so many children of old St Ann's who roamed within and outside of St Ann's, often seeming more like an expedition than walk, a recent minds eye walk took me on a journey beginning and ending outside the old St Ann's Police station. to cross over Ransom/Coppice Road and walk up the entry between Westminster Street and Cromer Road, a back route used around bonfire night to raid stores of piled rubbish the entry exit was opposite Chandos Street turning left up Chandos street to Hungerhill Road, to then turn left, but not before glancing towards the concrete banks to see if anyone was mountain climbing, continuing down Hungerjhill Road, crossing towards St Ann's Valley until now all part of my paper round.
From St Ann's Valley I turned on to Rockwood Road, houses different from many in St Ann's, down Lomas Street to Broad Oak Street before turning right into Corporation Road and then Sycamore Road, at the top turning left on to Woodborough Road, city bound, crossing over at Cranmer street a road walked by many on a journey to the children's hospital, turning left at St Ann's Hill, crossing the top of Alfred Street North to Huntingdon Street and turning left towards the bus station passing Hunto and the Gas workshops, when reaching the bus station crossing over to Bath street, near to the Locarno, then walking along Bath Street up Handel Street taking Carlton Road, away from the city, to turn up Leighton Street, to Pym Street then right on to St Matthias Road before crossing Gordon Road, up Ridgway Street, left at Blubell Hill Road, down Northampton Street through the twitchell to Bellevue Road, passing, with some anxiety, the top of Bombay Street, continuing down Jackson Street to St Ann's Well Road, passing Twells Street and Bilberry Street to the bottom of Donkey Hill, such activity was not unknown to a young St Ann's teenager of the early 1960's, and the walk would have been around the perimeter of the majority of the St Ann's Well Road phased redevelopment, for with few exceptions little remains of what many will recall of their St Ann's once contained within the perimeter of the walk.
Like so many children of old St Ann's who roamed within and outside of St Ann's, often seeming more like an expedition than walk, a recent minds eye walk took me on a journey beginning and ending outside the old St Ann's Police station. to cross over Ransom/Coppice Road and walk up the entry between Westminster Street and Cromer Road, a back route used around bonfire night to raid stores of piled rubbish the entry exit was opposite Chandos Street turning left up Chandos street to Hungerhill Road, to then turn left, but not before glancing towards the concrete banks to see if anyone was mountain climbing, continuing down Hungerjhill Road, crossing towards St Ann's Valley until now all part of my paper round.
From St Ann's Valley I turned on to Rockwood Road, houses different from many in St Ann's, down Lomas Street to Broad Oak Street before turning right into Corporation Road and then Sycamore Road, at the top turning left on to Woodborough Road, city bound, crossing over at Cranmer street a road walked by many on a journey to the children's hospital, turning left at St Ann's Hill, crossing the top of Alfred Street North to Huntingdon Street and turning left towards the bus station passing Hunto and the Gas workshops, when reaching the bus station crossing over to Bath street, near to the Locarno, then walking along Bath Street up Handel Street taking Carlton Road, away from the city, to turn up Leighton Street, to Pym Street then right on to St Matthias Road before crossing Gordon Road, up Ridgway Street, left at Blubell Hill Road, down Northampton Street through the twitchell to Bellevue Road, passing, with some anxiety, the top of Bombay Street, continuing down Jackson Street to St Ann's Well Road, passing Twells Street and Bilberry Street to the bottom of Donkey Hill, such activity was not unknown to a young St Ann's teenager of the early 1960's, and the walk would have been around the perimeter of the majority of the St Ann's Well Road phased redevelopment, for with few exceptions little remains of what many will recall of their St Ann's once contained within the perimeter of the walk.
website:
https://stannswellroad.weebly.com
facebook group:
www.facebook.com/groups/StAnnsWellRdPreDemolition1970
https://stannswellroad.weebly.com
facebook group:
www.facebook.com/groups/StAnnsWellRdPreDemolition1970