Chippie - what a fantastic read!!
Chippie - your writings have evoked so many more memories for me! - we coulda been around at the same time! My haunts were all round the Breck Road/Boundary Lane/ Queens Road and I remember going to the Royal 'picture house' once where they were having a Yo Yo contest - there must have been about 200 children all queuing right round the corner into Breckfield Road South - I think it was run by some Americans. That would be about 1961/62. I also saw the film 'Tammy ' there with my mum. You know it was turned into a Bingo Hall. Shame.
I remember Addison's toy shop well - I pestered my mum to buy me a little pink plastic tea set 'because my best friend Carole Benn had one!' Do you remember the big drapers', Stoker's on the corner of Breckfield Road North? And further the other way, towards Heyworth Street, was a small Ethel Austin's where mum used to buy her wool.
Chippie - are you putting all your memories into a book? Have you got pictures?? Keep writing!!!
Fourth Year Seniors at Margaret Street School. Well I Never!
NOT TO BE READ BY ANYONE UNDER SIXTEEN
Well it was the last day of schoolin my entire life, which wasn,t strictly true as I was to go on to Technical College at Riversdale Tech., in my first job as a television engineer. But for all intents and purposes, today was the final day in Prince Rupert Secondary School for Boys, Margaret Street, Everton. It was the 15th. July 1967, the sweetest day of all my schooldays, and the last.
Today was going to be a right fun day with a play that I was in as a country yokel in a pub drinking an alcoholic beverage called "nut brown," supposingly anyway: And I had an act where I was to do a card trick where I would guess the the card correctly of anyone in the audience. I was pretty pleased with myself and happy this hot summer morning as I had a quick swill in the back kitchen sink and swished the cold water around my face neck and hair then dried myselfwith a holey towel and combed my hair with the large half toothless green comb that the three of us used, me, my gran and her last child, my Uncle Ronnie.
I had my black long trousers that had lasted me all year after moaning to nan to get me a pair and she surprised me the day before slipping me the T J Hughes bag. I was chuffed, over the moon, exstatic that I could be like the rest of my schoolfriends and wear long trousers instead of the schoolboy grey shorts I,d been wearing all my born schooldays up till now. I felt quite grown up in my grown up kecks especially as I never wore any underpants because nan couldn,t afford to buy me any, and her philosophy was, "what the world don,t see, it won,t worry about," Looking down at my bulge, I felt quite the man!
After all I was to be the vice captain of the school in my final year, "vice" being a thoroughly adequate title looking back. How could I have street credability ordering first and second years around or chastising third and fourth years lads, wearing flippin, short trousers?
Anyway, I had my black trousers, black blazer with my new "prefect stripes" and vice captain shield badge, black socks and shoes that I had thoroughly polished the night before with Uncle Ronnie,s shoe polish. I even had a new shirt and a new jersey that nan had knitted me, but after the first week or so asked her to take the sleeves off as they looked "hand made, or nan made" as I told her.
I had a cuppa tea and a piece of stale bread toast and out as quickly and as happy as I ever had been in all my schooldays over the last ten years. Down Dessy across Breck Road and into the sweet shop on the corner of Fishguard Street. Never knew the name of it, but used to go there on occasions to buy sweets or chewing gum. Down Fishguard and Sarah Streets by the end of the steep sides of the red sandstone water reservoir building, then across Aubrey Street and into the alleyway leading into Spencer Street where I turned left and across the roadway and knocked on one of my friends house, who was also to become a prefect for our last year, David Grogan. Crumbs on his jacket and sporting his prefect stripes, with a big grin on his face and combing his dark brown hair, he joined me walking along his street chattering away full of dread, anxiety and expectations of what the term will be like. We turned right into Reservoir Street and over the roadway on the side of the corporation yard where all the street cleaners were collecting their barrows and brushes to go to their allotted areas. We turned left into the alleyway between the corpy yard and the baths where we could smell the familliar clorined water coming out of the open dirty wired glass windows of Margaret Street Baths where my Uncle Ronnie went once a week to get a hot bath. We went here once a week too over the last three years or for me it was weakly because I was still terrified of being in the water either on my own or with somebody. We crossed over Margaret Street and into our senior entrance. I was glad the school had this entrance that was nearer to my home if ever I was pushed for time. The junior entrance being a few minutes away up the street, past the sweet shop that sold loose ciggarettes to the kids with two free matches. Turning left into Mill Road along the wire fence that always reminded me of those concentration camps in the John Mills war films; and into the huge wire gates, across the yard, up the few steps and into the building.
There was a happy buzz in the air today because we knew that there were no lessons, and for all us fourth years, it would be a dream, a milestone in our lives; and for most of us, we would never see each other again in our entire lives. These thoughts were amongst us prefects as we sat on the stage as we normaly did with the head or whoever was taking the service and pep talk.
It had been a very interesting final year for me, and maybe a few more of my school pals, along the way; Only they would know. Who knows what went on in their lives out of school. Most of us had two separate lives anyway, in school and at home in the environment around our homes with our individual friends.
My strange new world started a week before my final year at school. I was fifteen in the third month of that year but I was still hanging around with the same few friends that I always had done, all younger than me. A lad in the flats at the bottom of the street came on the scene at this time. He never had wanted to join us before even though he lived in such close proximity to us. He went his own way with his own friends; Let,s call him Ricky. He started playing with us and hanging around us. One day we were playing hide and seek and us kids dispersed all over the place. Up till now my favourite hiding place was shinning up one of the entrys in our street and sitting on someone,s lavatory roof, no one could find me up there. Ricky told me that he had this terrific hiding place and I was to follow him. It turned out to be a meter cupboard in his flats under the stairs. He managed to get a yale key that fitted and it was his den and favourite hiding place. I followed him in and closed the door behind us. I was quite excited about this hiding place as it was easier to get to than my other favourite one. We heard the sound of footsteps of kids running through the flats changing their hiding places, and then silence. I had my hand on the lock of the door holding it ajar to get some light into it and to keep a lookout. I could hear someone pattering about in the hallway, a resident. I closed the door. It was then that Ricky took my hand and put it on his crotch. I thought, "what,s going on here?" He rubbed it up and down his trousers and I could feel he was well excited. With his other hand he unzipped himself and put my hand inside (CENSORED)
I didn,t know how I should feel, I was perplexed to say the least, it was a new experience for me, but I didn,t feel threatened in any way or scared of the situation that I found myself in; I just went along with it and see what happened.
After awhile the incident was over and we got out of the cupboard, not a word had been spoken throughout. We went back to our street to join the rest of the gang. I thought about the episode a lot that night and over the next few days gave it much thought. Another time soon after that Ricky openly played with himself in front of a few of us and I watched the reaction of the rest of the group who seemed to think that it was ok, and that they themselves did it quite often albeit, on their own and in their bedrooms. Now with this lad and his open mindedness, some more of our group joined him in his pleasure as it seemed that it was quite a natural thing to do and that all lads our age were doing it away from prying eyes, but doing it none the less. So it was with a lighter heart and clearer mind that I too joined my friends and (CENSORED)
To be continued, if permissable...................:ninja:
last and final part of my school life.
There wasn,t much I can recall from the final year at school that wasn,t of a sexual nature but looking through my old report book I see that when I started at Prince Rupert I was just an average kind of pupil with average exam results, first year English I came eighteenth fourth year English I was second. Maths was always a bad subject with me I,m afraid with just average right through the four years. My best subject was forign languages where I was always in the top five. Looking back, it was this four year grounding that did me proud when I went over to Germany twice. The first time back in the seventies to visit my sister and brother in law who were medics in the army, and during my European tour in 1995 when I went with two colleagues from the mod. My German training along with my gestures and sign language training got us all through the hazards of going to a foreign country, but we had a good laugh and that,s what it was all about.
My academic achievements at Prince Rupert saw that I left with passes in English, maths, social studies and science. I had 100% punctuality for four years for which I have a certificate, and one for being in the music group and choir where I oftimes played either the recorder or treble. My gran tried to teach me the piano and I can honestly say without fear of contradiction that I can play it like Winifred Atwell,s blind cat.
I loved that last year mostly because I could get out of most lessons I didn,t want to do like swimming, the bane of my life. Mr Corlett shouted, bawled and threatened, but still I could not overcome my fear of the water. I felt daft, my dad and his dad, and all dad,s brothers all being in the seafaring fraternity they commonly, and very proudly call, the Merchant Navy. I just couldn,t get myself to feel safe in the baths. I did swim a length with a bloody big rope round my waist and half an inch away from the bar at the side of the bath, but the fear was always there. I asked a colleague magistrate friend of mine in later life to take me to Margaret Street Baths (before they pulled it down) and have a go at teaching me to overcome my fear, and having swam half a length on my own without assistance, I still wasn,t happy in the water, and I,m afraid that still stands today: Why I wouldn,t even have the gaul to put on a swimming costume costume today the state of my big belly. Last time I put a cossie on and sat on the li lo in the garden I could see all the neighbours curtains twitching and muffled laughter, no blatent laughter coming from within their houses...no never again.
The days were much better in school the final year, life a doddle. My fear of certain teachers gone and respect there instead. The lads were brilliant and I got on with everybody and they with me. There was no bullying in our class and not one of my friends bullied any junior pupil either. We all have our favourite friends in school and I was no exception, mine were, in no particular order were; Albert Boyd who lived in Everton Terrace and like Peter Cook and Dudley Moore as his favourite comedians and used to come into class and tell us jokes and sketches from the previous nights programme. His laughter was infectious. Then there was David Grogan from Spencer Street not far from the corpy yard and Paul Breen who lived in Greenside by the collegiate, John Bennett, my cousin who lived in Mackensie Street off Breck Road.
Now I have some fond memories of John,s house as my nan and any of my dad,s brothers who were at home from the sea at the time could tell you, the parties we had were legendary. Us kids would be upstairs drinking whatever the men brought back in crates from the nearest pub. We would sneak down and take bottles of brown ale or pale ale whatever was going and take it upstairs and have our own party. Dennis Higham was a good laugh too from Druid Street. I,m not sure if his dad was alive at the time of his schooldays at Margaret Street. Then there was Robert Jones, the head boy from Caird Street. He wasn,t called the head boy for nothing, he would have fitted in at Eton or Harrow. Tont Merritt from Fitzclarence Street, Tommy Evans from Phoebe Anne Street, Danny Peters from Rupert Lane whose dad had a building firm, George Wilks from Cresswell Street; Oh the memories of the laughs us lads had at school and the streets we lived in, long since gone with the echoes of our laughter, never to be heard of again. In fact here is an extract from a mail from George Wilks who recently had this to say about his home: "You are aware that I lived in Cresswell Street from birth until 1965, and, whilst there neither electricity nor gas and only a water tap in the back yard. The house was in such a state quite simply because it had already been condemned 25 years before, hence the property had smashed windows and a leaking roof. My life consisted of parafin globe wall lamps and a battery operated radio for entertainment."
I didn,t know that anywhere could be as bad as my growing up in Desmond Street but George has stated that he had no gas lighting as we had, but had to live with the equally unpleasant smell of parafin lamps as their main source of light at night and dark days too.
Another childhood friend, Peter wrote." Yes I lived over the wallpaper shop in Heyworth Street and corner of Desmond Street until I was 11 and then moved to Lombard Street which was opposite Barker and Dobsons sweet factory in Whitefield Road (aaarhhhh remember the smell of the sweets) It was a good move as we finally got a toilet (outside) and it was close to Margaret Street Baths so I could have a bath once a week, happy days eh?! He he."
Anyway the final day in school, we had a great day. The play went down a treat with me dressed as a country yokel, yeh I know, I,m still dressed as one 43 years later. And the card trick failed miserably when the audience knew how it worked because they had brothers who had been in the school before them and told them that there was a lookout with a pair of binoculars reading the cards from a hidden place at the back of the hall. I was sussed out and jeered at that one. The rendition of a sweet sad country song of a child dying was beefed up with over riding movements and props was the best act of the entire show and went down very well, and, overall it proved to be one of the best days of my life, certainly my school life. And after all the acts were over and done and the cheering had subsided, then the head Mr Dai Williams wished us fourth year leavers a hearty farewell and the best of luck in our life ahead as young men and of breadwinners in some households. He gave us his blessing as did some of our form teachers who were around.
We said our goodbyes to our fellow friends and pupils and after such a short hectic school letting out for summer holidays period was over, there was a deathly silence around the school. As one of the prefects I stayed around to see the pupils off the premises and slowly walked out of the school, across the playground, put my prefects cuffbands in the bin by the gate, turned to give the school one last look from outside and walked home alone for the first time in my school life, with no jabbering kid beside me; I had tears in my eyes leaving Margaret Street for the last time going through the alleyways and short cuts home and into the future as a wage earning adult.:034::002::PDT_Xtremez_12::hug:
answers to the comments received
Sfarley;
We were around Breckfield at the same time though I was too young to notice most things going on around me other than buying bulls eyes and pear drops. I knew the Royal turned into a bingo club too...I was the under manager there in the early 70s. There,s a photo somewhere on Yo of the drapers shop in its pale blue paintwork. I am putting my memories down to go into a book sometime, but at this time I,ve been motivated into looking more into my family tree and I,m busy surfing the internet and meeting people connected with that project. Thank you for your support.
Brian Daley; thanks again for your interest and your motovating me into picking up a pen and getting down to it. I,ll stay tuned to you.
Lindy; I,ll get you back for laughing at me, yes it was Ruth Bennett,s brother John who I was talking about. Wrote to John last year but perhaps he,s not a writer.
Tony; It,s a pleasure to test my stuff out on you all at Yo.
Mandy; Thank you for your support too over the last year, you,re cracker.
Samp;
Hello I,m not too familiar with you, sorry. thank you for reading my story at one time I couldn,t go on with the tears streaming down my face and I had to pack it in. When you,ve been dragged up from the gutter and been part of the circus I,ve been, emotions run very high remembering the times of fruit and the times of famine. I remember the table with a white cloth on it and the daddies sauce bottle with the guff all around the rim of the bottle, the open sugar bowl with the flies landing in it every few seconds along with the uncut loaf that was hard and stale and the melting echo margarine full of crumbs as was the whole cloth. If there was no food to eat at mealtimes I would have a spoonful of sugar to help keep the hunger at bay. Such were the poor in our house Samp. Thank you for your kind comments, but let me tell you that it was Brian Daley,s story that got me going, AND, he,s still at it (writing his story that it!) give him a read, it may proove to your liking too. Please carry on with your attempt too even if it takes ages or years to do, put your thoughts down before they are gone. Good luck, looking forward to seeing a page or two on Yo, yes?
Shytalk;
The adult version comes out in paperback entitled, "Chippie get,s his wood out and Wickles it!" Watch out for it in the News of the World next week.... thanks mate, cheers. Kvn:hug: