I remember when litter on our streets were a rarity. If you dropped anything you got a clip round the ear and told to pick it up. We also had a street cleaner who would sweep every kerb and gutter until they were spotless, even the autumn leaves didnt stay on the path long.
Pity they don't nowadays, the list is ever growing. My brother who is sadly passed away, he was visiting my gran in Fawçett Street when the Germans drop a bomb close to the church a few houses away, he ended out in the street but uninjured except cuts and bruises.
I worked in hebburn in the 60s and sometimes in my lunch hour I’d walk down by the riverside. There were concrete structures that I assumed were left over from the war; are these the ones you are referring to mate?If so, we’re you responsible for the pornographic artwork? Some of it was canny.
Don’t forget The Clangers, mate. Didn’t talk - they whistled. I’ve been told they hid some very naughty language behind the whistles.
Almost literally, clockstander mate. Often handed a glass of brandy and a revolver with one round in it and directed to a quiet room! You can’t beat incentives for getting results!
Ahh! Saturday afternoons in the 50s during the close season, having my lunch of sossies, fried egg and peas pudding while listening to the radio. Riders of the Range - Meanwhile, back at the ranch…
He had a lucky escape, Coycs. My uncle wasn’t so lucky. He was the youngest marine engineer to have his chief’s ticket at the time. His son not long born. He was home on leave from the sea when the sirens went and everyone hurried to the shelter - a brick blockhouse at the bottom of the yard. Then he realised he’d forgotten the candles and went back for them. Everyone told him not to, but he said it would only take a minute. In that minute the bomb hit the house. His young wife, a real looker and nice lass I’m told, never remarried. She was a one man woman. My aunt lived in the row of houses in the next street opposite me and I used to visit her every Saturday and Sunday morning. Directly opposite me was a large gap in the row of houses which made it convenient for me to cut straight across to her house. I was saying to her one time how convenient the gap was. It was then that she told me the gap was where my uncles house used to be and that was where he was killed. I continued to use the gap after that, but each time i crossed I whispered an apology to my uncle Leslie.
That is a sad story @Oldsandy, and there must be so many stories like that during that period and which we are seeing in Ukraine right now.
Sounds like it Sandy, they were dotted all along the banks of the Tyne, and no never got beyond Pelaw and Bill Quay as a playground and having a dad as the local bobby I wouldn't have survived five minutes doing owt like that if I got caught
Me too, Hawthorn Leslie , nothing to do with the artwork mind, we spent our lunch hour's in the pub, probably why we didn't last long.
I remember you only used a hood if it was monsoon rain or arctic freezing or you’d be regarded a softy .
I remember some canny tele shows with good tunes mate. Bonanza, little house on the prairie, rawhide, cheers, magnum pi, knightrider, minder, hill street blues. The music coming on and everyone in the living room shut up.
the outright favorite was the Benny Hill tune. find a canny looking lass and follow her around Woolworths with a line of mates behind you making that tune
there was al there was also Ty Harding in Bronco Lane loved rawhide with Clint please log in to view this image