can anyone remember the WMC's daytrips to the seaside.

do they still have them?

there were rows of coaches all filled with children off to cleethorpes or skegness. we were given a handful of free tickets for rides for "Wonderland" and had a sit down fish and chip meal and a bag of sandwiches and a bun. two adults were allocated to each coach and off we went. i can't remember any bad behaviour, they prob got a thick ear from the minders if they did.

We went to Mablethorpe with the Loco club and a lot of coaches used to line up on Pye Bank Rd.
The Pitsmoor used to go to Cleathorpes on the train and we would catch the train at Victoria Station and walk up the steps from the Wicker Arches.
The trouble with Cleathorpes was the long walk from the train station to the fun fare.

One lovely aspect of growing up in Parson Cross, was the Workingmen's Club Trip. Although the clubs had their issues, and certainly corruption was often mentioned, here was an act of true benevolence.
It was an annual event, usually taking place on a Tuesday in early August. The build up would consist of two or three weeks in which tickets were feverishly sought, bought, and exchanged. Coach numbers were critical, and it took a number of swaps before you and your mates were all on the same bus. Low numbers were prestigious, though truth be told it made precious little difference.
The day would start early. In my case I would try and persuade my dad to run me down to the Ritz. If that failed then I would walk or seek out an early 49, sitting next to all the Bassetts women, smoking and gossiping their way down Wordsworth Avenue, their white turbans a proud badge of community.
As I got off the bus, I could see the magnificent sight of thirty-plus charabangs lined up on Southey Green Road. The first few were all in the beautiful green livery of Law Brothers, the others a mixed bag of size and colour, each proudly displaying its On Hire To Law Bros sign, alongside the crucial bus number. The street was lined with Stewards loading crisps, pop and beer on to the coaches, kids, still trying to get a swapsie for their pal's chara, and mum's, bidding their charges farewell before going home for a rare day of peace.
We would typically try and sit near the back, allowing the freedom of being distant from the steward, and enabling a few crafty Woodbines to be passed around. As it was summer, many of the coaches had previously been used for fishing trips, so the predominant smell was Bream Snot. It was also common to share the back seat with a large family of maggots (I'm sure they did it on purpose) as cleaning the bus was the driver's responsibility, and few of them went overboard. After the usual hustle and bustle that goes with thirty-five excited kids, and a few verbal warnings from the stewards about behaviour (No Smoking? Yeah, that'll be right) the vehicles would pull away, one by one, and set off on the road to that great tourist haven, the Venice of the East Midlands, Cleethorpes.
Getting to Cleethorpes these days is a doddle. 90 minutes max on the motorway and you fall of the end of it into Grimsby, in 1968 it was so different. The convoy wound its way through South Yorkshire housing estates, which in turn gave way to leafy Lincolnshire lanes. People would wave at us (Honest! They really did) as we snaked though their quaint little villages, and we of course waved back, not yet brave enough to do moonies. There would normally be a halfway stop, a small transport cafe that served snacks and drinks. The main objective of course was the toilet, which would be flooded by the time the fourth coach had gone through. There was a Juke Box playing the hits of the day, and whenever I hear Death of a Clown by Dave Davies (Where's Brian Matthew's Knighthood, that's what I want to know!!) I am back in that little sticky bun bar. The garden next door had a small orchard, and there was always one lad who would get back on the bus, his pockets bulging with small sour apples, which were almost uneatable. I say almost because of course we did eat them. And threw the cores at locals as we resumed our invasion of their sleepy hollows.
Once we set off again, the steward would then carry out his most important task. Doling out the spendo! This was the high spot of the day, as a guy with a big bag of half-crowns came towards you, and picked out three (yes, three!!) for each kid. If you'd managed to con a further 2/6 out of your mum, that meant a total of ten bob!! All that dosh! Luxury
Arrival in Cleethorpes was usually signaled by a long traffic jam, as the parking attendants tried to shoehorn two-thirds of Sheffield's coach corps into the Victoria car park. The steward would then deliver his well rehearsed lines about lunch, displaying your badges, not getting lost, and making sure you were back on the bus by six sharp or it would leave without you, (for Angela Sellars that very nearly came true) then you were free. Free to roam the streets (street?) of Cleethorpes, armed with just half-a-quid and a lunch voucher for the Victoria cafe.
The events of the day were many and varied. I have memories of the Big Dipper (small as it turns out), donkeys, rifle-ranges, carousels, hot-dogs, brandy snaps (what a disappointment they were!), snogging, and top ten hits blaring out from the rides. My favourite item was the laughing policeman. This was a 1940s mannequin with paint peeling from its face, dressed in ill-fitting uniform, and sat in a glass case. When you put a penny in, it rocked back and forth to the accompaniment of the song, The Laughing Policeman. Stephen King must have seen this, as I'm sure it was the inspiration for about eight of his books. Scary doesn't cover it. I still have nightmares to this day, and if I'm being particularly mischievous, my wife threatens me with that song.
Lunch was a bun fight. Hundreds of ill-mannered brats shoveling fish and chips down their cakeholes. (Grimsby Fish, soaked in vinegar, now there's a memory to cherish) Nicking the ketchup off the next table before they had finished with it. Asking the waitress for Hendersons Relish, knowing full well that they wouldn't have it. Holding the saltcellar upside down and blowing the salt in a girl's face. (Boy, was I cool). Flicking peas at your mate. It was brilliant. The staff must have dreaded it. It would have taken ages to get the place back to normal.
Round about 5 o'clock, the seven and a kick long spent, we would congregate around the bus park, meeting up with others off your coach who you'd not seen all day. As the crowds built up, eventually the driver and steward would come, each carrying a crate of Long Life, and unlock the door. One by one we would file on, less excited now, positively weary, and slump into a seat ready for the long journey back. At ten past six, the other charas long gone, Angela Sellars would turn up, refusing to say what she'd been up to, but looking disheveled and red faced. Then, as an air of calm swept around the coach, the journey home would begin. Some brave soul would try and get a sing along going, {Bye Bye Blackbird, but NOT the Black and White Minstrels version} and there would be a dare to try and nick a Long Life, but it rarely amounted to anything.
After a sleep, if you were lucky, Barnsley appeared on the road signs, and then, like some modern day Xanadu, Parson Cross materialized before your very eyes, and you were at the club. The walk back up Wordsworth was full of animated conversation, about what you'd done, whom you'd snogged, and what Angela Sellars had actually been up to. Then home. A nice cup of tea, Late Night Line Up, bed, and the first of many visits by the Laughing Policeman

hi
i'm lost for words i relived every minuite

Beautifully written Bushbaby, a lovely piece of writing.

It could do with a few paragraphs to make it easier on the eye, otherwise it's a grand job.

When I was young I often wondered why we used to call coaches charabancs? (note, it's not spelled charabang).

Turns out it's from the French meaning a coach or carriage (char) with (-a-) benches (bancs). Funny how a foreign word like that entered the English vocabulary and hung around until, when? The 70s?

You don't hear it anymore and I dare say many people under 35 aren't familiar with it.

DAY-TRIPPER
'Day-tripper'!! It was the title of a popular song later - The Beatles had a hit with it. It probably didn't make much sense to anyone who was not English, but it was enough to keep young kids dreaming for a whole year.It meant that we got to go on the annual trip to the 'seaside', any coastal resort in England.
The trip was 'put on' by members of the local 'Working Men's Club', (Wadsley Bridge) and was open to the offspring of any member in good standing. I never knew what that meant, but I always got to go, so I really didn't care. Luckily for me, the club was at the bottom of the street where I lived, (Browning Road, Foxhill) so I didn't have far to go to get on the 'coach', to use the English word.
There were at least five hundred buses chartered for the trip, and the service road at the bottom of the street very quickly filled up with big red and white 'S.U.T' coaches. They were soon filled with forty or so screaming kids, one driver, and one adult club member, who was a combination referee, chaperone, policeman and 'giver-out' of a bag of stale sandwiches, and a bottle of 'Tizer', a very local soft drink.
The younger kids carried a small metal pail, which was gaily decorated with whatever the early post-war years version of the Ninja Turtles was. None of us kids had TV at home, so we didn't know what other kids had. When we met kids from other cities, it was always interesting to see what their pails had painted on them - ours were always better, though! In the other hand was clutched a small shovel.
Here's the deal. When we got to the beach, the pails were quickly filled with sand, tamped down on top, then the pail was inverted, and the sand would make a small tower. Then the whole procedure would be repeated, until either the kid got tired, or the tide came in! That was the extent of the trip for the young kids, but for us nine or ten year olds, that was kid's stuff.
When we got on the coach at about 5.30 am, we were given the sandwiches and drink, and a small amount of money, which the older kids promptly took from us. (I did that myself later!) The organizing clubs got smarter in later years, after too many bawling kids would throw temper tantrums, because their money got stolen. In later years the kids were each given a name-tag on a string to hang around their necks. This way the concession operators were paid after the fact, the kids never had to carry money.The only instructions were from the driver. "If yer gunna be sick, be sick in yer bluddy bukits!" (Puke in the pail!)
The trip to the coast, back then, took quite a while, although we never did go more than about 100 miles from home. If we went to New Brighton, a resort across the Mersey River from Liverpool, (yes, that Liverpool) one of the more popular destinations, the trip seemed to take all day. Several large cities had to be crossed, there were no by-passes or ring-roads, you went through downtown!
To get to New Brighton, the coach had to go through the Mersey Tunnel, always one of the high-lights, (unless you were a rookie bus driver!) By the time we reached the tunnel entrance, all the bottles of Tizer had been drunk, English buses were not equipped with wash-rooms, so the pails became handy receptacles for the contents of hundreds of little bladders, (or stomachs, whatever!)The older and wiser of us would threaten the little kids with dire consequences if they spilled one drop on the bus! This was not as a favor to the bus-driver, however! Oh no! Something else entirely was planned.
I don't know when the Mersey Tunnel was built, or where it stood in the longest, deepest category of world tunnels, but it always impressed us kids from Sheffield. The walls of the tunnel were done in what I suppose were, originally, highly glazed white tiles.As the tunnel was thequickest way to get to New Brighton from Liverpool, goodness knows how many coaches, over the years, had hauled screaming kids, pails at the ready, through the tunnel.
When we 'oldies' determined that we were far enough into the tunnel, one of us would give the order to wind down the windows. At the same time we would make one hell of a lot of noise, screaming and yelling, until the adult on the coach would give up trying to settle us down, and retire to his seat at the back. This was all part of the plan.Even though what we were about to do was not very nice, or smart, we still had a healthy respect for any adult, and bus drivers were almost gods to us kids. Nevertheless, the next move was one of the highlights of the trip. On command, the by now full pails, (urine and stomach contents,) were poured, or more correctly, hurled at the tunnel walls.Seasoned bus drivers would maintain a very large following distance, rookie drivers always 'tail-gated'! You could always tell who was a rookie driver when you got off the coach in New Brighton. Yellow windshield!
When all the buses were parked, in a very large gravel lot, (no parking lots big enough) the adult on each bus would attempt to lay down rules for feeding, and the time to be back at the bus. Of course, none of us paid any attention to the speech, the 'oldies' were busy planning their day, and trying to get what money the younger kids had left after the bus ride. Imagine if you will, upwards of 2000 screaming kids invading a penny arcade, or running en masse to the beach, or, as most of us did, finding any place that had a juke-box, and girls!
Feeding took place in a very old, very ornate building, that had, I suppose, been used at one time as a live theater, probably also as a cinema, but was now relegated to the care and nurturing of thousands of screaming kids. At the appointed time, the kids in 'our' group would line up outside the building.Only the English will form a 'queue', and we were expected to maintain our place in line. God help anybody who tried to 'push-in'! As we were not the only group in New Brighton, we had to get in, eat, and get out fast. There were probably several thousand kids in town at any one time, so the meal had to be 'fast'.I don't remember any one menu from the time, but, as I only went on the trips until I was 'too cool', i.e 10 or so, the food could not have been very memorable, the war had only been over a few years, some food items were still rationed, so I imagine sandwiches and some kind of drink would have been the order of the day.
The other thing I remember vividly was the ceiling of the hall, or rather, the covering on the ceiling. Gold and blue shrouds of fabric were artfully arranged to resemble what I always though were clouds and sky.This material had no doubt been in place for many years, for we discovered that, if we made enough noise, and stamped our collective feet hard enough, thick clouds of dust would float down onto the tables, the food, and us, and, if we were real lucky, onto the heads of any adult unwise, or unknowing enough to eat with us.
Another cool place we went to was a little further north on the west coast of England. This was Blackpool, a large city that had several claims to fame.
The first was the 'Tower', a replica of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. I never knew the height of either tower, and never saw the Eiffel tower, (until many years later) but I instinctively knew that Blackpool Tower was the taller of the two, probably the tallest building in the world, at least in my world.
One of the other features of Blackpool was 'The Pleasure Beach'. This was a large outdoor amusement park, complete with all the requisite rides, a very long roller coaster, lots of 'merry go rounds', (carousels) and 'The Fun House'.The Fun House was dedicated to making as many kids as possible throw up in as short a time as possible, and contained several rides, all of them going up, down, or around, and, in one instance, the ride was simply a wide staircase, the problem being that each tread went up and down continually, the next tread never being 'in synch'. Around the perimeter of the Fun house were hundreds of penny slot machines, the closest we ever got to 'Vegas, the difference being that you never won anything! They were, to quote the metal plaque on each machine, ' For Amusement Only".
The Pleasure Beach contained several 'fast-food' stalls, comprising fish and chip stands, cotton candy, and my personal favorite, mini-donuts. You could watch these being made, never tiring of seeing a blob of dough being 'farted' (the closest I can come to the actual sound) down into a circular container of hot fat. The blob would bob around the container, and emerge from the tray as a perfectly formed donut. You have to remember that this was post war Britain, very post war, when delights of this nature were a 'once a year' treat for us kids.
To get from the Tower to the Pleasure Beach, at the other end of 'The Golden Mile' (more on this later), involved a ride on a tram. This was the English street-car. I never knew these vehicles by any other name, unless I was talking to an adult about them, whereupon they were 'tram-cars'. I suspect that 'tram' was short for something, but I never knew what! My home-town of Sheffield had a very extensive network of 'tram-lines', and I grew up riding the tram. Unlike Sheffield's system, which were exclusively double-decker' trams, Blackpool's trams were single deckers, and, if memory serves me, only ran on the beach front, known as The Promenade, or 'The Prom'.
After spending some time in the Tower, the base of which was surrounded by several theaters, arcades, and stores, and maybe riding up to the top of the tower, (900 feet comes to mind, for some reason), the time would come when the pull of the pleasure beach could no longer be fought. Onto the tram we would jump, being very careful to pay the one penny fare, and we would strain to see the roller coaster.
Blackpool was a very popular destination with us kids, because it always meant a very late return home, usually in the wee hours of the morning. Blackpool was only ninety miles from Sheffield, but a late start on the return journey was necessary because of what made Blackpool famous! Blackpool Illuminations!
Between the Tower and the Pleasure Beach, was The Golden Mile.' The beach front road in every resort town in England is known as 'The Prom', but only Blackpool has the 'Golden Mile'. This was a very wide street, eight lanes, with two tram tracks, parking on both sides, and, to us, the most fantastic sight in the whole world. Stretched out between each lamp post, and across the street, were literally hundreds of animated, lighted displays, in every color of the rainbow.
The 'illuminations' were not a permanent fixture, but left everybody who saw them breathless with delight. As we always went on the trip in the summer, it stayed light quite late, and, of course, there was no point running the Golden Mile until it got dark, we always got what we considered a bonus, we got to stay up past our bed time.Traffic was always extremely heavy after dark, that was the other reason we got home late.
Now we come to Blackpool's other claim to fame.Blackpool Rock is a very popular confection in England, other coastal resorts make it, but their's always pales in comparison to the monsters made in Blackpool.Slightly thicker than a broom handle, and 18 inches long, Blackpool Rock is unique in that the words Blackpool Rock are visible on the end of the 'stick', and go all the way through to the other end. The letters are simply different colored candy, the whole thing being made from sugar and coloring. The Rock is meant for sucking, it is usually wrapped in waxed paper, and was the first English 'fast-food'.No trip to Blackpool was considered a success unless Rock and Humbugs were bought.
Humbugs were a peppermint candy, quite large, and were shaped like the 'Tetra-Pak'. This is a rather unique shape, almost unexplainable, (by me, anyway), but one format was individual coffee cream containers, albeit much smaller.
Blackpool Rock, as long as the excess paper was re-twisted, had a very long shelf life, important in an era when 'fridges were exclusive to the rich in England.
All in all, it was considered a 'good' trip if you threw up on the roller coaster, or in the bus on the way home.

i remember going with tinsley w m c,we had a great time,we had to wear cardboard circles with the name and number of the coach you were on,just in case,we got 15 shillings,(75p),and thought we had got the world,we ate that much sweet stuff we were allways sick on the way home,happy days though,My grandchildren went on a club day trip,they got £20.00.

Another fine post oldtimer, nice job. It brought back a lot of memories

Just two points. I hate to spoil the illusion, but The Beatles' Day Tripper was about drugs. In particular weekend hippies who work in "normal" jobs during the week, then let their hair down at weekends with all manner of illicit substances.

Also, Blackpool did/does have double-decker trams. What do you think killed Alan Bradley? :)

growing up on the manor we were a bit spoiled as we had 3 clubs,park n arbour,manor and arrundel,as my dad was a member of none of them me and my brother would go on the scrounge for tickets on the morning of the trip..one particular year i got one and he didn't..i remember getting him on the coach and him hidding every time the bloke came round i even shared my quid,crisp and pop with him........happy days eh:)

Originally posted by kirky
growing up on the manor we were a bit spoiled as we had 3 clubs,park n arbour,manor and arrundel,as my dad was a member of none of them me and my brother would go on the scrounge for tickets on the morning of the trip..one particular year i got one and he didn't..i remember getting him on the coach and him hidding every time the bloke came round i even shared my quid,crisp and pop with him........happy days eh:)


Hi Kirky Nice to hear from someone close to home. I lived on theManor thru school years Went to Pipworth rd School. Went to a few of the clubs you mentioned in my teens
Regards Vera

I used to go with the Upper Heeley Club, I remember one year, they had a mystery trip, none of the kids new where we were going, it all added to the enjoyment.

It turned out to be Mablethorpe:rolleyes:

Pop and crisps £1 spending money and fish and chips before coming back home.

I guess this was the Workingmans contibution to helping their local community.

Fun times.

Originally posted by vhopkinson
Hi Kirky Nice to hear from someone close to home. I lived on theManor thru school years Went to Pipworth rd School. Went to a few of the clubs you mentioned in my teens
Regards Vera

my yougest goes to pipworth he's just started juniors last week,where on the manor did you live? i lived on queen mary close with my parents and fairfax road was where me and the missis had our first house.

Hi KIRKY Ilived on Pipworth rd the 4th house up from the school. Our house backed on to the school yard seperated by the brick wall which then was the school toilets. My mother used to put me hot cups of cocoa on it when it was cold in winter. My name is still on this wall wrote in (pitch)V.Pope) it says. I went back there 5yrs. ago. The wall was still there but no house think it was a car park. Took a photo of the wall and name though to show the family here. A lot of my friend lived on Fairfax. and yes I know Queenmary as well My sister lived on Paulet rd. Anyway very interesting Kirky could rant on forever. Nice hearing from you
Regards Vera.

Being from a large family, we'd get to go on loads of trips...Wadsley Bridge, Hillsborough, La Plata, Hillsborough Social, Hillfoot, Southey etc. etc.

The worst thing for us was if two clubs had their trips on the same day! Cleethorpes or Mablethorpe....what a dilema.

One thing I do remember, the "minders" on the charas always arrived back at the coach a little the worse for wear having spent all day in the nearest boozer.



Happy days..........

Originally posted by Cycleracer
We went to Mablethorpe with the Loco club and a lot of coaches used to line up on Pye Bank Rd.
The Pitsmoor used to go to Cleathorpes on the train and we would catch the train at Victoria Station and walk up the steps from the Wicker Arches.
The trouble with Cleathorpes was the long walk from the train station to the fun fare.

I must have crossed paths with Cycleracer cos I used to go with both the Loco and Pitsmoor clubs. Mablethorpe (Loco) was a nicer place (you could get to the sea without a 3 mile walk) but going on the train with the Pitsmoor club was better than the coach. (although there was great excitement if our coach overtook one of the others)

Originally posted by pitsmoorlad
I must have crossed paths with Cycleracer cos I used to go with both the Loco and Pitsmoor clubs. Mablethorpe (Loco) was a nicer place (you could get to the sea without a 3 mile walk) but going on the train with the Pitsmoor club was better than the coach. (although there was great excitement if our coach overtook one of the others) Its highly likely we have Pitsmoorlad, give me a few clues about yourself and see if I can suss you out.
First of all your age will help.

Originally posted by Cycleracer
Its highly likely we have Pitsmoorlad, give me a few clues about yourself and see if I can suss you out.
First of all your age will help.

As a clue let's say that I was a teenager when England won the world cup and the Owls lost to Everton at Wembley. and I used to drink in the Loco club and the fox & duck.

So your in your 50s which makes you older than me.
Not a good start but where abouts in Pitsmoor did you live.
Pye Bank Rd or Brunswick area.

I lived next to the big flats and my paper round included getting the lift to the top floor then coming back down floor by floor and delivering the papers before the lift door closed. And I played football on the rec. I used to get my 10 No6 tipped from Caira's the shop above the Loco club.

Perhaps this should be a separate thread entitled "Who am I ? -20 questions".

Originally posted by pitsmoorlad
Perhaps this should be a separate thread entitled "Who am I ? -20 questions". Perhaps your right,, but it makes it a little more interesting does'nt it ...."Terry".

Originally posted by pitsmoorlad
Perhaps this should be a separate thread entitled "Who am I ? -20 questions".

I'm dead keen to know if they know each other..
It's a bit like Steve Wright's Sunday Love Songs innit?

Bet I know both Pitsmoorlad & Cycleracer i've been to Cleethorpes many times with the Pitsmoor WMC. A label on my lapel to let people know who i am, and Ten Shillings spending money dished out on the train journey to all the kids.

I live in the stix in New Zealand and reading the different excellent pieces about the seaside trips brought many happy memories back to me.

Thse are the things you miss when you are in another country and it really makes the reading the Sheffield Forum worthwhile.

You can easily forget the argy bargy that takes place between contributors waffling on about free speech when you read such uplifting memories that this subject has aroused.

I thank everybody for the read and the memories I do hope you all had as good a time on those Working Men's trips as I did.

Happy Days!

Pitsmoorboy / PopT, Cleethorpes with the Pitsmoor club on thetrain, spending money gone within the first hour. Then we used to walk round the machines that shoved money, and nudge them hoping for some to drop down. And check all the money trays of the one armed bandits just in case. After the regulation fish and chips it was either onto the sand, or back into the arcades, or Wonderland with the stall holders promising us that we'd get a prize even if we din't win.
BTW Pitsmoorboy, we have almost the same name, are we related?

I used to go on the trips with the arundel club when I was a kid got my tickets for virtually nothing as my dad used to be the drummer and my granddad was on the committee had some great times back in the 60's all queing up at the back of the club waiting for your coach to turn up and tring not to get on the same one as your mother, we used to get a pound to spend, a bottle of vimto and as many bags of crisps as we wanted.

Highlight of the Cleethorpes trip with Pitsmoor WMC. for me was dinnertime, always the safe Caf'e. near the railway station, eat half of your snap then throw the rest at your mates. Buns and bacon flying through the air. Happy days (oh memories leave me alone)

We use to leave on the coach from a club opposite the Magnet pub, the Magnet was my Dads second home, and third and fourth ect. don't remember the name of the club though

Originally posted by pitsmoorlad
As a clue let's say that I was a teenager when England won the world cup and the Owls lost to Everton at Wembley. and I used to drink in the Loco club and the fox & duck.
1966 Mate

Originally posted by tosh13
1966 Mate Owls lost 3-2 after being ahaed 2-0 oh those were the day's

I remember going on the club trips with the spa club on birley moor road (it,s now the sherwood pub....shame).We used to go to all the useuall places Skeggy,Mablethorpe,Cleethorpes etc. We would all get a bag of coins to spend when we got there and the obligoritory sit down lunch,on the way back we used to get pop & crisps and by the time we got to Tickhill we,d all need the toilet and have to wait till we got back to the club.Incidently the spa club was a private club (members only)so the annual kids outing and easter where the only time kids where allowed in!!!.Anyone one else remember the spa club???????.My dad was on the commitee for yonks.

can anyone remember the WMC's daytrips to the seaside.

do they still have them?

there were rows of coaches all filled with children off to cleethorpes or skegness. we were given a handful of free tickets for rides for "Wonderland" and had a sit down fish and chip meal and a bag of sandwiches and a bun. two adults were allocated to each coach and off we went. i can't remember any bad behaviour, they prob got a thick ear from the minders if they did.


I remember going to Cleethorpse with the Darnall Green WMC. Like you say, rows of coaches lined up down towards High Hazels Park. We thought it was wonderful I guess as we didn't get holidays as such, and we all enjoyed the day out, with spending money (not much these days I guess) but we always used to look forward to them. What memories eh?!

I remember going to Cleethorpse with the Darnall Green WMC. Like you say, rows of coaches lined up down towards High Hazels Park. We thought it was wonderful I guess as we didn't get holidays as such, and we all enjoyed the day out, with spending money (not much these days I guess) but we always used to look forward to them. What memories eh?!yes such happy memories i used to go with darnall green they used to go two days i think tuesday and wednesday there were masses of coaches and someyears i got to go both days as the darnall green was my grandad i was going to say second home but grandma always said it was is only home .anyway they were fun days apart from the bun fights in victoria cafe where we had dinner you always came out with more food on your cloths than what you eat but the kids of today don tknow what they were missing great times had by all it must have washed off on me as i have lived in cleethorpes for many years now

We use to leave on the coach from a club opposite the Magnet pub, the Magnet was my Dads second home, and third and fourth ect. don't remember the name of the club though

Southey Green Social Club?

Bushbaby
I relived it all. Thanks for the wonderful memories
Margaret

I used to go on the club trips with bellhouse road club. The old bloke accross from us used to get our tickets as my dad wasn`t a member. I can remember sitting on the coach with a bright orange badge attached to me with my name on it. We normally went to mablethorpe. I can remember going to the fair on the front and making a picture from swirling paint on a piece of paper while it spun around. My mum`s still got the picture (my dad used to save everything). Iwent with my kids a few years ago on a club trip from high green to Skeggy. I don`t think they do them now though.

Wadsley Bridge Trip mainly went to Cleethorpes if I remember rightly. Sent the kids off first so half of them had spent up by the time the parents arrived:)

Funny how I only remember them being gloriously sunny days

Used to go on trips with the Grimesthorpe Club. I remember having to wear a name tag. If i remember rightly the tags were like the ones you see in the films with the evacuees. It was so exciting when they came round with the tickets for the rides. we got money aswel. 10 bob i think. Brilliant...

My dad was a member of loads of WMC's La Plata, Arundel, Non Pots and more, so I got quite a few trips through the summer holidays. Cleethorpes was always my favourite as my Nanna and aunties lived there. Free drink in Browns cafe from my auntie Dot, she worked there, free rides on the beach or Wonderland from my uncle Roy, he worked there. 12/6d from one of the clubs which we thought was a fortune, 10/- from the rest.
Lunch at the Dolphin cafe, usually fish, chips and peas with bread and butter and a soft drink. Money was usually gone within the first hour, but then Nanna would always give us more!
Mum and Dad always came as it was a free trip to visit family.
Yes the walk from the station to Wonderland did seem a long way! We used to go to the boating lake end and if sunny (and it always was) we would go in the swimming pool.
Happy days.

Marion

BTW Pitsmoorboy, we have almost the same name, are we related?


Only down to the Ankles. :)

I only ever went once fron Southey WMC in 1934 and the coach never made the trip. Steam would come hissing out of the radiator filler, no pressure systems then, so the driver would climb out and, bucket in hand wait for it the hissing to stop and try a twist the cap off. Quite often boiling water would spew out and the driver would throw himself back to avoid the inevitable splash. About an hour later water would be poured in and a big cheer would announce the starting of the engine only to repeat the performance an hour later. We actualy got as far as Scunthorpe when the driver announced in a solemn voice, " wi can't mek it, engines overeating so will ave to gu back ooam. I can't remember the trip back, I fell asleep and was awkened outside the Club.

Mother was waiting all excited ready for the questions, "did you go paggling" no mum wi never got theer, Chara brock down all 'time, way never mind will have a nice cuppa tea an a scon, what's tha think o that. I'm not gooin ageean Mum ad sooner gu tu Ecclesfield.

hi roveress, i went with grimesthorpe club to cleethorpes-and skegness.
great when they gid us 10 bob spending money/and crips. free fish/chips tea.
i lived in cyclops st- hade some good times in club.
southy club was the biggest outing, they had about 25/30 coaches to the seaside.

I lived at Carbrook and went from The Royal Pub in Carbrook to Cleethorpes on the train from Brightside station in the sixties, we all thought it was fab especially going on the train..:love:

Happy Memories of going to Skeggy/Cleethorpes with Attercliffe Libs. coaches nose to nose queing right round 'lump'. Coaches allocated to adults n those for kids with stewards on board, been given pop n crisps for the trip & a little brown envelope with some spending money in. Those were the days ...................

Used to go on trips with the Grimesthorpe Club. I remember having to wear a name tag. If i remember rightly the tags were like the ones you see in the films with the evacuees. It was so exciting when they came round with the tickets for the rides. we got money aswel. 10 bob i think. Brilliant...

i went on day trips with grimesthorpe club but we only got 4 shillings so obviously im a good bit older.

hi rf2690,
i went on the trips to, i got 6/-shillings and committe were still fiddling
i, fiddling.

hi my husband lived on Windy House Lane, down at the bottom, I know he went to Stand House School, then to Prince Edwards and left school about 1954

hi rf2690,
i went on the trips to, i got 6/-shillings and committe were still fiddling
i, fiddling.i don tthink we cared we were happy to get our six shillings i went with the darnall green great day out

hi roveress, i went with grimesthorpe club to cleethorpes-and skegness.
great when they gid us 10 bob spending money/and crips. free fish/chips tea.
i lived in cyclops st- hade some good times in club.
southy club was the biggest outing, they had about 25/30 coaches to the seaside.

i lived on cyclops st next door to the knowles at the top

why did they put the oldest ramshackle chara as the first coach,nobody got on it,anyone remember little Ronnie who lived on earl marshall rd,He wore white plimsolls and had ginger/sandy coloured hair he was only small.someone mentioned Ronnie bilham sadly he died a few years ago he frightened me to death as a kid i really did think he was a copper and he didnt forget me as an adult he was lovely

I used to go with the Smithywood WMC, my uncle was on't committee.
It always was Skeggy, I don't remember ever going anywhere else with them.

Once remember the coach we were on decided to come back to the club by a slightly different route, and it almost got stuck under the bridge on Little London Road. We had to stop and put down the roof windows as they were catching the top of the bridge, it was that close !!!

Wonder why it is I still love Skeggy/Ingoldmells so much ???

Will be down there again this weekend. Hope the weather stays fine, but as they say, it don't rain in the pub !!!

Flier from work tomorrow, and I should make it to The Bell at Vicker's Point in time for the happy hour (4pm until 6pm).:)

I used to go with the Idsworth Road WMC at Firth Park. My Dad used to get tickets every year and I used to go - whether I wanted to or not! I would have enjoyed the trips but unfortunately I was a terrible traveller (especially on charabancs!) and used to always be sick loads of times! I was fine when I arrived with mi little label attached and the money and tickets clasped in my sweaty little hand waiting to go on all the rides but when I'd had my fish and chip tea and had to wait to go back on the coach - yeeeuuk! I knew I was going to be sick again!

I always remember my Dad coming back home from the club one time and saying to my Mum "Are you wanting to go on the club trip again this year?" and my Mum saying "No, I don't! I'm fed up of her being sick on the coach all the time" - meaning me! I was so relieved, I cried! If only I'd been able to be put to sleep before we got on the coach and then woken up again when we got to the seaside! Oh well! Happy memories anyway!

I went with hillfoot [dads] club burnaby st uncle bobs bradfield rd uncle alberts dialhouse uncle jims mostly to cleethorpes on a clear day you could see the sea we used to have chips and fish then the stewards who were supposed to look after us used to retire to the boozer and let us loose saying dont be late back no peadophiles then we could,nt afford them

Went on dozens my grandfather had a coach company and went on every trip in the 6 weeks holidays. Was just treat like one of the kids from the club by the committee. Bag o crisps and a bottle of pop.

Any of you remember the coach stopping at that ghastly Royal Oak coach stop at Holme on Spalding Moor on the way to Bridlington? Teaspoons tethered to the counter by chains. Toilets swimming in wee. Alas so different now, I work near there and its a steak house, quite good by all accounts too!

Hello ..i went on these trips from Idsworth road and it was very exciting as the coaches came round the corner at speed ..i can picture the best ones were in purple livery with names like empress of york etc could be wrong ..i just wondered who owned these coaches and if any pictures survive.I remember being given five bob and some tickets for rides in mablethorpe.I think my mum made me egg sandwiches.

I can remember going to Cleethorpes with Southey Club, and I would have been about 10 (1964 ish). The amazing thing is I was on my own!! Wouldn't happen now would it? I was lucky that some distant cousins were on the same trip so I spent the day with them but the oldest of them was only a couple of years older than me. We spent all our money in the Wonderland and I remember buying my mum a pot budgie. Can't believe that parents sent us off like that, goodness how times have changed. It would probably be seen as abuse or abandonment now!!

One lovely aspect of growing up in Parson Cross, was the Workingmen's Club Trip. Although the clubs had their issues, and certainly corruption was often mentioned, here was an act of true benevolence.
It was an annual event, usually taking place on a Tuesday in early August. The build up would consist of two or three weeks in which tickets were feverishly sought, bought, and exchanged. Coach numbers were critical, and it took a number of swaps before you and your mates were all on the same bus. Low numbers were prestigious, though truth be told it made precious little difference.
The day would start early. In my case I would try and persuade my dad to run me down to the Ritz. If that failed then I would walk or seek out an early 49, sitting next to all the Bassetts women, smoking and gossiping their way down Wordsworth Avenue, their white turbans a proud badge of community.
As I got off the bus, I could see the magnificent sight of thirty-plus charabangs lined up on Southey Green Road. The first few were all in the beautiful green livery of Law Brothers, the others a mixed bag of size and colour, each proudly displaying its On Hire To Law Bros sign, alongside the crucial bus number. The street was lined with Stewards loading crisps, pop and beer on to the coaches, kids, still trying to get a swapsie for their pal's chara, and mum's, bidding their charges farewell before going home for a rare day of peace.
We would typically try and sit near the back, allowing the freedom of being distant from the steward, and enabling a few crafty Woodbines to be passed around. As it was summer, many of the coaches had previously been used for fishing trips, so the predominant smell was Bream Snot. It was also common to share the back seat with a large family of maggots (I'm sure they did it on purpose) as cleaning the bus was the driver's responsibility, and few of them went overboard. After the usual hustle and bustle that goes with thirty-five excited kids, and a few verbal warnings from the stewards about behaviour (No Smoking? Yeah, that'll be right) the vehicles would pull away, one by one, and set off on the road to that great tourist haven, the Venice of the East Midlands, Cleethorpes.
Getting to Cleethorpes these days is a doddle. 90 minutes max on the motorway and you fall of the end of it into Grimsby, in 1968 it was so different. The convoy wound its way through South Yorkshire housing estates, which in turn gave way to leafy Lincolnshire lanes. People would wave at us (Honest! They really did) as we snaked though their quaint little villages, and we of course waved back, not yet brave enough to do moonies. There would normally be a halfway stop, a small transport cafe that served snacks and drinks. The main objective of course was the toilet, which would be flooded by the time the fourth coach had gone through. There was a Juke Box playing the hits of the day, and whenever I hear Death of a Clown by Dave Davies (Where's Brian Matthew's Knighthood, that's what I want to know!!) I am back in that little sticky bun bar. The garden next door had a small orchard, and there was always one lad who would get back on the bus, his pockets bulging with small sour apples, which were almost uneatable. I say almost because of course we did eat them. And threw the cores at locals as we resumed our invasion of their sleepy hollows.
Once we set off again, the steward would then carry out his most important task. Doling out the spendo! This was the high spot of the day, as a guy with a big bag of half-crowns came towards you, and picked out three (yes, three!!) for each kid. If you'd managed to con a further 2/6 out of your mum, that meant a total of ten bob!! All that dosh! Luxury
Arrival in Cleethorpes was usually signaled by a long traffic jam, as the parking attendants tried to shoehorn two-thirds of Sheffield's coach corps into the Victoria car park. The steward would then deliver his well rehearsed lines about lunch, displaying your badges, not getting lost, and making sure you were back on the bus by six sharp or it would leave without you, (for Angela Sellars that very nearly came true) then you were free. Free to roam the streets (street?) of Cleethorpes, armed with just half-a-quid and a lunch voucher for the Victoria cafe.
The events of the day were many and varied. I have memories of the Big Dipper (small as it turns out), donkeys, rifle-ranges, carousels, hot-dogs, brandy snaps (what a disappointment they were!), snogging, and top ten hits blaring out from the rides. My favourite item was the laughing policeman. This was a 1940s mannequin with paint peeling from its face, dressed in ill-fitting uniform, and sat in a glass case. When you put a penny in, it rocked back and forth to the accompaniment of the song, The Laughing Policeman. Stephen King must have seen this, as I'm sure it was the inspiration for about eight of his books. Scary doesn't cover it. I still have nightmares to this day, and if I'm being particularly mischievous, my wife threatens me with that song.
Lunch was a bun fight. Hundreds of ill-mannered brats shoveling fish and chips down their cakeholes. (Grimsby Fish, soaked in vinegar, now there's a memory to cherish) Nicking the ketchup off the next table before they had finished with it. Asking the waitress for Hendersons Relish, knowing full well that they wouldn't have it. Holding the saltcellar upside down and blowing the salt in a girl's face. (Boy, was I cool). Flicking peas at your mate. It was brilliant. The staff must have dreaded it. It would have taken ages to get the place back to normal.
Round about 5 o'clock, the seven and a kick long spent, we would congregate around the bus park, meeting up with others off your coach who you'd not seen all day. As the crowds built up, eventually the driver and steward would come, each carrying a crate of Long Life, and unlock the door. One by one we would file on, less excited now, positively weary, and slump into a seat ready for the long journey back. At ten past six, the other charas long gone, Angela Sellars would turn up, refusing to say what she'd been up to, but looking disheveled and red faced. Then, as an air of calm swept around the coach, the journey home would begin. Some brave soul would try and get a sing along going, {Bye Bye Blackbird, but NOT the Black and White Minstrels version} and there would be a dare to try and nick a Long Life, but it rarely amounted to anything.
After a sleep, if you were lucky, Barnsley appeared on the road signs, and then, like some modern day Xanadu, Parson Cross materialized before your very eyes, and you were at the club. The walk back up Wordsworth was full of animated conversation, about what you'd done, whom you'd snogged, and what Angela Sellars had actually been up to. Then home. A nice cup of tea, Late Night Line Up, bed, and the first of many visits by the Laughing Policeman

wow.....the cafe you mention was the cross keys,now derelict,and the toilets were somewhere near bawtry,didn,t matter where you were going(cleethorpes or mablethorpe)they always drove the same way,one of the villages was called everton.....for years i was convinced the team played there,and gringley on the hill.....old bud moorhouse got the driver to pull up at gringley,and threatened to take me and barry caldwell to the borstal there.....needless to say,we behaved for the rest of the journey.

growing up on the manor we were a bit spoiled as we had 3 clubs,park n arbour,manor and arrundel,as my dad was a member of none of them me and my brother would go on the scrounge for tickets on the morning of the trip..one particular year i got one and he didn't..i remember getting him on the coach and him hidding every time the bloke came round i even shared my quid,crisp and pop with him........happy days eh:)

i lived on manor ,but the ticket to bag was the darnall green wmc i think we used to get 30 bob (£1.500) and the usual tickets crisps and pop but you had to have your ticket fastened throu your button hole:

Hello ..i went on these trips from Idsworth road and it was very exciting as the coaches came round the corner at speed ..i can picture the best ones were in purple livery with names like empress of york etc could be wrong ..i just wondered who owned these coaches and if any pictures survive.I remember being given five bob and some tickets for rides in mablethorpe.I think my mum made me egg sandwiches.

Yes, I remember the coaches with Empress of York etc on them. I only remembered them when I saw your comment - it brings back so many memories! Kwells travel sickness pills, standing there looking up at the coaches feeling sick, getting on the coach that had THAT smell! Strangely enough, they are good memories as I always enjoyed the actual day trip when I got to the destination. Nothing tastes better than seaside fish and chips - especially at Cleethorpes. Had some the other day - fantastic! :)

I remember going on these trips. I remember going to Mablethorpe with Southey WMC and with Wadsley Bridge WMC. I also remember going with a club at bottom of (I think!) Rutland Road but cannot remember the name of it.

It would have been middle - late 60's. I can remember that we were all given some spending money in a little envelope but I think that each club gave a different amount.

All the kids were really excited about going - think it was because there were no PARENTS with us and we were virtually free to do what we wanted. What memories it brings back but very enjoyable times.

Can't imagine kids these days being let loose in the same way!

i used to go on the daytrips with the old (and i know im not spelling it right ) aquadock wmc where my parents john and betty cropper went. all the coaches would be lined up on 2 streets all the kids would go on the coaches on one street and the adults on the 2nd street of coaches. pop and crisps for us and crates of beer for the adults how no kids ever got left behind is a mystery

Iv been on trips with loadsof clubs the pitsmoor club aquduct limes burngreave foundry workers and the loco club the latter i used to be on the commitee then later on i was chaiman of woodside tennants ta and we used to take the kids from woodside away the kids used to love it

I remember going on the club trips with the spa club on birley moor road (it,s now the sherwood pub....shame).We used to go to all the useuall places Skeggy,Mablethorpe,Cleethorpes etc. We would all get a bag of coins to spend when we got there and the obligoritory sit down lunch,on the way back we used to get pop & crisps and by the time we got to Tickhill we,d all need the toilet and have to wait till we got back to the club.Incidently the spa club was a private club (members only)so the annual kids outing and easter where the only time kids where allowed in!!!.Anyone one else remember the spa club???????.My dad was on the commitee for yonks.

Awww i remember those trips with the Spa club, that and the easter bonnet parade was the only time we could go.

I went on the trips to skeggy with the smithy wood WMC. I remember them as magical days and used to count down to them when I was a kid. The anticipation of when the day would arrive was overwhelming. A day out to skeggy hardly sounds very exciting now but how I loved them. Afterwards back to the club for a free bottle of pop and a packet of crisps, those were the days!

I remember going with a few different clubs but the one i went with the most was Park Gardeners cause my mums friend was on the commitee. I remember going to Cleethorpes one year and the Cerone's had a food fight in Winter gardens so we wern't allowed to go back there :hihi:

i remember getting your little envelope with your money in, a bag of smiths crisp and a bottle of coke. I always went with just friends my own age and there was never any trouble, we just spent our money on rides in Wonderland and the big wheel and I can still smell the dodgems and that burning from the metal spike that used to run along the top . happy days :)

i remember going to Mapplethorpe with gatefield working mens club I remember stopping at a cafe there was two toilets all the ladies rushed and formed two Queues and told the men to use the wall round the back.
We had a great time

nearly every kid i knew went on them and their dads works trips and christmas parties. as for WMCs we all went by train to cleathorpes cause the station was next to the beech we got ten bob and bit if fruit soon as we haad the money we would all run off to the slots by 12ish we were all skint at dinner we would go to whaat i think was a purpose built shed where we would all queue out side along the wall waiting to be let in for the seaside staple fish and chips, then it would be a walk on the sands untill it was time to get back on the train and back home, after a head count their would always be one or 2 missing and you can't hold up a train for anyone. the committee men would come round at some point with bags of crisps and pop the committee men all stinking of boose where they had been in a club all day halcyon days

i remember when the top clubs on city rd the maor, arundel and park and arbour when they all went there would be about 60 coaches the line of coaches by the time the first set of untill the last the first coach was in cleathorpes, when the coaches got back the clubs had to pay for them cleaning as many older kids got some booze then throw it back up on the waY BACK

I remember going on these trips. I remember going to Mablethorpe with Southey WMC and with Wadsley Bridge WMC. I also remember going with a club at bottom of (I think!) Rutland Road but cannot remember the name of it.

It would have been middle - late 60's. I can remember that we were all given some spending money in a little envelope but I think that each club gave a different amount.

All the kids were really excited about going - think it was because there were no PARENTS with us and we were virtually free to do what we wanted. What memories it brings back but very enjoyable times.

Can't imagine kids these days being let loose in the same way!

Southey wmc used to give the kids a £5. We only got £3.50 with Wadsley Bridge club:(
One year my dad was a steward (counting the kids on and off the coaches) on the way back to Sheff we stopped for a break,(think it was Bawtry) My dad counted us all back on again,and off we headed back to Wadsley Bridge for the nightime kids disco. We were all enjoying the night when my mum asked dad were my brother was,(there was 5 of us) dad just said he was knocking around somewhere.
After about 3 hours mum asked dad again(then panic set in) couldn't find my 5 year old bro anywhere.
Cut a long story short...After phoning the police,dad had left his 5yr old son in the bog at Bawtry.:hihi:
Someone had found him and handed him in to the police.Turns out my bro had,had a great time with the cops..Dad was nearly hung by my mother,and his mates at the club ribbed him for months.

Darnell green= 5/-bob
Darnell libs = 7/6p
Darnell connys=10/bob
That was the spending money you got from each club on a day out to skeggy, cleethorpes or mablethorpe.
If the weather was fine you went straight onto the slots and rides and could be skint in half an hour then it was footy on the beach.
If the weather was wet or cold we used to be first in the queue for dinner at "Taddys" if we were at Cleethorpes.
Great days out for Darnell kids, no trouble just fun fun fun!:hihi:

use to go to clubs down attercliffe non pots, moulders,aquduct at night as a yougster and scrouge tickets for tips to seaside never failed, allways got tickets , other clubs we just turned up at the places where the coaches were seting off from and most times got tickets to go .You got crisp,. pop, ten bob note, and a fish and chip dinner This was the only holiday we had and were very gratefull to the people who gave us tickets as it as long stuck in my memory