zakes

Mr Fletcher, who was he? During the 60’s my dad was an unskilled worker, which meant he didn’t get paid much money. My parents still managed to pay the bills, and feed and clothe us four children though. Me mudda had her hands full with the housework, shopping and what have. On occasions when extra finance was needed for Christmas, birthday’s, some item for the household etc, mum would go out to do part time work. Mum had cleaned for Mr Feinberg, a teacher at Carter Lodge School in Hackenthorpe, she also had a few months working in the kitchens at Sheffield University, and used to come home in the late evenings dog tired, then start to clear up after us young ‘uns. Anyway, just for the sake of curiosity and nothing else, I am hoping one or two of you learned persons may be able to help, with info about a person my mum also cleaned for. I once went with her there when I was 11ish (46 years ago), and can only recall a few scant bits. 1. Mr Fletcher 2. Lived in Dore 3. He had a false arm (left) and wore a brown leather glove on his false hand 4. He drove a Rover car – modern at the time 1964-65ish. Possibly grey colour 5. His driveway was grassy with bushes and small trees on either side. 6. He had a small light brownish terrier dog called Pepper(?) 7. He may have been already retired at the time. 8. I think he had a few bob. Thank you Zakesey.

Trials And Tribulations Part 1. Nah then CornishBlade, I am glad that you have joined in on this award winning thread. You are the second person after Razor54 to recognize me from stuff I’ve put on here. Some years ago I spoke with David Siddall in a pub and the first thing he alluded to was the science lab incident with Phippsy lol. I recall you lived at 32, Thornbridge Avenue, and I think you may have been in Corinthians house team but I do stand to be corrected. I remember when anyone was told off in class some of us would make a hissing sound that sounded like a gas leak. The other pupils could hear it but the sound never reached the ears of the teacher amazingly. David Stephenson (Athenian) was right good at it especially when he was hiding behind a book. He also lived on the same road as you, at number 10. If you have read through this thread you will have noticed that I don’t hold back, and I give as much detail as I can. I have some more stuff in the pipeline to relate so beware! Lol. I vividly remember most of the crazy things I (we) instigated and the times when we found ourselves in a tight spot. Do you remember Paul White (Spartan) who was often my partner in ‘crime’? Sure you do. Anyway, enough of the small talk. You have mentioned the name Gary Wood. Here is a short interesting but harmless anecdote involving him and me. Some of you may recall it. Gary Wood. Gary was in the second year and I was in the third at the time. I believe he lived on Birley Moor Way. He and I didn’t have much to do with each other out of school, but in school we were quite matey. I liked his straight wide eyed, honest attitude and there was certainly no flies on him. There were a few bluebottles on me, but despite this I had the impression that he looked up to me a bit. One day the P.E teacher Mr Matthews told Gary that he and three other lads from Birley School had been chosen to go for football trials at Frecheville School on a forthcoming Saturday. These trials were to determine which lads were good enough to represent North East Derbyshire…N.E.D. (or was it Sheffield Boys). I think 3 or 4 boys were to be chosen from every school in the N.E.D area. Soon after being told by Mr Matthews, Gary took it upon himself to go round the school to let the other lads know who he was going to take with him. Gary knocked then entered our classroom looking as unassuming as he always did and quietly spoke with the teacher who nodded his assent to whatever it was that was told to him. Gary came over to my desk to tell me I had been chosen for the trials. I was flabbergasted to put it mildly. I knew I had scored a few goals as an inside left for the school team with the aid of Gary Ashton’s (Athenian) magic football boits, that he had kindly loaned to me. I liked to think I was a bit like Geoff Hurst and a little like Jimmy Greaves but in reality I was more of an Alan Gilzean and scored goals with my knee, arse, hand, shoulder or whatever was handy at the time. I was also the best goal hanging chocolate liner that you ever did see, (perhaps I’m being slightly modest). It was so bloody elated but, my elation wasn’t to last very long. During afternoon playtime in the school yard Gary came to me looking somewhat nervous and I knew summat was up. He broke the news to me that I wouldn’t be going to the trials because there had been a mix up. I was dumbstruck and felt that my world had come to an end. Seeing the look of anguish on Gary’s face I realized that it wasn’t easy for him too. What had happened was, Gary had originally when talking with Mr Matthews thought he had been invited to choose the other players for the trials, but had misunderstood the teacher who had meant , that Gary had been chosen by him (Matthews), and that he had chosen 3 others (which didn’t include me). Gary had gotten hold of the wrong end of the stick, and that had caused all the confusion. I soon perked up because I’d just had a brainwa(i)ve that might just work in my favour. There was no way that anybody was going to stop Zakesey going to them damned trials! 2nd and final part next time.

Reply to Denlin. As a young ‘un I had a highly Imaginative Imagination. You mentioned the 3 spies Burgess, McLean and Blunt, perhaps you didn’t notice that I had included the other 2 spies making up the Cambridge 5 (spelt backwards in the story title), namely John Cairncross and Kim Philby. The mention of Kim Philby is in the line ……’he mentioned that he thought the man Phil by the way was a spy.’ Another example is :-…on the way home Zakes asked his dad who the guy was in the shop,…Guy Burgess. P.S. It does seem strange though, that the four men I came across on that sunny morn bore the names of four of the spies! I enjoy putting hidden things in my storyettes. 2 posts later which was Glass String 1966 I put in the name Jim Carner = Gymkhana. There is more hidden stuff in other posts too. Thanx for reading my stuff, it’s much appreciated. Zakes.

To save embarrassment I have not named the girl classmate in the story below. Her name has only been mentioned once or twice on this thread. This clears the birds who are usually mentioned on here. Some of you may remember the happening(s). Beware, there is some adult content. Over 57’s only!! Varmint Zakes arose late from his pit this Monday morning, and if he didn’t get his skates on he would be tardy at school. He went to the lav for a slash and a quick cat lick. Timmy the tabby was a godsend in such situations Zakes mewsed. Zakes blessed the day when his mum had bought the cat some weeks ago from the milkman, who seemed to be a regular visitor at breakfast time in the household Zakes. The vibrant Zakes arrived in the kitchen as his mother was buttoning up her housecoat. He greeted Malcolm the milkman, then said to his mum he was in a hurry to get to school, so could he have hasty pudding for breakfast. Zakes liked his semolina and tapioca and wasn’t averse to getting his oats now and again, and again, and again……Just before leaving home to go to school, Zakes asked his mum to say hello to dad when he comes home from his nightshift work as a doorman, at Borlini’s Bordello in Beighton. Dashing to school, Zakes was going to be on time to beat assembly, but the ruddy roller skates were killing his feet. The only worry that he had, was he was skint again and was penniless until Friday, when he gets his spending money from his dad. Zakes was spending a quiet incident free day today at school, and in the afternoon made his way upstairs to the maths lesson. Mr Knox the maths teacher greeted the children and told them to sit down. Mr Knox always seemed to smell of Vim, porcupine pee and nicotine, and he was wearing that infernal green and brown tweed sports jacket again. It had often been said that the ultra skinny and bearded Mr Knox used Polo mints to hold up his socks. Knoxy also had a scurf problem, and not forgetting his serious dandruff snag that tended to look like snow on the shoulders of his woolly jacket. During the lesson Poxy Knoxy wished to look at, and mark the classes’ exercise books from some mathematical problems he had set from the previous lesson. Zakes was always sat during these lessons at the first desk directly in front of Mr Knox’s table, due to Zakes always being up to mischief. Mr Knox had said this was so he could keep a beady eye on him, and they certainly were beady. Foxy Knoxy suggested that the pupils queue next to his table in groups of six to get their books checked. Zakes was first to have his book marked and stinky Knoxy seemed to be impressed, which made Zakes feel reight good as he returned to his seat. Some moments later whilst sitting at his desk with a proud smirk across his kisser, Zakes felt first a nudge, and then a trio of taps upon his right shoulder. He half turned to his right to see one of his girl classmates stood in the queue with a lavicious 'come and get me' smile around her chops. This surprised Zakes because this bird had never before shown any interest toward him whatsoever. It was only last week in the library downstairs that Zakes had witnessed her and two other girls trying their damnedest to debag the terrified David Stephenson, having already unbuckled his leather look plastic belt. Zakes wasn’t going to miss this chance, and within seconds had slid his hand up the skirt of this saucy schoolgirl and quickly found the secret place without difficulty. After 57 seconds Zakes glanced over to Mr Knox who was seated just 4 or 5 feet away. Zakes went rigid with shock and promptly stopped his activity, then removed his hand from the moist playground. Mr Knoxs’ beady eyes behind his horn rimmed specs were angrily glaring into the soft blue eyes of Zakes. Mr Knox arose from his chair and on reaching Zakes grabbed the now worried lad by the hair of his sideboards. Mr Knox took Zakes through the classroom door after opening it, then still grasping the poor lad’s sideboards he proceeded to drag him downstairs, then along the corridors toward the office of the headmaster Mr. Lines. On entering the headmasters office Mr Knox ordered the shaking Zakes to tell Mr Lines what had happened in the classroom. Zakes told Mr Lines of his (mis)deed and then tried to get off the hook by adding that the girl had started it, and had egged him on. The headmaster looked at Zakes as if to say, “I’m going to cane you lad, and I certainly won’t be sparing the rod, you little varmint.” Mr Knox was sent back to class, and Zakes stayed to face the long loud lecture that always came before the caning. Coincidently, the typewriting in the next room had ceased, making Zakes assume that the nullipara secretary Miss Cayne had her ear to the wall. She would be impatiently waiting for the caning to begin, then she would start to type again, but this time it would be a spot of gusset typing. Zakes received the usual four lashes with a pause of ten seconds between each stroke. On leaving the heads’ office Zakes jigged along the corridor with his backside feeling as if it had been sat in an acid bath, the pain was bloody excruciating. Ten minutes later playtime arrived. In the school yard Zakes told his pals from class and others he knew, about the punishment he had received from Mr Lines, who was a lookalike of Nigel Patrick the actor. Also during playtime the smile was back on Zakes’ face because he had come into some well welcomed money. The princely sum of 1S 9D was reached by charging his mates 3D each for a quick, deep sniff of the fingers on his right hand.

Zakes, coming and going 1965 – 68 Part 4 I was the only one of us three who made a mini speech in court, apologising and promising to be good from now on, and offering to pay the umpence for the stolen goods. I only made the speech to try to milden my sentence because I knew I would cop it more than the other two because I’d been in court twice before, in Renishaw. Pal 2 received a small fine and some conditions, Pal 1 received a bigger fine and also some conditions because he had faced court before. I the ringleader received the largest fine and given one year’s probation, meaning I had to see the probation officer in Aldine Court on High Street, Sheffield on a regular basis. Next day at school a smiling Mr Lines collared me and took me to his office. Once inside, the unusually friendly headmaster asked me if I had learned my lesson. “I most certainly have” I told him, and I went on to say I would mend my ways from now on. Lines then gave me another sealed envelope and told me to take it home to my parents and said, “Don’t be late tomorrow, lad”. Mum opened the letter as soon as I gave it to her. She read it, looked at me and snarled “Son, you are going to Hurlfield after all, you’ve been expelled!” Mr Lines certainly was a master of psychological games. I never got the chance to say goodbye to my dear friends at school, and that really hurt me. It was like an arrow through the heart. I also didn’t get to find out if Pal 1 and Pal 2 had been expelled too. I still don’t know. Some days later the Hogg’s removals lorry rolled up on Newstead Rise. Not to be continued.

Zakes, coming and going 1965 – 68 Part 3 ‘Harry’ questioned us one at a time which eventually ended with the three of us each receiving three lashes of the cane, then we were sent back to class. Later in the afternoon each of us received a letter in a sealed envelope from a prissy, perfect prefect to take home to our parents. When my mother opened the letter and read it she uttered a swear word, then thick ear’ed me big style. The letter from Mr Lines was also demanding the attendance of at least one parent from each of the three thiefs two days hence at school. Next day at school things were back to normal or so it seemed, then out of the blue we were called to the headmaster’s office. We were interviewed individually again, but this time by a policeman. I was beginning to wish we hadn’t swiped the stuff from the staffroom cupboard. Mr Lines was certainly putting us three through the mangle. The following day my father, Pal 1’s dad and Pal 2’s mother attended school in the afternoon to meet ‘Harry’. At home after school my dad asked me why I hadn’t told him about the police being involved. I explained that I was afraid of getting more thick ears off me mum. Anyway, dad told me that Pal 2’s mum had been crying during the meeting. Pal1’s dad was furious because he had to take a day off work, and had threatened to punch the headmaster. I then made a solemn promise to my parents that I would behave myself in the future. Things were running okay the following week, and I had knuckled down and showed discipline and even excelled, surprising even myself. The big hammer fell when I got home at Wednesday tea time when my mother, who was surprisingly showing some sympathy for me, told me that a summons had arrived in the post telling that I was to face court at Nursery Street in Sheffield charged with larceny, along with Pals 1 and 2. This I found strange, because I didn’t remember having had my rights read to me……I was stunned. To be continued.

Zakes, coming and going 1965 – 68 Part 2 At school one day, me and two other lads decided to relieve the staff room of it’s tuck.. This tuck was sold to pupils on a daily basis, and it consisted of Blue Riband wafer bars, Golden Wonder crisps, Club (or Golf) biscuit bars (and possibly Waggon Wheels and Nibbits). I feel quite sure the other two lads wouldn’t want their names mentioned so I will call them Pal 1 and Pal 2. The day of the heist came and we put our plan of action into action with military precision. At home time we three met up in the downstairs corridor and fleet of foot we zipped past Mr Lines’ office situated on the left and the library on the right. We then continued and tripped down the steps to the end of the corridor and disappeared into the gym on the right. In the gym we waited about thirty minutes to give the teachers time to buzz off home. I did a recce by leaving the gym and clinging like a limpet to the left hand wall and backtracked to see if the coast was clear, it was. I went back for the other two and we got started. The only snag would be if the staff room cupboard was locked preventing us from getting our hands on the goodies. We entered the staff room and on reaching the cupboard found the key in the lock. What thickos these teachers are! We took out several cartons and proceeded to lighten their loads, and stuffed our ill gotten gains into our trouser and blazer pockets and also down the inside of our crisp white school shirts. The cartons were then tidily put back into place, and we then closed the cupboard. We slipped into the empty and quiet corridor, turned right, then around the kink and bypassed the cloak hanging area, went on til the end, then veered left passing the staircase and passed through the door leading to the path outside with the intention of going straight on to the school gate and away. However, as we were going through the door to the path a cleaner came out from the birds bogs and saw us. On Thornbridge Avenue, Pal 2 said the cleaner knew him as she lived a few houses away from his house on Thornbridge Avenue. Having slept fitfully I was up and about early the next morning. It wasn’t just the overdosing on crisps and chocolate that had kept me awake most of the night but the thought of Pal 2 letting the dog out of the bag having been recognized by the char woman. I had considered writing a fake sicknote pretending it was from my uneducated mother. Then I was going to take it to Paul Ward a good mate of mine at school, who lived at nr. 40 Newstead Road and ask him to deliver it to our form teacher on behalf of me mother. The note was going to be something like:- Dear Sir, Unfortunately my son cannot attend school today Due to illness and unforscene circumcises I think he will be much weller tomorrow Yours Sinseerly Mrs. Zakes. XX I decided against writing the note because, although I was freetened to go to school that day, I was more freetened of missing something. Stopping at home could also have been seen as an admission of guilt, so off to school I went. After dinner, during the mathematics lesson with the barbate Mr Knox who had a problem with dandruff, the classroom door opened and in came the pregnant goldfish, the one and only Mr ‘Harry’ Lines. Mr Knox continued lessoning us pupils as ‘Harry’ began to strut around the classroom. He glanced at the floor then the ceiling, in fact he glanced at everything and everybody except Pal 1, Pal 2 and my good self. Mr Lines made his way back to the door then spun on his heel, then pointed firstly at me then at Pal 1, then Pal 2 and beckoned us to him with a look of determination upon his ugly excuse for a face. We stiffly followed the headmaster along the corridor in silence. To be continued.

Zakes, coming and going 1965 – 68. Part 1 This post is about the Zakes family flits in Sheffield 12 from Carter Lodge Drive in Hackenthorpe, to Newstead Rise at Birley then from there to Crossland Drive in Gleadless Townend. The flit to the Townend coincided with my being debarred from Birley School. The reason will also be given for my expellation, which made the overtrunt headmaster Mr ‘Harry’ Lines so bloody happy. This post is a mixture of Nah Then Folks, During the 60s? and Remember Birley School in the 60’s threads, and I have decided to put this on the latter as you have noticed. My memory of the happenings are a little sketchy in places and I’ve had to improvise, but you can be assured that this post is true, as all of my posts on SF have been. I arrived at Birley School roughly half way through the first year, and reluctantly left towards the latter part of the third year. Carter Lodge was my first senior school and Hurlfield was my last. This post doesn’t mean it’s my last on this thread which belongs to us all, so cast aside the apathetic inertia and get posting……Lol. When the Zakes’ left Hackenthorpe during 1965 I was heartbroken because I had lived there for 6 years or so and had had so many fantastic adventures that other children could only dream about. I also left behind lots of muckers and some reight nice girls, I was going to miss them all and they were gonna miss me (so they said). We were only moving to Birley which was a stone’s throw away, but at the time it felt like flitting to the other side of the world. When we arrived at the Vic Hallams on Newstead Rise the estate had only been partly built at that stage, and during the coming days I adventured by marauding about and jumping out of paneless window frames of the incompleted houses. I made friends very quickly at my new school Birley Sec. Mod due to me being a good ‘ice breaker’, and also the classmates being very receptive. At the top of Newstead Rise was a massive mountain of earth that the builders had made with their bulldozers, diggers and dumper trucks and other machinery. It was getting on winter time and there was mud all over the place and the area was quite treacherous. Coming home from school on Friday of my first week I walked down the first part of Newstead Avenue (old red brick corporation houses) and cut across the land with the earth mountain on it. It was getting dark and I couldn’t see clearly and trod into some mud and began to sink. I was very soon mid thigh deep and I really thought I was going to die but I somehow managed to escape. After thanking my lucky stars I went back to Newstead Avenue, plodded along Birley Moor Crescent to Birley Moor Avenue, down to Newstead Road, then down to Newstead Rise, and finally up to our house on the left. It was by now pitch black outside as I stepped into the house. Me mum went barmy when she saw me covered in mud, and my brand new school uniform was in a reight state. This was bad enough, but when she noticed my new black shoes were missing (still deep in the mud) she gave me such a clout my left ear was still buzzing hours afterwards. The following day I decided to have a gander around the area and came across some long pipes at the top of Newstead Road on the right piled up and bound together on the grass verge. I spent time there crawling through those pipes to one end then crawling back again. Whilst going through a pipe I attempted to turn around and became stuck. I was in panic and thought if nobody found me I would die, but after what seemed like an age I managed to get out. Like yesterday in the mud I had once again diced with death and on both occasions had well and truly cacked myself. I later went looking for my school shoes in the mud by the earth mountain but without success. When I got home at tea time my mum was back from shopping in town and she had bought me a new pair of shoes from Timpson’s. 1968. I didn’t know if my parents weren’t paying the rent, or if they were secret gypsies because they had decided to move house again. It was to be another world trip, this time to Crossland Drive at Gleadless Townend in a few weeks time. It had been decided that I would be moving to another school namely Hurlfield Boys. After loads of pleading and loads of good behaviour my parents half relented by saying they would think about me staying at Birley School, but “no promises”. This possible reprieve was soon to become unreprieved because of a serious incident at school. To be continued.

Mankers A Sheffield Word. Nah then Cuttsie, 1. I've read through this thread with interest, and noted there are varying opinions as to what manking is. I don't claim to know what it exactly is, I can only relate my own personal experiences from the early 60's in Hackenthorpe when I started participating in the wonderful pastime of manking with lasses (as it should be). We young 'uns usually performed manking in the dark, because we didn't want to be caught by grown ups because they would surely have been tempted to throw a bucket of cold water at us. As you know, in those days the buckets were made of metal and often galvanised, and if you got hit by one of those it usually bloody well hurt! To us, manking was slap and tickle, or slap and slap, or kissin' and cuddlin' and groping. This usually happened away from adult prying eyes, in corn fields, house porches, bicycle sheds, coal bunkers, bluebell woods etc. Looking back over the years it must be said I preferred manking as opposed to the real thing, because with manking it was less hard work, and you didn't get a bad back. You could also get windows in your fingers if you weren't (or was) careful, and that meant having to wash your hands later, or you could always lick your fingers clean if so desired. Yum. 2. I don't know if manking is a Sheffield word or not. 3. When I worked for local government in Hannover during the late 80's, my colleagues and I used to go straight from work to a restaurant from time to time. The restaurant was a Chinese one called Manking (true), which was a better eaterie than one nearby called Ung Flung Dung (not true). Lol. 4. A male on the throne is a man-king, or have you ever heard of a woman-king? (keen and quing). 5. When we used the word manking we always dropped the G, and said mankin'. 6. I used the word manking on two of my earlier threads, 'Nah then folks, during the 60's' post 30 subtitled , 'Not quite salad days' 18.3.2010, and post 64 subtitled 'Shytes McGregor 1965' 5.3.2011. 7. Cuttsie, post 4 on this thread you described a situation which sounds to me like frottin(g) and that's a great rewarding pastime too! 8. When I was about 8 or 9 years old I asked me mum the meanings of three terms I had learned from a lad called Derek Beeley at Birley Spa Junior School. (A) Cow juice, she told me she thought it meant milk. (B) Manking, she gave me a thick ear. © Jam rag, she went barmy and gave me a reight old pasting. After that, I never used that last term in front or behind of her again. I told Derek at school what had happened, and he told me, in future I should say Dr. White or refer to it as a 'packed lunch for a vampire', especially if it had been used. BET THIS GETS ME BANNED, BLOODY HELL! Blame Derek. 9. Keep posting your stuff Cuttsie. I really admire your passion, humour and determination! Merry mankin(g) mate. Zakesey.

Which Pub Had The Best Jukebox Some pubs started to have the space taking big jukeboxes replaced by smaller ones attached to the wall 'bout 1974 ish time. The new prices at The Albert were 1 play 50p - 3 plays a quid. I remember when this first happened because when I went in I and others would sit (or stand) silently willing others to put a record on. This went on sometimes for an hour or so until somebody gave in, then they would often play some bloody song that you didn't like anyway. The back room was never the same again and alot of people decided to go elsewhere and that included me. The pub may have changed this policy later, I don't know because I left the country within a year of this happening to hitchhike around the world. I returned in 1992. You are correct with your maths Jim. 3 and a half pints plus 1 penny change for one record. Sounds impossible but it's true! I have some more schooldays posts already outlined for you and for my big pal Cuttsie, and anybody else who is daft enough to peruse them. These posts will appear on the 2 usual threads. I would like for you to include me as one of your pals. Thanks for your support Jim. Zakes

Baccy Bob – Broomhill Yes, I remember Baccy ‘Snozzles’ Bob. I used to acquire my Samson tobacco from him usually on Saturday afternoon in the South Sea pub in Broomhill. He did a roaring trade with cigars, fags and bacca. Bob was (is) a reight easy going bloke and would allow his regular customers to have tick. As nice as Bob was (is), my particular favourite bacca seller was ‘Lish’ from ‘Down the lane’, good old Trev!

I have got it right, sorry Jim.

Which Pub Had The Best Jukebox. During my travels in the 70's around the pubs of Sheffield I came across plenty of decent jukeboxes. Some pubs had jukeboxes that weren't reight good, and they were for me, pukeboxes. I remember you could get 6 records for a quid up to about 1974, then they changed plenty of jukeboxes to 1 play 50p, 3 plays a nicker. My particular favourites were:- Whetstone (Tetley) - David Bowie - Starman, Amsterdam - Black Sabbath - Wizard, Paranoid - Uriah Heep - Look at yourself, Gypsy Albert (Whitbread) - Focus - Hocus Pocus, Sylvia - Allman Bros - Jessica, Ramblin' Man - Neil Young - Sugar Mountain, Heart Of Gold Nelson (Whitbread) - Led Zeppelin - Black Dog, Misty Mountain Hop - Free - My Brother Jake, Wishing Well - Deep Purple - Black Night, Strange Kind Of Woman It was really funny in the Nelson when Hurricane Pt 2 (B-side of Hurricane Pt 1) by Dylan was played. The song was a 33 r.p.m. track , but it was played at 45 r.p.m. on the jukebox......Brilliant! The above were from my night (evening) visits. For a change, I sometimes went straight from work to the Olde Red Lion (Stones) on Holly Street to play pinball and listen to Andy Williams and Carpenters, but none of that Clive Dung – Grandad or Rough Harris – Two Little Boys, stuff. Ugh. P.S. 1 play 50p was extortionate when you consider the price of a pint of bitter, 14p!!

Francis Colley Ltd. Garden Street 1973ish Part 2 WHAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ HAPPENED 38 YEARS AGO. THOSE OF YOU WHO KNOW ALL MY STUFF FROM THE PAST, KNOW THAT I LIKE TO GIVE FULL DETAILS. THIS WILL BE NO EXCEPTION. HOPE I AM NOT CUT OFF FROM THE MERCY OF GOD. I WRITE THIS WITHOUT A TRACE OF BOAST. THANKYOU. Andy and me used to have a kick about in the back yard at dinner times. One day Andy made a pair of catapults, and we used rivets, seggs and bolts as ammo. We spent our time shooting at tins, wood planks and whatever caught our eye, just a bit of fun. 25 yards or so over the back wall was a big ‘house’ like building with dirty windows, and we could just make out behind the glass angel(ic) statuettes, and a larger one that quite possibly depicted Jesus. We both had the same idea at the same time, and soon we were firing rivets, bolts and segs at the three windows on the top floor of the ‘house’. We wereen’t anti religion, and we certainly weren’t Jesus killers, but the temptation was too great to pass. We fairly peppered them windows and could see when we hit one, because the dirty glass would show up a ‘black hole’ every time. We had a few direct hits on the angels, but that Jesus thing led a charmed life. The next day we had more target practice. Two days later, Andy and I were told by Ivor that we were wanted in the office. On arrival in the office Mr Colley (the younger) greeted us with a grave look, and stood next to him was a priest or such, dressed in black and looking like someone from the Crow family. On the desk were at a guess a couple of kilos of our ammo retrieved from the ‘house’ (St. Vincents). Mr Colley wanted to know if we knew anything about them, and we said we didn’t. We were sent back downstairs to work, thinking we had gotten away with it. When we two left work at the days end, Andy and me made our way to Pond Street bus station. On Townend Street we ‘did’ a couple of windows, Church Street went unscathed as did High Street. In the ‘hoil in’t rooad’ a man was ‘riveted’ or ‘segged’ from behind and he went down like a sack o’ spuds. We then went up the ramp and arrived in Fitzalan Square and promptly binned our weapons and ammo. After that incident we decided to be good boys in future and hopefully become model citizens. For a week I scoured the Shefield Telegraph and The Star to see if we were wanted for murder or mans laughter. I avidly watched Calender and Look North, Liz Fox, Austen Mitchell, Richard Whiteley and all, but nothing was reported , but I was still very afeared. The following week at work we were told Mr Colley (the elder) had passed away and all staff we invited to the funeral on the Thursday. Ivor took the opportunity to tell Andy and me to go to the Labour Exchange instead of the funeral, that we were both fired because of the St. Vincent incident. We two ‘reformed’ characters went to the dole office and believe it or believe it not, we both got a job straight away, working at the same place as each other. (The next bit is a little vague, sorry). I think the work place was in that ‘tower block’ (Fretwell Downing)? At the site where the Somerfield shop is on Ecclesall Road. Our job was to unflatten (unfold) cardboard boxes and put staples in them using a treadle (foot lever). The foreman, who had nicotine stained fingers didn’t seem to like us much (good judge). We found out on the second day that he had a ferret faced floozy in the office (we saw him stroking her Aristotle). Next day we made a few sarcastic comments and gave some knowing looks, and we were sacked on the fourth day! I never saw Andy again after that day, nearly 40 years ago. Epilogue – During our chats in the short time we ‘worked’ together I found out Andy and me had lived close to each other for years, he in Basegreen and me at Gleadless Townend. He had gone to Frecheville School and I had gone to nearby Birley School. He also knew people I knew. We had both done underage drinking, he was a redler in the Centre Spot and now and again went in the Old Harrow. I was a redler in the Old Harrow and now and agiain went in the Centre Spot. Our paths had never crossed. Strange world eh?

Mum Zakes had gone very early this morning with the local knitting club on a day trip to Wales, and she promised tobring Zakes a bar of taffee back with her. Zakes couldn't remember the name of the town where she'd gone but it was something like, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch. This gave Zakes and his dad the chance to have a man to man tete-a-tete under four eyes. Zakes asked his dad why it was he wasn't pulling gorgeous birds, instead of the scabby ones he tended to get lumbered with, making him feel like a failure. Dad Zakes told his youngest and most precious son to try to remember the 5 F's, Find 'em, Feel 'em, Fin__r 'em, F___ 'em, Forget 'em. Zakes gave his dad a misty look, his dad gave a sympathetic smile in return then said, "Son, you are not a failure, failure is not falling down, but refusing to get up." Dad Zakes continued to explain and foolishly told his son that the only guaranteed way to pull a gorgeous bird is either if you have a boat load of money, or if you possess a twelve incher, or preferably both. Zakes listened intently as his father proceeded by saying "The bad news is, you are working class and you don't have any dosh now, and you will never have any, and your other problem is, you've only got an eleven incher". Hearing this broke Zakes' heart and he burst into tears and was inconsolable, even though his dad tried. With salt filled teardrops rolling down his lovely cheeks the saddened Zakes left the living room slamming the door behind him. Using the left cuff of his pink jacket to wipe his snot ridden snout, the despairing Zakes approached the pond at Frecheville with the sole intention of chucking himsen in. Just at the point of launching himself, Zakes heard a familiar voice calling his name. Zakes turned around to see a lad he knew called Bonehead Ed who had an intelligence quotient smaller than the size of his shoes, and who lived on East Glade Avenue in Hackenthorpe. Bonehead Ed had with him a pal called Nobby The Nobbler who was as much use as a wet fart in a colander that cahn't gerr'aht cusset hoiles, and he abided next door but one to his mate. The two unwelcome numbskulls reached Zakes, and Bonehead Ed spoke first by saying "Well, well, well". Zakes jokingly responded with ,"What's a well wi'aht a bucket?" Then The Nobbler interjected with an aggressive, "Nuff to drahn thee in!" Zakes felt an underlying tension which made him afeared of these two pillox. Little did they know that when Zakes gets scared he gets dangerous, and comes out feighting. The silence was next disturbed by Nobby The Nobbler when he barked in the direction of Zakes, "That pink jacket thar's gorron, mecks thee look like a puff, where did tha gerrit frum?" Zakes boldly retorted, "Pigs arse, second shelf, that's where ah gorrit frum!" This rocked Gobby Nobby as he glanced over to his pal for back up. Bonehead Ed withdrew a pack of five Park Drive plain fags from the right hand pocket of his brown and yellow checked hipsters, then placed a ciggie between his thick puppet lips and asked Zakes, "Has tha gorra match?". Zakes loudly replied ,"AAH! My arse and thar face!" Then with Templaresque speed, skill and strength Zakes bundled them both into the pond, turned on his heel and scarpered. Nearing home Zakes thought of what his dad had said to him earlier in the day. Suddenly Zakes' face broke into a ten mile wide grin as it dawned upon him that he was only thirteen and there was still plenty of time for him to get a boat load of money when his dad wins on the pools coupon, and also time for him to grow at least one more inch.

Favourite Pub Pinball Machines Part 2. In those days you got 6 balls, sometimes 5 per game. You could on most of the pinball machines light the specials up by scoring so many points or by hitting certain objects (targets). The specials were usually a red light (sometimes orange or yellow) and if you hit the target you would win a replay or earn an extra ball. When a replay was won or gotten the pinball usually made a loud THWACK! making you feel reight good knowing others in the pub could hear the thwack, this often made one's (my) head grow bigger...go on, admit it! Fags, beer, quid deals, and playing the bandit (2 cherries on the end paid 2 pence) were not my addictions, pinball machines were. When playing I would have my thumbs on top of the glass and pressing into the metal siding (got it?), and I would flip using my middle fingers, after a few hours playing I quite often had a groove down the underside of my thumbs, sometimes with the skin pierced. Know the feeling? In some places the pinball was stood deliberately in such a way that if you shook the machine ever so slightly it would tilt, which meant game over, and you then had to put more money in to continue playing. In some pubs you could shake, slap, rock, jerk and give the machines some reight Paul Thompson and they wouldn't tilt...Oh! Where's my time machine? Good times. Some of the places I played pinball:- Roebuck - Charles Street - Wards Sportsman - Cambridge Street - Tetley Minerva - Charles Street - Whitbread - favourite pinball Mail Coach - West Street - Tetley Olde Red Lion - Holly Street - Stones Whetstone - Cumberland Street - Tetley Manchester Hotel - Nursery Street - Wards Brown Cow - Mowbray Street - Wards Albert - Cambridge Street/ Division Street - Whitbread Students Union - Glossop Road - Slops Pinball Amusement Arcade - Snig Hill, near ABC flix Attercliffe, Darnall and Gleadless Valley, various pubs.

I recently strolled down Main Rooad at Ridgeway, and on the left side of the road are some long neglected (why) allotments, atween the Queens and Swan battle cruisers (boozers). In passing I saw a flash of white through the hawthorn trees with some writing upon it. Me, being a nosey sod I wanted to know what it was (is). Not being able to read all the lettering because of the dense hedge, I decided to go into the run down allotments to take a proper pike to cure my curiosity. What I found was an old trailer with it's tyres surprisingly still inflated, and the writing on the trailer was :- SIMSON Wilf Green Ltd MZ House New St. Halfway Tel-Sheffield 488500 The other bit of writing on it was (is) - Motorcycles On The Move. I presume the trailer was used as a garden shed. Do any of you know about Wilf Green Ltd and it's history?

Anybody Work Here? Francis Colley Ltd. Garden Street. 1973ish, Part 1. The firm Francis Colley was run by the two Colley brothers, and was situated at the very top of cobbled Garden Street on the right hand side. The company dealt with works safety clothing among other things. Other items were heavy duty industrial Gauntlets, gloves, aprons, Doc Marten type footwear, many different types of adhesives and other (in)flammable stuff, that were stored in a stone bunker in the back yard, nuts and bolts, rivets and other goodies. Some people I vaguely remember were :- 1. Jack Flanagan? - Ginger hair with matching tash. Lived down near Queens Rooad. Nice bloke. 2. A driver whose name I forget - had a pet snake called Cilla. Weirdo. 3. Geoff (Jeff), his bird worked in the office. I liked these two. Geoff wore cardigans. 4. Ivor, foreman on shop floor, didn't like this slimy git, cold eyes and smoked Embo Regal. 5. Josie, from the office, Ivor's young bit on the side. Nice bod, nice pins, forget the rest. 6. Pat, another office girl, a gorgeous creature this one. She and I spent a fair bit of worktime in the loading bay area with door closed and shutters dahn and leets aht. Lucky me! 7. Andy, he came to Colley's a month or so after I arrived. Andy (best not to give his surname, you'll understand in Part 2) was the same age as me, 19ish. Andy and me worked as storemen in the firm and we had some reight fun, bad fun. 8. John, once went to a wedding in Aberdeen, and later went for an interview at Mars in Luton. He was a decent chap.

Pleasant Walks Part 1. I recently went on one of my walks which always includes pubs on the way. I usually go on the walks alone, but sometimes as a duo or trio but not more. Where ever I go I always have a natter with the locals to learn about the area, history and general stuff. This comes quite easily as I am a good 'Ice Breaker'. The walks I take can be in the Wortley, Thurgoland, Deepcar area, or in Attercliffe, sometimes in Broomhill and Ranmoor. Drinking in Hillsboro' and having a pint in each pub walking back to the city centre. Sheffield 12 is another good walk, Townend, Basegreen, Hollinsend, Intake, Frecheville and Hackenthorpe or try Mosboro' or Eckington. The walks are about enjoying the air and the sights, and not about getting boozed up. Anyway, on 5-4-2011 I was in the Red Lion at Gleadless Townend at 12.40 and downed a pint of Smith's beer (1.99). This pub has really gone down the nick since the early 70's, the beer as well. Outside 20 minutes later, I was tempted to go down to Basegreen and the Centre Spot pub to see Alan the landlord who happens to be Dunfermlines finest, I like Alan. I knew the Old Harrow was closed down (sacrilegious) and I don't like The Phoenix, so I made the decision to take the 252 bus to the QUeens in Ridgeway. At the Queens I bought a pint of Tetley (2.65?) and had a rabbit with Mr Dawson the landlord (no relation to the Dawson's who lived on Wren Park Close many moons ago), and I was impressed with the decor and the recently renovated bogs, plus the animals on the grass bank by the carpark. My next port (pub) of call was the Swan Inn a few minutes away. My pint of Smith's (2.86) went down a treat and so it should at that price. I exchanged a few pleasant sentences with the 2 friendly ladies behind the bar, and a little chat with the young fellow who had just finished his cooking duties. The pub was full of diners, obviously a popular place to eat. I left the Swan with a smile and turned right to make my way to the Bridge Inn down at Ford. Although I had been to Ridgeway plenty of times since my return to England (ugh), every time I go there I still cast my mind back to my childhood days when I used to come over from Hackenthorpe, then from Birley for conkers, bird eggs, bulrushes and to look at the sundial and trying to work it out, plus the hidden and sunken garden near to Wren Park Close. If you were thirsty, you could knock upon any door and ask for a cup of water and you sometimes got a glass of orangeade. Strolling down the hill I passed Church Lane and peered over the wall into the graveyard (cemetry) of St. John the Evangelist church, and saw many graves including 2 small ones in the left hand corner. The right one of the two had writing on the headstone, but it was covered with dirt. The grave on the left was for...... Claire Bentley Nicholson Died December 6 1962 Aged 2 months. I was saddened to see that her own little resting place was overgrown and needed to be tidied up. It is possible her loved ones have also passed on or have left the area, or maybe they can't be bothered, who knows? If I lived in the area I would have liked to tend the grave on a regular basis. Perhaps someone reading this could take it upon themselves to do it. With my eyes leaking water I shuffled down the hill to arrive at the Bridge Inn. The man behind the bar gave me a hearty welcome, this man turned out to be Steve the landlord. This was my first visit in the Bridge since 1972ish. I ordered (requested) a pint of Thwaites bitter (2.50), there wasn't much happening so Steve and I had a long chat and covered most topics. I broke my rule of only having one pint in each pub. I had another 5, thanked Steve, then went out for the bus. The bus didn't arrive and neither did the next one, and I thought I would have to walk up the bleeding hill back up to Ridgeway 'top' when suddenly a van pulled up at the bus stop. The driver asked me if I knew where Lowfield Avenue was (is) and I answered in the positive. I said I'd show him and so I got a lift to the top of the hill. He was a takeaway delivery driver from Eckington. A short time later, I was strolling over the fields towards Birley. I saw the pond that was somewhat overladen with plants, and I saw the woods that used to be much bigger until they chopped half of it away to erect them damned pylons. I didn't have time to go into the woods in search of a carving I did on a tree about 45 years ago. Time wasn't on my side either to search for the big hole that appeared out of nowhere all those years ago near to the pond. It got filled in by the farmer (?) with bricks and will most surely have grown over by now. At the time it had been said that the hole had summat to do with a mine. Having caught the tram on Birley Lane going to Sheffield, I sat back and thought of poor lonely Claire. Bless you little lady. XX Zakes. P.S. I noticed on Claire's grave stone the name Fidler Bros Intake. Capitalist wazzocks using this sad occasion to advertise themselves make me sick.

Favourite Pub Pinball Machines Part 1. Ha! Didn't think it would be long before a pinball thread appeared on here, eh! I cannot remember all of the 'pinners' I've played on in Sheffield, but here are some :- 1. Grapes - Trippet Lane - Tetley. I went in this pub for the first time in 1970 aged 16, and there was a very old lady who was tall and thin serving. The boozer had cobwebs all over the place, and the atmosphere was one of a funeral parlour. The pinball machine was on the right side in the pub and was made by Gottlieb, others were made by Williams. The 'theme' on the back glass was a monkey with a gynormous hammer ready to clout a large bell if a replay was won. Believe it or not, the aim was to reach 50 points for the monkey to swing the hammer. This machine was quite possibly the oldest pinball in Sheffield. The three bumpers (not bobbins) scored 1 point each when hit but the ring around two of them had slipped meaning when they were hit, the point(s) didn't register on the score tally. I never did manage to get a replay, even with the end number. Over the weeks I had called in this pub to try and defeat this damned monkey machine with it's two 'dead' bumpers, and once reached 49 points and the last ball sprung over the rail and out of play and I felt I had been robbed. The monkey had made a monkey out of me which caused me some sleepless neets, so I didn't go in again. Crap beer anyway! Hope I haven't got this pub mixed up with the Dog and Partridge, also Tetley. 2. Old Harrow - White Lane - Gleadless/Basegreen - Whitbread. In the early to mid 70s (72-75), I used to play the pinball machine in this pub with 8 drinking mates in a competition. Each of us would put 10 pence in the kitty and the person who got the highest score would pick up the 80 pence prize, (10 pence had already gone into the machine to get the ball rolling). Don't forget that at 12-14 pence for a pint of bitter, and a similar price for 10 fags, 80 pence wasn't to be sniffed at. This competition we did 2 or 3 times each time we met, usually on Friday and Saturday nights. The pinball was called 'Doozy', the same model as the one in the Albert - Whitbread - on Cambridge Street/Division Street in town.

Gleadless Townend Businesses of Yesteryear. 1. Blockbuster Shop. What was this shop originally? This shop has a strange looking extension to the rear with a very high porch. It looks like it could have been a loading bay with possibly pulleys in use. I never noticed this when I lived at the Townend 1968 - 75. 2. Dexters Carpets. For years I've walked past this former sweetshop, but on a recent visit I noticed there is now a locked fence between the shop and the filling station. I always thought that this was a public right of way, now pedestrians have to do a detour to get by. How the hell the council granted permission(?) for them to erect this inconvenience is beyond me. What do you think? Until this obstruction is removed I shall continue buying my carpeting elsewhere!

Hackenthorpe And Zakes. Part 13. Here are some scraps left from my Hackenthorpe da(ys)ze. 1. Call me crazy and you could be right. I recently came to Hackenthorpe again to go down 'Memory Lane' (but I couldn't find it). I made my way to Spa View Way and then to Spa View Terrace, and walked along them. Why? You don't know? Well, i'll tell ya. These addresses were the last two I had yet to set foot on from the original red brick council (corporation) house estates in Sheffield 12. "Big deal, Wilbur" I hear you say, but it's an achievement. Hard to believe, but true! 2. In which year(s) were Scowerdon and Weakland estates built? Exact year please. 3. Where was the cobbler situated in the 60's in Hackenthorpe? 4. Has anyone heard of Hackley FC? Hack(enthorpe)-(Bir)ley - please give info. Where did they play their home games? 5. Circa 1963-64 in Main Street there was a black stone brick house or hall with the roof caved in and two outer walls knocked down with the bricks inside on the floor. We young 'uns thought a wicked witch lived in it making us nervously cautious. Next to this house was a small green lane-let with two or three small but bushy trees, and in one of the trees nested an albino blackbird! All of this was roughly opposite The Sportsman pub. Any info. please. 6. Anybody remember putting playing cards, or other bits of card between the spokes of their bikes to make the clicking noise, to let everybody know you were out and about? 7. Recently walking up to the top of Brook Lane I looked over Sheffield Road. To the left and outside Inkersall House are two massive pine like trees, they are sheer beauty, I remeber them from when I was a lad. Have you seen them? 8. If you walk from Inkersall House towards Beighton Road, and look over the wall about 50 yards before Main Street, you will see a 10ft by 10ft square of ivy covering a building, what is that building? It's about 10 yards over the wall. 9. To OurLass82, is the John Hatch you speak (type) of, the one who lived on Carter Lodge Walk? There were the Hatch brothers (John, Mick, Brian)? there, and their back garden backed on to the playing field at the end of Carter Lodge Drive. 10. Know any of these families? 60's. Carter Lodge Avenue- Fairfax, Polland, Gledhill, Ludlam, Harrison, Drabble, Fairey, Wilson, Mallinson, Glossop. Carter Lodge Rise - Sunderland, Gudgeon, Fordham, Coulson Carr Forge Mount - Smith, George, Dandy Cotleigh Close - Sykes (Jean) Cotleigh Avenue - Zuidmuldar, Flinders (possible distant relatives of mine) Carter Lodge Drive - Muscroft, Baggley, Guy, Hodgson, Clifford, Pearson 11. When it came to scromping I was highly successful, although I sometimes got caught. If I targeted fruit, I would get my hands on it every time. Whether I would be taking it home or not was another matter. Lol. There was only one place in my scromping days where I didn't get to touch the fruit, and that was at The Sportsman pub that was run by Mr and Mrs Watson at the time. The Watsons had a gaggle of geese that were ever alert. I must have tried at least a dozen times to get my hands on some juicy looking cooking apples over the wall behind the pub. Why couldn't they have been a bloody skein of geese?! Damned trunting things!!! 12. When us lads played football on that field at the end of Carter Lodge Drive in the early 60's, we would take turns to badger our dads to buy a new football (plastic). When it was my turn I would get a ball pretty sharpish (anything to keep me quiet). The cost of the ball would be deducted from my spending (pocket) money for the next few weeks until it was paid for. This meant less spice from the mobile shop on Fridays and less comics from Elams, drat! When I wanted my mates to come out to play football at weekends, I didn't have to trek up or down their paths to knock on their doors. I didn't have to phone or use walkie talkies, nor did I have to send carrier pigeons. I would simply walk along Carter Lodge Avenue, down Carter Lodge Rise and along Carter Lodge Drive all the while bouncing the ball. Bouncing the ball on the road made a dull sound and was quite useless, it was bes tot bounce it on the flagstoned paths because that made a load hollow (echoy) sound and that worked a treat. It was like a type of mating call. I sometimes felt like the bloody pied piper aus Hameln. Lads would also come from lower down on the estate too. People like S.White, P.Norton, T.Locke, J.COckayne, Ago(go-go) etc. They didn't hear the ball bouncing, they probably remembered what times we usually played. 13. Anyone remember - Inspector Proby, Sargeant Raisen - one eye, blank one? My best leisure times in childhood were without doubt in Hackenthorpe. Zakes.

A Papal Visit 1967 The hapless but clitic Zakes aged 13 was not one to stalk, even though he possessed one. He always took great care and pride in choosing the right girls, who had to be clean, because he didn't want to end up with 'sailors' crawling about on his mast. Zakes was toying with the idea of joining the navy when he had finished with school, but being a fly git he might be more suited enlisting in the RAF instead. Unaided by a telescope, Zakes used his nelsonic eyesight to espy a girl of a similar age to his good self, who lived over the back gardens from where he lived at Newstead Rise. Janet was a girl with orange coloured hair that reached down to her slim shoulders. Her alabaster pink skin was somewhat befreckled giving her the appearance of cuteness. There was a girl in school who was Zakes' favourite, but Janet was alright and would do. As us mariners always say, "Any port in a storm". It was rumoured in the locality that Janet suffered in a bad way with Avitaminosis, but it was also said that she was afebrile. Zakes' eldest brother had been on a few dates with Janet's elder sister. This sister was a nurse, and Zakes presumed she tended and cared for his brother's every need and whim, whatever they may be. On one occasion they had gone out for a meal together, and on that particular evening the rain had come down like stair rods and they hadn't taken an umbrella with them. This made Zakes quite envious because his elder brother would have had his appetite whetted, knowing he was out with a wet nurse. Zakes had for weeks now been trying to get Janet's attention, but hadn't been successful. He had fired peas, rice and lentils with his pea shooter from his bedroom window to no avail, because the distance between their houses was too great. He had considered using his catapult, but he didn't want to put her bedroom window through. Another possibility was to stand in her garden and throw grit up to her window, and if need be, chuck clods of clay, but the window cleaner wouldn't be too happy about that. Zakes had also tried calling from his bedroom window at night, using an old lime green blue coloured lampshade as a makeshift megaphone romantically calling, "Janet The Gannet, From an unknown planet". repeatedly, He received no response. One Saturday afternoon, Zakes had been playing subbuteo in the living room at the house of two of his mates who often played football with him on the street (rise). These two mates were brothers and they were called David and Gary Shirley (no relation to an earlier post), and David was the eldest of the two by a year or so. The Shirley brothers lived next door or two to the carrot topped Janet and her family. Having said goodbye to the Shirley brothers, Zakes stepped on to the path outside their house and came face to face with the elusive Janet. Within a handful of seconds Zakes' heart was also throbbing, and he observed that Janet was eating from a small conic shaped paper bag half filled with cherry lips sweets. This, thought Zakes, must be one of the reasons why she had rusty coloured hair. The nervous Zakes admired the two pink slides in her hair, and decided to bite the bullet and almost chipped a tooth in the process. Shaking like a leaf, Zakes asked the girl from an unknown planet, if she would like to go on a 'nature' walk with him to Birley woods. After a few moments of cogitation, Janet said she would have to take a rain check. Zakes argued that the skies were clear, and rain hadn't been forecasted because he had heard the meteorological outlook on Radio We(a)therby that very morning. Janet's lips twitched with mirth, and she rolled her eyes but told Zakes she wasn't interested in doing a nature walk today. Zakes had no choice but to shrimdictively accept her decision. Zakes then sloped off in the direction of home leaving the coy, playing hard to get gannet standing alone, on her own, on the path. Zakes arrived home, then slammed the door behind him because he wasn't born in a field. Entering the lounge Zakes noticed his aunty Grizzelda had come to visit, all the way from Harcourt Road in Sheffield 10. Aunty 'Griz' saw that Zakes was looking somewhat dispirited, and held her favourite nephew tightly and closely to her 58 inch bosom. Zakes felt titilated, and without showing it, discarded his demise and felt his spirits rise. The well endowed aunty asked Zakes why he was looking so down and sad faced. Zakes explained that at school yesterday, a girl called Lynn had repelled his advances, and today a girl named Janet had also told him to get on his bike. His aunty with the giant sized paps, gave Zakes another warm hug and said...... "When one door closes, another one slams in your face" Ugh.

Shabby Butterflies. Like all the boys at Birley School, Zakes wore black shoes, grey trousers, a white shirt with a grey and maroon diagonally striped tie, and finally a maroon coloured blazer. They also had grey pullovers, but it was optional if they wore them or not. Zakes chose not to. The girls in his class were not to be seen, and Zakes presumed they were having a free period. Zakes himself was having a period, a bad one indeed, but it was his heart that was bleeding, because he wasn't making much headway regarding the lasses. The girl he most wanted to impress was Lynn Stacey, but she was allegedly spending her time sniffing around some other boy, possibly Harry Hatt or it could have been Steve Kaye, Gary Bottomley or was it the red haired Bowny. These lads were a year higher than Lynn at school, but none of them were as good as Zakes, thought Zakes. Lynn was like a peach, but so out of reach. This was such a great pity, because together Lynn and Zakes could have reached for the sky, Kenneth More did. Zakes at a push, could have made a play for two other bits of charver in his class, namely Sandra Wallis and Lesley Whiteley. Sandra had a fine pair of lungs but she wasn't available at the present time, because she was allegedly busy with Hot Pot (didn't know that did you, folks?), a lad three years higher than her at school. Lesley was a reight good snogger and she lived in them there red Hassall homes on the new Weakland Estate, but as far as Zakes knew, she was also fixed up with some bammy jastard somewhere. The rest of the classroom's shabby butterflies weren't of interest to Zakes, although that blonde bit Julie Hurst wasn't three bad, and might be worth having a crack at. The jackanapes Zakes, was bored to tears listening to the ebullient Mr Fidler and glanced through the classroom window. It was still wazzing it down cats and dogs as it was all day yesterday. Zakes was feeling a little peckish so slowly slid his hand under his desk and peeled last month's Bazooka bubbly gum from the wood, then popped it into his eager gob. The school bell rang out to indicate it was dinner time, and all the lads in class wildly stampeded out of the door, into the corridor in single file. Dinner was chips, beans that didn't taste like beans, and other stuff. Everybody was quietly and peacefully tucking into the long awaited snap, until Zakes slung a handful of chips over to the next table. The diners at that table were, Mick Payne, Martin Hatfield, Ralph Smalley, Paul White and the left handed Mick Fewkes, and three of them (White, Payne and Smalley) responded by slinging food back at Zakes' table. Zakes and his fellow eaters threw more chips at them and at another table, and in a short time there was a raging food fight in progress. Some of the girls, who didn't enjoy the tasteless food also joined in by cobbing chips, and surreptitiously flicking their beans under the table. Teachers arrived on the scene and the food battle was soon quelled. Zakes, Payne, Smalley and White each received a pair of lashes from Mr Lines' cane for their troubles. They also missed out on their pudding, perhaps it was their just desserts. Due to his lack of success with the birds in class, together with the caning at dinner time, Zakes was in a bad mood as he exited the school gates at 4 o'clock. On his journey in the direction of home Zakes collared a pair of green blazered, pencil necked, wop headed trunts from Thornbridge School. Both were forcefully pushed through a thick hedgerow, and Zakes made sure it was a Hawthorn hedge for the extra effect. Their satchels were launched over another hedgerow, later to be found nestling in some nice thorny rose bushes. Zakes didn't feel like going home yet, and called in at Donolan's shop on Birley Moor Crescent, to buy himself a pack of five Woodbines and a book of matches which advertised Richmond cigarettes. Zakes also managed to whip a walnut whip, when nobody was looking. Back on the street again, Zakes with a look of serious intent plastered across his face, marched towards Birley Lane, then found the path leading to Birley Woods. It had stopped raining, but the pathway to the woods was saturated and also very muddy. A half hour had passed before Zakes re-emerged from the woods with an enormous grin across his cute face. He had slipped his trusty but rusty penknife back into his left-hand side trouser pocket. He was so pleased with himself for doing what he had been promising himself to do for weeks now. Zakes had found a likely tree deep in the woods, and carved into the bark a heart shaped heart with a nice big arrow running through it, he then added the message 'Z luvs L.S. forever'. Nearing home with his shoes well and truly muddied up, Zakes was finishing his second Woodbine fag, and flicked the tab end into the garden of the Betts family who lived opposite. Directly outside his home, Zakes tilted the dustbin, and slipped the pack of now three Woodbines underneath and let the bin rock back into position. 'Good hiding place' mused Zakes. Having entered the house, Zakes stood in the hallway and came face to face with his short tempered mother. She saw the state of his caked up in mud shoes, then she twitched her nose, and accusingly asked Zakes if he had been smoking. Zakes declared this to be untrue. Then his mother shouted, "THERE'S NO SMOKE WITHOUT MIRE"......Wallop!

Bad Things Remembered Parts 2, 3. As a child I knew that there had been wars between countries. I also knew that World War 2 wasn't much fun, especially if you didn't have a gun. I've played games of war with my schoolpals, and have read loads of war stories in comics. I remember Captain Horatio Hurricane with his side kick 'Maggot' Malone feighting the 'German Sausage Noshers' who used expressions like pig-dog and donner and blitzen. They also fought against the Japanese 'Rice eating monkeys' who used expressions like Banzai. However, I wasn't prepared to see what I saw a few yeas later on 'All Our Yesterdays' with Brian Inglis about 1968 time. I was 14 at the time and was stunned to see children, some younger than myself behind barbed wire in a concentration camp stood next to adults and also next to dead bodies strewn around on the ground. All persons looked ultra thin looking as if they hadn't eaten for months. This was a real eye opener for me and my dad did his best to explain it to me, but I just couldn't understand it. It took a very long time for me to try to understand that humans are capable of such evil, and am still trying. I was 18 when I saw some news reel from June 8, 1972. The 9 years old Phan Ti Kim Phuc was running along a road in Vietnam with some other chlidren and they were all drenched in napalm and some of them were actually on fire. Two of her cousins didn't survive this horrific act that was perpetrated by the South Vietnamese Airforce with the help of American co-ordinators. These are the 3 main bad things that re-appear in my mind.