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zakes

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  1. Frecheville School 56-65 I am wondering if any of you know of Geoff (Jeff) Booth who went to Frecheville School during the mid 60's? I think he lived round Silkstone area. We seemed to bump into each other often near to the Spa Club or the nearby shops. Does anyone have any info about him? We were good pals for the 3 years I lived round there (Newstead).
  2. Lawnjeray 1967 'Twas early Sundae evening and Young Zakes had just eaten his tea which were the usual tuna sandwiches followed by ice cream and tinned fruit cocktail. Young Zakes was laid on his back curled up in the feetal position upon his king sized single bed in his sleeping room. Casually staring upward to the ceiling Young Zakes was vainly bathing in self glory in a vainglorious way because a few days ago he had become a hero in the eyes and minds of his mates and sport teachers at Birley School. He was hoping word would get around in school, then the girls would mob him, ask him for his autograph and then hopefully they would throw items of their personal clothing in his direction. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had lawnjeray lobbed at his feet. A few months ago he had scored a perfect turkey at the CBC bowling alley down Intake way, and two impressed and impassioned rough looking chix showered him with their unmentionables, one pair of shiny satin red ones that were similar to the ones his auntie Alice wears, and a pair of green and grey striped ones made from cheap tack Tasmanian cotton, and Young Zakes loathed cotton clouts. Young Zakes was really hoping to be soon inundated at school with more smalls because it would be nice to boost his collection and at the same time surpass the large amount his dad had amassed. However, unlike his dad, Young Zakes would never lower himself by clambering over garden fences under the cloak of darkness to visit washing lines. After all, who in their right mind would want to collect brief briefs that had just been weshed? Bras were a no no, especially those new fangled ones that were at the height of recent fashion. The latest trend was the glass bras that could easily invite the wrong types into a smash-and-grab raid, and then there were the American bras imported from America that were very flimsy and only needed one yank and they were off. Tin bras didn't catch on and were soon consigned to the can, and anyway, Young Zakes much preferred Tizer as opposed to condensed milk. Young Zakes' mind slipped back to the reason for his self indulgent thoughts. The Birley School football team had travelled on a sharrerbang to play an away match at Markland School and Birley was victorious by 2 goals to 1. It was the first time Birley had been successful against the Marklanders in the entire history of the schools. Young Zakes had scored the winner with a long range volley from inside the opponents six yard box. The three Birley teachers there had most gleefully slapped Young Zakes on the back causing the young hero to coff in a gasping way thrice times. Raymond Matthews, Ronald Reid and Dennis Shiels were the teahers involved and the Irish Mr Shiels who came from Derry was also on the books of Sheffield United. Young Zakes, if asked wouldn't be interested in a trial at Sheffield United, but instead at his favourite team who had won some trophies in recent years passed. Young Zakes was going to write to them asking for a trial. He knew the team name, and he knew the address was Molly Knew, but he couldn't fathom out what she exactly did know. The smiling Young Zakes arose from his pit and slipped downstairs hurting his botty, then entered the living room. Dad Zakes was lolling about in the moth munched mauve coloured armchair cursing and sighing because he couldn't get a start doing the Sundae Times crossword. Glancing across the room Young Zakes espied his mother sprawled out on the flea bitten settee watching television and judging by the wrappers on the carpet was eating through her fifth bar of Bourneville dark chocolate this evening. Young Zakes knew that dark chocolate had a kemmical effect on women, and so knew that his dad would be in big demand later when it came to lights out time. The dark chocolate also made Young Zakes' mum pass wind that was more like a tornado which Young Zakes found quite dis-gusting and narseous. Young Zakes declared he was going out for a walk , and his mum barked between two more tornados, "At night, wear something light", but Young Zakes said it would be strange to go out in T-shirt and shorts when it is snowing. Dad Zakes chipped in by telling his youngest son he could loan his white Mackintosh coit and borrow his mother's fluffy polar bear skin knee high boits, and use his eldest brother's white abattoir meat carrier's cap to cover his head. Some moments later Young Zakes was fully attired then left the family home and saw it was still snowing heavily, and the snowflakes were coming down the size of half crowns. Reaching the main path Young Zakes turned right and headed toward the road. Busily dreaming of the goodies the girls at school would be slinging in his direction tomorrow Young Zakes stepped from the causey edge and was promptly run over by a snowplough!!
  3. Anybody Worked Here? In the early 70's I worked for 2 silver factories - firms. 1. Roberts and Belk on Furnival Street, the factory was demolished years ago and stood on the site where Jannic now is. 2. Davi(d)sons on West Street, almost next door to the old Saddle pub which I think was a Tetley's house. At Roberts and Belk I worked with a lad called Robert who originated from South Africa (Johannesburg I think). My job was sitting at a work bench feeding long thin strips of silver into a groove with my left hand, and with my right hand pulled a rope which hoisted a heavy die. I would then lower the die at speed to stamp the Prince Of Wales design on the silver strip, cutting the strip away at the same time from the long strip. There was no safety guard which made the job quite dangerous, and so I left at the end of the week with fingers intact. At Davi(d)son's I worked in different departments and for an extra 10 bob per week. I was shown how to polish items up using a buffer machine and pumice (dirty job) then using another machine and file to take the sharp fash from the edges of silverware. I finally worked and enjoyed my time in the packing department preparing packages to take to the Post Office which gave me the chance for a walk about and a quick drink.
  4. Three examples of words I try to avoid using are: 1. Hate - A very strong word, which in my view is the final step before wanting to destroy. I prefer to use dislike. 2. Kids - A condescending, demeaning and disrespectful word. Expect to receive disrespect in return. I prefer to say children. 3. Movie - As an Englishman I prefer to say film, I am not a big fan of Americanisms.
  5. Anybody Worked Here? Globe And Simpson - West Street. Car Spares. I worked at G & S as a storeman taking deliveries of mainly Lucas car spares , side lights, head lamps and loads of parts that belong on and in vehicles. The pay was okay considering I was an unskilled worker and the conditions were okay too. Everyone at Globe's seemed to be nice making it a pleasure to work there. Some of the people I remember there I have mentioned on another thread - INITIATIONS, was you initiated at work? We used to do a fair bit of overtime and it was my job to fetch the sarnies at 17.30 from the Beehive pub further up the road just past Kennings. The Beehive had a lazy Susan that seemed to have all the sandwich condiments and toppings in the world, brilliant. During overtime we would play and listen to cartridges of the Beach Boys - 'Went to a dance looking for romance, saw Barbara Ann so I took down her pants'...alternately - 'Went to a dance looking for a s--g, saw Barbara Ann but she was on the bloody r--'. We also heard Cliff Richard singing 'Oh Marie with the laughing eyes she tossed m- --f' instead of 'her hair'. Another part of my job was STOCK TAKING, yes I took stock and after a few weeks my wardrobe at home was heaving with stuff including Champion spark plugs. I came home one evening to find all the stock piled up in the hallway and my mum ordered me to take it all back to work "You thieving sod". I planned each day to drop a few pieces into a waste bin on the way to work, but I took it all back to work gradually over the next few weeks. Respect for mum, eh? It had been more difficult to smuggle it in that it was to smuggle out. Sorry Poppins Love. XX Globe and Simpson definately treated me better than I treated them...Thank You.
  6. SHYTES McGREGOR 1965 Skip, skip, skip to the loo, skip, skip, skip to the loo, skip, skip, skip to the loo, skip to the loo my darling. Zakes' guts had taken a reight old battering, and indeed so had the glazed porcelain receptacle upstairs. Earlier in the evening zakes' mate of the day had cried off with an acute bout of Yittenitis forcing zakes to go alone and solo by himself on a scrumping raid mission at Jermyn Crecent close to Birley Spa Junior School at the top end of Hackenthorpe's Verdant Housing Estate. On this warm Thursday evening the 11 years old Zakes was in search of plums, lots of them, to take back to his mum in the hope she would be pleased, and so exempting him from thick ears for a few days or so. Darkness had fallen upon Hackenthorpe which damaged a few chimney stacks, slates and various gutterings, but Zakes was intact and attired for the job in hand (garden). With face blackened from pit boot polish, he wore a purple sloppy joe sweater tucked into his yellow terylene denim jeans secured with a snake belt on notch five and freshly whitened plimsolls he arrived at his destination. Zakes scurried up the path to the back garden that had been recommended to him and looked intently for the plum trees. After six circuits Zakes thort that he had been given duff information and that he was in the wrong garden and zipped back down the path and reappeared on Jermyn Crescent. Three paths and three back gardens later Zakes found the garden he had been searching for, and it had one score and four trees all fully laden with big juicy plums just begging to be picked. "Pick me", "Pick me", "Pick me" they implored, and Zakes being a good natured lad didn't want to disappoint them and after all, he had been brought up to always help a damson in distress. Zakes had noticed before entering this back garden several blow torches, pipes and other copper items on the path and assumed the tenant must be a plumber, and that was the reason for having two dozen plum trees, he was a plum dealer. Having descended the third tree from the left, Zakes with a boat load of fruit already tucked down the inside of his sweater giving the appearance that he had almost doubled his weight from ten minutes ago, started to kletter up the fourth tree from the right and disturbed a pair of plumed Jackdaws that were manking in the bough. The two birds took flight showing the zillious Zakes their pretty plumage. The sound of the alarmed birds created such a din it made Zakes lose his equilibrium causing him to plummet down the tree and land heavily like a sack of taters making even more noise, Suddenly, the copper pipe man's lounge window opened and Zakes noticed how plump the man was who shouted "Aroint thee, ya little bleedah!" Zakes rose to his feet in double quick time, then turned and ga(u)ged his run perfectly and leapt over the green hedge and vanished like snow attacked by fire. Struggling home with 57 lbs of plundered plums inside his jumper. Zakes decided to lighten his load and proceeded to eat some of the fruit in the belief they would energize him and put some plumbum in his pencil. Zakes also decided to cancel his next escapade with his now EX-mate of the day which would have been at Plumbley down Mos'boro way because he wouldn't stand (or sit) for yittenidity. Zakes also believed in bravidity even if it was a kind word meaning stupidity. Zakes finally arrived home and emptied the load from inside his sweater into the kitchen sink for his mum to wash first thing in the morning. Zakes eventually arose from his pit and made his way downstairs and stepped into the kitchen and quickly stuffed yesterdays loppy underpants between blouses and shirts in the family Hotpoint weshing machine. The clock on the wall showed the time to be 13:57. It was Friday, the day after Zakes' plum pluckage, he had spent most of the night and morning sat in the thunderbox upstairs donating free of charge a purple mush to the sewers of Sheffield, he had been running, never mind skipping to the loo. A smiling Mum Zakes entered the kitchen and thanked her youngest son for the delightful plums and offered him a nice slice of plum flan with a choice of Devonshire or clotted cream as a topping, but Zakes declined and half gag(g)ed but held himself together and plumped for a plate of baked beans with arrowroot biskits to dip into the tomato sauce, with a splodge of Wilson's gravy to settle his stomach. Some minutes later ZAkes received his food and his mum asked him if he knew where he could obtain a load of strawberries, and his response was to give her a blood curdling scaffodic glare. Mum Zakes set the weshing machine on the go as Zakes was emptying his plate, then he emptied his glass of Andrews and retired to the living room. Sprawled out on the settee Zakes was feeling much better having dined. Zakes then decided he didn't want to see or hear anything about plums for at least a year and a month and a week, then he became engrossed reading the next episode of Alf Tupper the AAA runner in the Victor comic. Alf used to be in the Rover comic until recent years Zakes mused. Just when the story was getting interesting Mum Zakes came into the lounge and disturbed the silence by telling Zakes that his dad would be away until Sunday, because he had gone to watch the horse racing in Sussex at Plumpton racecourse. She also went on to say she would be going to the matinee tomorrow at the Odeon picture palace in Sheffield to watch The Sound Of Music musical because her favourite actor Christopher Plummer plays a starring role in it. Zakes thought that was it, then his mum opened her trapp again by telling him she would prefer him to stop in tomorrow with his new girlfriend Victoria, and it would be appreciated if they could get the garden shears out of the shed because the hedge needed to be pruned......AAARGH!!
  7. Sheffield Landlords and Landladies Past Whitbread Pubs - Early 70's 1. Minerva. I was a regular in this pub. Ron was landlord and he spent his time telling customers about his time in the Desert Rats but the dates didn't fit in. He seemed a decent bloke though. His Mrs was called Cath (?) and she spent her time chatting with one particular customer, Daryl (Darrel). There was a nice pinball machine in this pub and when you had played a game you moved to let the next person play and replays won were shared and so everybody was happy. Songs often played on the jukebox were If Not For You - Olivia Newton - John, The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down - Loan Baez, India Wants Me - R. Dean Taylor. 2. Barley Corn. Jim and Pat Finch ran this pub that had the air hockey table in it. I have witnessed on a few occasions the puck flying from the table to break beer glasses. This pub had a few ladies of the night as customers, two of them looking almost like twin sisters. They had platinum blonde hair, white furry looking coats and kinky, white boots and one of them was called Josie. Another one I remember was dubbed Cocoa44's. There was also a load of 'ducky's' in this pub, so it was advisable to stand with your back against a wall. Jim and Pat later moved to the Old Harrow on White Lane Gleadless/ Basegreen and they were guddun's. The Jackson 5 were often heard from the jukebox with songs like, ABC and I'll Be There. 3. Albert. Doug and Beryl Davidson were in charge at this watering hole and they were fantabulous people. Doug was very kind and friendly and also called the male customers brother. I loved the sandwiches in cellophane at the bar but I didn't love the outside bogs. The pinball was named Doozy and it was easy to win replays. I remember Me and Bobby McGee - Janis Joplin and Brown Sugar - Rolling Stones on the music box. 4. Foresters. In charge were Bill and Maggie Stewart who were like uncle and auntie to me. They were always polite to everyone and they kept the pub clean and shiny. Maggie always had her white blonde hair stacked up high like a Mr. Whippy ice cream and Bill wore impressive looking gold framed specs. Both were always immaculately clothed. I remember a man called Stan (?) in a short barbers type jacket, collecting glasses and his other duty was to loud throated call last orders and to call time. The Foresters was the pub where I drank my first pint when I was 15 in 1969. When Bill and Maggie finally left the Foresters it was rumoured that they had been caught taking money from customers after time was called. I recall the songs Somethings Burnin' and Ruby Don't Take Your Love To Town by Kenny Rogers and the First Edition on the music machine. 5. Raven. Lol and Madge Flood managed this boozer and I nipped in some dinner times because I worked next door at Neville Watts Ironmongers. I remember they had a gym or boxing ring upstairs. In the long room at dinner time totally on my own it was great to hear loudly coming from the jukebox songs like Bridge Over Troubled Water from Simon and Garfunkel (Carbuncle) and Big Yellow Taxi by Joni Mitchell. Not forgetting the whitened spare tyre around the dart board. I drank Whitbread Trophy in those days and for a change would sometimes imbibe (T) Whitbread (W) Tankard or Forest Brown. The Sortsman at Hackenthorpe still sells 'Trophy' and it tastes lovely I recommend it. In those days drinkers got a full pint unlike today. It's like buying a pack of 20 fags and finding only 18 inside. The bitter had the right temperature and not the damned ice-cold stuff served up (or down) today. I also don't drink so called 'Real Ale' because i'm not convinced about the quality of the water. Nice thread Crookesey.
  8. Worst Sheffield Chippy 1. Devonshire - Soggy chips, lumpy gravy and charges for ketchup sachet. 2. Two steps Sharrowvale - Chips underdone, small expensive fish. Best Chip Shops 1. Stanhope Road Intake - perfect chips and snips, very cheap. 2. Lowes, White Lane Gleadless Townend - Lovely fish cakes and scampi. 3. Alnwick Road, Hollinsend - Crunchy scraps, big serving and cheap as chips. Polite service. TRY ANY OF THESE THREE, YOU WON'T BE DISAPPOINTED!
  9. Glass String 1966 The eximious Zakes thought it not unclever to help himself to two items from his mums Good News box of chocolates by Mackintosh, then he slipped out the door and got up again, then off down the road he trotted. A short while later Zakes came across a lad from the area called Jim Carner. Jim bore the same name as his father who made his money organising horse shows and such, and like his father before him Jim Jnr would also remain a bachelor. The unfortunate Jim Jnr possessed a muggers gait which would put him in danger of being robbed often in his life, he also had a short thick neck which meant he was destined to live a short life. Jim Jnr was also a chinless wonder which indicated his lack of character and confirmed his gormlessness. Zakes thanked his lucky stars that he had a long neck making him eternal, and that he possessed a strong chin meant he was sound of character and full of gorm. After the usual verbage Zakes bade sithee to the latch eyed kid with a thick greasy tide mark attached to his bull neck. As Zakes arrived at the lush green bottom field with the wavy billowing shin high grass that did so ripple in the wind he descried a man flashily flying a kite. The flash man felt he was being observed and turned around to discover Zakes was watching him gliding and soaring his kite, by the next time he turned Zakes had been home and come back with his own kite. Flash Gordon noticed the young boy (Zakes) had with him a cheap tack diamond shaped empire made plastic kite that were being given away at Esso petrol and snig-ered (censor me own stuff, trunts). The unstupid Zakes didn't take kindly to the sly laugh and promptly decided upon a kite fight. Whilst Flash Git was flying his colourful heavy duty box kite up down, flying around, looping the loop and defying the ground, Zakes had his in the air spinning around and within minutes was ready to do battle. Zakes slowly edged to the right and guided his kite over the windy skies toward the other man's kite, and when his kite was under the other Zakes made an upward flick, then dashed to the left and the strings of both kites became entangled together. There was only going to be one winner in this kite fight and Zakes gave a final sideways tug and the box kite rose higher in to the skies and headed toward Birley Woods minus it's string. The angry man shouted and made a move toward Zakes who let go of his kite with it's glass string still attached. Zakes turned and ran with a tiger in his tank upfield with the angry man in hot pursuit. A minute or so later Zakes with his heart in his mouth chanced a glance behind him and noted that Flash Face had given up the chase. A breathless but relieved Zakes needed three deep gulps for his heart to return to it's normal position again. Losing his kite bothered Zakes not one iota because he would cadge another tomorrow at the petrol place even though he had another seven of these Esso kites under his bed at home. Briefly scanning the area Zakes saw he was close to the farm, and ensquared in a field was a herd of cows grazing and eating grass at the same time. The cattle couldn't wander off even if they wanted to because, there was a single electric wire in place preventing any escapidity. Testing his daringness and gutsability Zakes touched the electric wire tentatively and felt the strange feeling bump in his left bicep, and to even things up also touched the wire with his right hand and received the same sensation. The bovine beasts ignored Zakes as he strolled by because they were possibly in a bad moo-ed, but Zakes didn't care and wasn't going to lower himself one way or the udder and hooved it back over Birley Lane and in a fistful of minutes was back home in Newstead Rise. Tea was ready and today Mum Zakes who was a blathers kite had cooked Zakes a plateful of beef and tripe hash, which Zakes duly gorm-andised......Ugh.
  10. Left or Right......Politically Left is right, and right is wrong.
  11. Unforgotten friends Cockadoodledoo, the **** grows in the morning, which confirmed that Zakes was,and always would be,an early riser. Soon afterwards Zakes undrew his curtains to see what the weather was like on the other side of his triple glazed bedroom window. The snowman in the garden had melted and thawed out on this sunny morning in the month of July. Saturdays were always fun days for Zakes, and hopefully today would be the same. In the bedroom Zakes was busy using Lifebuoy soap to say no to B.O. and using a wire brush to make his necktual tide mark disappear because today he would be going to the barber's hop at Frecheville shops. Minutes later the contumacious thirteen year old Zakes was saying good mourning to his mother who had lost her great grandmother the day afore today. The red eyed Mum Zakes thanked her son and plonked his breakfast in front of him upon the pink dining table. The blue eyed Zakes tucked into his morning meal of bubble and squeak and fish fingers fresh from the captain's table. Zakes now clothed and shod and ready to leave was told by his mum that she would most likely be out shopping when he came back from having his hair done, so Zakes said an optimistic good buy to his thin lipped mother. In the barber's hop the one legged friseur called the sprightful zakes to the chair for the chop and told him it would be cheaper today, because it was cut price on Saturday's. Zakes loved having his hair cut because it always looked as if he had had his ears lowered making him even more irresistible to any bird that happened by. In the paper shop zakes bought a packet of Opal fruits and a small bottle of Vimto and the bejowled,nollock chopped newsagent asked Zakes if he would like to have a straw. Zakes declined by saying that straws were only for suckers! Out into the sun again Zakes came across two of his classmates, Keith Widdowson and Richard Barnes who were on their way to have the their ears lowered too. Richard was always looking somewhat withdrawn and a sporty type, but was handy to know, specially if you had a problem with homework. Keith and Zakes had had many a battle royal at the chess club at Birley school which Keith won most of the time, but when Zakes occasionally won Keith would throw a tantrum and hurl the chess pieces around the room, and it seemed that the bishop always got a good bashing! The rare Rara Avis that Zakes was detected David 'Steptoe' Stephenson who also shared a classroom with the solubrious Zakes. David was cycling by and they both greeted each other with a good humoured two fingerered salute Churchill style, but with the hand reversed! Zakes started to tread in the direction of home when suddenly without warning almost collided into the one and only mate he had from Frecheville school. Jeff Booth and Zakes were anti-authoritarians and although they didn't meet up as often as they would have liked to have done, they alwas seemed to have got up to some mischief when they did. After a brief but short and terse rabbit, the two rebels parted and Jeff went to see the hair cutting man, and zakes stroderapidly home because he had things to do. In the kitchen at home Zakes smoked two of his mother's Carlton fags and downed a large glass of Dandelion and Burdock and prepared himself to visit someone from school who was a year older than himself. This someone couldn't be named for reasons of legality save to say he had two rabbits and their names were the usual names given to rabbits, Dibbudadas and Pussunini. Zakes knew it was good manners to take a gift when visiting, and so took a tin of carrots and a can of Batchelors Finest lettis leeves from the kitchen cupboard and set off in the direction of Occupation Lane. Zakes was pleased with himself for taking the food for the bunny wabbits because he knew it would be a fine feast for furry friends. On the way there Zakes hoped that the rabit owner from school had a tin opener, because if he didn't, he would have to burrow one from a nayber or failing that the rabbits would have to their front teeth into action......Ugh.
  12. Embarrassing School Medical When I was 14-15 years old a nurse came to our school Hurlfield in 1968 - 1969to check us out with a cough and drop examination. We had 4 forms which meant something like 80 lads lined up in the cold corridor in P.T. gear awaiting their turn individually. When I was called in the nurse ran her fingers through my hair (naughty lady) and was unsuccessful in finding any nits. Next, I was invited to lower my white non-designer shorts (very naughty lady). She felt to the side and slightly above my wotsits and asked me to cough and she didn't detect any hernia(s), then I was sent back to class. There had been a spoon in a glass on the table just in case of excitement (mine, not hers, or?) to quell any stiffidity. This Hattie Jacques type need'nt have worried (hoped) though, because I was into the Twiggy, Ami Macdonald, Una Stubbs sort in those days and still am. Have always wondered if the nurse weshed her hands every time she test(es)ed each lad. Back in class there were so many different versions told of what happened, but it was just typical boys spinning stories of stuff. Ugh.
  13. Anybody worked here? Farm on White Lane - opposite Old Harrow pub. My tax rebates had been exhausted so it was time to return to work. The labour exchange had nothing to exchange, but they did offer me some jobs, and I opted for the 48th one and went to the farm on White Lane for my and their interview. The moment I saw the farmer (forgot his name), I knew he was one, because he had a furrowed brow. Terms and conditions were agreed and I was to receive poor man's wages. Becoming a farm hand had filled me with excitement and thought that if I knuckle down I too could have my own farm one day. After the first day's work I arrived home in Crossland Drive caked up in cow cack, the second day the same, and ditto on the third. During my time there I took my own potted meat and polony sandwiches in my jacket pocket because the Old Harrow (Arrer) over the road didn't do food, which was a pity because I wanted to feel the part and order a ploughman's lunch. On the fourth day the farmer, another lad (early 20's, blond kid) and I travelled to a storage place for hay in a field near to High Lane before the Phoenix Ale house which was on the other side of the main road. We were stacking bales of hay and mid afternoon the (sister)? of the farmer came to visit bringing with her a plastic picnic set with a large flask of tea and several slices of cake and set them out on a checked table cloth, and blond kid and me were invited down for refreshment. I was at that very moment stretching and straining myself to hoist a bale up to the other lad but lost my balance and the bale of hay went tumbling down to smash into the cake and tea and breaking a cup or two. There was a long silence, and you cud hear a needle drop. After what seemed like an age I picked up my jacket and told the farmer I would be back tomorrow for my wages (3 and a bit days) and walked off home. The farmer didn't look too disappointed......Lol. P.S. The hay storage place may be Eckington Lees (Leys), few hundred yards away. True story this......Equation!!??
  14. Krasnaya Zvezda, Egdirbmac 5 Zakes' mum had gone to Cairncross in Scotland for a few days to visit her ill brother John who was in unhealth, and he was'nt very well either. It was early Sunday morning as Zakes and his dad left the family home on their way to the newsagent shop for fags and papers. Three minutes into their stroll a strange man who Zakes had seen a few times before was coming from the opposite direction and nearing the two. Zakes didn't like the look of the man attired in white Mackintosh and black Trilby hat, and thought he may be a forrin spy. The two adults greeted each other in passing and Zakes distinkly heard his dad say Phil to the other man, and as Zakes passed the man he noticed that he had a copy of Pravda newspaper in his left pocket. When Zakes was again level with his dad, he mentioned that he thought the man Phil by the way was a spy, but Dad Zakes smiled down to his youngest son and said, ''Don't be daft lad, Mr Kimby is an agent for McLean's Toothpaste company, don't let your imagination run away with you''. A few minutes away from the newspaper shop another man walked by dressed in a similar way to that Mr Kimby, and as this man passed by, Dad Zakes said ''Hello Anthony'' and the man responded with a gruff ''O'reight''. Zakes said that that Anthony man also looked like a spy too, and Dad Zakes told his son that the man was Blunt by name and blunt by nature, but was a nice man. Dad Zakes then def(l)ected the conversation by asking his son what he'd like for his birthday on Tuesday, and Zakes said his wish would be for a pet dog, and his dad said ''We'll see lad''. On entering the newsagents shop Dad Zakes said a friendly ''Hello, Mr Burgess'' to the man behind the counter who was perusing a copy of the Izvestia newspaper, and Dad Zakes promptly ordered a pack of 20 Sobranie cigarettes, the 'Screws of the World' newspaper, plus a comic and a Caramac bar for his son. On the way home Zakes asked his dad who the guy was in the shop, and Dad Zakes replied that he knew the man from the local pub, and his favourite tipple was a straight double vodka. The rest of the journey home was tassiturnly silent. 57 hours later on Tuesday at 17.00, Zakes and his dad were in Mace's pet shop at the market, and Zakes went to the dog cages and wanted a male dog, and not one of those habitchual ones, and decided on a Borzoi, and before anyone could say Sputnikartificialsatellite, he named it Lev Yashin!
  15. Sarsaparilla Bars - Anyone remember them? 1970 is when I drank my second (the first and the last, lol), Sarsaparilla. It was at a bar or cafe directly opposite Millmoor Football ground in Rotherham. I think it was cream soda flavour and it tasted horrible although I was impressed with the tall heavy duty glasses. Anyone remember the place?
  16. Hackenthorpe and Zakes. Part 12 Early 60’s I surely remember at Birley Spa Juniors us youngsters going on several outings and not just the usual but enjoyable nature walks down near the Julius Caesar sauna in Birley Spa woods and pressing leaves and flowers in books afterwards, but to places like Blithfield Hall, The Major Oak in the forests of Nottinghamshire and searching for a robbing hoodie, Botanical Gardens in Sheffield with many exotic birds flying about in the big glass houses (mini Kew Gardens). All by charabanc. We nippers also had the chance at Birley Spa School to open up our very first savings aount, with Yorkshire Penny Bank(?), I think a tanner a week was suggested. Anybody recall? In the final year at Birley Spa a pair of lads in my class came to school one day both with an unusual hairstyle and all greased up. I asked them what it was all about and they told me it was the latest fashion for kids, a Tony Curtis (Bernard Schwartz) cut. I was due for a haircut and later asked me mum for some money for a Tony Curtis and I got the dosh but was ordered to have the usual short, back and sides. I didn’t even have the nerve to ask if I could have a haircut with square neck or a crew cut. Finally for this part:- What determined which school each individual child was to attend at Junior level? Was there an invisible line across the Hackenthorpe estate and whoever lived below the line went to Rainbow Forge and the others went to Birley Spa? Serious question!!
  17. Who remembers being caned at school? Part 3 - Mr. Kirk. This teacher was not as bad as Mr Williams at Birley Spa Juniors but nevertheless I didn't like him, feelings mutual then! We children were tenderfoot's at Carter Lodge Secondary School when we first came across the grey haired Mr. Kirk, the one with the thrupenny bit shaped silver framed specs. During our first P.E. lesson one of the things we were to do was a handstand with feet touching the wall bars. Those of us who couldn't get up were helped by Mr. Kirk by lifting our feet up sharply to touch the wall bars followed by a quick and painful slap at the back of each leg. This happened over several painful P.E. lessons but I had been practising at home in my bedroom and so exempting myself from further pain. Mr Kirk liked sending us lads out on cross country runs usually down Drakehouse which I didn't mind because I was quite good at running but some of the other boys weren't and Mr Kirk always pushed them to the limit and I felt right sorry for them. One other time I was playing football for my house team Pegasus against Griffin and we were attacking and the water ladened case ball came over from the left wing and I had the simple task to nod the ball into the net but at the last second I decided not to be a hero and have my head taken off by the wet 'cannonball' so I pulled my head back in at the last moment and the ball went out for a goal kick. After the game was over Mr Kirk came over to me and with hard glaring eyes told me I had missed a sitter and I agreed and he was stunned by my retort and when he recovered he shouted that I wouldn't be playing again for my house team or for the school team for that matter. After a half year my family flitted (and I went with them), so it was goodbye to Hackenthorpe and Mr Kirk and hello to Birley and Mr Lines......Oh dear, out of the pan and into the fire.
  18. White Eggs Recently whilst watching 60's programme Randall and Hopkirk deceased on television there was a scene where Randall was preparing breakfast and he had by his side a carton of six white eggs. Some days later white eggs were to be seen on the programme On The Buses. As a lad I was told it was healthier to eat brown eggs as opposed to white ones. When I now buy eggs in the shops I see brown and some pinkish ones but was happened to the white ones? Have they got rid of a breed of hen that laid only white eggs? Is it evolution or the feed (less calcium)? or has the environment something to do with it? I also remember in the 60's seeing the occasional double yolker (brown or white eggs) but it's years since i've seen one. SERIOUS QUERY.
  19. Thornebridge Grammar School I and three mates used to go to Thorn(e)bridge Grammer School. It was during the six weeks holidaze in 1965, 1966, 1967 to put the windows through and to **** a SNOOK. We got court in 1966 and had to go to Renishaw caught where we deservedly got find and given a stern warning as to our future conduct. To show their were no hard feelings we went back in the summer of 1967 to put some moor winders threw. Yes, you've gesst rite we were thugs from Burley School neckst door! Excuse the spelling I only went to a secondry modden scool!
  20. Want To Join The Territorial Army?? T.A. Part 2 After a long journey involving 3 trains, 1 tube and 2 bus rides laden with a large kit bag and large suitcase I finally arrived at Southwood Training Camp in Cove, Farnborough in Hampshire. Most of the things that I had learned mentioned in Part 1 were actually learned here and not with kid gloves, believe me. There was over 60 of us greenhorns from all over the country and we had a hard time and it wasn't physical but was of the mental kind, verbal stuff like "You are a piece of sh-t and you will never make it to be a soldier" or "Your mother is back home being gang banged by 12 buck ni--ers and she'll get the pox" or "Your dad has got cancer and will be dead before you get back home". This was constant and was shouted in your ear and you could feel the hot breath and spittle hitting your ear. We all got this treatment and some of the recruits left after a few days, some with tears rolling down their faces, it was quite a harrowing experience. I didn't feel the need to go home because I had decided not to let these strap bag prats break me, these prats being Sargeant Wills, Corporal Grubey, Lance Corporal Williams and a few others. Every morning we were awoken at 5.30 sharp by a Corporal crashing a big stick on the metal lockers and the first thought was that a bomb has gone off or that the ceiling has caved in. Then the Corporal then starts to prod people through the bedding with the sharp point of the stick and screaming obscenities all the time and over 60 of us had 30 minutes to wash, close shave and dress and we only had 8 wash basins, then fold our bedding crease perfect then be on the parade square in full battle dress with complete webbing ready for 1 hours square bashing. Then breakfast came at 7.00 and the canteen was massive with a wide variety of delicious food which was welcome after an hours drill. We didn't eat the fried stuff but ate cereal instead because next on the agenda was P.T and assault course and fried food has a habit of coming back up. It's worth noting (I think) that the canteen had a jukebox and at meal times you could here things like Silver Machine by Hawkwind or Sylvia's Mother by Dr Hook and the Medicine Show and lots more. We also learned to shoot SLR (self loading rifle), LMG (light machine gun), SMG (sub machine gun) and how to strap these weapons and clean them and put them back together again in double quick time. Evenings were best when imbibing a few pints of Courage or Newcastle Brown along with a few Players Weights (couldn't get Parkies or Woodies down there) and none of our 'trainers' in sight. Then off to bed because reveille was at 5.30 but I found it difficult to sleep because of the noise, the noise of snoring and the noise of 4skins clicking! Finally the day of the passing out parade had arrived, and passing out was the right term for it. We were standing stiff looking like undaunted robots in smart uniforms having lost weight and looking fit. The baking hot sun was beating down upon us for ages waiting for the whisky nosed Brigadier to show his face and his collection of medals. Twas no joke standing there to attention wearing coarse woollen itchy socks, scratching underwear, our stiff shirt collars digging into our necks and our peak caps seeming to tighten around our heads by the minute and us feeling nauseous. At least a dozen of the lads fainted and lay on the floor but we were'nt allowed to pick them up and I with several others stood with our breakfast puked all over our chins and tunics. It was a good job that I remembered to wiggle my toes to keep the circulation going or I would have been on the floor too. A few hours later having passed out I was lounging on a London bound train smoking Weights and guzzling Harp lager... So, to the question. Want to join the Territorial Army?? YES. It changed me from smart arse to smart man. NO. I wouldn't stand on the stage for politicians who fail us with their decisions! P.S. The Army paid for the travel.
  21. Hackenthorpe and Zakes Part 11 About 1962 I went with a mate to choir practice a cuppla times not because we were religious (we weren't) but for a laugh (and sing). This happened in an old building but I can't remember where but definately in Hackenthorpe. I have it vaguely in mind that it occured on saturday or Sunday afternoons in Main Street possibly on the right going away from Birley Spa Lane. Any ideas? Does anybody recall the wonderful smell of wood polish at Dr Pagdins surgery on Beighton Road? Do you remember the name of the house without checking? One of my favourite pastimes was playing football using the road sign (2 concrete posts with a sign across the top) at the top of Carter Lodge Drive. I played usually with Stephen Coulson and one would be goalie and the other attacker then we would swap over after a while. A few of us would also play cricket (normal or French) and the batsman would be out if he hit the ball three times in to a garden (three gardens, and you're out). Whilst us lads did this the girls (if not watching us) would be playing with hula hoops, pogo sticks, stilts, hide and seek, rounders or dipping. Sometimes after footy i'd go in our house for a slice of Sally Lunn then either get my scooter (with the inflatable tyres) or my trolley then zoom down either Carter Lodge Rise , Carter Lodge Drive or Carr Forge Road and at times Pigs Lane. I still have a small scar on my right knee from one of my many crashes. Falling off the scooter ot trolley could be a painful business but I still continued. It was like a form of masochism, like picking a scab, the more it hurts the more you do it. My trolley was made by my dad using Norwegian wood and planks with P.W.D. printed on them. Some more names from Hackenthorpe - Mick Wragg, Tommy Barmer, Paul Allison, Malcolm (?) Deakin, all will be 56 - 57 now. P.S. P.W.D. = Public Works Department.
  22. I.B.A.I.S.A.I.C. Part 2. Here are some additions to my o.p. from my time at Mowbray Street in the early 70's. Names to add are Keith Bailey (television engineer), Clifford (spotty kid with spex)(warehouse), Mr (Frank?) Westerby (yard organizer) and the French polishers (they were British in reality) used to magically renovate (touch up) telly cabinets and radiograms to make them look brand new again, I forget their names and they were based at Walker Street. I worked on the odd occasion with Dennis Cerrone delivering to houses repaired or new tellies and he lived in the Meersbrook area (I won't say name of street), he was very popular with the housewives and with a least one lass in the office in Mowbray Street (Doreen). I saw a photo in The Star some years ago and he had certainly changed. Gone was the strange coloured straggly hair to the shoulders and he most certainly wasn't slim any more but this was something like 25 years plus after those days at Wigfall's. Dennis was (is) a good type and I was surprised when he declared he was interested in becoming a bobby, not that I have anything against them. Dennis will be about 60 now. His regular van lad was Ian 'Knuckles' (not fingers) Halliwell. Another driver at Mowbray St was a bulky bloke called Dale and I thought him a pillock so let's move on. My main driver was Mick Headford, a reight nice chap who originated from near Hastings in Sussex. Mick had come out of the army and I don't know why he came to Sheffield but I was glad he had. Mick lived with his missus on Greenland Road for a while then they relocated to Bradfield Road. We worked delivering to homes in the afternoons, in poor areas we always got a cuppa and often a tip, and in the affluent areas we only got a "Please take off your shoes before you come in". Ugh! In those days delivery and tuning the telly in was free of charge unlike today's money grabbers. In the mornings we dealt with collecting from the Wigfall's shops and bringing back to the depot for delivery or repair electrical goods. Mick and I would always find time to go to a cafe for a snack usually Joe's on Regent Street (who said pie), or sometimes a cafe at Manor Top (close to library) on Ridgeway Road. Now and again Mick would bring his black dog Bess to work and she would travel with us all day. Hotdawg! Down Darnall one day we arrived at the carpark at the traffic lights on Main Road and I jumped out of the van to direct Mick backing up toward the corner nearest to the shop. Whilst reversing he couldn't see to one side and a car driven by a bird rudely nipped in to the space and I thought 'I'll teach you' and carried on directing Mick until the inevitable crunch came. Her hire car was well and truly battered and our van copped only minor damage. I remember well when they were exchanging details that she came from St. Agnes in Bristol. I pled innocence and said it had all happened so fast making it impossible to prevent the collision (bad boy). Inside the Darnall shop was a record rack and I once purchased for 59p the elpee 'With a little help from my friends' by Joe Cocker MFP 5275, not to be confused with another Cocker elpee with the same title Regal Zono, SLRZ 1006. The elpee was only the second one I had bought, the first being Donovan's greatest hits from Bradley's and now I have circa 30,000. Oh! Nearly forgot. Hello to Bernice with the sexy yellow leather boots who worked in Mr McNeill's office in Walker Street. Remember Christmas eve and our visit to the boiler room? Of course you do!
  23. T.A. Part 1 During early 1972 I took it upon myself to join the territorial army and I was 'stationed' at Somme barracks in Sheffield with 106 Squadron Royal Engineers. I had been told by someone that it was money for old rope and it turned out to be true. My rank was Sapper (later changed to private when I moved to the ACC (Army Catering Corps)!! I was glad to have joined up because I learned so much about life from the other part time soldiers and at training camp (in Part 2) I learned how to sew, iron, make my bed (also apple pie style), march, salute, respect seniors, how to dig a trench, map reading, survival in the wilds day or night, spit and polish brass buckles and clips, the same with boots until the heels and toes shone like mirrors and no cheating by varnishing them! Most importantly I learned self respect. I used to go to the barracks every Tuesday evening to do general duties for a couple of hours then afterwards we went to the mess, (bar) upstairs that always had a barrel of Whitbread Trophy for a few drinks, there was a full sized snooker table there and also a projector with screen and we'd watch a cheap tack all too soft blue film occasionally. For a Tuesday night I would receive a few days later a giro for 1.75 pound sterling. "Not much" I hear you say, in those days a pint of beer was roughly 12-14 pence a pint and fags 12 pence for 10. Alternatively that was my bed and board at home for a week with 25 pence change. We also got for free a best uniform and also combat gear (one mate used to wear his combats every day to work in a warehouse including beret). We also went away for weekends to places like the forests of Nottinghamshire or a river near Congleton to build a Bailey Bridge, (coincidentally our Major at Somme barracks was called Bailey) and many other exotic places. We would go to these places on Fridays and sometimes Saturdays travelling in army lorries to do what was to be done, whilst there we would be well fed eating out of mess tins and we would sleep in tents. After breakfast Sunday morning we would return to Sheffield having learned something new. For this we were paid GBP 3.50 again by giro a few days hence. On those weekends I was associated with 3 fellows who turned out to be good mates, they were older than me by 6-10 years and their names are Brian Smith, Alan Cotton and Geoff Hardy (by the way Geoff you still owe me GBP 7 for the telly I diddled for you from Wiggies, i'll let you off the interest)! Alan would also drive his car to the places of activity and when the days work was over on Saturday we four would change in to our civvies and drive to the nearest town to visit the pubs and have a gander at the local talent and afterwards some nice British chips and snips then head back to camp. I later changed over to the ACC and travelled every second Saturday by army minibus to Strensall to do an extensive cooking course. I recall one time having to fry 75 eggs in one go with success, then half a dozen beef joints also successfully and a boat load of Yorkshire puddings that were also nicely done if you like them jet black! Ugh. Part 2 will be about my training at Southwood Training Camp.
  24. The Buccaneer, Leopold Street The Buccaneer was a place I frequented frequently in 1970-73 usually Friday neets and Saturday dinner times. The fellows who played the music did a great job in my ears because every piece they played always seemed to meet with my approval and I always looked (heard) forward to them playing Jig-A-Jig by East of Eden. Yes, my days of shoulder length hair parted in the middle plus my garb which was an Afghan coat and sometimes an R.A.F. greatcoat with neutral buttons. The ultra 'thin' beer that was served was I think Youngers Tartan, Watney's Red Barrel and 2 Lagers, Hofmeister and Carling and Gaymers cider all somewhat tasteless but they did their job. I remember the bogs tended to be leaky so it would have been better for us to have worn wellingtons, but not to worry because I was used to it being a regular visitor to places like Penthouse, Students Union Bar and the outside lav at the Albert pub...Lol. I also went in the Buccaneer in midweek and would often chat with Trevor Hockey the United player who owned a Velvetex car and those evenings we drank from dimpled beer glasses with the handle but the beer still tasted crap. There was also a door inside the Buccaneer that led to a stairway that in turn led to the American Bar (Captains' Cabin) upstairs. Two doormen I recall were Tom Lynch and Martin Bellamy, I saw Martin recently at Gleydless Tahnend and Tom is a regular drinking mate of mine in Broomhill. One Friday night I went into the Buccaneer with a group of pals and along the bar was a bunch of birds and out of the blue one of them came sauntering over to me and offered to buy me a pint and I didn't decline. To cut a long story short we were 15 minutes later going up and out of the Bucc turned right, hurried along past the Town Hall and just before the Surrey Pub were a row of offices (possibly solicitors) ready for demolition (roughly where the Winter Garden is now) and we disappeared along an alleyway and got busy. After a post coital ciggy we returned to the Buccaneer and she went back to her mates and I went back to mine. This turned out to be a regular thing with this bird who's name I never knew. During those 2 months or so I always looked forward excitedly to a knee trembling experience and a free pint on those Friday nights......Cum what may! (In) decent days, I miss 'em. P.S. I think the Buccaneer was owned by Trust House Forte which also owned the Grosvenor Hotel nearby that later had the Wapentake (poor man's Buccaneer) underneath it. I do stand to be corrected. I think the last song to be played was Lola by the Kinks?
  25. Who remembers being caned at school? Part 2 I have said before that most of my teachers were good reasonable people. But some were not! I assume some of you will have been targeted by bullying teachers during your schooling and you will have been in fear. For this reason I don't claim to be a special case but nonetheless I would like to relate to you my own experiences with such types. The three main antagonists were. Mr Williams - Birley Spa Junior School Mr Kirk - Carter Lodge Secondary School Mr Lines - Birley Secondary School. Part 1 - Mr Williams Physical One day Mr Williams came out of a classroom and caught three of us in the corridor playing football and gave us a telling off then sent the other two packing and took me into the classroom and gave me a short but loud lecture about disobedience then bent me over a desk and proceeded to slap my bare legs (I wore short trousers in those days) really hard. It didn't stop after a few slaps but went on for ages and I was screaming out with pain with tears streaming down my face. When he had finished he shouted for me to get out and "walk don't run". That was my first physical puishment from him. Later at home I told me mother what had happened and she said ''That's what you get when you don't behave". To say I was disappointed with her response is a big understatement. Some weeks later I received from Mr Williams a similar punishment this time for whispering in class. I got the same response as last time from me mother when I complained and that's when I lost faith and knew I was all on my own against this monster of a teacher with nobody to turn to. My dad was a dead loss too. I won't go into detail about the occasion when he hit me with a rounder bat save to say it left a nasty looking bruise on the left side of my back. I always kept my back covered until the bruise had disappeared because I felt nobody would believe if I told them about it. I wasn't the only one to be mistreated by him. Psychological. During arts and craft's lessons I made a train engine from a cereal box, toilet roll card, other bits, glue and papier mache and I was so proud and surprised that at last I had made something really nice and thought that it would get me into Mr Williams' good books. Well, how wrong can one be? A few days later when us children were leaving class he called for me to stay behind. When the door was closed he went on a loud rant about me being disobedient (I hadn't been) and that I was a horrible child then he picked up the train engine I was so proud of and started to bash it against a desk until it was completely destroyed all the time shouting at me and I was standing in front of him with my arms by my side with head bowed and shaking like a leaf in a stiff breeze whimpering with a mewl. After this incident I didn't receive many more rants and physical punishments from him because he had changed his tactics to refusing to look or speak to me in class but when in the corridor he would stare at me in an intimidating menacing way. Coming home in the evening from playing out I knew it would soon be bedtime and that meant the next day I would be facing Mr Williams and that caused me to have many sleepless nights. It got to the stage when I would feign illness and told mum I didn't feel well enough to go to school, but she wasn't having any of it. Those long fearsome days came to an end eventually and I was relieved to know I would be going to the big boys school never to see Mr Williams again. Everything you have read is fact and it all seems like yesterday (one of the problems of having a long memory). This all happened between 45-49 years ago and you are the first persons to know the full details of this. It's been bottled up inside me all this time. Zakes.
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