zakes

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.

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!

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.

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.

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!

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.

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?

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.

Zakes Licks His Wounds in Hackenthorpe In 1964 Zakes' 16 year old biggest brother had a bike that had 26 inch wheels which was a bit too big for Zakes being a small little 10 year old. Zakes had for a while now aspired to ride the damned thing sooner rather than later. The opportunity arrived one day when Zakes' brother wasn't at home and like greased lightening Zakes snuck it out of the house and off he went. Zakes had great difficulty pedalling because either the bike was too high or his legs were too short, but he thought it was definately one of the two or maybe both. Turning right out of Carter Lodge Drive and zipping down Carter Lodge rise to the jennel, Zakes then rode through the fields and turned left and went along the path on the estate side of the river with the intention of eventually turning left toward Birley Spa woods then left again with the plan to be home within the hour. However, as Zakes was riding along the path by the river the path tapered somewhat and Zakes hesitated somewhat and the upshot was he and the bike cascaded somewhat down the embankment and both ZAkes and the bike ended up entangled in the cold river somewhat. When he got over the initial shock Zakes picked up the bike and started to clamber up the muddy bank and almost reaching the top slipped and lost his balance and ended up in the river again with bike atop of him next to al those used jonnies of different sizes tht did wedge in the edge of the sedge. Not finding a suitable place to get out Zakes waded down river dragging the bike behind him also being ultra cautious of any alligators or sharks that might be about in a snappy mood but he only saw eight octopie and an anacongaconda snake with a guesstimated length of 57 yards. At last eventually Zakes befound himself with bike back on the path again soaked to the bones and he spent some moments inspecting his life threatening grazes to his arms and leg and chose to go home to lick his wounds. Zakes pushed the bike all the way home and on arrival his mother saw him with his big brother's bike and went barmy and flames started to come out from her mouth and her nose holes and thick smoke billowed from out of her ears and she gave the forlorn Zakes a tongue whipping followed by a well landed thick ear and then ordered him to clean himself in the bathroom and to get to bed. Off to bed zakes went but was called down for tea at teatime. After tea, vinegar and brown paper were put on Zakes' deep wounds by his thin-lipped mum. Soon afterwards Zakes' big brother arrived home from where'er he had been and promptly straight away noticed his bike was muddied up and that the front wheel was somewhat buckled. 57 minutes later he got his chance and gave ZAkes a reight old lambasting which bloody hell hurt. Being a fair minded person, Zakes accepted his punishment and took it like a man with no hard feelings and later went to his big brothers bedroom and nicked one of his beloved football programmes and a white knight from his chess set and hid them under his other brother's (aged 11) mattress!......

Erlenmeyer Flask 1967 Zakes has spent most of the weekend bed bound in bed with a bad bout of docility and chilled aglets but a treatment of 57 glasses of a mixture of Enos and Andrews stirred together with gnats nadgers, Jusoda and Linctus soon had him back on his sweaty plates. Today was to be the first day back at school after the 6 weeks holiday and Zakes was feeling as fit as a fiddle ready to string a few teachers along. Zakes was a free spirit, like a genie outside of the bottle but he never could understand the attractions of responsibility although he thrived on responsibility but rebelled against all forms of discipline. Zakes was so glad the summer holidays were over so he could get back to school and partake in his latest favourite pastime of frotting. Yea, Zakes loved to frot and he and his three brotherly mates from school were seriously thinking of enrolling in a froternity when they were older. There was a nice cuppla birds in their class and these lasses along with a pair of teacheresses would become their targets in the weeks to come. The froternal friends had always enjoyed it when Miss Moore lifted her hands to check that her hair was in place because it gave them the chance to see if she had shaved under her arms, this they found excitingly axillarating. It was often interesting to see that she had obviously ran out of her supply of Wardonia's. The first morning back had passed without incident and so had most of the afternoon and the final lesson of the day was upstairs doing science with flipping Mr Phipps who was unfortunately born with a face that reminded Zakes of a Madagascan puff adder. Zakes never did like 'Phippsy' and thought it time to turn the tables (desks) and teach this teacher a lesson. During the lesson the flippant Mr Phipps had a bunsen burner on the go speedily heating up an Erlenmeyer flask with a phlegm green coloured liquid bubbling up within it and then came the EXPLOSION! In a split second Zakes saw his opportunity to cause a ruckus and for 'Phippsy' to panic and be put into a state of flux. ZAkes sprang as quick as quicksilver fro his laboratory stool and lay prostrate on the floor and covered his face with his hands and screamed out ''MY EYES'', ''MY EYES'', ''I CAN'T SEE''! All the class were concerned and Mr Phipps was in an anxious tizzy and very concerned, but Zakes suddenly turned over, uncovered his face and loudly pronounced ''TRICK''! Mr Phipps flaming flipped out flipping heck and didn't recover his composure and pointing to the door ordered Zakes to go and tell the headmaster what he had done. Zakes departed the now silent laboratory and took to the the staircase and slid down the banisters on his way to the office of the headmaster. Zakes was about to rap upon the door of Mr 'Harry' Lines but had a change of heart and promptly turned left and skipped along the corridor to the boy's bogs to smoke a ciggy to calm his nerves. Exiting the lad's lounge with nerves recalmed Zakes made his way back to the science tuition upstairs. A solemn faced Zakes re-entered the laboratory with head and shoulders bowed and at the same time rubbing his buttocks then found his place and gently seated himself. Several of Zakes' classmates glanced over, some of them smiling in sympathy and some of them not smiling in sympathy, even Mr Phipps looked over with a half frown upon his Madagascan dial and it seemed to Zakes that all and sundry were of the opinion that he had gotten a serious caning from the headmaster. The following morning the bright eyed and bushy tailed Zakes was standing in a row on the left side of assembly singing out loudly the lyrics to the hymn 'All things bright and beautiful' and at the same time admiring a row of girl classmates directly in front of him and wondered if assembly would be a good place for a spot of frotting. The religious song ended and assembly was called to a close. Zakes had taken but a few steps from the assembly hall when he was stopped in his tracks when he came face to face with the hatchet faced Mr 'Harry' Lines who without further ado commanded Zakes to stand outside his office and wait. Four minutes and 57 seconds later the non-smiling Zakes was in the office 'Harry'. Zakes was told to explain his behaviour in the laboratory from the previous day and Zakes gladly obliged and thought he had escaped punishment until 'Harry' cut him short by saying ''Tell the truth and shame the devil'' shortly followed by ''You are boring me with your speeches, lad''. Mr Lines reached , then unclosed his cupboard and withdrew an angry looking cane and the left handed but sinistral adult trunt who stank of stale Rothman's fag smoke proceeded to issue four serious strokes upon Zakes' rear end ...Thwack...Thwack...Thwack...Thwack! Painfully pacing the corridor to his classroom Zakes thought that the cane had been surprisingly still flexible when one considers that it had been stood unused in the cupboard for at least 6 weeks......Ouch!

Have read through this thread and also like some of the guitarists that have been mentioned. I also enjoy listening to Frank White playing . Kevin Stephenson is also a decent player. I don't agree though with comparisons because each player has his own qualities. The word BEST guitarist I find inane because it all comes down to each individual listeners taste. Playing fast doesn't necessarily mean a good guitar player because such a player will play a fast solo one night and on the next night can't remember what he'd played the night before, then plays a different solo completely. This happens often with hard rock and heavy metal bands. My three particular favourite Sheffield Guitarists are:- 1. Derek Bailey - made loads of albums and he also proves that music doesn't have to be melodic. 2. Chris Spedding - Spedding has released lots of albums and played hundreds of sessions. 3. Stephen Caudel - released albums including 'Wine Dark Sea' and 'The Earth in Torquoise'. As a matter of (un)interest my fave non-Sheffield guitarists are:- 1. Jan Akkerman 2. Philip Catherine 3. Django Reinhard 4. Pat Martino 5. Richard Thompson 6. John Lees 7. Glenn Phillips 8. Steve Rothery 9. Andy Latimer 10. Rene Thomas 11. Peter Green

I remember Trevor Hockey's velvetex car (thought it was blue), but green is okay lol. I often used to have a natter with Trev when he came into the Buccaneer refreshment hall in Leopold Street on Tuesday's or Wednesday's depending on his playing commitments in 1971-72. He generally parked his car in Orchard Lane or on the Grand Hotel forecourt. Just thought, maybe it was his velvet jacket that was blue! Keighley's finest died quite young (early 40's)? Sleep peacefully Trev and thanks for the drinks. I was only 17 in 1971.

The Piccolo cafe was situated in part of what is now John Lewis educed (what a joke) furniture shop on the right hand side going down Cambridge Street. Piccolo cafe was not on the site of what is now Chubby's (Piccolo could have given them a lesson in hygiene), it was lower down towards the Barley Corn pub. The cafe had a similar facade as the Sportsman pub regarding the doorway and windows but had a much lower step outside the door. I recall the cafe well because I went there almost daily for a sandwich (egg, bacon, tomato) as at the time Ｉused to play snooker at Faulkner's near the top of Cambridge Street about 1975 time. The cafe was quaint in an old fashioned way with 4 or 5 tables which had fresh table cloths everyday and on these tables were also a pot of mustard, salt, pepper, sugar, tomato shaped plastic jobs filled with ketchup, bottle of vinegar, brown sauce, white ashtrays and a vase of flowers. I can't remember if cutlery was also on the tables. Happenings:- 1. University students Coming into the cafe one day I saw 2 spewdents with mischievous smiles upon their faces because one of them was in the process of eating the full contents of a jar of English Mustard with a teaspoon. Scruffs! 2. Thoughts of magic flute in Piccolo cafe On another day I was stood at the counter waiting for the woman (early 30's) who was serving to finish making (cooking) my sandwich to take out and she had her back to me. Greedily ogling the legs of this lovely bird and thinking of what obscenties I would like to perform upon her body she suddenly turned around and caught me. Within an instant my face was as red as the snooker balls I would soon be potting back at the snooker hall. I also remember Cambridge Street being full of parking meters and if you fed a matchstick into the coin slot the machine (meter) would make the noise as if it had received a coin, but parking time wasn't credited. I mentioned this because 2 such meters were outside the Piccolo cafe.

Brightside and Carbrook Fretson Road/ Fairleigh I was so much in demand during my working years and one of the jobs offered to me was in butchery as an apprentice fleischer/metzger. Working with and for Charlie my boss was good fun and the women next door in the stores were even more fun especially a young dark haired bit called Val. Charlie taught me how to chop chops, mince meat, roll brisket and how to clean down, scrub the wooden block, sharpen knives and how to put saw dust down and lots of tricks of the trade. I liked how the older generation came into the shop and asked for bones for the dog, but I feel the bones were destined for the stew pot......bless. I had a 2 weeks spell at the B & C shop in Manor Park slicing Australian sirloin which was the rage at the time. Whilst there I did a fair few deliveries in the area on one of those traditional butchers bikes with a big wheel at the back and a small wheel at the front with a metal basket in front of the handlebars. I departed B & C after a handful of months because although we worked only half day Saturdays by the time I had finished scrubbing the blood from the chopping block table, washing down and generally making everything spic and span it would be too late to get to the match. P.S. Charlie's surname may have been Mills but I wouldn't swear to it.

Waring and Gillow Proctors - Fargate This job was slash easy for anyone who happened to be of a slothful nature which meant I had found the perfect job. Here I was drivers mate and each morning at 8.30ish three of the companies removal type lorries would be parked outside the shop which was roughly opposite where Marks and Sparks is now on the left going down Fargate. We would go inside and have a cuppa and a chat then slowly load up with furniture that had been sold in the shop the previous day. We would then drive to our place of storage that was an old chapel somewhere on the left just off London Road/ Chesterfield Road in Meersbrook. Once inside we would get some other bits of furniture and load them onto the lorries, this was made easier because the depot had a few lads who did this for us (God knows what they did for the rest of the day). We would then receive our paperwork for the deliveries. Another cuppa and a chat then off we went at about 10.00. We would be finished with deliveries at 14.00 at the latest most days and I would get a lift home and the drivers were allowed to take their lorry's home with them. One naive little creepy short arsed driver who lived with his mum used to go back to the depot and ask if there was anything else to be delivered. Glad I wasn't working with him! My driver Len and me had a reight good time and a happening worth (in my view) mentioning is; We were one day on the road near to the Black-A-Moor Inn and there was high winds and we got hit by a sudden gust and the lorry went over onto two wheels and after what seemed like an eternity the lorry straightened itself up. We had cacked ourselves big style.

British Steel Tubes Division Nah then Manxdeedah, At British Steel Tubes Division on Rutland Road I had the same job as three other blokes and that was unloading goods wagons from the rail track siding into the warehouse. The wagons contained long tubes of different diameters and lengths that were stored in bays and were wedged with dunnage (wooden blocks). We also loaded lorries that had come to collect. We wrapped chains around the tubes and used a manually remote controlled hoist to lift the heavy tubes from wagons and also onto lorries. One day we worked overtime because we had to unload a train wagon that had arrived late, we finished at 8 o'clock. Next day (12 hours later) we arrived to find the dunnage had slipped and the bay posts had collapsed allowing many tons of steel tubes to cascade onto the rail track. Had we been there when it happened we would have been crushed to a pulp and you wouldn't be reading this now. It took us days to set things right again. In another incident, one chappy had wrapped chains around a 12 foot length of tube and proceeded to raise it with the intention of plonking it onto the back of a lorry when one chain slipped and the tube came down like a spear and glanced off his boot taking away the leather and revealing the steel cap underneath. A centimetre more and he would have lost his foot without doubt. He was relaxed about it, but the rest of us were as white as freshly fallen snow in shock. The only people I remember there were Neil, a Scotsman who weighed a minimum 20 stone plus whose favourite saying was "F-ck it, b-llock it and spin it" which was spoken in a broad Glaswegian accent, he was a nice block. Another was John who didn't speak to anyone before dinner time, that's when his hangover from the previous nights' supping had worn off. There was another fellow who used to declare "watch it lads, one of the puffs are coming", referring to any office worker who had the audacity to step on to the shop floor. It was hot sweaty work which made my daily visit at dinner time to the Forest pub 57 paces away all the more pleasureable for my usual pint of refreshing shandy and minced beef and onion pie with mushy peas and gravy......yum.

NEVILLE WATTS (completed) Hey up five005, When I was at Neville Watts in the early 70's the staff were as follows:- Mr Vernon Outram, the boss who lived at Froggatt in Derbyshire. Mr Greaves was wages manager among other things, John Hill was under manager (assistant manager in todays speak), in the office were Mrs Lunn, Mrs Banks, Mrs Anderson, Mrs Ros Hill (John's wife), Christine Booth (lovely long dark hair and gorgeous legs, used to love watching her climb the spiral staircase), and Julie who later replaced Christine. In the shop were Mrs Jessie Straw who was very popular, Kevin Connelly. Another person in the shop was Chris Taylor who was a musician (?). When any customer he didn't like left the shop and were out of earshot he would call them a 'hairy arsed faggot' male or female. Chris was a good laugh. Mr (Phil?) Beard was a rep for the company, another rep was a man called Frank who had a torch or dilly shaped object he pressed to his throat so he could speak, and he sounded somewhat Dalekesque. Mrs Lunn's husband Tom was the shop's van driver responsible for deliveries in the area. We were all very saddened when Tom passed away, he was a most genuine man. After all these years I still remember the tune he used to whistle ever so lightly (nobody seems to whistle these days). Some dinner times Tom and I would play at darts on the top floor in the rest room. When we sent heavy parcels to far away places they would be transported by BRS (green vans) or by B.R. (yellow lorries) and the usual B.R. driver was Les Cotton who was ginger haired with tinges of grey and he sported a thick looking moustache that were popular at that time. One other person worth (or not) mentioning was a regular customer who used to park over the road to the right his vehicle on the king sized asphalt car park which had rusted broken down fencing which is now Devonshire Green was Mr. Patnick. When he approached the shop I would hide in the back because when he came in he would tell jokes and when he got to the punch line he would start to laugh and look into peoples eyes forcing them to giggle in a false way. I couldn't abide him and that damned light purple coloured denim shirt he always wore with sweat stains under the arms. I was employed as warehouseman, storeman responsible for deliveries, packing, unpacking, filling shelves and filling canisters, bottles and the other vessels with paraffin that was stored in the back yard, the toilets were also in the back yard (no joke in winter). Carrying dozens of door closers to the first floor was heavy work as was carrying weighty boxes of nails and screws of various sizes whether plain, galvanised or black japanned to the cellar. We had our nails delivered from Youngs wire on Green Lane (?). I also went to Harald's Locksmiths on Division Street to take and or collect keys and locks for repair. We also had dealings with Parkes, C.N.S. and G.K.N. in the midlands. Another part of my job was to write to customers informing them that their goods had arrived. Here is an example:- Dear Sir or Madam, The six rose design porcelain escutcheons you ordered are now to hand and await your collection. Yours sincerely, Zakes It could quite easily have been acrylic or aluminium kicking plates, keys, picture hangers, mortise locks, etc. On Friday's Mr Greaves would do his rounds dishing out the wage packets personally to each employee and when he got to me he would pass me my brown enveloped wages (circa 6.50 pounds) and with a glint in his eyes would ask ''are you sure you deserve your pay this week?'' and then his lips would slowly twitch with mirth. Mr Greaves' children Anne, Christine, Alan and Michael had formed a group called the Steeler's and they appeared on Hughie Green's Opportunity Knocks t.v. programme. A few days after their performance Mr Greaves gave me a pile of at least 57 postcards with the request (order) that I fill them out with a false name each time because they were to be sent to be used as votes for his children to win Opportunity Knocks. They came in second I think. My last job of the day was to hang the two heavy wrought iron gates onto the posts directly outside the shop door (to prevent people from tiddling, puking or having it off in the doorway in the evenings). I enjoyed my 1 year and 1 week at Neville Watts Ironmongers and it was the only job I have ever had where i've been called into the boss's office to be told that I am to receive a payrise (extra 10 bob per week). Being called to the office usually meant ''here's your cards lad, on yer bike''. When I left and went to Globe and Simpson on West Street I had been tempted to go into Dundee Works on Eldon Street to ask for a job at J. Billam but changed my mind which turned out to be a wise decision. (Had to get the (silver) knife in there). Lol! P.S's 1. Sorry, no sign of big lanky Reg! 2. B.R.S. - British Road Service 3. B.R. - British Rail.

NEVILLE WATTS Hey up five005, When I was at Neville Watts in the early 70's the staff were as follows:- Mr Vernon Outram, the boss who lived at Froggatt in Derbyshire. Mr Greaves was wages manager among other things, John Hill was under manager (assistant manager in todays speak), in the office were Mrs Lunn, Mrs Banks, Mrs Anderson, Mrs Ros Hill (John's wife), Christine Booth (lovely long dark hair and gorgeous legs, used to love watching her climb the spiral staircase), and Julie who later replaced Christine. In the shop were Mrs Jessie Straw who was very popular, Kevin Connelly. Another person in the shop was Chris Taylor who was a musician (?). When any customer he didn't like left the shop and were out of earshot he would call them a 'hairy arsed faggot' male or female. Chris was a good laugh. Mr (Phil?) Beard was a rep for the company, another rep was a man called Frank who had a torch or dilly shaped object he pressed to his throat so he could speak, and he sounded somewhat Dalekesque. Mrs Lunn's husband Tom was the shop's van driver responsible for deliveries in the area. We were all very saddened when Tom passed away, he was a most genuine man. After all these years I still remember the tune he used to whistle ever so lightly (nobody seems to whistle these days). Some dinner times Tom and I would play at darts on the top floor in the rest room. When we sent heavy parcels to far away places they would be transported by BRS (green vans) or by B.R. (yellow lorries) and the usual B.R. driver was Les Cotton who was ginger haired with tinges of grey and he sported a thick looking moustache that were popular at that time. One other person worth (or not) mentioning was a regular customer who used to park over the road to the right his vehicle on the king sized asphalt car park which had rusted broken down fencing which is now Devonshire Green was Mr. Patnick. When he approached the shop I would hide in the back because when he came in he would tell jokes and when he got to the punch line he would start to laugh and look into peoples eyes forcing them to giggle in a false way. I couldn't abide him and that damned light purple coloured denim shirt he always wore with sweat stains under the arms.

Hackenthorpe and Zakes Part 10 Some names of persons from 1959-65 but I can't put a face or place to them. I believe these are persons from Hackenthorpe but some may not be (i've lived in various places):- Mr Revell, Mr Auger, Stutchfield, Derek Beeley, Glaves, Savage, Dinsdale, K. Firminger, Jimmy ? Sandford, Miss Marsden, Glynn Sills, Pixley, Lupton, Shemeld, Phipps, Peter Newton, Flinders, Zeidmolaar, Louise Baldwin, Peggy Billard, Andy or Philip Pretty, Robin Leake, Pete Gledhill, Ronald Watson. I have come across these people sometime in my life. Do you know any of them? When I lived in Birley I heard of a man from the Carr Forge area called Birks who fell down an escalator in London underground on the way to the '66 cup final. Any info on that? Does anybody recall Mr and Mrs Watson who ran the Sportsman in Main Street and those infernal geese that stopped my mates and me from getting to nice big cooking apples? Does anyone remember the Rag and Bone and any old iron man who used to dish out balloons to us young 'uns? Or the bloke with that pedaling thing sharpening knives, garden shears and scissors? Plus the mobile shop (not phones), Friday's on Carter Lodge Drive. I just loved the smell of the soil on the spuds. He might of left the soil on the taters to add extra weight (norty mester)! I always enjoyed myself every November 6 going with a mate around the estate to see how many used fireworks we could find from the previous night's activities. We were really avid and it was a great way to pass the time and it was good exercise too. Anyone else do this strange pastime? Stewart Sunderland's dad had a gold or mustard coloured VW Beetle that he managed to wrap around a gas lamp (street light) about 1964 at the junction of Carter Lodge Rise and Carter Lodge Avenue. Anyone remember? Did anyone here knock at the neighbours and ask them for bottles to take back to the shops for a refund so you could buy sweets, ice cream, comix, Look and Learn magazines or entrance money to the Rex flix matinees etc? I also got pop bottles from the back of Elams on Birley Spa Lane and then take them round to the shop and get refunds on them, then repeated the act again. Now that is definately called re-cycling (did that word didn't exist then)!

Hackenthorpe and Zakes Part 9 Firstly, sorry folks Ｉgave you false info in PART 4 about the rural science teacher at Carter Lodge School. I said Mr Feinburg but it was actually Mr 'Kernel' Loy, what a nut! Thanx to the three who jumped down my throat pointing out my 'crime'. You are all off my Xmas card list......Lol. (Swift to chide, slow to bless). During my time 1959 - 65 in Hackenthorpe I had masses of friends but I never was with the same friend for long periods because people who get too close get to know your weaknesses so I used to change them around very often. At Birley Spa Juniors I spent time in and out of school with Nigel West brother of Trevor and they lived on Cotleigh Avenue or Drive the second house along and they had a crab apple tree in the back garden. I well remember us once mucking about with a load of mercury gained from a couple of thermometers. Then there was a spell knocking about with Gerald Dandy who was quite a comic. Gerald lived in the dead end of Carr Forge Mount, end house next to the jennel near to the Lee family who lived on t'other side of jennel. Gerald had two younger sisters and together had a pet tortoise (must be getting on now). I was dismayed when he told me that the family was to be moving to Milwaukee in Wisconsin USA. It didn't matter really because after all he did have strange shaped looking ears! The next best mate to desert me was Elaine Lawson, her family decided to move to Devon or Cornwall (Torquay rings a bell) which was disappointing because we had just started to teach each other how to kiss and playing doctors and nurses was next on the agenda, my agenda! Another good mate of mine was a left handed lad who was also a fast runner, Stephen George who had two elder sisters, Georgina and the eldest one might have been called Linda?? and they lived at 19, Carr Forge Mount. The colour of their door was red. One day in 1963-64 I found 2 half crowns wedged between the flagstones on the pathway in Carr Forge Mount which made me very rich for a week or so and I spent it on comics, lucky bags, sweets and Guards cigarettes, yes I started smoking aged 9. Years later, I thought the half crowns may have been the dinner money of some kid. I believe Martin Smith and Lorraine Barstow also lived on this cute cul-de-sac. Lorraine had cute sparse freckles upon her sweet face and she had an inviting kissable GOB!

The Playhouse - Stirrings In Sheffield For those who didn't know, The Sheffield Playhouse was situated in a alleyway cum lane that ran from Pinfold Street (not Trippet Lane) down to Townhead Street. I remember well the massive smooth flagstones and the guttering down the middle and the white railing bar all the way down and the Playhouse was on the left below half way. The address was Townhead Street. At the top of the lane was the bus stop for the 51 bus to Gleadless Townend (where I lived)/ Charnock Estate (possibly Herdings in those days) 1969-70-71. I don't know exactly when the Playhouse closed, possibly 71-72. Names of some people from Sheffield Playhouse in the mid 60's are :- John Pickles, Peter Denyer, Elizabeth Bell, Carrie Findlay, Tina Heaf, Zibba Mays, David Richardson, Edward Poulter and my favourite actor New Zealander James Laurenson who was later in Boney, Heartbeat, Morse and many others. As regards to 'The Stirrings in Sheffield on Saturday Night' I have 3 LP's for sale. The LP's are from 1973 SLCW 1019 Crucible Theatre's production pressed by EMI. 1 copy is in almost perfect nick with lyric sheet and the other 2 are in average condition without lyric sheet (I will have to photocopy). Music is by Roderick Horn. According to the mass of info on the sleeve 'Stirrings’ originally opened May 6 1966. I also have 2 copies of the E.P. 'Songs from The Sheffield Playhouse' (picture sleeve) UN 191004, on the Unit Nineteen label. The E.P. has 6 songs played by Roderick Horn and Dorothy Vernon. Side 1 - The Stirrings In Sheffield on Saturday Night Song 1, The Grinders Hardships, song 2 Sheffield Workmen Side 2 - Trudi and The Minstrel Song 1, Says I To Myself, song 2 Oh What Times John Willy and The Bee People Song 1, Tiddly-I, song 2 Fussabout. The E.P's are from 1966 and one is near mint condition, the other is in very good nick. I also have 4 copies of the 'Capstick Comes Home' single, B-side is called The Sheffield Grinder (Horn as composer). 1 record excellent condition, 3 average. Zakes 075 943 10152

Paul Overhand has his birthday 30 March and was a Trojan.

Hello Eastbank, Browsing through past posts of yours I see your family moved into 31 Newstead Rise during 1968 which would have been the first or third house on the left as you walk along the path facing in the direction of Birley Lane. Family Zakes moved out of number 29 (second house) also during 1968. As I can't remember anyone moving into 31 in 1968 I presume we must of left before you arrived (I do stand to be corrected). We moved to Crossland Drive at Gleadless Townend and it was decided at the last minute for me to stay at Birley School but an incident involving me, a classmate and another lad from our year led to a court case and my being booted out of Birley School (Mr Lines really enjoyed that). All will be revealed in a later post, plus another court appearance from that time. Ste(v)phen Wiggett lived on Newstead Avenue and played the guitar quite well for someone so young (Anton Karas' Harry Lime theme). I think he once chipped his front teeth at the swimming baths but I could of got that one wrong. I think he was an only child and he was in the Spartan's house team at school. Gary (Sam) Ashton lived up Newstead Drive and must of had a great view of the farm and Birley Woods from their front window. I think Gary possessed the first green combat jacket i'd ever seen (or was it Paul Ward?) and he had an elder brother. Wonder if Gary remembers a bloke who lived nearby called Regan who had a head the size of an orange lol. Gary used to loan me his Gola football boots when I played for the school team unless he was playing then he would need them for himself. If we played at the same time it was never a problem for me to play bare of foot lol! Gary was in Athenian's and was popular with the lasses. Paul Overhand who I find somewhat underhand and I have spoken on three occasions in recent times in a pub in Intake and he catergorically denies any boxing happenings at Birley School. As you have now mentioned this (boxing) twice I tend toward your statement. I wasn't at Birley School at the end of 68 or 69 I was at Hurlfield so I wouldn't know. Paul is still somewhat cagey and also knows everything better than anyone else. Some people never change!

Cinemas. During my younger years I went to only 9 cinemas in Sheffield, some of them I visited several times. Listed below are the places and some of the films I've scene. 1. Manor Cinema - Barbarella - several visits 2. Studio 7 - On Her Majesty's Secret Service - several visits 3. Gaumont - Goldfinger - watched this from projector room - several visits 4. Classic - Can't remember - several visits - usually neets late on 5. ABC - can't remember - several visits (maybe Battle Of The Bulge) 6. Odeon - The Sound Of Music - 2 visits 7. Cinecenta - Ravaged - 1 visit - Dwarfs (Dwaves) chasing a bird in the woods 8. Roscoe - South Pacific - 1 visit - Some enchanted evening etc 9. The Rex - That Darn Cat, Space Odyssey 2001, 7 Brides for 7 Brothers - Load of visits At The Rex to the right and left were shops, I think the left shop sold womens clothes, what did the other shop sell and who owned them? In 1978 I went to the flicks with a girl from work in Stuttgart, I don't remember what film was on because I was too busy. The last time I was at the pictures was to watch The Day After in Hannover in the mid 80's.

When I worked at Wigfall's in the early 70's we delivered BRW tellys and boxes that were bloody heavy to tower blocks like Parkhill, Hyde Park and Norfolk Park. I most certainly remember those 'hedgehog' plugs. A cuppla years later I was a-courting with a girl who worked as a cashier at BRW on Pinstone St(?), Moor all week and Saturday's half day. Her name was (is) Jean Hague (Haig) and she also worked a pair of evenings a week at the Wapentake. I took this glorious lady for granted so she ditched me after a few months, and who could blame her? NOBODY! Jean lived on Cary Road, Manor, does anybody remember this little diamond?