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Anybody from Hackenthorpe?

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Didn't live up there,but hung around with 3 girls from there ,back in 72/3, one, Hilary Page, lived on Birley Spa Lane.

The other 2 girls were sisters, Karen and ,I think,Lynn. We used to meet every Saturday morning at Sheaf Valley baths, hanging around Pond Street and at the back of the old Top Rank / Fiesta buildings, then,one Saturday, they didn't turn up,and we never saw them again.....

I've often wondered what became of them.

 

---------- Post added 02-10-2017 at 23:14 ----------

 

 

Isn't David "Sam"?

Bob is the tattooist,last known to be in Worksop, I knew him from the fairground in the late 70's, early 80's.

 

Petty sure Hilary joined one of the armed forces , her brother Kenny did . Yes Bob was the tattooist and David is Sams real name

 

---------- Post added 03-10-2017 at 22:24 ----------

 

Bob had a shop in Worksop but still lives in Hackenthorpe

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Hackenthorpe and Zakes. Part 62.

A Heartlighting View.

Stephen George Anecdote No. 5.

 

It was early Sunday morning, during the latter half of 1961. I’d etten my usual breakfast of Shredded Wheat, then I was ready to go out. As usual, I didn’t have a fixed-plan as to where I’d be going to. I almost always seemed to decide upon my destination once I was stood on the main pathway outside our house, on Carter Lodge Drive.

__________________________________

 

Having laced and knotted my footwear items, I egressed our house. Having made sure to slam the door behind me, I soon reached the main path. Slamming the door behind me on Sunday mornings was a weekly ritual. If I didn’t have a peaceful lie-in, then I couldn’t see why others should have one. I had at times been tempted to lift our ribbed galvanized dustbin lid, then to crash it down onto the bin a dozen times or so, then run off, but I thought it would be overdoing it a bit. Let sleeping dogs lie.

 

Strolling down Carter Lodge Rise, I had decided to go down to the Shirebrook River. I always enjoyed the walk down to the river. There was an earthy footpath all the way down. Once on the path, there was a rich golden field to the left, and one to the right. These two fields were wheat fields. On the edges of the path/fields grew Camomile, Poppies, and Shepherd’s-Purse… best to see between May, and early Ernting. The Camomile with its Daisy-like flowers, exuded a most powerful aroma. The red Poppies always seemed to dance in a gentle breeze. They reminded me of the girls at school… quite pretty really. The Shepherd’s-Purse had white flowers, the plant was sticky, and it had small seed pods. These pods would often stick to my woollen socks, and to my shoe laces.

 

The nature lesson continues. On reaching the end of these two fields, there was a slight rise where two old stone gate posts stood. Any fool could see a gate had once hung from one of the posts (before my time). At the same spot there was also an almost fully collapsed small wall stretching the width of the two fields, replaced by a poorly planted small sturdy hedgerow. The hedgerwo was a ‘divide’ to the next two fields heading down towards the Shirebrook river. These two next fields were different to the first two, in that one of them (the left one) was a ryefield, the other a barley field. After the August harvesting, all four fields would produce the same produce the following year. Together, the four fields looked like a golden inland sea. At a guess, I guessed the fields would give up 5-score bushels of crop per acre.

 

Next came a wide expanse of amny types of wild grasses, plants and also many types of wooden trees. At this point, the air was markedly cooler (even in summer) because I would be very close to the river. After the Shirebrook River, the lowest point of the walk, the path then steeply meandered upwards, to Wood’uss.

_______________________________

 

However:

On reaching the bottom of Carter Lodge Rise, I was now stood on Carr Forge Road. Directly across the road was a jennel (hard J) leading to the cornfields. The estimated length of the jennel was forty-foots. I had a change of heart (Christian Barnard and all that jazz) as regard to my destination. I now wanted to go to the massive expanse of Gorse bushes that grew behind Birley Spa Junior School, my school.

 

Marching up Carr Forge Road, I soon bypassed Carr Forge Lane, situated to my left (I wasn’t walking backwards). On reaching the big curvy curve at the top of Carr Forge, I altered my mind once again. I decided to call at Stephen George’s house, on Carr Forge Mount, no. 19, to see (ask) if he was coming out to play… he came out to play.

________________________________

 

Having mooched around parts of the estate, Stephen an I, both aged almost 8, befound ourselves on Main Street. We were aimlessly ambling towards the heart of the village. On nearing Hackenthorpe Hall, we both heard the sound of voices, singing. The (un)melodic voices were the voices of boys. The singing was coming from the Methodist Church, that stood almost bang opposite the cottage abutting Hackenthorpe Hall. The cottage was in a bad state of disrepair, and I had played (adventured) inside it on a few occasions. I always did prefer the big grey/black stone buildings in Main Street, to the colour of the housing brickage of the estate.

 

It seemed quite evident to Stephen and I, that choir practice was being practiced inside the church. Outside the church were heavy duty black railings (black-japanned), similar to the ones outside Hackenthorpe Hall. The church had large windows, with a big wooden door atween. The building was also in a slight ramshackle condition, but nowhere near as bad as the cottage.

__________________________________

 

This next part is very vague, and I fear I may have got some details wrong. I am referring to the church interior.

___________________________________

After some gentle prodding from me, Stephen agreed to us going into the church. Once inside, we saw in the front of us a raised wooden oblong section, with steps (also wooden) going up both sides. The section looked not unsimilar to a dock in a court of law. In the section were boys (about 10 or so), stood singing hymns. The boys seemed to be between 2-6 years older than us two. Stood to our left was a man who seemed to be in charge. Another man was nearby hanging about on the sidelines. The loud singing, and the smell of dry-rot are the things I vividly remember.

__________________________________

After the hymn had come to a close, the main man invited us both to join in. We weren’t sure, but with a little prompting we agreed. We took our places inside the ‘dock’, which was tiered. The tiering was 2, possibly 3 high, not unlike a stand at a football stadium.

 

We sang several hymns, and it was most enjoyable to be able to sing out loud. The hymns were mainly the ones familiar to us both.

 

Fight the good fight with all thy might.

Onward Christian Soldiers. – (I never liked that one).

All glory, laud, and honour.

 

During:

 

All things bright and beautiful (I liked the purple headed bit)…

 

I began to deliberately sing some different words (to the hymn). As usual, in situations of naughtiness, Stephen’s face became rubicund. Stephen started to titter quietly, and I was half laughing, half singing. Some of the other boys glanced at us in a stern missbilligend way.

 

When the singing practice was done, the main bloke beckoned us both down to him. He asked us if we had enjoyed ourselves. We yessed his inquiry. He smilingly told us that we would be most welcome to come on the following Sunday, but the giggling had to stop. We promised to be good Christians in seven days time.

_________________________________

 

By the time next Sunday had arrived, the novelty of singing in church had worn off. It had seemed okay as a one-off. I felt that Stephen had felt the same way… but I was mistaken.

 

Having answered the door, mi Mum screechingly informed me I had a visitor, it was Stephen… Blummin’ ‘eck!

__________________________________

 

‘Round twenty-odd minutes or so later, we arrived at the Methodist Church. We were slightly late, but the main bloke smiled, and seemed pleased to see us. We were then waved to our positions in the ‘dock’.

With hymn-book in hand, we sang our hearts out. After having sung so sweetly through a couple of hymns, I just couldn’t resist being me. I once again started to sing the wrong words, and to la-la-la but this time we both broke out into uncontrollable giggles. The choir-master (main man) then demonstratingly beckoned us both down from the ‘dock’, then he pointed us both to the exit door. He was stood straight-backed like a drill-sergeant, and with the face reminiscent of an angry Madagascan puff-adder.

 

It was wazzing it down outside.

 

R.I.P. Stephen George. I will never forget you.

____________________________________

 

Footnote:

The church was closed down not long after this. A new church had been built on Spa View Road, higher up the estate.

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Hello Zakes When you mentioned Stephen it brought back some memories I knew the George family when they lived on Parkhill for a short time.His sister Elaine was my childhood sweetheart when they left Parkhill it was as though they had gone to the other side of the world. I never saw her again till I saw her on Birley shops back in the 70s she had to explain to my wife that we were friends from all those years back. I don’t know if you see her at anytime if you do would you say hello for me. Thanks Alan.

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Petty sure Hilary joined one of the armed forces , her brother Kenny did .

 

This is weird. We lived 2 doors away from the Pages. I used to knock around with Keith who became a helicopter pilot so I was told. He had a sister called Heather. Either someone got the names wrong or there is a strange coincidence on't 'Ackenthorpe.

Edited by Downsunder

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This is weird. We lived 2 doors away from the Pages. I used to knock around with Keith who became a helicopter pilot so I was told. He had a sister called Heather. Either someone got the names wrong or there is a strange coincidence on't 'Ackenthorpe.

 

Im very sure the girl was called Hilary and the lad was definitely called Kenny by all the lads on the estate . Maybe his real name was Keith but he didn't like it . The family lived 3 or 4 doors from the Hogshead

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That's definitely them. Perhaps they are on the Forum and they can enlighten us. Keith would be about my age now 65-67. Heather / Hilary a bit younger. Maybe he had a younger brother which could be Kenny?

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That's definitely them. Perhaps they are on the Forum and they can enlighten us. Keith would be about my age now 65-67. Heather / Hilary a bit younger. Maybe he had a younger brother which could be Kenny?

 

I think Heather would be about 61 and Kenny around 58.

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I think Heather would be about 61 and Kenny around 58.

 

Kenny will be 57/58 . Hilary will be 54/55 . I don't know of any older ones , maybe there are

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Hackenthorpe and Zakes Part 63.

 

Nah then Downsunder, Als, I have to agree with you on this one occasion... Lol.

 

The following.

I recall the Page's lived next door to the Darwents. The Page's were;

Ken Page... father

Keith... son

Heather... daughter

Glynis or Glennis... daughter

Mrs Page i never met.

It's possible Glennis/Glynis is older than Heather but definitely younger than Keith. Keith is about the age Downsunder quoted.

The Townsend's lived a few doors further on.

 

Sorry I.S. and

G.T.

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Thanks Zakes, it’s 50 years since me, Keith and Mick Darwent used to knock around together, nice to know I’m not losing me marbles yet. I couldn’t remember Mr & Mrs Pages’ names but Heather’s name I couldn’t forget. There’s a line in the song Good King Wenceslas that goes : “Hither, page come stand by me . . .” I seem to remember she didn’t take kindly to us dropping her name in there. And while we’re on the subject who else used to sing “Good King Wences Last looked out ??” It was only when I got to Thornbridge that this serious error was brought to my attention. (Guess you Birley/Carter Lodge kids are still singing it that way – sorry couldn’t resist that)

Anyway, if you’re still reading I’ll say a bit about the bottom end of Birley Spa Lane. Your truly amazing memory, which I am in awe of, appears to end at the Pages, who as someone mentioned were 4 doors from the Hogs Head, next to them were the Staffords, then us. The Brierleys lived in the last house on that side of Birley Spa Lane back in the late 60’s. I only mention them by name because I can confidently say none of them are still there.

Not many people remember us for some reason, only our immediate neighbours. I posted a photo of a football team my brother and I played in along with a schoolmate Kenny Beaumont. It was taken about 1960 at the old wooden hut on Drakehouse Lane. I was gobsmacked when someone named every player in that team except for 3, yep, the three I’ve mentioned here. Anyway Zakes, keep up the good work, you sometimes drop a name that brings back faint memories shrouded in the mists of time. Time I went.

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Thanks Zakes, it’s 50 years since me, Keith and Mick Darwent used to knock around together, nice to know I’m not losing me marbles yet. I couldn’t remember Mr & Mrs Pages’ names but Heather’s name I couldn’t forget. There’s a line in the song Good King Wenceslas that goes : “Hither, page come stand by me . . .” I seem to remember she didn’t take kindly to us dropping her name in there. And while we’re on the subject who else used to sing “Good King Wences Last looked out ??” It was only when I got to Thornbridge that this serious error was brought to my attention. (Guess you Birley/Carter Lodge kids are still singing it that way – sorry couldn’t resist that)

Anyway, if you’re still reading I’ll say a bit about the bottom end of Birley Spa Lane. Your truly amazing memory, which I am in awe of, appears to end at the Pages, who as someone mentioned were 4 doors from the Hogs Head, next to them were the Staffords, then us. The Brierleys lived in the last house on that side of Birley Spa Lane back in the late 60’s. I only mention them by name because I can confidently say none of them are still there.

Not many people remember us for some reason, only our immediate neighbours. I posted a photo of a football team my brother and I played in along with a schoolmate Kenny Beaumont. It was taken about 1960 at the old wooden hut on Drakehouse Lane. I was gobsmacked when someone named every player in that team except for 3, yep, the three I’ve mentioned here. Anyway Zakes, keep up the good work, you sometimes drop a name that brings back faint memories shrouded in the mists of time. Time I went.

 

I don't want to bang on about it but Kenny is about 57/58 . I know Mick darwent and he is a good few years older than Kenny . Its not my thing but I know Kenny is on facebook

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I don't want to bang on about it but Kenny is about 57/58 . I know Mick darwent and he is a good few years older than Kenny . Its not my thing but I know Kenny is on facebook

 

Point taken Hackey Lad, there were definitely 4 kids. Looks like Zakes' novel had a Page missing :D:D

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