Anybody from Hackenthorpe?
Hackenthorpe and Zakes Part 64
It was approaching 1960 when the Zakes phratry arrived on Hackenthorpe, in N.E. Derbyshire. My first school was Rainbow Forge Infants, which was 5 minutes walk from our Corporation house, on Carter Lodge Drive. The school was quite nice, and I really liked the pond which had Goldfish and Lilypads with beautiful white flowers. We had a class photo taken at school, I wish I still had it. Does anybody have a copy?
When I reached Junior School age, I thought I would be going to Rainbow Forge Juniors. Luckily, I went to Birley Spa Juniors, which was a 15 minute or so walk higher up the estate.
At Senior School age I attended Carter Lodge School in 1965, but I left this school almost 3 months later when we Zakes’ moved up the hill to live at Newstead, lower Birley. We lived in a Vic Hallam house (pigeon hut) on Newstead Rise.
--
Rainbow Forge Infants
When I first arrived at this school the other children mentioned how I spoke differently to them. This was due to me having lived in other places with mi Dad being in the R.A.F. I quickly picked up the Hackenthorpian accent though. LOL. I liked the children and the teachers at Rainbow Forge. I wasn’t involved in any misdemeanours (didn’t get caught LOL) at this school, hence no punishments.
--
Birley Spa Juniors
Looking back, I treasured all pupils at Birley Spa, it was a great time, I walked up Birley Spa lane each morning and almost always met other pupils along the way…Patricia Millington and Denise Naylor (both Car Forge close), Julie Webster (Dyke Vale Avenue), and other such dolls. On being closer to school I saw other pupils approaching from the direction if Spa View Road. The cutest of them was Jean Sykes, who lived on Cotleigh Close. Jean looked like Elizabeth Taylor (address unknown) in the Cleopatra film, a Goddess and an Empress. Coming down Birley Spa Lane was Elaine Lawson. I liked that Elaine wore a different coloured hair band each day. I liked her teeth and also the way she kissed. The Lawson’s flitted to Torquay? Paignton? Area circa ’62-‘63. Kay Osborne was another cutie-pie coming down to school from Occupation Lane. I attended her 9th or 10th birthday party. Lucky her. LOL.
--
In school I was punished a few times during my time there. The headmaster, Mr. N. Rawlings gave me a good slippering on 2 occasions. Regardless, Mr Rawlings seemed to be a decent type.
Mr Williams gave my legs a slapping loads of times. Psychological warfare was his game, pillock! A twentieth Century Schizoid man. Two other lads in class also copped it big style from Williams.
Mr Wilson was another trunt. Wilson claimed to have a black-belt in Karate, and in Judo. He was left-handed, wore horn-rimmed specs, had a full, untidy beard, and the lower part of his nose was very wide with large nostrils. He was a strongly built bloke at just under 6-feet. It was important to him that we children understood he was in charge.
If any child wasn’t paying heed to what he was saying, Mr Wilson would head smartly to the child’s desk then raise his hand as if to chop (rabbit punch) them. He would di the chopping action but would stop about an inch from contact. Obviously, the child would cower or cringe.
I remember one day Terry Cosgrove or Danny Spokes (Dyke Vale?) Timothy Conroy (Springwater) Steven George (Car Forge) Nigel West (Cotleigh) and I mucking about. In a flash Mr Wilson was at my desk with hand raised ready to chop. I was caught unawares but managed to tilt my chair away from him and throw myself onto the floor. Wilson was glowering down at me with full anger in his eyes. I was really convinced he was going to ‘do’ me. I was about 10 or 11 years old.
The girls in class were not exempt from this treatment but they wisely paid full attention and behaved themselves some of us boys weren’t as clever as them girls. LOL.
Miss Morton, who had a face like a shrivelled apple, was nasty too, she was verbally venomous. She wore those Mrs Merton (on TV) type specs.
Miss North and Mr Auger were the kindest teachers in my opinion.
--
Carter Lodge School
I arrived at this school in September 1965. I already knew a fair amount of the new newcomers, who had been at Birley Spa Juniors. Others I knew, were children I was acquainted with from playing-out, adventuring on the estate and surrounding areas, evenings, week-ends and holiday times.
During the 10-12 weeks I spent at Carter Lodge, I managed to get into plenty of bother with some teachers. Mr. Croft, the headmaster, had the pleasure of caning me once. The deputy-head, Mr Rodgers, caned me on two occasions on me hands. Rodgers used full force, I remember him gritting his teeth. Mr. Kirk, the sports (games) master, slapped my legs a few times in the gym. I was in fear of Kirk, but strange as it may seem, it made me more determined to get further under his skin. I seem to recall Kirk had thrupenny-bit shaped framed specs, and his hair was a shock of grey, cut in military crew-cut fashion. My eldest brother had been a top-sportler at Carter Lodge, and I think Mt Kirk had expected me to be the same. “Tuff bobbar Kirkey, I perform when I wish to perform”!
Mr Fretwell, AKA ‘Noddy’ Fretwell, was another trottel. During a lesson he would slowly stroll (stalk) quiet-footed (a sign of a sneaky type) around the classroom, weaving his way between the desks. He would then approach from behind pupils busily writing in their exercise books. Fretwell would then silently appear over the shoulder of a pupil to read what he (pupil) had written. If ‘Noddy’ didn’t like what he read, or of the pupil had made a mistake, Fretwell would instantly punish him. Fretwell punished by clenching his fist with the middle-knuckle of his middle-finger, then wrap the unsuspecting pupil at the back (sometimes top) of the head, a surprise attack. Fretwell was also quick and adroit rapping pupils knuckles with a ruler. The Perspex rulers were ruddy painful.
Mr Morgan, the music teacher was a also a cruel sod (verbally) at times, but he was sometimes amusing. We pupils used to sing a song about him when he was out of earshot. To the tune of…Build a Bonfire (put the teachers on the top):
Henry Morgan plays the organ
And he plays it rather crammy
And his sisters’ got a pimple
In the middle of her <removed>.
Some other teachers names I recall at this moment are:
Mr Feinberg
Miss Gaunt
Miss Marsden
Mr Driscoll
Mr Pegg
Mr Loy
Mr Revel(l)
Who was the lad who got a garden-fork stuck in his foot during a rural science lesson?
Me Mum once worked as a cleaner at Mr Feinberg’s house. Who was his Missus, LOL.
--
At Newstead (Birley) I went to Birley County School (my favourite school). I attended this school for 2 ½ years until I was shown the door (gates). I had many canings and a few detentions at this school. I managed to get under the skins of 6 teachers:
Lines, Knox, Phypers, Fidler, Shimwell and Phipps. The lasses and the lads at Birley school were second(ary) to none.
My final school was Hurlfield Boys Comp (later mixed). I spent 1 ½ years at this school. I received a few canings at my time there from Mr Houdmont. My favourite teacher of all schools I attended taught here. Mr Keith Turton. He caned me twice. LOL. A wonderful bloke now sadly dead.
--
Looking back now I did enjoy my education. It was better than some had who came up the slum way, and it stuck to them, and it always will, Despite the veneer of a grammar school education at Thornbridge.
--
Some short memories of my Hackenthorpe times:
My favourite three girls were: Jean Cottam (Delves), Jean Sykes (Cotleigh) and Barbara Allen (Springwater). They were excellent examples of femininity.
Denudating gardens of fruit, and occasionally veg.
Girls teaching me a thing of two and me passing what I’d learned onto other girls. LOL.
A good few smashed windows…I now take this opportunity to apologise to the victims…not!
Two court cases at Renishaw House.
Policeman Disney didn’t have to Force (gerrit?) the issue but he did. A nasty trunt!
--
I was always good to people I liked, I’d do anything for them, but I despised most people who had authority, and those who thought they were better than others.
I used to occasionally drink in The Whetstone on Cumberland Street in the 70's and I remember a Hackenthorpe lad by the name of David Greetham who was a regular there. I got to meet him when the engine fell out of his car one night while he was in the pub. It was an old purple mini, and the engine mounts had rotted. The last straw was probably driving it across the rough ground that was then used as a car park behind the pub.
