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Nah then folks, during the 60s..

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I was born in 1959 on thornbridge way, when I was six we moved to silkstone road. The 1960s to me was visiting the rex cinema, or the Odeon down town, playing war with a chair leg for a tommy gun, buttoning my duffle coat at the neck wearing it like a cape and playing at batman, falling in love with catwoman on batman when I was 7 years old, or Sharon Macready one of the Champions of the TV series when I was about 9. bread and butter sarnies and a bottle of water or dandelion and burdock picnicking down on the surrounding fields. bugging my older brothers gorgeous girlfriends to get their attention, or my mates older sisters to get theirs. But most of all in the school holidays were the time spent with my lorry driver dad, who took me all over the country from Sheffield to places like Southampton, Portsmouth, London, Felixstowe, Cardiff, Liverpool, Glasgow, Aberdeen and Edinburgh. By the time I was 10 id seen a good bit of our beautiful country. My dad left lorry driving to work down the pit to give him more time with my mum after she suffered a bleed on the brain which left her with mental illness. Sad to say both are gone now, but my memories of the sixties are happy ones. And when our generation looks back I think our lifetime was better and happier than that todays generation, with their online games, mobile phones, and lack of discipline. Please! someone build a time machine so we can go back to those simpler and happy times. If only we could.

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Happy times at Newstead 1966

 

Zakes, at 12, knew life is a journey. People eventually arrive at the end of the journey, some sooner than others. People meet other people along the way, have shared fun with triumphs, and at times with difficulties. Along the way there are many crossroads. To continue the journey one must turn right or left, or perhaps travel straight on. What will be waiting at the end of the journey? Death. Death is nothing. Death is only a step nearer to re-birth, a new journey.

 

To his embarrassment, Zakes was born in bed with a ‘lady’. The wailing of the new born infant was mingled with a dirge for the dead. Birth is the beginning of death.

 

-----------------

 

It was the summer of 1966, and Zakes’ hero of the time was the caped Victorian adventurer Adam Adamant. Adam lived by the sword, and would most probably die by the sword. Adam Adamant Lives! was seen by many as a poor man’s Avenger(s), but Zakes wasn’t bothered about them harp(er)ing on about it. Zakes believed Adam Adamant’s side kick, Miss Jones, was far better looking than John Steeds’ side kick Cathy Gale…Scouts Honor! Despite rumours to the contrary, Mr Adamant did not drive a Sunbeam Rapier. He was only interested in foiling the baddies, but he did have an E.P. collection. Adolf Hilt-er doesn’t appear in this double-edged story.

 

-----------------

 

Allowing for the possibility that Zakes’ compass may be on the blink…The Newstead estate is situated to the South of Frecheville, to the east of Birley, and to the west of Hackenthorpe. To the south of Newstead, the ancient, but attractive village of Ridgeway sleepily thrives. Atween Newstead and Ridgeway, there are big grassy green fields, a good sized wooded area, a babbling brooklet and a pond, Birley pond.

 

Birley pond is especially nice in Summertime, when the livin’ is easy, the fish are jumpin’ an’ the bulrushes are high. Zakes’ Daddy wasn’t rich and his Mama wasn’t good-lookin’, so that puts an end to that song. It was nice to see Dragon Flies once again though.

 

Blue Azure Damsel-Flies and Broad Bodied Chasers are also to be seen in abundance at Birley Pond. Damsel-Flies are rather poor flyers and they never get far from the waters edge so it is very easy to spot the vivid blue of their bodies as they dart about the pond. Time can at times drag-on, at other time it can fly… Tempus Fugit.

 

An under-appreciated gem was Beryl, her hair in golden tendrils. Hush little baby, don’t you cry.

 

A world is no more when you are lost and without love. Save me form the illness and death that grown-ups call living.

 

 

 

A life weighs less than a single Jackdaw feather.

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Monkeys and Parrots 1966

 

Zakes is the wind, and speed lends him strength and he wins vigour as he goes; small at first as though through fear, soon he mounts up to heavens, and walks along with his head hidden in the thick clouds…

 

 

…the upshot of having etten Dad’s bubble and squeak, with a generous splodge of Hammonds brown sauce and two slices of Mothers Pride, on an up til then, calm Sunday evening.

 

----------------

 

Gusty, and gutsy, Zakes had had his usual Sunday evening Radox filled bath (thought of cousin Daphne). He had also gotten together his monkeys and parrots, and had stuffed them into his shiny brown leather satchel. It was school tomorrow, another week of fun and games, cat and mouse. Zakes liked cheese.

 

Now stood in his sleeping-room, Zakes, with chin up, and with smug smile, was openly admiring his plastic models. The plastic models were not of the blow-up type, but the stick-together type, using glue, not Gloy. Zakes had become somewhat of an expert in gluing his models together, piece by piece, and bit by bit.

 

Zakes acquired, in exchange for money, his models, that came in boxes and some came in simple c-thru plastic bags, from the first-floor toy department at Jamieson’s apothecary, at Frecheville shops. He also purchased at Woolworths in town.

 

----------------

 

Dad Zakes, had recently put up a handful of new shelves to accommodate his youngest sons ever growing collection of models to make space for the new shelving, some models had been sacrificed, these models were glamorous glamour models, glamorously posing for Zakes on glamour posters, pinned upon the wall…Sabrina, Jane Mansfield and Irma Ogden

 

----------------

 

Upon Zake’s many shelves were many models ‘Cars, Lorries, airplanes, battleships, and Army vehicles…, including Tanks.

 

Zakes was so proud of his gleaming T34 Russian tank, that practically took up all the space in his bedroom, making it almost impossible for his Mum to carpet sweep his carpet. Mum Zakes loves her Bex Bissell.

 

Up until 3 months ago, Zakes’ favourite model was a shiny Sherman tank, alas during a dusting session his mum had accidently (?) knocked the seldom seen Sherman tank to the floor, causing irreparable damage to it. The tank was the duly dumped into the dustbin, tracks-up turret down.

 

Zakes had been much saddened by the demise of his tank, and had spent much time in wondering whether he was the only 12 year old boy on the estate to have had … a Sherman Tank in his bedroom.

 

----------------

 

Tank-u very much.

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Shopping 1967

 

In the living-lounge mid Saturday afternoon Zakes was comfortably slouched upon the family’s new burgundy-blue leather sofa. Zakes was in thought, dreaming of what delights his mum could be cooking for tea. She always seemed to cook in the kitchen. Just as he was getting to the Rhubarb and Custard part, Zakes heard the house door being jambed loudly shut.

 

After hearing his mum’s orotund gob calling, “Cooee I’m home!”, Zakes then heard her 14 inch stiletto heels clicking in the hallway. Having dumped three large sized shopping bags onto the formica-topped dining-table in the kitchen she gasped a groaning sigh, then shrieked…”Mi chuffin’ feet are killin’ me!” “These bleedin’ shoes will be the death of me!” On hearing this, the thirteen years old Zakes tittered. Not being able to resist the temptation Zakes called back…”I’m not surprised Mum, them ruddy shoes you wear are more like stilts than heels.” “You need to start wearing comfortable foot-friendly footwear.” “It’s a pity you television-addicted women of today are more interested in scandals instead of being interested in sandals.” Zakes retort was met with quiet silence, he knew he had won once again, hee-hee.

 

Having exchanged her stilts for fluffy green slippers in the hallway, Mum Zakes re-entered the kitchen. After having unpacked the goodies she had bought at the universally known Frecheville shopping centre she loudly groaned again. “Them shops are constantly ‘nipping away’ by slipping the odd halfpenny on their products, thinking that people don’t notice!” “They must think we are made of money!” “Something should be done about these robbin’ sods!” “They don’t fool me with their Lost Leaders stuff!”

 

Zakes: “LOSS Leaders!”

 

Mum Zakes: “I’m at a Loss about them Lost Leaders, I wish the Leaders of them shops would get chuffin’ Lost, thievin’ gets!”

 

 

This got Zakes to thinking:

 

What is the truth about the so – called ‘loss leaders’? – Tea, coffee, margarine, baby foods, detergents, Dr. White’s, rubber goods, butter, flour, baked beans, cereals, biscuits – the basic commodities on every housewife’s weekly shopping list.

 

Do prices of these regulars fluctuate from shop to shop, from supermarket to supermarket?

 

They do, Zakes found, but for the housewives they have a “recognition” price.

 

In the case of a 1/4 Lb. of tea, for instance, the recognition price is 1s. 6d., or just below. One shop may charge 1s. 5 1/2 d. and other 1s. 4d. for the same brand.

 

Another instance, is instant coffee, a 2oz. tin is recognisable at 2s. 3d. or 2s. 4d. But it can be as high as 2s. 10d.

 

A fair recognition price for butter is 3s. 6d. a lb., such as Anchor brand. Some supermarkets sell their own label for as little as 3s. 2d., while some home-produced, as well as French or Dutch butter, can cost 4s. a lb.

 

With margarine, such as Stork, a housewife knows that 1s. 9d. is a good price. But some shops charge 1s. 11d.

 

Mum Zakes had recently bought a 3lb. bag of McDougall’s self-raising flour (to help Dad Zakes improve his performance(s)) for 1s. 11 1/2d. If she’d have taken the trouble to go to another shop she could have paid 1 1/2d. less.

 

Shops often cut the prices of their products making a minimal profit as a “come on.”

 

If women have the time and believe in saving pennies, or even halfpennies, then it is worthwhile to shop around.

 

Zakes will advise Mum Zakes to shop in future at the Castle Market, in Town…”Its ours, leave it alone!”

 

 

---------------------------

 

 

Frozen strawberries no longer taste jammy because of the new nitrogen freezing technique. They are in the shops under the Findus label, at 2s. 6d. a 6oz polythene pack.

 

For years, the frozen food manufacturers have been trying to imitate the taste and texture of the unique fish-and-chip-shop batter. With not much success. Birds Eye brought out Crispy Cod Fries, but the firm were not really satisfied. They are far more enthusiastic about their cod fillets in batter. These need deep frying for 10 minutes and cost 2s. 10d. a pack.

 

From the same firm comes yet another variety of the top-selling fish cakes. After plain, salmon and cheese – now the savoury sort. Two in a 4oz pack cost 1s. 3d. These fish cakes can be used as rather large nibbles at casual get-togethers, but they will never be the life and sole at parties.

 

 

---------------------------

 

 

It’s all a load of codswallop, really.

 

Zakes much preferred his Mums home-made chips with skate nobs, covered with two generous splodges of Hammonds brown source, 11d. a bottle. Yum Yum.

 

 

---------------------------

 

 

Product prices are correct at the time of going to press.

 

---------- Post added 05-02-2018 at 13:07 ----------

 

The Study of Birds 1967. Part 1 of 3. A heartily light view.

 

To protect the identity of persons mentioned in he following short story… some names are fictionally made up. This does not affect the statutory rights of those persons, nor of the reader.

_______________

It had been a strange few days at Newstead, and at Birley. Zakes’ pals, some ‘of the day’, and most othrewise, seemed to have disappeared. As it was holiday time, Zakes thought they would have been out playing. It seemed so weird that familiar faces had become so scarce. It was possible his mates may have gone on day-trips with their parents… Skegness is so bracing at this time of year, or maybe some of them were at home suffering from sunburn. Perhaps they were busy readin’ through their piles of comics, or mornging about the house. Zakes came to the conclusion that some of them may have done what he had done last half-term. He had gone to Rippon’s newsagent shop on Birley Moor Road, and had swiped a magazine or two from the top-shelf, and had taken them home with him. Ba—ing-out id=s the norm for most healthy 13 year old boys of the nation at this time of year.

_______________

Having clicked… the house door shut, Zakes left home. He glanced up to the firmament to see the day-light star smiling down upon him. The four seasons fill the measure of the year, and right now Zakes was enjoying the warmest of those seasons. A pair of Magpies flew by at 2 o’clock, even though it was only 11 o’clock. Moments later, a swallow called Martin also flew swift-ly by. Zakes’ chirpy chums, his plumed pals, enjoyed this time of year. They flew so much better than those men in their flying machines. Those so called magnificent men would never ever match the synchronised aerial displays of the avian community. Such freedom.

_______________

 

Although he enjoyed Summer-time, Zakes knew it wouldn’t be long afore the cool foggy mornings of Autumn arrived. Oh, the cold wind doth blow. Winter then would follow, bringing cold and darkness, ice and snow. The hardy pollarded willows would then turn to a ephemeral foliage of frost to a sky of silent slate.

 

Spring-time would then slowly creep in. This was the season Zakes loved best. Buds on the trees and shrubs, blossom-studded meadows, birds excitedly twittering and home building, flowers, plants, and girls with a spring (pun) in their step. Their thin lips of Winter becoming fuller lips in Spring-time, their smiles becoming wider, and their facial features becoming softer, to excitedly excite the boys. Who could ever forget those oh, so sweet melodic tuneful voices? All sensible boys appreciate the charm and the prettiness of girls. Thank-you God.

_______________

On reaching the roadside of his road (Newstead Rise), Zakes saw before him a group, consisting 6 girls. The girls were ungainly attempting to play French Skipping. Zakes did well to stifle a disrespectful laugh. Zakes had played this gameon many occasions with his Cousin Daphne, and four other likely girls, who always seemed to be up for it. He knew all the moves, and all the technical phrases to French Skippin’. Easy-peasy melon (anagram) squeezy. It was as easy as snatching lozenges off a pensioner.

 

Ins and outs-ons-diamonds-unders and overs-jumps-catapults and swizzles…… Swizzels, Refreshers, Drumstick Lollies, Parma Violets, Rainbow Drops, Love Hearts (Be mine, Kiss me, All yours), and Banana Chews … Ummm Yummy! Mr. Hughes, the local dentist at 130 Birley Moor Road, would be smilingly waiting with his black gassing-mask, and with his shiny pliers sticking out from his top pocket. Mr. Hughes proudly drove a Sheffield made car, a Fairley Convertible.

_______________

It was unlucid who the person was who invented French Skipping. It had at one time been suggested, it was a cordon bleu chef at a hotel in Skipton, who had invented it. Marcel the cook, had been at the local market one wet Tuesday, to purchase Skipjacques Tuna. On his return journey back to the hotel, he had decided to skip off work for an hour. Whilst sitting upon a red white and blue coloured bench opposite the local rope making factory, Marcel had observed young children joyfully playing, and the in-seine idea of a new skipping game had jumped into his head. Sacre Bleu!

_______________

From the skipping group of six girls, four of them were sisters, the other two girls weren’t. The four sisters were the daughters of Mr and Mrs Glencoe, who both originated from Bannockburn, in Scotland. The Glencoe clan had now been living for over a year on Newstead… of Bannockburn.

 

Mr. Glencoe made his money working as an odd-job-man. He was a Jock-of-all-trades. Mr. Glencoe’s hair was cropped short like an Army recruit’s. He was slight of build and had a clumsy gait. He was a mean-spirited man, and any sarcasm threw him into a paroxysm of fury. He often used his fists when his mouth would have sufficed. He had a dark evil right eye, the left eye was made of Glaswegian glass. He was as cunning as a swamp rat.

 

Mrs. Glencoe was the mentally indolent wife of Mr. Glencoe. She was a dypsomaniac who worked as a spiritualist, two bottles a day. She was skinny, narrow shouldered and somewhat stooped. When she smiled (seldom) one could see her chipped teeth were the same colour as her weak watery eyes… green. Her runny nose and her chin were pointed, her lips pressed together looked like a scar. The mud bespatted plimsolls she always wore were size 4.

 

The Glencoe’s proudly owned a Sheffield made car, a Cavendish.

 

To be continued.

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The Study of Birds 1967. Part 2 of 3.

 

Upon the wooden bench at the bottom of Rippon’s driveway, Zakes sat. He was in a mood of light pensivity. He had moments earlier spent time thinking about his hero. His hero was an isolated outsider, but was certainly not lonely. He was slightly disaffected by his job, and was often in conflict with his boss. In a twilight world he lived. Zakes would be seeing his hero later on this very day.

The next person on Zakes’ pensivity list, was himself. Zakes often enjoyed to scrutinize himself, because he loved to bathe in the pool of his undoubted brilliance.

 

He enjoyed walking, because he knew the life of the sole is the eternal soul.

He was always optimistic, knowing hope is a great sense of strength.

He allowed nothing to elude, or delude him… except his own mind.

He never allowed memories to fade, and he never spread secrets.

He could be trusted.

He knew that in other people’s eyes he was the salt and pepper in their stew.

He was the perfect genius… with hindsight.

He was much liked by most.

He saw everything, the vertical and the horizontal, and at times the form of things uknown to others.

He always had his mind fully expanded to the limit.

He never attempted to adjust the picture. He was controlling his missions at all times. Observancy was his strength.

He didn’t know at this time, that in circa 18 years time, he would be in some ways emulating his hero of today.

_______________

 

As Zakes was about to de-seat himself from the wooden bench, he was approached by a girl he knew from the Birley Estate. A bright bird called Helen Sharp. Helen lived on Thornbridge Crescent. Zakes knew Helen well, very well. Helen was a studious, industrious pupil at school, and was destined to one day get top marks in ‘O’ level (Zakes knew that already. Cough, cough), but it was felt she mightn’t be arsed to sit ‘A’ level. Helen was short and rotund, and inclined to giggle and gag-gle. She was unsupple, but nervously alert. She kept her piercing green eyes averted from Zakes’ clear blue eyes, because she knew Zakes was capable of reading the minds of others. Helen’s well-tended hazel-coloured hair was hatless, and she was quite quietly dressed.

_______________

 

Zakes was actually on the look-out for a nice piece-of-skirt, but he didn’t want to make the past mistake(s) of his Dad. Dad Zakes had married below himself… most men do. Zakes would take his time in choosing the reight bird to satisfy his expectations.

_______________

 

37 yards before the first of the Frecheville shops, Zakes came across two familiar faces, with bodies attached. Penny Pike and Sally Fisher. These two girls lived at Birley, and were in the same year as Zakes at Birley School. Upon seeing Zakes both girls blushed crimson. They had the honour, pleasure and distinction of knowing Zakes, and they knew he could charm the ears off an elephant. They told Zakes they had been bowling, down at the nearby Bowling Alley. Zakes already knew this, because he had already espied their gaudily-coloured stripey footwear, their beffy biceps, and their outsized thumbs.

 

Penny was a walking volcano of frustrated lust. Her face looked as thought it had been created in a plasticine by a five year old child. She was locked in a world she couldn’t for one day or night escape. She spoke woodenly, as though giving evidence in a court of law. Penny wore ‘War on Want’ clothing, and was a disgrace to the Empire.

 

Sally wanted to be a Sarah Bernhardt, a Hollywood Arc Angel riding on silver wings. The expression of her green eyes was expressive. Her nose was Grecian, not Roman. She smiled at Zakes, but it didn’t raise his blood pressure. She was the owner of large and square teeth, and she walked in the manner of a marionette. Sally’s emancipated mother had recently purchased a Sheffield made car… a Stringer.

_______________

 

On reaching the world famous Frecheville shopping parade, Zakes came across two girls, Beryl Stone and Charmaine Littlewood. Both girls lived on Hackenthorpe, and had come up to Frecheville on a shopping spree. Charmaine’s Dad had recently had a touch on the coupon, Zetters, although he was called Vernon. Whilst in conversation, Beryl offered up to Zakes her opened bag of spice. Zakes dipped his hand in, extracted seven Kola Kubes, then piled ‘em into his gaping cake-hole. The spice tasted more like Koala than Kola. Zakes would ask his Auntie Jean about these spice when next he saw her. Auntie Jean is a renowned confectioneress who made spice, her speciality being Eucalyptus flavoured toffee.

 

Whilst chattering about past times when all three of them had attended Birley Spa Juniors together, Zakes was pleased to note that both girls had retained their Hackenthorpian accents, and humour.

 

Bery’s face was (un)pleasantly cross-hatched with lines and wrinkles, her sorrel coloured hair was styled to give her a matronic cowbag like look. She seemed destined to lead a dull and uneventful life. She was also a little broad in the beam. She wore a chocolate-brown cardigan with pink piping.

 

Charmaine was charming. On her pallid face was plainly writ anticipation. The sunlight was bouncing off her sunlit hair. Her eyes were set in a face of Iberian contours and her Cupid’s Bow was thin, but her Darwin Points were too prominent, she should grow her hair longer. Charmaine was a modern Miss, nobody was going to keep her waiting. Her elder brother had just started a job (his first) as head doorman at the Pink Pussycat nightclub, in downtown Sheffield. Charmaine was as flat as the proverbial mill-pond. Charmaine’s Dad enjoyed cruising around in his Sheffield made car, A La Plata.

 

To be continued.

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'Doctor' Zakes 1967 Part 1 of 3. Dedicated to Mr F.

 

This is a story about a boy who is too clever to go to Grammar School. Although his grammar in school isn't too clever.

 

--

 

Having spent many weeks and many months, reading many medical books at the local library, in Frecheville. And having spent much time wetching Dr. Findlay and Dr. Cameron and Janet, who all resided in Tannochbraye, on telly, Zakes had decided he'd like to become a fully fledged doctor. Zakes had also gained many medical tips about being a doctor, by wetching Emergency Ward 10, also on telly.

 

Because Zakes was only 13 years of age, he knew he would have to work small-time, and without a license. It wasn't vanity that was urging him on, but the thought of helping people who were suffering, to not suffer any longer than was necessary. He decided he would like to doctor the ailments of South-Eastern Sheffielders. He hoped to do well, gain popularity, and generally go down like a dose of salts in South-East-Sheffield, but not in Epsom, Liver-pool, nor in Saxa-Coburg Gotha, or in Salzburg. Siberia was too far away, as was Utah.

 

--

 

Because Zakes didnt want to have the British Medical Association (BMA) on the posterior part of his body, extending from the neck to the pelvis, he chose not to take up premises. Instead, he would hold surgery alfresco. His surgery would consist of two fishermen stools, placed inside a narrow tall tent. The tent would be erected on the wide pavement, situated outside the B&C Co-op shop on Birley Moor Crescent. Surgey hours would be conducted n a convivial atmosphere, Friday tea-time and Saturday mornings, 4 times monthly. Charges would be charged to patients for advice and, or treatment.

 

Due to Zake's initial financial embarrassment, he wasnt able to afford black silken knickers with matching bra, suspender belt, plus sheer black stockings. For this reason, he would have to practice at his practice, without the assistance of a long-legged natural blonde nurse.

 

Having obtained a designer stethoscopic stethoscope at Jamieson's Chemist, at Frecheville shops, Zakes was now almost ready to open business. He was sincerely hoping word had gotten around the stataes of Birley, Newstead, Hackenthorpe, Basegreen, and Freceheville, and that the people of those areas had by now read his professionally made up pamphlet.

 

---

2 months later.

 

 

'Doctor' Zake's Case Book.

 

Now in the ninth week of his successful practice, 'Doctor' Zakes gave to himself a happy smile. He was pleased with himself for having successfully advised and treated his patients, because none of them had come back to see him. Either they were cured or they were laid out on a cold marble slab in the mortal mortuary on t'Manor.

 

Since opening business over 2 months ago 'Doctor' Zakes had cured many acute cases of:

 

 

Convulsions

Clapham Clap

Left-handedness

Coughs

Colds

Scarlet Fever

nettle rash

shingles

Rubella

Inflammation of the lungs

Chicken pox

Typhoid

Watery brain

blob on nob, and

Lovelornness.

 

-------

 

Today, 'Doctor' Zakes had a few more appointments then was finished for the weekend.

 

At about 08:43 precisely, the third Saturday patient arrived at the tent flap. Due to patient confidentiality, his name was Malcolm Muggercrest. After a terse greeting, Malcolm informed 'Doctor' Zakes of his ailment...worms. Zakes had treated Mr. Muggercrest for a different ailment the previous month (hairs in the palms of his hand). Zakes didn't like the look of this weird looking man. He looked like a dead fish floating in a stream, with its head filled with 'pills and pot', a despicable type. Zakes was now tempted to give him the wrong treatment, but he knew he had to be professional.

 

"Well, Mester Muggercrest, I can see form your pale face and hollow sunken eyes. I can smell your nasty breath too, and I can also see your nose and your fundament are itching, because you keep touching them. I presume you have a changeable appetite, frequent pains in the stomach, and you grind your teeth during sleep. Is this correct, Mester Muggercrest?"

 

"Yes, Doctor Zakes, everything you have said is correct. Please help me."

 

"Ok, Mester Muggercrest, now listen very carefully. If you obey my instructions to every detail you will save yourself from an early cold grave."

 

"Your cure: take a Dr. Beeching Powder and a tablespoon of black treacle each morning one hour afore breakfast. This will eventually kill the worms and bring them away with the stools. At breakfast, drink a pint of cold boiled milk with a tablespoon of brown sugar in it. Also take a teaspoon of Castor, NOT! Castrol oil, or Flower of Brimstone, once every two days. Also, inject occasionally with a squirt syringe, a little sweet oil up the fundament, for there the worms principally reside. You will need lots of fresh country air. A train journey will take you to such a place. The charge, for you, Mester Muggercrest, is 37/6. Cash. Good Day."

 

--------

 

9 minutes later, the next patient arrived. It was Suzy Sizemore, who lived on the nearby Newstead estate. Her complaining ailment was Sore Nipples.

 

After Suzy had released he rather large blub-blubs from her silky lollypop-pink blouse and matching bra. 'Doctor' Zakes made an inspection (with his eyes) of the problematic problem. Then he spoke!

 

"Well, Suzy love, I can see why you have come to see me. Greasy ointments are of little use to you. The best way to keep abreast of sore nipples, is to bathe them frequently with a solution of Burnt Alum in cold rose water. The nipples should always be kept dry and clean. If the problem continues, please return in 2 weeks. I will have by then a very special solution ready to be rubbed into your breast. The charge for your treatment today is: A 4oz bag of Pear Drops, 10 Carlton cigarettes, and the latest issues of The Topper and The Beezer. I'm looking forward to seeing you in a fortnight. Good day to you, Suzy."

 

--

 

To be continued.

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'Doctor' Zakes 1967 Part 1 of 3. Dedicated to Mr F.

 

This is a story about a boy who is too clever to go to Grammar School. Although his grammar in school isn't too clever.

 

--

 

Having spent many weeks and many months, reading many medical books at the local library, in Frecheville. And having spent much time wetching Dr. Findlay and Dr. Cameron and Janet, who all resided in Tannochbraye, on telly, Zakes had decided he'd like to become a fully fledged doctor. Zakes had also gained many medical tips about being a doctor, by wetching Emergency Ward 10, also on telly.

 

Because Zakes was only 13 years of age, he knew he would have to work small-time, and without a license. It wasn't vanity that was urging him on, but the thought of helping people who were suffering, to not suffer any longer than was necessary. He decided he would like to doctor the ailments of South-Eastern Sheffielders. He hoped to do well, gain popularity, and generally go down like a dose of salts in South-East-Sheffield, but not in Epsom, Liver-pool, nor in Saxa-Coburg Gotha, or in Salzburg. Siberia was too far away, as was Utah.

 

--

 

Because Zakes didnt want to have the British Medical Association (BMA) on the posterior part of his body, extending from the neck to the pelvis, he chose not to take up premises. Instead, he would hold surgery alfresco. His surgery would consist of two fishermen stools, placed inside a narrow tall tent. The tent would be erected on the wide pavement, situated outside the B&C Co-op shop on Birley Moor Crescent. Surgey hours would be conducted n a convivial atmosphere, Friday tea-time and Saturday mornings, 4 times monthly. Charges would be charged to patients for advice and, or treatment.

 

Due to Zake's initial financial embarrassment, he wasnt able to afford black silken knickers with matching bra, suspender belt, plus sheer black stockings. For this reason, he would have to practice at his practice, without the assistance of a long-legged natural blonde nurse.

 

Having obtained a designer stethoscopic stethoscope at Jamieson's Chemist, at Frecheville shops, Zakes was now almost ready to open business. He was sincerely hoping word had gotten around the stataes of Birley, Newstead, Hackenthorpe, Basegreen, and Freceheville, and that the people of those areas had by now read his professionally made up pamphlet.

 

---

2 months later.

 

 

'Doctor' Zake's Case Book.

 

Now in the ninth week of his successful practice, 'Doctor' Zakes gave to himself a happy smile. He was pleased with himself for having successfully advised and treated his patients, because none of them had come back to see him. Either they were cured or they were laid out on a cold marble slab in the mortal mortuary on t'Manor.

 

Since opening business over 2 months ago 'Doctor' Zakes had cured many acute cases of:

 

 

Convulsions

Clapham Clap

Left-handedness

Coughs

Colds

Scarlet Fever

nettle rash

shingles

Rubella

Inflammation of the lungs

Chicken pox

Typhoid

Watery brain

blob on nob, and

Lovelornness.

 

-------

 

Today, 'Doctor' Zakes had a few more appointments then was finished for the weekend.

 

At about 08:43 precisely, the third Saturday patient arrived at the tent flap. Due to patient confidentiality, his name was Malcolm Muggercrest. After a terse greeting, Malcolm informed 'Doctor' Zakes of his ailment...worms. Zakes had treated Mr. Muggercrest for a different ailment the previous month (hairs in the palms of his hand). Zakes didn't like the look of this weird looking man. He looked like a dead fish floating in a stream, with its head filled with 'pills and pot', a despicable type. Zakes was now tempted to give him the wrong treatment, but he knew he had to be professional.

 

"Well, Mester Muggercrest, I can see form your pale face and hollow sunken eyes. I can smell your nasty breath too, and I can also see your nose and your fundament are itching, because you keep touching them. I presume you have a changeable appetite, frequent pains in the stomach, and you grind your teeth during sleep. Is this correct, Mester Muggercrest?"

 

"Yes, Doctor Zakes, everything you have said is correct. Please help me."

 

"Ok, Mester Muggercrest, now listen very carefully. If you obey my instructions to every detail you will save yourself from an early cold grave."

 

"Your cure: take a Dr. Beeching Powder and a tablespoon of black treacle each morning one hour afore breakfast. This will eventually kill the worms and bring them away with the stools. At breakfast, drink a pint of cold boiled milk with a tablespoon of brown sugar in it. Also take a teaspoon of Castor, NOT! Castrol oil, or Flower of Brimstone, once every two days. Also, inject occasionally with a squirt syringe, a little sweet oil up the fundament, for there the worms principally reside. You will need lots of fresh country air. A train journey will take you to such a place. The charge, for you, Mester Muggercrest, is 37/6. Cash. Good Day."

 

--------

 

9 minutes later, the next patient arrived. It was Suzy Sizemore, who lived on the nearby Newstead estate. Her complaining ailment was Sore Nipples.

 

After Suzy had released he rather large blub-blubs from her silky lollypop-pink blouse and matching bra. 'Doctor' Zakes made an inspection (with his eyes) of the problematic problem. Then he spoke!

 

"Well, Suzy love, I can see why you have come to see me. Greasy ointments are of little use to you. The best way to keep abreast of sore nipples, is to bathe them frequently with a solution of Burnt Alum in cold rose water. The nipples should always be kept dry and clean. If the problem continues, please return in 2 weeks. I will have by then a very special solution ready to be rubbed into your breast. The charge for your treatment today is: A 4oz bag of Pear Drops, 10 Carlton cigarettes, and the latest issues of The Topper and The Beezer. I'm looking forward to seeing you in a fortnight. Good day to you, Suzy."

 

--

 

To be continued.

 

Genius :thumbsup:

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Sylvia Sylversydes, from Rainbow Way, Hackenthorpe, was the next patient of the day to have an appointment with Doctor Zakes, Sylvia was slim and slender and was quite tall at 5 feet 1 inch. She possessed yellow coloured shoulder length hair which was twisted into corkscrew curls. She was heartbreakingly beautiful. Sylvia told to Doctor Zakes her complaint was whooping cough.

 

‘Doctor’ Zakes stubbed out his cigarette, then spoke’ “Well Sylvia”, “nobody can mistake this complaint. With its weird whooping sound, half-coughing, half-retching. With proper care and proper remedies, it is soon easily cured”.

 

“Your cure.”

 

“Take a Dr Beeching powder with a little sugar, jam or marmalade, thrice daily, then take 32 minutes later, 2 tablespoons full of pure lemon juice. Allowed is a diet of milk and bread, eggs, milk puddings, Victory ‘V’s, and meat, but no beef or swan. Out-door exercise is permitted but avoid damp air. A train journey to the country side would be just the ticket for you Sylvia. Unfortunately, your lovely smile is not enough to cover the cost of my treating you. A large bottle of Jusoda, 10 Strand ciggies, and a copy of this week’s Hotspur is my requirement. Toodle-oo.”

 

--

 

After a quick Kensitas ciggie behind the Frecheville hotel pub (Whitbread) and a cup of tea, Zakes bowed his greeting to his next patient…Wendy Watts. Zakes had often seen Wendy shopping at the shops. She always succeeded in ‘sprucing up his voltage’. He must, at all times remain professional, he told himself.

 

“Hello Doctor Zakes, you are a sight for sore eyes.” Murmured Wendy. “yes Wendy, I can see with eyes that you have sore eyes” murmured ‘Doctor’ Zakes. “Young ladies like you are liable to weak watery, sore, protruding, inflamed latch-eyes…Marty Feldman would be very proud of you. Bath your eyes 6 times a day with a lotion made up of thirty-seven grains of White Vitriol, dissolved in six fluid ounces of Chestnut scented rose-water. If your eyes become more inflamed, apply for 10 minutes a small mustard poultice to the nape of your neck.” Advised ‘Doctor’ Zakes.

 

“What is a mustard poultice?” asked Wendy with hope in her voice, and in her sore eyes.”

 

“Quite simple really, Wendy. Mix three teaspoons full of Flour of Mustard with half the white of an Ostrich egg. After you have made a stiff paste form the ingredients, spread it onto a piece of calico or brown paper, then apply it onto the nape of your neck, keeping it there for 600 seconds. Then clean your neck with a little warm water and cover it with soft linen. The poultice can be used again if repeated within twenty-four hours. The poultice is a wonderful counter-irritant. By using the poultice in the correct manner, you will soon see the light at the end of the tunnel.”

 

“As payment for my kind treatment, my fee is a pack of 20 woodbines, and a box of Three Torches safety matches, because they are the best strikers since Billy Gillespie, and ‘Doc’ Pace.”

 

--

 

Trevor Rovert was sat upon the patient’s fisherman’s stool with a look of desperation across his square hatchet-face. He was wanting ‘Doctor’ Zakes to help him to rid him of Ringworm.

 

“(Un)well Trevor, this skin disease begins with a small red pimple, which gradually spreads and arranges itself into a ring-like form. It itches very much and when scratched becomes worse. It is very catching among young people like ourselves. You can get it from sharing a comb, brush, a crepe-paper party hat, or towel of another. It is very difficult to cure.”

 

“My brilliant advice to cure your ringworm is as follows”:

 

“Take 2 fluid ounces of Tincture of Iron, commonly called ‘Steel Drops’ mixed with four tablespoons full of Soft Water; bathe the ringworm with it night and morning. Let a little of the lotion dry on. I also advise you to take a Dr. Beechings powder thrice daily. This should, get your wheels turning again, and prevent you from going off the rails. Also, drink twice daily, a small glass of porter, which will guard against any further tender-ness, and prevent you from going loco.

 

My fee. As it is also almost Xmas-time I will be wanting one of those special boxes or tin with half a hundred cigarettes inside. My preferred brand is, Craven “A”.

 

--

 

Andrew Warden was next to be seen to. Andrew was unsurprisingly left looking less than chirpy. He had copped a dose of Thrush.

 

“Firstly Andrew, I believe you have injudiciously fed yourself to the point than little white sores, or small ulcers, have broken out inside your gob and throoat, on your tongue, and on your gums, say AAAH. These ulcers are called Thrush. Another cause of Thrush is the overheating of food which causes Acetous Fermentation, acidity, and inflammation…hence the Thrush. I also believe you are very popular with the ‘birds’ in your class at school. Have you been on the nest? You have also been wetchin’ too many episodes of The Man From U.N.C.L.E., on telly.

 

“Yes, its correct Doctor Zakes”. Uttered a down cast Andrew.

 

“Right then”, spoke ‘Doctor’ Zakes with his mouth. “I want you, five or six time s a day. to mop inside your mouth with a bit of rag, having previously dipped the rag in the following mixture: honey, 2 ounces: Seidlitz powder or Roche Alum… your choice, 2 ounces, mixed together.”

 

Also, take a Dr Beeching powder, once daily, which will correct all acidities and put you back on track. Take also a generous dessert spoonful of mixed rhubarb and magnesia once or twice a day. Beetroot will also suffice if you don’t have rhubarb. That was the cure, now for some serious advice.”

 

“To prevent going down with another dose of thrush, you must immediately desist from frottin’ and mankin’ with the ‘birds’ at school. Most importantly, cease using a toilet seat other than your own. Although you are a train spotter, and have a one-track mind, further journeys to Grimsby docks should at all costs be avoided.”

 

“For this informative information my charge is a tin of 5 Grandee cigars, and a box of Made in Sweden blue-tipped matches, a bar of Five Faces chocolate, and an Elephant Foot from the Fletcher’s van, which is due in 8 minutes time.”

 

--

 

At 11.14 the penultimate patient of the day arrived at the tented surgery. Her name was Lesley Selley, Frecheville’s finest. Lesley was a voluptuous Jezebel, and Aphrodite at the waterhole. Lesley was suffering from Epedemic Parotitis, which made he look somewhat mumpish and mawkish. He ailment is a contagious viral disease of the Parotid salivary glands, characterized by swelling at both sides of the neck. Mumps is feverish and causes pain beneath the ears.

 

“Doctor” Zake’s cure:

 

“The swellings should be gently rubbed twice daily with a mixture of Hartshorn and Linseed Oil, the face being afterwards tied up with washed flannel. A Dr Beeching powder should be taken every other day. This should help your train of thought. The swellings should lessen by the fifth day.”

 

“That will cost you a pipe, swipe your grandad’s if need be, a 2oz pack of Condor nut flavoured pipe tobacco, plus a Caramac Bar. Thank you Lesley”.

 

--

 

The final poorly patient of the day was Gary Gray who hailed from Basegreen. Gary arrived at 2 minutes to closing time. Doctor Zakes decided to treat Gary to treatment. Gary had come to the surgery because he was feeling hot-headed. His complaint was Scalded Head.

 

This made Doctor Zakes scratch his bonce. This was a most unusual ailment, and try as he might, this really did test his patien(ts)ce. However, after a few ticks he remembered all about Scalded Head. It isn’t as painful as trapping ones ‘head’ in a zip, but nonetheless, quite uncomfortable.

 

“Right then Gary, this disease commences with small watery eruptions, which come at the roots of the hair, and drying, form nasty dry crusts…scabs on the head. It arises from uncleanness, or a bad state of blood. This makes it possible that you a dirty little bleedah! You can also catch Scalded Head from another by wearing his (her) cap, or using the same pillow, comb, or brush”.

 

“To cure this, this is my cure.”

 

“Wash your head every morning with soft soap and warm water. Use also a lotion of vinegar and pulped dandelion petals, no burdock required. Alternatively, Tar water is also a good remedy. Tar water is soon made by pouring boiled water onto a pennyworth of Swedish Tar; when cold it is fit for use. Drink a gallon and a half each day”.

 

“The fee I am charging you is: 10 Sullivan & Powell Turkish Blend cigarettes, a small jar of Twining’s Coffee spread, a kilo bag of Rainbow Drops, and a pack of YZ chewing gum.”

 

“BTW Gary, if you have a problem obtaining the Swedish tar, and, the pulped dandelion petals in Sheffield, you may have to travel a distance to get them, there is special specialist shop”:

 

Hull, Baker and Confectioner,

4, Thornham Lane,

Castleton.

 

“I am not certain whether it is the Castleton in Derbys, Lancs, or in Cumberland. If you don’t have pigeons, you can write a letter, postcard, or send a telegram to a:

 

Mr. P.Hillsbro, a.k.a. Robbo the stamp collector

Dykes Hall Road

Hillsborough,

Near Sheffield.

 

He may be able to help you although I think it doubtful. Don’t forget my fags and my spice, you scruffy sod! .. Get well soon.”

 

 

 

 

To be Continued.

Edited by zakes
poor secretarial skills

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A good read as always, zakes! :thumbsup: But you can keep your Craven "A" - give me Passing Clouds any day..:)

 

Yes, very good read, what made me laugh most, was the reference to your goodself.

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