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Ordinary Sheffielders.

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Posted (edited)

Recent events have set me thinking ,  It seems as though when the rich and famous pass on or just fade into  obscurity the Tabloids ,TV,  Forums and general media go into over drive about how marvellous or indeed bad the person or persons where or are .

 

So perhaps Sheffield forum can buck the trend just a little and ===== celebrate the lives of ordinary Sheffielders they may have know or have  known of who in their (your) opinion should be  remembered on these history and ex pats pages .

Edited by cuttsie
spelling still crap at that

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i think this is a great idea @cuttsie

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Barbara and Ray Wragg . Lottery winners who gave away a lot of their good fortune to the kids of Sheffield . Barbara sadly passed away .  They should be remembered and held in high regard 

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How about the late Peter Birtles? He was a classmate of mine at Carfield Junior School in the 1950s & later had an illustrious career in the steel industry finally became Managing Director at Forgemasters.

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Posted (edited)

So here goes I will kick off with a hero of mine who I met in my early twenty's  Ernest. or to give him his proper Sheffield moniker Ern the furn , 

 

Ernest was a furnis  man at Firth Browns he drank in the Rose House pub on South Road at Walkley, 

His dress was similar to many steel shift workers in the early sixties be flat cap always at an angle never straight above the eye , around his neck Ern always wore a white muffler ,the cloth used in this scarf was towel like and always tied in a traditional way of steelworkers  at that time, he wore a jacket with leather elbow pads and trousers that were always turned up above steel toe cap boots.

 

Now you may wonder what was so special about Ern and many others like him so here goes , 

Ernest always sat in the same corner seat in the Rose House tap room , it is the corner that is directly facing Carr Road if you look  at the front entrance to the pub.

I was a young married man at the time I met Ernest (we actually married young in those days for good or other reasons)  Ernest would always find time to listen to younger people and he took a interest in what I was up to when I sat in his corner.

One night I told Ernest  that Was saving up  for a record player or thinking of getting one on the never never.

The never never was a system that meant you paid weekly to Wigfalls or some other retailer for your goods , the interest was often more than the value of the goods when the last payment was up .

 

A couple of nights after our conversation Ern took me to one side and asked me to nip down to his terraced house that was around the fifth or sixth down from the top of Industry Street just two minuets walk from the Rose.

He accompanied me and we entered his front room by the door that faced the street.

 

He turned on the light and pointed to a  radio Gram that had two additional free standing speakers in the room corners ,Ern then turned the switch that set the turn table in motion and played a sound that I will never forget as  The Hall of the Mountain Kings blasted out of that Bang and Olsen unit , 

 

When the music stopped ,Ern asked what I thought about that , I replied that it was so real to listen to I actually imagined I was in front of an orchestra, . He then said pick it up tomorrow , I was flummoxed as to what he meant and asked what he was talking about , "Its thine " Ern said pick it up tomorrow , I objected and said I could not possibly take such a magnificent piece of kit without payment , Ernest replied that the only payment he needed was for me to enjoy my music and not to get into any debt by doing so .

 

I picked it up the next day and the Beatles , Sinatra, Presley as well as the Hall of the Mountain Kings based out of our front room on Hoole Street for many years after thanks to Ern the Fern . some more about Ern later as my typing finger is now giving me some gyp.

Edited by cuttsie

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Ernest smoked Woodbines ,  When the sun shone through the window of the Rose House tap room Ern's fag smoke was like story rising through the sun rays and here is one of them .

 

My adopted brother Alan died at the age of forty six , cancer it was that did for him he smoked Park Drives .

Any way the evening after our kids funeral I was sitting in Ernests tap room corner feeling very down and upset when I felt an arm around my shoulder and Ern gave me a big squeeze  and then told me in his broad Sheffield accent all about death and how it worked .

 

He explained that no one really dies , that one really leaves this Earth ,, in words that I can still hear now and are making me well up as I type he told that  when some one is cremated or buried  things happen that make sure we all are still around , 

 

He pointed at his fag smoke that was spiralling up to the Rose house fag stained ceiling ," see that smoke " he said ,"well when your Allen was cremated the smoke that rose out of that chimney was breathed in by all living things , It was breathed by the birds that fly in the air , those birds die or are eaten by other birds or animals , some times by us , so thats how life is ,"its impossible to actually completely leave this Earth and die" explained  Ern to me.

 

He did the same as to people who are buried , telling me how a dead person evolved into the land and environment around through water seepage and bugs etc .

 

I have never thought of death or dying any different from that night on , Thanks Ern the Furn you was a Star .

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what do people think about having both a remember Ordinary Sheffielders and an Obituaries page? 

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good idea , get the show on the road , lets get away from fake book .

 

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well its not going very well is it 

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So I will have another go.

 

Mrs Walters , Another Sheffielder who I have crossed paths with while criss crossing this great City at one time or another.

 

I seem to remember I have mentioned her on one thread  or anotherin the past before I was banned , but just in case the threads lost I will mention her again .

Some time in maybe the early 80's I was asked by Vic Spivey ,(dangerous structure expert town hall) if I would quote for a job at a large stone built house on Collegiate Crescent , the job involved under pinning to a bay window base as well as bits of re pointing to the elevations .

 

We started the work one fine summers day  in or around June  , the weather was very hot and being builders our thoughts soon turned to mashing time ,( for non locals that means having a tea break) . I was given the task of knocking on the back scullery door so as to test the water( so to speak ) on how we would stand when we wanted a brew at break or lunch times .

 

I knocked and waited , knocked again no answer , just as I was walking away I heard the key turn in the door and the door opened just enough for me to see a old lady standing behind it . She asked in a very quiet way what I wanted , I explained that we were wondering if we had to bring our own tea mashing facility's or would she be so kind as to boil a kettle for us at various times . 

 

She asked me how many of us and I replied that we were three handed , the three being my self as well as Tosh Wild my partner and our labourer Harry Allen . I was instructed to wait and she would  mash for us , A few minutes later she half opened the door and put a tray with three china cups ,saucers and a plate of biscuits on the top step that lead into her kitchen , I thanked her but before what I expected to be a bit of customer conversation Mrs Walters quickly closed the door and that was it.

 

This situation carried on for a day or two but gradually the door was opened a little wider as I tried to get a little conversation going as to the job in hand , or the weather ,garden and so on,

 

Around day three I found my self alone on the job as Tosh and Harry had gone elsewhere , I did not bother to knock for tea as I would soon be on my way home any way, when  much to my surprise Mrs Walters appeared and asked if I would like to enter the kitchen as she had just made tea , I entered the very large Victorian style kitchen an sat down at the big oak table while she poured out the drinks and offered me a plate of biscuits .

 

We made small talk as well as discussing the job in hand , She then told me that she was very reticent about meeting people she did not know ,which I took as explaining how she had been so stand offish up to now .

 

The tea breaks the became more easy and lasted longer as the next day or two passed and Mrs Walters after asking about my own family and life slowly explained her reticent in meeting working people .

 

She explained that as a young Jewish  girl she had escaped the Nazi's in Germany by being put on a train through France and then across the Channel to England finally ending up with a family in Sheffield ,  She told me that in Germany it was mostly the working classes that had turned on her family and this was the reason she was still after many years not good at talking to people who she did not know .

 

It turned out that she had trained as an Architect at Sheffield Uni and married a Dr from the City and they had built up their life around the local area ending in the very large and comfortable house on Collegiate Crescent .

 

Our friend ship developed and I was invited into the front lounge on occasions where  mrs Walters played the grand piano ,she played pieces from Beethoven ,Bach and Brahms , and explained to me how the music evolved through out Europe and then the entire World .

 

A few months later I was passing her house and decided to just call in to see how things  were . gave a knock on that back door and just as before the door was opened just enough for me to see Mrs Walters  ,When she recognised me she invited me in , we chatted for a minute or two and Asked how her piano playing was going on , she invited me into the large front living room and pointed to a glass pane in the bay window that had a small circler hole in it , "what is it " I asked , Old Mrs Walters just shrugged her shoulders and told that some one had fired a pellet through her window one night while she was sat at her piano . 

 

I often pass that house when travelling through Broomhall ,The house is now owned by the University , the windows are all lit with with folk visible inside working and studying but all I see is an old lady sat at grand piano and just another life story among the thousands that are lived every day in Sheffield 

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:)

Beautifully written story once again Mr Cuttsie - you certainly have a way with worms! :thumbsup:

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35 minutes ago, Mr Bloke said:

:)

Beautifully written story once again Mr Cuttsie - you certainly have a way with worms! :thumbsup:

Got it , will meet some one day eh!!!!!!! 

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