Born in the 40's, 50's, 60's??

[mikeG 16]

Well, if you went to Abbeydale I reckon it was YOU who was posh! There was I at a back-street Junior (Malin Bridge). But I did go on to King Edward's, though I felt like a fish out of water. And the food was worse, though my dinner-lady friend Ada always gave me a bit more rice pudding...

 

You must have started at King Teds round about the time I left which was at Xmas 1959. I think Billy Effron was still teaching then, and of course big Nat occupied the Head's study. Was glad to get out - into the real world.

[Wadsleyite 10]

You must have started at King Teds round about the time I left which was at Xmas 1959. I think Billy Effron was still teaching then, and of course big Nat occupied the Head's study. Was glad to get out - into the real world.

 

Indeed, I started at King Teds in 1959. I've heard tell of Billy Effron but I think he had left (he retired in 1956 according to http://nlc.oldedwardians.org.uk). Fat Nat (Nathaniel Langford Clapton, 1903-67) ruled the school with a rod of iron. I was also glad to leave but I liked some of the masters, notably Edgar Vernon (Chemistry) and Walter Birkinshaw (Maths). Good school...

[pitsmoorlad 10]

Indeed, I started at King Teds in 1959. I've heard tell of Billy Effron but I think he had left (he retired in 1956 according to http://nlc.oldedwardians.org.uk). Fat Nat (Nathaniel Langford Clapton, 1903-67) ruled the school with a rod of iron. I was also glad to leave but I liked some of the masters, notably Edgar Vernon (Chemistry) and Walter Birkinshaw (Maths). Good school...

 

For some reason I always liked the chips at King Ted's. The dinner ladies used to look after me after I told them that my Mum was a dinner lady too.

 

I was there 62 - 67, and didn't like Vernon ( cos he gave me the cane), didn't like Baker, or Dep Head Jackson. Bert Towers was OK though.

[CIGV 10]

what is it about dinner ladies, that you all like the ones we had were like shrek

[Wadsleyite 10]

For some reason I always liked the chips at King Ted's. The dinner ladies used to look after me after I told them that my Mum was a dinner lady too.

 

I was there 62 - 67, and didn't like Vernon ( cos he gave me the cane), didn't like Baker, or Dep Head Jackson. Bert Towers was OK though.

 

Bert (Robert Nigel) Towers was a great teacher. He took me for history in the first year – it wasn’t widely known that he had a history degree as well as geography. I can hardly remember a lesson when he didn’t find an excuse to switch on his beloved epidiascope. He died ten years ago, aged 83. See http://nlc.oldedwardians.org.uk/staff/RNTowers.html. I saw Baker in c. 1972 when he came into the bank where I worked; it must have been shortly after this that he got a new job at a school in West Yorkshire. I heard that he later ended up in prison after being convicted of embezzling school funds. Jackson wasn't all that bad, but a bit strict. I think he's still going strong and lives near Endcliffe Park.

 

We must have had all the best dinner ladies at Malin Bridge and King Ted's...

[CIGV 10]

first your ham sandwiches and now your dinner ladies, boasting is not attractive in a man

[Sparkytom 10]

can anyone remember what that horrible tasting malt stuff was called, my mum made me have a spoonful everyday, I think it came from the welfare clinic.

And plastic sandals oh the shame if you had to wear them.

Kids today are not brought up with the same values because they would be bullied by other kids if they were, although we were posh we had egg sandwiches not jam

 

I seem to remeber it being call Malt & Codliver Oil. I didn't mind that too much, it was the codliver oil on it's own that made me throw up. I still remember having to queue up every day for a teas spoon of CLO (during the war) and only one of the carers felt sorry for me and gave me Malt and CLO. Thankfully Cod Liver Oil capsules came out and my mother made us take one every morning. The trouble was they seemed to always burst when we had morning third of a pint of milk at school and that horrible taste came from the stomach.

[Wadsleyite 10]

I seem to remeber it being call Malt & Codliver Oil. I didn't mind that too much, it was the codliver oil on it's own that made me throw up. I still remember having to queue up every day for a teas spoon of CLO (during the war) and only one of the carers felt sorry for me and gave me Malt and CLO. Thankfully Cod Liver Oil capsules came out and my mother made us take one every morning. The trouble was they seemed to always burst when we had morning third of a pint of milk at school and that horrible taste came from the stomach.

 

They used to give us the cod liver oil separately, as well - it was awful, but they gave us a spoonful of concentrated orange juice first to make it taste better. But you can still get the Malt & Cod Liver Oil concoction - see http://althealth.co.uk/products/details.php?id=4408 Shall we all meet up and have a Malt & Cod Liver Oil party?

[CIGV 10]

sorry but I am busy on that day so wont be able to make it

[Alastair 12]

FOUR SHEFFIELDFORUMERS

 

 

FIRST SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

Aye, very passable, that, very passable bit of risotto.

 

SECOND SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

Nothing like a good glass of Château de Chasselas, eh, Josiah?

 

THIRD SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

You're right there, Obadiah.

 

FOURTH SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

Who'd have thought thirty year ago we'd all be sittin' here drinking Château de Chasselas, eh?

 

FIRST SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

In them days we was glad to have the price of a cup o' tea.

 

SECOND SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

A cup o' cold tea.

 

FOURTH SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

Without milk or sugar.

 

THIRD SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

Or tea.

 

FIRST SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

In a cracked cup, an' all.

 

FOURTH SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

Oh, we never had a cup. We used to have to drink out of a rolled up newspaper.

 

SECOND SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

The best we could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth.

 

THIRD SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

But you know, we were happy in those days, though we were poor.

 

FIRST SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

Because we were poor. My old Dad used to say to me, "Money doesn't buy you happiness, son".

 

FOURTH SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

Aye, 'e was right.

 

FIRST SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

Aye, 'e was.

 

FOURTH SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

I was happier then and I had nothin'. We used to live in this tiny old house with great big holes in the roof.

 

SECOND SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

House! You were lucky to live in a house! We used to live in one room, all twenty-six of us, no furniture, 'alf the floor was missing, and we were all 'uddled together in one corner for fear of falling.

 

THIRD SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

Eh, you were lucky to have a room! We used to have to live in t' corridor!

 

FIRST SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

Oh, we used to dream of livin' in a corridor! Would ha' been a palace to us. We used to live in an old water tank on a rubbish tip. We got woke up every morning by having a load of rotting fish dumped all over us! House? Huh.

 

FOURTH SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

Well, when I say 'house' it was only a hole in the ground covered by a sheet of tarpaulin, but it was a house to us.

 

SECOND SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

We were evicted from our 'ole in the ground; we 'ad to go and live in a lake.

 

THIRD SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

You were lucky to have a lake! There were a hundred and fifty of us living in t' shoebox in t' middle o' road.

 

FIRST SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

Cardboard box?

 

THIRD SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

Aye.

 

FIRST SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

You were lucky. We lived for three months in a paper bag in a septic tank. We used to have to get up at six in the morning, clean the paper bag, eat a crust of stale bread, go to work down t' mill, fourteen hours a day, week-in week-out, for sixpence a week, and when we got home our Dad would thrash us to sleep wi' his belt.

 

SECOND SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

Luxury. We used to have to get out of the lake at six o'clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of 'ot gravel, work twenty hour day at mill for tuppence a month, come home, and Dad would thrash us to sleep with a broken bottle, if we were lucky!

 

THIRD SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

Well, of course, we had it tough. We used to 'ave to get up out of shoebox at twelve o'clock at night and lick road clean wit' tongue. We had two bits of cold gravel, worked twenty-four hours a day at mill for sixpence every four years, and when we got home our Dad would slice us in two wit' bread knife.

 

FOURTH SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night half an hour before I went to bed, drink a cup of sulphuric acid, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad and our mother would kill us and dance about on our graves singing Hallelujah.

 

FIRST SHEFFIELDFORUMER:

And you try and tell the young people of today that ..... they won't believe you.

 

ALL:

They won't!

[handypandy 14]

I didn't want this thread to fade away so I'm putting these couple of lines in that I remember from dear Tony Capstick's stand up routine about life in the backyard.

1) Sunday: Kid from down't yard knocks on't dooer," Me mam sez can she borra yer joint ter mek sum gravy"

 

2) Same Kid another day," Me mam sez wud yer sew er a shirt on this button"

 

3) " Them wert days when me mam wud mek a gret big meat an tater pie, shid use obbin foot ter owd crust up"

[Gangan 10]

CAPSTICK COMES HOME

 

 

I'll never forget that first day at t'pit. Me an' mi father worked a seventy two hour shift, an' then we walked home forty three mile through t'snow in us bare feet, huddled inside us clothes med out o' old sacks.

 

Eventually we trudged over t'hill until wi could see t'street light twinklin' in our village. Mi father smiled down at mi through t'icicles hangin' off his nose. "Nearly home now lad", he said.

 

We stumbled into t'house and stood there freezin' cold and tired out, shiverin' and miserable, in front o' t' meagre fire. Any road, mi mam says "Cheer up, lads. I've got you some nice brown bread and butter for yer tea."

 

Ee, mi father went crackers. He reached out and gently pulled mi mam towards 'im by t'throat. "You big fat, idle ugly wart", he said. "You gret useless spawny-eyed parrot-faced wazzock." ('E had a way wi words, mi father. He'd bin to college, y'know). "You've been out playin' bingo all afternoon instead o' gettin' some proper snap ready for me an' this lad", he explained to mi poor, little, purple-faced mam.

 

Then turnin' to me he said "Arthur", (He could never remember mi name), "here's half a crown. Nip down to t'chip 'oyl an' get us a nice piece o' 'addock for us tea. Man cannot live by bread alone." He were a reyt tater, mi father. He said as 'ow workin' folk should have some dignity an' pride an' self respect, an' as 'ow they should come home to summat warm an' cheerful.

 

An' then he threw mi mam on t'fire.

 

We didn't 'ave no tellies or shoes or bedclothes. We med us own fun in them days. Do you know, when I were a lad you could get a tram down into t'town, buy three new suits an' an ovvercoat, four pair o' good boots, go an' see George Formby at t'Palace Theatre, get blind drunk, 'ave some steak an' chips, bunch o' bananas an' three stone o' monkey nuts an' still 'ave change out of a farthing.

 

We'd lots o' things in them days they 'aven't got today - rickets, diptheria, Hitler and my, we did look well goin' to school wi' no backside in us trousers an' all us little 'eads painted purple because we 'ad ringworm.

 

They don't know they're born today!!!

 

 

Tony Capstick

1944 - 2003

 

Just found this....

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oAKZESdpWcs