As I have said on a previous post, after we had been to the pictures on a Saturday afternoon, we quite often went over the park to playout our ideas of the films that we had watched. Now you must understand that, with my Dad as Parkie, I was sometimes limited in where I could play but if he came down to stop us playing in a certain place then we moved to where he said we could play. This was not always what the others wanted so I would have to leave them and go back to the hut with him. But on a good day …….. if we had seen a cowboy film that day then we would attempt to play down the bottom end, in among the long grass. Invariably we would split into two groups, cowboys and Indians!!! I was always in the Indians group but much as I didn’t mind crawling through the long grass, I hated coming upon the manholes. I can remember being caught once upon a time and being told that I would be thrown down the manhole. I must have had a fit!!!! It never happened again – so I suppose I had better explain what it was about the manholes.
Once I enquired what the manhole was as I stood staring down into it, and the adult with me (possibly my sister as we often walked back from Mass through the park) informed me that was where nasty men put their children after they had kidnapped them!!! If I listened carefully I would be able to hear them crying but that I mustn’t go too close or he would grab me and pull me down. I had this vision of all these poor children down there crying and sobbing and wanting their mams so they were places to avoid. Sometimes, when I was really brave and alone but knew my Dad could see me, I would tiptoe to the edge of these covers and look down. They appeared to be full of grass and some had flowers growing in them – but some just went down and down, and there were ‘funny’ noises coming from them. These I made a note of and avoided at all costs! I have always had a fear of walking on them since then, even over the 'doors' to the cellars that used to be along the pavements. I couldn't have told anyone about it, it seemed such a small thing but still gives me the creeps now.
It is only in my adult life, possibly my forties that I realised they were the access covers to the sewers and the ‘noise’ was the running water way down below as people flushed their loos and emptied their sinks.
Sunday 17 May 2009
Saturday 16 May 2009
More games ..........
We often played out in the street when I was young because it was a side road and the entrance to the Bakery became an exit so nothing left during the day. Also the railway siding was always interesting, with trains and workmen. And then there was the Park! So my playground was anywhere and everywhere but my parents never knew where I was half the time …. only the general direction.
Games in the street consisted mainly of ball games, skipping and hopscotch. I loved hopscotch but not when Sarah Macklewham played!! There were two types of layout for Hopscotch,
1 (I did have the two layouts here but can't find how to upload, perhaps another day!)
The first layout meant that you threw the slate into square one, hop scotched up to it, picked it up and hop scotched back. You kept repeating this so long as you managed to get your slate into the square, if you missed the square then you lost your go and it was the next person’s turn. After you had completed all the numbers, you could then play again but this time any square you landed on you could claim as your own by drawing a line across the corner with your initials in. No-one else could tread in that square and had to hop over it.
(another diagram here!)
I loved to reach the top of the first layout, although it took me some time to get there as I wasn’t very good at aiming the slate so when I did complete it was a real win for me, and to get my initials in a square – a rare happening!!! How I loved that game!
Sarah would always play the second type and I hated it, basically because I didn’t have much sense of balance or how to kick the darn slate!!! Whenever I fell over or kicked the slate out of the square you could guarantee that Sarah was yelling the loudest ‘out’ and sometimes I am sure she would yell just to make me fall over. You started off the same way throwing your slate into square one but then you had to kick it round the hopscotch back to the start. I hated this one mainly because I could never, never kick the slate back out of the hopscotch, it would keep going into adjacent squares to the one I wanted!!! Nightmare time and as I said I am sure Sarah picked this one so she could make more fun of me. Sometimes the game would be finished by all of them and I was still struggling to get from number four!!
Occasionally the road was re-gritted and this meant that the gutters had runny hot tar in them and also round the drains. We would find lollypop sticks or twigs and sit on the kerb stones and collect the tar on the sticks and then ‘write’ along the kerb stones. Our mothers hated us doing this and when we got into the house we would be sent outside again to strip off our outer clothing. Then the butter would be rubbed over all the tar patches on our skin, and how they were rubbed!!! We would be left with red patches but all the tar would be gone. After this we had to get back in the house to wash all these patches to remove the butter and then get dressed in some clean clothes. I never knew how my mother removed the tar from our clothes, but looking at what I have written and having had my own children, I know now that it is a nightmare time for mothers – I can remember the first time one of mine came in after playing with the tar – horror of horrors!! But then I remembered the butter and made the same mistakes as my mother, and countless others through time, concentrating on removal of tar one forgets that there is a child underneath!!
When I moved to Hall Green, most of the children were older than me and were boys, so the hopscotch became a rarity and instead we played ‘Hot Rice’! ugh!! Although us girls joined in we soon left the game and formed a little group a short distance away and sometimes, only sometimes, played hopscotch.
Games in the street consisted mainly of ball games, skipping and hopscotch. I loved hopscotch but not when Sarah Macklewham played!! There were two types of layout for Hopscotch,
1 (I did have the two layouts here but can't find how to upload, perhaps another day!)
The first layout meant that you threw the slate into square one, hop scotched up to it, picked it up and hop scotched back. You kept repeating this so long as you managed to get your slate into the square, if you missed the square then you lost your go and it was the next person’s turn. After you had completed all the numbers, you could then play again but this time any square you landed on you could claim as your own by drawing a line across the corner with your initials in. No-one else could tread in that square and had to hop over it.
(another diagram here!)
I loved to reach the top of the first layout, although it took me some time to get there as I wasn’t very good at aiming the slate so when I did complete it was a real win for me, and to get my initials in a square – a rare happening!!! How I loved that game!
Sarah would always play the second type and I hated it, basically because I didn’t have much sense of balance or how to kick the darn slate!!! Whenever I fell over or kicked the slate out of the square you could guarantee that Sarah was yelling the loudest ‘out’ and sometimes I am sure she would yell just to make me fall over. You started off the same way throwing your slate into square one but then you had to kick it round the hopscotch back to the start. I hated this one mainly because I could never, never kick the slate back out of the hopscotch, it would keep going into adjacent squares to the one I wanted!!! Nightmare time and as I said I am sure Sarah picked this one so she could make more fun of me. Sometimes the game would be finished by all of them and I was still struggling to get from number four!!
Occasionally the road was re-gritted and this meant that the gutters had runny hot tar in them and also round the drains. We would find lollypop sticks or twigs and sit on the kerb stones and collect the tar on the sticks and then ‘write’ along the kerb stones. Our mothers hated us doing this and when we got into the house we would be sent outside again to strip off our outer clothing. Then the butter would be rubbed over all the tar patches on our skin, and how they were rubbed!!! We would be left with red patches but all the tar would be gone. After this we had to get back in the house to wash all these patches to remove the butter and then get dressed in some clean clothes. I never knew how my mother removed the tar from our clothes, but looking at what I have written and having had my own children, I know now that it is a nightmare time for mothers – I can remember the first time one of mine came in after playing with the tar – horror of horrors!! But then I remembered the butter and made the same mistakes as my mother, and countless others through time, concentrating on removal of tar one forgets that there is a child underneath!!
When I moved to Hall Green, most of the children were older than me and were boys, so the hopscotch became a rarity and instead we played ‘Hot Rice’! ugh!! Although us girls joined in we soon left the game and formed a little group a short distance away and sometimes, only sometimes, played hopscotch.
Tuesday 12 May 2009
More tales from Manor Road Park - Sandpits
At the bottom of the hill in the park were two sandpits, we used to have to run down to these or come in along the bottom of the hill from Manor Road bottom gate. Coming in from Manor Road bottom gate, a hill had to be climbed in order to get to my Dad’s hut. This hill was based on sand and the path up the hill consisted of rain gulleys in this first part, producing very uneven ground through the sand. Further along the hill there were two more places where the rain had washed away the vegetation, but this time the sand at the bottom of these hills had been turned into sandpits for the children to play in. There were two of these gulleys/paths so there were two sandpits, one larger than the other. ‘Me and my friends’ hated it when children from other ‘gangs’ came to play in these pits, they were ours and if there was trouble then the cry rang out ‘she’ll tell her Dad, he’s the parkie!’ so we always won the right to play. One day we built this superb castle, really large, took up the whole sandpit with a moat round it as well, fetching water in buckets from Dad’s tap (outside I might add). It took most of the day and, as my Dad was parkie and I could be there all day, I was security!! Well, we played until it was time to close the park, they went home and I stayed with the castle until Dad left and we walked home. Next morning I was up ready to go back to the castle, so there I was with Dad opening up but me going across to the sandpit. Some of the gang drifted in during the day and we continued to decorate, searching out all sorts of décor from our surroundings. I stayed till close of park again that day, leaving someone to watch while I went and had lunch with Dad – the jam sandwiches! Next day I opened up with Dad and rushed over to the Castle but ….. somehow ….. someone ….. or something …… had trampled our wonderful creation, not totally destroyed it but caused a lot of heartbreak. I ran to find my Dad, where ever he was, and told him about what I had found, I was distraught – crying and sobbing. He came down straight after he had finished opening up the park and was as amazed as me. He did not see how anyone could have entered the park during the night so put it down to animals, either foxes or a badger. Being such a large park, animals had the run of the place at night and I know that there were several badger sets around the bank under the allotments. So that was that ……… when the others came they half heartedly tried to rebuild but the magic had gone out of it. They drifted off after a while and a couple of us stayed to restore it but eventually we had to admit defeat so ……… we kicked it all about and levelled it out, no-one would ever know it was there. I only wish that there had been more cameras in use in those days so I could’ve taken a photo as I have never seen another sandcastle like that one, turrets and moat and all, even the man on Weymouth beach could not make one like that!!!
Monday 11 May 2009
Tales from Manor Road Recreation Ground.
My Dad was the Park Keeper of the place, and his hut was on top of the hill with a good view of most of the park. It was a two roomed hut, one had his fire, chair and table and the other room was for equipment and coal for his fire. It was very basic living quarters but it was his and I was very proud of the fact that it therefore belonged to me, only Frieda was ever allowed inside for any length of time, everyone else stood on the step and peered in. I was very proud of my Dad, in his uniform he still cut quite a dash and he must have been in his late forties / early fifties then. During school holidays I stayed with him while Mam went to work, I opened the park with him and I closed the park with him, that job must have been wonderful for my Mam as both of us were ‘out of the way’ during those long summer days ........ did I ever say that the sun was always shining!!
My Dad talked to everyone and anybody, usually telling them about his army days but they were good stories at first, after about 10 tellings they began to get a bit boring!!!! He was friends with several of the people whose gardens adjoined the park, chatting to them over the fence.
One lady lived in a very large house, the ‘road’ (it was only tarmac from the main road up to her gate then it was just a ‘bridlepath’ as it was called) led into the park at the top of the hill, and opposite her gate was the entrance to the allotments which ran almost the whole length of that side of the park to another road. Her land was massive and was bordered by hawthorn etc hedging, which grew wild and thick. Part of her land met the park and formed a boundary along the park on top of the hill. Her house could sometimes be seen through the hedging but usually only in the wintertime, it was very old and very rambling, falling down in places. Us children knew it as the 'witch’s house' and used to try to work out whether she was still alive or not.
One day my Dad decided to take me to meet with her and I held onto his hand very tightly!!! We opened the gate and walked up this long overgrown driveway (path) to the front door, the porch was falling down, the step was tiled and all the paintwork was brown. Eventually the door opened and I nearly wet myself!
This very old, wizened, little lady in quite bright but old clothes down to the ground stood there. She beamed when she saw it was my Dad, her crinkled face had a mouth that contained about two teeth, and stood to one side to invite him in, ooohh! I hadn’t expected to go in!!! We walked down this long dark tiled hallway full of old things and very dusty into a lovely sunlit room, still full of very old things including photographs, but it looked really homely and was obviously where she spent most of her time. The French windows were open and there were cats everywhere, all shapes, colours and sizes – magic land! Dad introduced me to Miss Davey and then went off to make the tea while she asked me all the usual questions – "how old are you? What school did I go to? Did I like to read books?" You know what it’s like. Then Dad came back with the tray all laid very nicely with china cups and a larger cup for him. Dad placed the tray on the side table by Miss Davey and she proceeded to pour the tea and pass it out to us, then offered us biscuits from a china plate. I felt like royalty. Soon I got bored so Miss Davey asked if I would do a small job for her; she had a rather large ginger tom cat with one eye who was a naughty boy because he hadn’t come home for his lunch – would I go and find him and then let her know where he was. I had to be careful because he didn’t like children so I mustn’t touch him, in fact several cats were like this so while I was looking for him I had to be very careful. Off I went through the French windows and lo and behold! Cats everywhere! Even more kinds and sizes! Some were little kittens! Anyway off I trouped, oh! What joy! All this exploring to do in the ‘witch’ garden and with her permission!! Further round from the French windows was this very old conservatory, falling down and overgrown like the rest of the place. There were fruit trees in an old orchard, a shed full of cobwebs, lots of fruit bushes and all sorts of flowers with the proverbial nettles and blackberries. I looked for a black cat and steered clear of that one, some I stroked, some ran away, some just growled at me but I couldn’t find the large ginger tom with one eye.
Ages later I heard Dad calling and had to find my way back to the house, I told Miss Davey I couldn’t find the cat but she said that was alright, if I liked (if I liked!?!??) I could back another day and try to find him. So quite often Dad and I would go visit Miss Davey, him talking her to death and me looking for cats! My friends didn’t believe me until one day Dad, in front of them, said he was going to see Miss Davey and did I want to come. They all followed at a distance and saw me go in by the gate and walk up to the house, them hanging around the gate watching till I was out of sight!!! Status for a while!! They would not believe that she was just an elderly, very kind, single lady. She was a witch!!!
Years later I found out that Dad used to go to the shop at the end of the road to fetch his cigarettes and would call in to see if she wanted anything. She usually had a list – how did she know he was calling?!! – and so that’s how Dad came to have a cup of tea with ‘the witch’ who turned out to be a very, very, nice lady. I suppose she had been out in her garden one day and Dad, being Dad, started talking to her and they became good friends. She probably never saw many, if any, people so appreciated Dad’s company. I have often wondered what happened to her, her house and land. My playground became Swimming Baths and the rest is a big housing estate now, her house and land, all the park and the allotments have all gone. Progress!
My Dad talked to everyone and anybody, usually telling them about his army days but they were good stories at first, after about 10 tellings they began to get a bit boring!!!! He was friends with several of the people whose gardens adjoined the park, chatting to them over the fence.
One lady lived in a very large house, the ‘road’ (it was only tarmac from the main road up to her gate then it was just a ‘bridlepath’ as it was called) led into the park at the top of the hill, and opposite her gate was the entrance to the allotments which ran almost the whole length of that side of the park to another road. Her land was massive and was bordered by hawthorn etc hedging, which grew wild and thick. Part of her land met the park and formed a boundary along the park on top of the hill. Her house could sometimes be seen through the hedging but usually only in the wintertime, it was very old and very rambling, falling down in places. Us children knew it as the 'witch’s house' and used to try to work out whether she was still alive or not.
One day my Dad decided to take me to meet with her and I held onto his hand very tightly!!! We opened the gate and walked up this long overgrown driveway (path) to the front door, the porch was falling down, the step was tiled and all the paintwork was brown. Eventually the door opened and I nearly wet myself!
This very old, wizened, little lady in quite bright but old clothes down to the ground stood there. She beamed when she saw it was my Dad, her crinkled face had a mouth that contained about two teeth, and stood to one side to invite him in, ooohh! I hadn’t expected to go in!!! We walked down this long dark tiled hallway full of old things and very dusty into a lovely sunlit room, still full of very old things including photographs, but it looked really homely and was obviously where she spent most of her time. The French windows were open and there were cats everywhere, all shapes, colours and sizes – magic land! Dad introduced me to Miss Davey and then went off to make the tea while she asked me all the usual questions – "how old are you? What school did I go to? Did I like to read books?" You know what it’s like. Then Dad came back with the tray all laid very nicely with china cups and a larger cup for him. Dad placed the tray on the side table by Miss Davey and she proceeded to pour the tea and pass it out to us, then offered us biscuits from a china plate. I felt like royalty. Soon I got bored so Miss Davey asked if I would do a small job for her; she had a rather large ginger tom cat with one eye who was a naughty boy because he hadn’t come home for his lunch – would I go and find him and then let her know where he was. I had to be careful because he didn’t like children so I mustn’t touch him, in fact several cats were like this so while I was looking for him I had to be very careful. Off I went through the French windows and lo and behold! Cats everywhere! Even more kinds and sizes! Some were little kittens! Anyway off I trouped, oh! What joy! All this exploring to do in the ‘witch’ garden and with her permission!! Further round from the French windows was this very old conservatory, falling down and overgrown like the rest of the place. There were fruit trees in an old orchard, a shed full of cobwebs, lots of fruit bushes and all sorts of flowers with the proverbial nettles and blackberries. I looked for a black cat and steered clear of that one, some I stroked, some ran away, some just growled at me but I couldn’t find the large ginger tom with one eye.
Ages later I heard Dad calling and had to find my way back to the house, I told Miss Davey I couldn’t find the cat but she said that was alright, if I liked (if I liked!?!??) I could back another day and try to find him. So quite often Dad and I would go visit Miss Davey, him talking her to death and me looking for cats! My friends didn’t believe me until one day Dad, in front of them, said he was going to see Miss Davey and did I want to come. They all followed at a distance and saw me go in by the gate and walk up to the house, them hanging around the gate watching till I was out of sight!!! Status for a while!! They would not believe that she was just an elderly, very kind, single lady. She was a witch!!!
Years later I found out that Dad used to go to the shop at the end of the road to fetch his cigarettes and would call in to see if she wanted anything. She usually had a list – how did she know he was calling?!! – and so that’s how Dad came to have a cup of tea with ‘the witch’ who turned out to be a very, very, nice lady. I suppose she had been out in her garden one day and Dad, being Dad, started talking to her and they became good friends. She probably never saw many, if any, people so appreciated Dad’s company. I have often wondered what happened to her, her house and land. My playground became Swimming Baths and the rest is a big housing estate now, her house and land, all the park and the allotments have all gone. Progress!
Sunday 10 May 2009
The Queen's Coronation
I don’t remember much about the Royal Family until the Coronation, which was the first time I knew about the ‘news’ but didn’t take much notice of it anyway. The arrangements for the street party must have been going on for some time before I knew anything about it. It was when my mother told me I was going into a fancy dress party as Britannia!! Mam made my helmet & dress and Dad made the twirly bits for my helmet and made my shield. My helmet was silver, shield had to be red, white & blue on silver background and my dress was white. I remember that there was much spray painting as you couldn’t get silver paint as such. My helmet took a lot of fitting as well because Mam only had a ladies’ head block and when the felt was sprayed silver it became very stiff. My brother went as a baby, just a white towel round his nether region, a sun hat and a bottle filled with cold tea hanging round his neck!!! I don’t remember my sister going but then she probably dressed up as a lady so that she didn’t look silly. Everyone contributed to the meal which was eaten by the children from tables laid out in the middle of the road down by our house. The parade from what I can remember took place in the first half of the road before the tea, my brother won a prize – I think it was first but would not say for definite. He probably won for his cheek as he was a real performer and played up to most things!! After the tea and ‘us kids’ had gone to bed then the elders had their ‘party’, I was asleep but the noise of the laughter and singing woke me a couple of times but not enough for me to get out of bed. And that was the Coronation for me! Not much different to any other day!!!
Saturday 9 May 2009
Tales from Atlas Pictures
Atlas Picture house down Flaxley Road, Stechford was a magical place for me. There was a children’s programme every Saturday afternoon, to which I was allowed to go. So that was my Saturday taken up, spending my 1s (shilling – old money) pocketmoney. I don’t know how old I was when I started going, don’t know how long I went there but ……….. this is how I remember my Saturdays.
12.45 we had lunch, usually Sausage and Mash with cabbage then, and only when I had cleared my plate, would I get my shilling. Then outside we would all meet up and wander down Station Road hill to the shops, they are not there now and the factory is a retail park. In the sweet shop we jostled to choose and buy our sweets a whole 3d (three pennies) could be spent here and then we all walked round the corner to the picture house (now a Bingo Hall I believe). We usually had to queue up as the doors didn’t open until 13.30 and then we paid our sixpence (6d) and went inside although the show didn’t start until 14.00hrs. the show always started with some form of promotional film – documentary – and then we had the main features which were usually some sort of Cowboy & Indian followed by another B film (Flash Gordon was my favourite) in between which we had our ice cream which cost my last 3d then we had another short film about Road Safety which meant that we often left the cinema singing the song – Look Left Look Right and if it’s all clear – Cross the Road. Great fun, even the policeman who crossed us over used to laugh at us. Then we had the walk back up the hill, usually discussing the film and, if it was fine, arranging to meet up in the park (lots more stories there!) When I got home I was ready for my tea but, as the football results came on at 17.00hrs, I usually had to sit quiet as my dad marked off the football results on his pools coupon. That was always an interesting experience as I sometimes tried to predict the scores by the way that the commentator read them out, his voice going up for the winning team and down for the losers.
If it was fine I would then go out after tea and play in the park with my friends, usually meeting up to re-enact what we had seen on screen that afternoon.
12.45 we had lunch, usually Sausage and Mash with cabbage then, and only when I had cleared my plate, would I get my shilling. Then outside we would all meet up and wander down Station Road hill to the shops, they are not there now and the factory is a retail park. In the sweet shop we jostled to choose and buy our sweets a whole 3d (three pennies) could be spent here and then we all walked round the corner to the picture house (now a Bingo Hall I believe). We usually had to queue up as the doors didn’t open until 13.30 and then we paid our sixpence (6d) and went inside although the show didn’t start until 14.00hrs. the show always started with some form of promotional film – documentary – and then we had the main features which were usually some sort of Cowboy & Indian followed by another B film (Flash Gordon was my favourite) in between which we had our ice cream which cost my last 3d then we had another short film about Road Safety which meant that we often left the cinema singing the song – Look Left Look Right and if it’s all clear – Cross the Road. Great fun, even the policeman who crossed us over used to laugh at us. Then we had the walk back up the hill, usually discussing the film and, if it was fine, arranging to meet up in the park (lots more stories there!) When I got home I was ready for my tea but, as the football results came on at 17.00hrs, I usually had to sit quiet as my dad marked off the football results on his pools coupon. That was always an interesting experience as I sometimes tried to predict the scores by the way that the commentator read them out, his voice going up for the winning team and down for the losers.
If it was fine I would then go out after tea and play in the park with my friends, usually meeting up to re-enact what we had seen on screen that afternoon.
Saturday 2 May 2009
Corpus Christi .....02
Monday morning was great fun as we lined up to go into Church and then afterwards we lined up again to cross the road. By the time we were settled down it must have been nearly playtime!!! We had the same routine in reverse on a Friday as we always had Benediction. If it was raining we were not allowed out to play and the majority of the teachers stayed in the classroom with us and kept us amused. I can remember in Mrs Crenin’s class we were allowed to play with the toys and Mrs Kelly always sat us down and, like Mrs Grogan, would read to us or allow us to read books of our own choice. Mrs Sullivan was a different kettle of fish - she gave us comics to read, allsorts of comics, Beano, Dandy, Girl, Eagle; how the names run off the tongue!!! I was never allowed to read comics at home as it was considered not proper reading so I really relished these times. I was allowed to stay in her classroom when I broke my leg and had to stay behind during Mass on Mondays, so once again the box of comics came out for me, pure Heaven!! The very last class in school had a male teacher, Mr Donkersley, whose class was held in the Hall so there was much moving of chairs and classrooms. All PE lessons taken in the hall meant we had to move our desks and chairs to the side and then take all our belongings to the relevant classroom, much fun had by all!! I remember that we had composition on a Tuesday afternoon and, when I broke my leg, that was the time I had to go to the ‘Accie’ (Accident Hospital) for check ups. It was a whole afternoon event as we went by ambulance which, even nowadays, still does a roundabout route collecting patients. Anyhow I didn’t mind missing Composition lesson as I really was no good at writing stories, as you can tell I am no better now, only being able to relate what has happened!! Mr Donkersley had a love hate relationship with us all and could be funny, angry, and sarcastic all in the same lesson. He took a singular amusement from tormenting some of the boys, one in particular I remember. He was a tall gangly lad with blond hair, the centre of which – about an inch or so - stood up just enough for Mr Donkersley to call him Parrot Murphy – nearly all the kids were called Murphy, Connor, Malley and other good Irish names!! Mr Donkersley took PE and also coached the football team, so needless to say my dad and he were good friends as the football team’s home ground was the park. There used to be a school league with other Junior Schools and it was a good afternoon out during the week – no lessons for Mr Donkersley’s class, we had to go and support the team.
When I left Stechford there were several friends that I missed, Antoinette Beech was my best friend or so I thought. She moved on to St Paul’s Grammar School and we lost touch but that is another story! Then there was the Twins – Norman and Terry – Norman was the elder and took his responsibilities seriously while Terry was the younger and enjoyed life. They were non identical twins so weren’t a problem for anyone, seemed like they were brothers who were close in age. I liked Terry and we got on amazingly. Bernard Naylor was another boy in my class and that is about all I can remember – silly isn’t it when you think that you spent six years with 30ish children and that’s it!!
Mr. Walshe continued to guide the destiny of the school, until he retired on30th September 1959 . There is an entry in the school diary for that date, as follows:-
I leave today after 25 years here to go into retirement. I think I may write herein that much good work has been done. I have had a splendid staff, notably Miss N. Keegan (still a Miss and I bet still strict!) who has been here with me for the past 25 years. Mrs. P. O'Sullivan who was here for 19 years and Miss A. Crennan still here after 14 years. I am deeply in debt to these splendid teachers.
A very friendly relationship has always existed, and though I willingly vacate my position as Headmaster, I feel very sad to leave such excellent colleagues. May God bless them and reward them.
Vale 30.9.59
Laurence Francis Walshe.
When I left Stechford there were several friends that I missed, Antoinette Beech was my best friend or so I thought. She moved on to St Paul’s Grammar School and we lost touch but that is another story! Then there was the Twins – Norman and Terry – Norman was the elder and took his responsibilities seriously while Terry was the younger and enjoyed life. They were non identical twins so weren’t a problem for anyone, seemed like they were brothers who were close in age. I liked Terry and we got on amazingly. Bernard Naylor was another boy in my class and that is about all I can remember – silly isn’t it when you think that you spent six years with 30ish children and that’s it!!
Mr. Walshe continued to guide the destiny of the school, until he retired on
I leave today after 25 years here to go into retirement. I think I may write herein that much good work has been done. I have had a splendid staff, notably Miss N. Keegan (still a Miss and I bet still strict!) who has been here with me for the past 25 years. Mrs. P. O'Sullivan who was here for 19 years and Miss A. Crennan still here after 14 years. I am deeply in debt to these splendid teachers.
A very friendly relationship has always existed, and though I willingly vacate my position as Headmaster, I feel very sad to leave such excellent colleagues. May God bless them and reward them.
Vale 30.9.59
Laurence Francis Walshe.
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