Manor Road Park .... again ...

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.