A day of rain ...........

OOh dear! Can't do the Train garden, cos it's absolutely pouring with rain. It might have waited until we had cleared all the garden!!
Spent a lazy day stitching and sorting out my next project - will have to start a stitching blog but what to call it - that is the question .............................

To continue here:-

As mentioned in a previous posting, Dad was very proud of the Park and took good care of it.  A tractor used to come once a fortnight and mow the grass but the rough land at the bottom of the park was left to grow wild.  Dad used a large petrol driven mower with a large blade at ground level in front of it to mow this land and he could often be seen struggling up and down the lumps of the ground and by the sides of the pathways pushing this very loud and dirty mower.  Sometimes the mower would stop and Dad would have to sort it out, clearing the grass and weeds caught in the blades or go fetch some more petrol to fill it up.  One day as he was clearing the weeds, whether it was in gear or not I do not know – I have the story only second hand as there was no one there but Dad at the time - but the blades started moving and mowed his middle finger on his left hand clear off at the first joint.  I will tell you how it happened but first I need to say that I was unaware of all this drama – I can remember Dad having stitches in his finger but anything else I am oblivious to.  As far as I am concerned Dad always had a gammy finger on his left hand.

Back to the story – Dad managed to switch the machine off, pick up his finger and get back to his hut.  He wrapped the end of his finger in a clean handkerchief, he applied a first aid dressing to what was left of his finger, put on his coat, locked his hut and went out of the

Station Road

gate.  He used one of the shop’s phone to tell Mr McDuggan what had happened so that the Park could be closed and then caught the bus to the Accident Hospital.

The hospital stitched his finger back on and sent him home; I can vaguely remember him wearing a sling for a short time, but then life went back to normal. 

Years later, Dad told me all this and said that after a few weeks, when he went back to the hospital, they told him that the finger was not setting right and re broke it so that left the tip sitting at right angles to the rest of his finger.  (He jokingly used to say that he didn’t mind as it was perfect for picking his nose and Mam would say “Oh! Harry!!”)

An Update .................

Yippee! I have found my blog - it has been so long since I posted that I thought I had lost this. I shall update now with current 'memories in the making' as well as past memories.
Although I have now retired from paid employment I find the days going so fast and so busy - amazing! I thought retirement was peace and quiet, slower lifestyle, long days and nothing to do ........................ not so ................

To continue:-

Dad cared about that park, so much so that he regularly mowed and marked out the pitches for the football teams, marking all the lines with a white wash of lime.  This powder was mixed into a bucket of water and then poured into a small machine, it was all very messy and I was never allowed any where near this procedure.  The lime would burn if it touched skin and once on clothing etc. it made a right mess.  Dad would then test the machine to ensure that the lime mix was running through correctly and leaving the right thickness of line.  I did try to do it once and Dad was very kind to me but even I could see that the line was not the best.  He used to mark the inner circles first and then the outer lines, it used to look great – such a shame the footballers had to spoil them!!   Matches were usually held on Saturdays and Sundays and were well supported.  The Teams were always given hot water to wash in afterwards, Dad carrying buckets of the stuff into the changing rooms just before the game finished.  I don’t know what happened inside, where the water went or how it was laid out as I was never allowed in there – strictly boys only!!

My brother Tony played in one of the leagues not only in football but also in Cricket.  I can remember that sometimes they came back to ours afterwards, particularly the cricket team, and Mam would make pots and pots of tea, using jam jars as cups because we had run out of crockery!!!  Great fun was had by all and Mam’s cakes and pies just disappeared.  Did I say that the sun was always shining?!!!!  These young men would spill out of the house and into the back yard, laughing and teasing and we all had fun.  Sometimes Frieda and I would wander up to

Glebe Farm Road

park to watch the football and we would shout support for Tony’s team (he played Goalkeeper) and this is where my love of these games came from.  I remember one time Mam had to wash all the football kit and piles of these smelly, dirty clothes came into the house, I really don’t know how they arrived or went but Mam’s face was a picture.  She had to fill the boiler several times and I did as much mangling as I could.  Not fun really, as it took a lot of Mam’s time and with her back not very good, it was a big effort for her but she had a willing heart.  She never complained about these things, all the baking that went on for Tony’s friends and now the washing for the team, thank goodness she didn’t’ do the Cricket Team!!!!

So this afternoon I have found my blog - yippee!!!

I thought that I had lost this site because it has been so long since I posted.

But now I am back! ..............

I shall recall my past as and when I can ...............

Promise!!!

xx

Savings stamps and bank money boxes

In Birmingham there was a Municipal Bank, our local branch being on the corner of Station Road and Lyttleton Road in Stechford. It smelt like a bank, with a high counter and grills behind which stood formidable people.
When I started school we were asked for money for all sorts of things, pennies for the lepers, money for the poor, pennies for Africa, all sorts of things. We were also allowed to save money to put in the BMB as it was called and savings stamps were available one day a week. We used to bring in our 3d and 6d and in return we would get a stamp to put on our card, which the teacher kept safe for us. When the card was full it was worth one whole pound (or we could have a mixture of stamps to the value of £1) and we would be given this card to take home so that our parents could take us to the Bank to pay the money in. The stamps had small pictures of Princess Anne and Prince Charles, Princess Anne being worth 6d and Prince Charles worth 1s. I very rarely managed a shilling; once I had saved up 6d then the stamp was put on my card.
My teacher just would not let me save up too long (12d (pennies) in a 1s (shilling)), nowadays I understand that just for 30 children to have 6d each was a lot of money to have lying around so that is probably why she changed our money into stamps so often!
Anyway with my first full card, off I went with Mam to the bank, it was terrifying – think Mary Poppins!! This well built lady looked over the counter at me as Mam explained why we were there. She passed a form under the grill and we took it over to the small desk on the wall, I could just about reach so Mam had to help. We filled it in and took it back to the lady who said I would have to fill in another one as she had not seen me sign it!! Back we went again and then brought the form back to her so I could sign it in front of her. Mam had to lift me up to sign this and in my childish writing I signed my name – Christine Holland. Sometime later when I was about 10 and went to withdraw some of this money, I was not allowed to get any because my signature had changed!!! Back Mam had to come again to countersign and all for a couple of pounds!!!
Sometimes - usually in Lent – we were given a sheet that had panels on it into which we could slot pennies. This form was filled in during the course of Lent and the money was sent to ‘the lepers’. We used to have stories about how it was for these people in those days and all the grisly details about the disease – every year, I mean once was enough!! – but I suppose each teacher had her own take on it. So another sheet but more interesting to fill in. It was very satisfying to see the rows of pennies filling up the sheet although I only ever managed to fill one in my whole time at Corpus Christi. As I grew older the bank gave me a green money box which could only be emptied by one of the clerks, it was a very boring money box and I really wanted something pretty but there you go …….. this dull, olive green oval metal box with a slot on the top and a small hole to one side appeared on the shelf. It was ugly but it held my savings and the worst of it was that I would have to go back to that ‘lady’ who obviously thought children didn’t belong in a bank. I rolled my £10 note and put it in that box – ha-ha that’d fox her!!! The funny thing is that the bank is now a children’s’ nursery ………..
When we moved to Hall Green the money box came with us and I started to use the Municipal Bank at the top of Highfield Road – I think it is an Estate Agents now – the staff were a wee bit more tolerant but otherwise it was just the same as the Stechford branch, austere, awesome and smelly!! As soon as I left Our Lady of Lourdes – who had the same savings system!!! – I changed to the Post Office next door to the bank. Their money box looked like a small book and we could choose the colour so I had a blue one. Once again the money box was taken to the Post Office to be opened and then entered into the Savings Bank book but the staff were really friendly and always made me feel that I had achieved something, which in those days I really had!! I still have a couple of the boxes but our local PO cannot find the key – I will have to try a few of the older POs, maybe someone will recognise them!!

Having sandwiches in Dad’s hut …….. 2

One dank and miserable day, we had been indoors most of the day, Dad going in and out seeing ‘to things’ and I had been doing my usual ‘things’ and it had been very quiet and almost boring (I had my books). The day became foggy as the evening drew on so, when I went round with Dad to lock up, I really had to watch where I was going. So holding on to Dad’s hand and watching the ground I trundled round with him. The mist got gradually thicker and it was quite frightening. We locked the top gate and started to walk alongside the hedge down towards Manor Road Gate. Suddenly I saw something on the ground and picked it up – it was folded up and was a £10 pound note!!! My Dad scowled at me (as he often did!!) and told me not to be foolish but I put it in my pocket so that when we got back to his hut I could prove it was not just a sweet wrapper. So we continued the routine of locking up, but when we returned to the hut I left the paper in my pocket and then we set off home. Once we reached the house there was no holding me as I ran up the entry, into the kitchen and told Mam all about what had happened, she was astonished as Dad, didn’t believe it either. I pulled the paper out of my pocket and there it was – a £10 pound note!!! It was like finding a £50 note in today’s money. I had to put it straight into my money box, a special one that had to be opened at the bank and the money paid into my bank account. I was thrilled to think I had all that money in my bank but I can’t for the life of me remember what I spent it on!!

Having sandwiches in Dad’s hut

This was sharing to the utmost!!! It was always such a private moment between Dad and me; but then he always shared his food with me, especially the bones off his chops, and the tripe out of his Tripe and Onions. It was through this sharing of bones that I learnt how to strip them ….. if I moved away from him then there would be no more from that meal!!!!
Mam always used to moan but Dad ignored her and I know now that she didn’t mind really, she was just being a mom. I was the last child born after the war finished so when I reached the interesting stage – 2years old – Dad had left the army and was trying to find work, along with hundreds of other ex-service people. Dad must have spent a lot of time at home but it was before I was old enough to really appreciate this.
My earliest memory as I have said previously was when I was three and I broke my leg. My next memories are of school so I wasn’t aware that Mam and Dad’s relationship was any different to when my brother and sister were small – they were just there!!! Dad did not have a lot to do with my siblings as children because, although before the war Mam was in married quarters usually on the base, unfortunately the war was on and he was away during the best times to get to know them.
Dad was the centre of my universe, I always felt that I had a special relationship with him but was not aware that I was ‘spoilt’. During the school holidays I spent a lot of time with him, me and Frieda – although she was not privy to a lot of what went on as she would stay in the street playing with the other children, using her own home as a base. I opened up the park with him on the days that Mam worked and closed it again at night, if it was before my bedtime or around that time. Mam would make sandwiches for us both for breakfast, mostly jam. Dad would pick up a loaf of bread and something for us to have for lunch from the shop for lunch and maybe tea. Sometimes Dad opened the top of the oven and toasted the bread, my job being to spread the marg and jam. We couldn’t always do this as the fire was not hot enough, some days it always seemed to just smoke which filled the hut very quickly. Dad always sent me into the other room and told me to shut the door and stay there till he told me to come out. I didn’t mind as I had my book and I could look out of the window. The window looked onto the Manor Road gate so I could watch the people going to and fro and also those in their gardens. On Toasty days we saved the sandwiches for tea! They were always slightly mashed and bent, with the jam running into the bread – unless you have taken jam sandwiches on a picnic - you have no idea of the taste. For lunch we would have sausage or bacon sandwiches or such like, always followed by a piece of Mam’s apple pie. Mam would make a bacon and egg pie which we would have for lunch, this was delicious although I was not always keen on the soggy bits!!! Alternatively she could make us some soup or stew and Dad would warm this up on the stove and we would have it with bread. Dad’s table was a small fold up one, may have been a card table I am not sure as there was nearly always a plastic cloth over it. I don’t recall where he kept the cutlery and plates etc or the bowl for washing, I think that the only cupboard as I remember was a single wardrobe like one in the other room. He kept his paperwork, small tools and things in there. I had a hook on the back of the door at my height for me to hang my coat and bag (always brought the bag with my books, colouring and writing stuff, sewing, sometimes a jigsaw). The days were long, quite boring at times, although in the summer I could escape out into the park, but always where Dad could see me. Having to stay close to the hut, I found that I could collect leaves and flowers and ‘explore’ round the changing rooms hut. I even had a vase for my picked flowers although the garden that I made just outside the hut never came to anything!! Dad superior, Mr Douggan, came on a Friday at some time to give him his wage packet and I always, always had to be out of the way when he came. I met him once or twice when I was ill, probably tonsillitis from which I suffered a lot. The Superintendent was another ex army officer and Dad would make him a cup of tea and they would sit and chat. I had to be invisible on these visits, I didn’t know then why but now I realise that Dad could have lost his job if it was known that he was looking after me while he was at work.

Manor Road Recreation Ground........Playing games

Sometimes for reasons best known to himself, Dad would not allow me to play down the bottom end so then decisions had to be made, whether the others wanted to play down there without me or up top with me. Invariably, if Sarah M was with them, then they would play down the bottom and I would play by myself up top. This didn’t always bother me because I was on my own a lot, many of the children hung about the bakery and the railway and in the street so, me being in the park, I was on my own!!
Dad’s hut and the changing rooms were built into a dip in the land at the top of the hill. A flat area had been dug out to contain these two buildings with three little narrow steps cut into the side so that the rest of the top park (which was basically football and/or cricket pitches) could be accessed. This ‘drop’ was only about 3ft and could be jumped quite easily so us children could access anywhere on this area as there was an (we called it a gulley) access area all round these buildings. Quite a neat area to play in, with plenty of hiding places although it was sooo exposed.

Dad’s hut
Two changing rooms / toilets


SHOULD BE A MAP - DARN IT!!!!! I'LL DO IT ONE DAY!!!! :-)



So long as we kept the noise down Dad didn’t mind us playing here and I think he quite enjoyed watching us although, if he came out to go ‘on patrol’, he would never let on that he knew where any of us were hiding!! We usually played out non-cowboy films here as the grass was quite short, so we had to use the buildings as ‘protection’. It was great fun but very limited, there is only so much you can do in such a small area and only so many times you can run round buildings!!
When I was on my own I tended to play in the area behind the changing rooms; the grass was short, as this small piece of land was lumpy, so there were various games that could be played by oneself. Sometimes when on the opening walk with Dad I would collect leaves and flowers, then sew small garments for the fairies which I would leave out in appropriate places i.e. under the shelter of the hut or in a dip in the ground. Other times I would run up or down the dips, lie on my back just watching the clouds overhead and listening to the skylarks. I would imagine I went to sleep during these times as it was very relaxing to just lie there, watching and listening. There were several patches of weeds growing there and around the bases of the huts so sometimes I would pick bunches of flowers for Dad’s hut. Quite often when Dad went out ‘on patrol’ and I was left alone in there, I would pretend it was my house and clean it up and sweep it out – loving every minute of it.
Dad used to go out ‘on patrol’ every couple of hours or so, walking round the full perimeter of the park, checking gates, chatting to people walking the dog, watching out for ‘trouble’ i.e. flashers, suspicious looking characters and courting couples.
Now there is another subject – Courting couples!
Dad was well known locally for being quite strict with goings on in his park. If he saw any couples strolling across the bottom half of the park, he would keep and eye on them as they moved, or stopped – as the case may be. As soon as they were seen to be lying down in the long grass, my Dad was out of that hut and down to them whereupon he would be heard to say “Oi! If you’re stopping here then one lies down and one sits up!” it was quite a joke in the area but there was also respect as they always complied. I think that Dad needed to know that they were ok and while one head was visible he could rest easy.
Dad kept watch over the park and if he thought someone was up to ‘no good’ like a single man hovering near the children, older teenagers throwing stones or looking as though they were bullying younger ones, he was out of that hut and moving very fast!! Gradually it became well known in the area that the park was a very safe place for people and children to be. Dad cared about that park, so much so that he regularly mowed and marked out the pitches for the football and cricket teams, marking all the lines with a white wash of lime.

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.

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.