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My Early Years

                           

 

I was born in May 1927 in a small community called Felling Shore‚ on the south bank of the river Tyne in Co. Durham‚ between Newcastle and Jarrow‚ the town that was murdered in the 1930s with 72% unemployment.   My grandma‚ Mainie Lumsdon‚ managed one of the three public houses‚ the Bee Hive‚ and like many pubs at that time the floor was covered with sawdust.

By John Lumsdon Tyne Street

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There was a Co-operative store‚ a long building that covered one side of the street.  This was the main shopping centre‚ with its grocery department that had a long‚ low‚ wide counter and in front of this was a great variety of biscuits‚ packed in tins‚ with the various manufacturers names on and from which the biscuits were weighed and served in paper Blue paper bags. Alongside these were bags full of peas‚ beans‚ sugar etc.‚ and served in the same manner.  Behind the counter was row after row of draws labelled with their different contents.  At the top end of the

department was another counter‚ behind which were huge blocks of butter and cheese that were cut to your requirements and hand wrapped.  The bacon slicer was also located here‚ with its peculiar sound as it sliced through a side of bacon.  The lovely smell of that Department I can still remember now. 

When a customer paid for the goods‚ the money was put in a cylindrical container and attached to an Ariel wire‚ which‚ with it a swishing sound‚ was transported to a glass cubical where the cashier checked the amount of money for your goods and returned the change by the same method.   It was all far removed from the computer check outs of today.  One made sure before you left the shop‚ your co-op number was noted in order to accumulate your dividend‚ paid periodical‚ as the more you spent the higher was the

dividend.  

Next door to the grocery department was the drapers and haberdashery‚ managed by Mrs Hogarth‚ a tall woman with her dark hair swept up into a bun. She always dressed in black‚ with a long skirt that almost touched the floor. To me‚ she resembled a Victorian lady. 

The Jarrow March, also known as the Jarrow Crusade, was a protest march in England in October 1936 against the unemployment and poverty suffered in

the northeast Tyneside town of Jarrow during the 1930s

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Next to the drapers came the butchers‚ with a vast array of knives‚ cleavers and saws hanging up in a row‚ ready to cut and carve the fresh meat‚ on thick‚ well-scrubbed‚ wood tables; in the corner stood a sausage-making machine.  Its produce could be eaten raw‚ unlike today's sausage.  This shop had its distinctive smell‚ probably the fresh meat as opposed to the frozen and chilled produce of today.  The floor was covered with clean sawdust.  

Next to the butchers were the stables that housed the horses and a variety of carts.  There was a two wheeled coal cart with its high sloping sides‚ and a weighing machine hanging on the back; a flat four wheeled cart for transporting hay bundles and the like; and there was the covered wagon type for delivering groceries etc. 

All the vehicles had four sided glass lamps on either side‚ plus a red one at the rear; and were illuminated by candles.   The clip clop of the horse’s steel-shod shoes and the noise of the steel clad wheels on the stone cobbled road are sounds that have been lost in history.  

Attached to the stables‚ was the slaughterhouse.  As youngsters‚ we would climb up the iron barred‚ meshed windows to try and look inside‚ but were always chased away.  

The end of the building housed the horse keeper and his family.  At times he allowed me to ride on the back of a shire horse‚ which‚ to me‚ seemed like a giant.  My legs were spread wide over the broad back and I clung on to it's main for dear life‚ rocking side to side as it plodded forward.  

On the opposite side of the street stood a row of houses with a fruit shop on the corner.  At the other end was the Methodist Chapel‚ and‚ at right angle to this‚ a row of houses called Stony Bank‚ probably because the road was made of cobblestones.  This is where I was born in May 1927.  It was not my home and the reason I was born there was my mother went into labour when she visited her friend. 

We‚ my mother‚ father and elder sister Molly‚ lived at the bottom of this bank in a square called Pottery Yard.   In this square was the communal washhouse‚ (as there was no running water in the houses) ‚ that contained three large copper boiling pots‚ encased in brick‚ with a fire under each pot.  On Monday mornings‚ the noise of the women posing the wash in wooden tubs‚ with wooden‚ pos-sticks‚ (Dolly sticks) echoed round the valley in which this small community nestled‚ another sound lost in history.  

For every four houses‚ there were two outside toilets.  The toilet paper comprised of squares of newspaper‚ hanging on a nail on the wall. In the back lane was a large iron water tap with a cone shaped handle.  It took my both

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hands to turn it on‚ and‚ if I let go‚ it would automatically stop‚ so‚ therefore‚ I couldn't get a drink without a container‚ unless someone held the tap on for me.  

The local football team was called Felling Shore Tyne Villa and played in the Tyne Valley league‚ which was founded in 1923.  The football ground had been made by the community and my uncle Abraham was club secretary.  My father played for the team and was reputed to be an excellent player. 

What I remember most clearly was the aroma of hot coffee in the wintertime‚ mixed with the smell of liniment in the changing room‚ and slices of orange in the summer.  

The main source of employment was a paint-manufacturing firm by the name of International Paints Ltd.   A German by the name of Holzapple had started the firm.   At that time ingredients had been put in a wooden barrel and a handle was turned to agitate the mixture. 

From these small beginnings‚ the firm later spread to many parts of the world.  

As a child‚ I remember standing with others outside the factory gates begging any food the workers had left‚ after they had finished work and were on their way home.  Monday was always a good day.  I suspect this was because some had too much ale to drink at the weekend.  

Bath time was usually in front of the fire in a tin bath‚ but in summer time‚ I would get bathed outside in a wooden tub that was used for washing clothes.   This also served as a table‚ when turned upside down‚ for an old tramp‚ who came round periodically and my mother gave him some food.

Our house was not well furnished.   We had some home-made mats on the floor.  These mats were made on wooden frames‚ by a group of neighbours who moved from house to house as they were required. 

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This kind of social gathering fostered a community spirit‚ with problems being discussed and sometimes solved.  The mat clippings came from old clothes that were not good enough to be handed down to smaller brothers and sisters.  The cloth was cut up into two inch strips then pronged into a Hessian cloth with a progger‚ (a steel or wooden pointed tool.) 

All sorts of coloured‚ patterned‚ and floral designs were made on these mats. 

In our living room there was a well-scrubbed table‚ covered with newspapers that acted as a table cloth‚ except on Sunday‚ when an oil based cloth was brought out.   There was a home-made wooden form for us to sit on‚ a few chairs‚ a sideboard and a chest of drawers. 

A large fireplace‚ with an oven on the left side for cooking purposes and a water container to heat water on the right‚ kept the house warm.  All this was black leaded‚ and the hearth itself was white washed‚ and on it stood a gleaming fender that had been cleaned with emery paper and Mepo polish.  In the fender were pokers‚ rake‚ shovel and tongs‚ the tongs at times being used for cooking kippers over an open fire, toasted bread from this fire always tasted nicer.  Above the fireplace with its cloth fringe was a mantelpiece on which stood a red pottery elephant in the centre‚ flanked by vases and gleaming candlesticks. 

One evening I was in the house with my mother who was ill and expecting a baby.  The bed had been brought down stairs for some reason.  I was sitting on the fender with my back to the fire‚ when‚ maybe I was tired and dozed off‚ I fell back.  My head was burnt on the hot bars.  The baby was born some time later but she died shortly after birth.  The infant mortality rate was much higher then than it is today.  

The wireless we owned was called a cat’s whisker‚ but only one person at a time could listen to it‚ because there was no loud speaker‚ only a set of earphones.  Various knobs had to be twiddled to get good reception‚ interrupted at times with whistling sounds‚ which varied in intensity.  

As children‚ we had to make our own entertainment without cost. Our games included mulltikitty; kick the block‚ battleships and cruisers etc. or football‚ with an old tin can.  My mother was saving up the cardboard wrappers

off Oxo cubes to get a free football.  Although we had a big drawer full of these wrappers‚ we never got a football‚ so I don't know how many were required.  The nearest we got to a real ball was an old

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leather case ball‚ seconded from the local team and stuffed with paper.  This was an improvement on a tin can from which on one occasion I got a nasty cut on the face.

A few hundred yards to the west of our house were some old wooden coal staiths built on the banks of the river Tyne.  This was another recreation area‚ although derelict and potentially hazardous‚ where young people played at that time.  I was attempting to jump across a hopper one day‚ (once used to discharge the coal from wagons down a chute into the ship's hold‚) when my foot slipped and I fell into the chute. 

It was only my plimsolls that saved me as I spread my legs with a foot on either side of the chute‚ the rubber soles acting as a break.  I was extracted by some older boys and shaking slightly‚ looked down to what may have been my watery grave.  Years previously they were very busy‚ as coal from the local collieries‚ brought by rail was tipped down the coal chutes into the holds of ships anchored in the Tyne.  

Nearby were the remains of an old stone built pit-winding house.  I climbed up with other boys and threw stones down a built up pit shaft‚ that had a steel grid cover and listened for the splash as the stone hit the water down the shaft.   In the 1830's‚ when this pit was on strike‚ lead by Tommy Heburn‚ there were riots here as the striking miners and their families were evicted from their homes‚ the army being called in to protect the bailiffs.  

The Felling Shore boasted one motorcar‚ a Baby Austin.  The owner was a businessman who played a big part in running the local football team.  I thought he must be a very rich man to own a car.  

Living near the river‚ it was inevitable that people were drowned‚ some

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accidentally‚ others by suicide.   One man‚ Pinter Wilson had been drinking and made a wager that he could swim across the river and back‚ but‚ as he got half way across‚ he disappeared.  His body was recovered three days later by boatmen using grappling hooks.  Another incident occurred when children were playing on some steps used by merchant seamen who came ashore from their ships. 

One boy pushed a girl into the river‚ another boy dived in to rescue her‚ but‚ as she struggled with fear‚ the boy who attempted to save her was drowned.  Another boy got her back to the steps.  

The Tyne was a very busy river at this time with ships of all shapes and sizes. 

Pilots guided the ships up the twisting river from Tynemouth to Newcastle and beyond.  Some of the bigger ships with cargoes of grain for spillers were ushered by four tugs‚ two at the stem and two at the stern.  

The Tyne must have been reasonably clean then as the locals caught quantities of Salmon‚ although this was unlawful.  There were river police patrols to prevent poaching‚ but a lookout could spot those patrols in plenty of time so no one got caught.  As there were no fridges‚ the catch was often shared‚ and then the Salmon was mixed with potatoes to make fishcakes.  

My first school was a huge stone building named St. Johns', although every one called it the "clock School" owing to a large round tower incorporating a huge clock face. 

It was built in the 1840's and had been donated by a chemical firm. 

The road from Felling shore to the school was an upward gradient‚ and at the roadside was a mountain of chemical waste that was flat topped and grassed over.  It had been there for many years long before I was born‚ and‚ as it rained‚ the water seeped through this heap‚ then into a gutter at the roadside where it flowed on to the River Tyne.  At times the stench was terrible‚ hence the local name for the road was the ’Stinking Lonnen’. 

Many of the children's clothes were old and patched‚ but we all had footwear.  In summer sandshoes or plimsolls were worn‚ and‚ when holes became worn in

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the soles‚ inserting a new sole inside the shoe cut from a cardboard box repaired them.  In winter‚ boots‚ filled with studs were worn.  But‚ I can remember myself and another boy going to school for two days in our bare feet. 

There was another addition to our family with the birth of my sister Peggy. 

Then‚ before moving from the Felling Shore‚ I recollected two other points that stuck in my memory‚ the first was a political rally.  It was an election campaign. 

The Co-op store horse and cart was gaily decorated in the green and white colours of the Labour Party with the candidate making a speech using the cart as a platform.  I helped by distributing leaflets.  Then‚ the horse and cart moved to another location with all the children singing an election song. 

My other recollection was standing outside a small shop at the top of Stony Bank ran by Alice Mason‚ alongside another boy we were discussing what sweets we would buy if we were millionaires‚ when the parish priest‚ Father Costello came up behind us‚ took us inside and bought us a halfpenny lucky bag‚ containing sweets and sherbet. 

New council house estates were spring up in Felling and we were allocated a new house on the Stonygate Estate.  It had three bedrooms‚ a living room a bathroom a kitchen with a gas boiler for washing clothes‚ and an outside toilet attached to the house.  

All the rooms were illuminated by gas lighting‚ care had to be taken when lighting these because‚ if the gas mantle was touched‚ it would fragment and leave an unsatisfactory blue jet flame.  The street lamps‚ also lit by gas‚ came on by automatic timing.   Prior to this a lamplighter‚ named Mr‚ Pattison‚ lit each lamp individually by a large pole topped with a flame. 

The streets were built in rows with each house having a back and front garden‚ between each two streets was a back lane with a circle at the top to allow horse and carts such as those used by the milkman‚ fruitier‚ fish man‚ coalman etc.‚ to turn round.  The best kept horse transport‚ besides a funeral hearse‚ was Rington's tea‚ a two wheeled covered conveyance with highly polished gloss paint of black and yellow‚ with the horse well-groomed and adorned with a highly polished leather harness and brasses

It was in Stonygate that I got my first bicycle‚ Before this I'd been used to old bikes called boneshakers‚ without tyres or pedals‚ and those without seats had old rags tied on as a substitute.  My dad bought a second hand bike from a railway worker which must have stood outside for years as it was cowered in rust and the tyres were flat‚ I worked on it with emery paper and repair outfit‚ then painted it silver.  It was my pride and joy.  

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The Salvation Army came round the estate every Thursday‚ delivering free soup. All we had to do was provide the container.   A few children on the estate died from a disease known as diphtheria. 

One of them was a friend of my sister.  We were told not to play in the streets where these children had died‚ as we may contact the disease.

One day my uncle Frank won some money on the football pools.   I don't know how much‚ but he gave my mother a big white five-pound note‚ the first I'd ever seen.  She took me to Martha Robson's shop‚ in Gateshead‚ where I got

shoes‚ stockings‚ underwear‚ shirt‚ trousers‚ and jersey.  It was the most clothes I received at one time in my life.  Clothes were very rare and pocket money was something to imagine.  

My other sister Pauline was born here‚ making a total of six‚ including mother and father.  Money was in short supply‚ so mother would take articles to the pawn shop in order to make ends meet‚ then redeem them at a later date. 

When I think back this must have been because of the new furniture that was bought on hire purchase for our new house‚ including a Cossor radio that all the family could listen to together‚ a large battery operated this and acid filled accumulator that needed to be charged up periodically.  

Along the top of the estate ran a railway line‚ from South Shields‚ on

the coast‚ to Newcastle.  The noise of the steam trains as they passed by rattled the windows of the house.  

Residents‚ through time‚ became used to this‚ but any strangers visiting the house would wonder what was happening when the windows started to rattle.  As youngsters‚ we would run to the bridge and climb up on to the parapet to catch the smoke and steam in our faces‚ as the engine came under the bridge.   Passenger and goods trains of all descriptions used these lines.  One day as a coal train passed‚ the doors in the floor of a couple of wagons‚ either by design

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or accident‚ broke open spilling the contents along the railway tracks and despite the warning notice‚ that trespassers would be prosecuted and fined10/ (5Op) people of all ages‚ armed with buckets‚ bags‚ zinc baths and the like‚ swarmed down the embankment like locusts and cleaned the lines up in record time. 

When a policeman arrived to investigate‚ the scene was as peaceful as before the train had passed.  The only other time I saw so many people on the embankment‚ was when the first electric train passed by.  

In summer time‚ we didn't go away anywhere for holidays‚ but I remember going for a day trip to the seaside‚ at South Shields‚ on what was known as `the poor children's trip.

This was organised by a club‚ and people who were working contributed money for the unemployed.  Before we went‚ all the children had their arms stamped with indelible ink.  We had to show this to get a food bag on the beach; we all took a bottle of water with us‚ as mineral water was not provided.  It was a great day out‚ but spoilt for me by one incident.  After playing in the sea‚ I returned to find my boots were missing.  

As these were the only footwear I possessed.  I returned home very apprehensive‚ knowing this could cost money that we could ill afford. 

Thankfully the trouble did not materialise‚ as through some organisation I received a pair of shoes.   Unfortunately‚ I was not used to wearing low shoes‚ and this pair was very hard and strong‚ causing me much pain in my ankles that I had to persevere with for some time.  

By now I had left the "Clock" school and was attending St. John's, next to St. Patricks at the bottom of Felling High St. This‚ like my last school was also a big stone building about one hundred years old.  Each teacher had a cane and children were hit with this for punishment.  I was always laughing and smiling and was many times in trouble for this‚ but one day‚ as we were lined up in the playground ready to march into our classrooms‚ the sun was shining in my face which made me squint my eyes and show my teeth‚ as though I was smiling.  I was

grabbed by the shoulder‚ rushed into the classroom‚ bent over a desk and whacked with

My old school

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a cane‚ which was very painful.  I involuntary wet my trousers and that got me an extra stroke of the cane and was called a dirty boy‚ by the teacher.  I think much of the punishment dealt out was unjust.   For example‚ you would be caned for being late‚ through no fault of your own. On another occasion at a later school‚

I was punished for wearing a greyish woodwork apron instead of white.  My mother had made this from material she had got free‚ in order to save cost. 

But there is one memory that makes me smile today although it cost me two strokes of the cane at the time.  The teacher wrote on the blackboard‚ "there's a little brown path winding over the hill to a little white cottage by the sea. 

Then she said‚ I want you all to draw that scene. I thought I'd made a good job of mine and was quite pleased with it‚ we then want out for playtime. 

Unknown to me‚ a friend of mine altered my drawing‚ by putting a hole in my brown path‚ and a notice with an arrow pointing to an unexploded bomb‚ so instead of being praised‚ I was punished.  

St‚ John's was situated near the bottom of Felling High St.‚ the main shopping area was a very steep street‚ with shops on either side including Costello `s pawnshop.  At the bottom end a fruit shop sold what was described as bruised fruit‚ which was very cheap. Naturally you had to cut off the bad and mouldy parts before

consumption.  Opposite this shop was a pub called the Beeswing that was supplied with beer transported by a steam driven Lorry.  It had a pot-bellied front with a chimney on top‚ solid rubber tyres‚ and‚ sometimes-hot cinders dropped onto the road.  This was unusual because there were many motor Lorries about. 

After a while I had to leave St. John’s because I lived in the parish of Pelaw, I was moved to St. Alban’s School‚ and on my way there‚ I took a short cut

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through a clay hole called the Dean and across the Pelaw fields‚ rather than going the roadway. 

Just as the old wooden coal staiths were a playground in Felling Shore‚ now this clay hole was another with the two main requirements‚ it was free and close by‚ there were ponds with tiddlers, frogs and newts in abundance and a stream that was supplemented by water from the Heworth Colliery. 

This stream‚ used for swimming when dammed back‚ it also provided an area to exercise ones physical abilities in the narrow sections‚ by jumping across‚ unfortunately at times with saturated muddy results if you failed to reach the other bank. 

Then a cleaning up period was begun with water and dry grass to gain some respectability before returning home.  

At times I didn't go to school.  Instead I went fishing for sticklebacks and newts in the clayhole pond.  Then I would walk down to Pelaw Main‚ on the banks of the Tyne‚ stand on a bridge and watch the coal wagons brought down the lines by a main and tail rope to a revolving tippler‚ where the coal wagon entered

and was turned upside down releasing its load down a chute and into the hold of a ship berthed underneath.  Men‚ called trimmers‚ would then distribute the load to keep the ship on an even keel. 

I also liked to see the merchant ships moving up and down the river‚ wondering what parts of the world they had been‚ or were going‚ and thinking‚ one day I would join the merchant navy and see the world.  

I didn't like school very much.  Maybe it was because I was not very bright although I was by no means bottom of the class‚ and found it hard to learn lessons‚ unlike some who appeared to have no difficulty.

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I took sandwiches for my lunch and a tin can of tea that the caretaker heated up on the heating system.  Other children‚ whose fathers were unemployed‚ were issued with free tickets and went to a dinner centre for their lunch.  

On the coronation of King George the sixth in 1937‚ each child was issued with a coronation mug‚ and‚ on my way home via the clay hole.  I was very thirsty‚ so decided to try my new mug out. 

Plunging it into the stream that ran on into the Tyne‚ it struck a rock and smashed to pieces.  I wonder how many of those mugs

are around today.

It was in this stream that I first learnt to swim‚ after building a dam across its width to accumulate water to a depth of about three feet.  By the time I was aged twelve‚ I could swim across the river and back.  

After a while‚ I moved from St. Alban’s to Willow Grove School‚ where we were graded on exams.  There were no A or O levels‚ just classes A‚ B‚ and

C.  I was in 1B.Then, in the following years moved into 2B then 3B.  

 Without pocket money I always needed to earn some money. A group of us got a few yards of string tied a small stone on one end and went down to the river in search of wood.  This was done by throwing the stone beyond a log‚ or piece of wood‚ and then pulling it in with the string.  The wood was then left to dry‚ chopped up later and sold for a penny per bundle.  

There was plenty of wood in the river‚ especially after a ship had been launched‚ as wood blocks were used to keep the ship upright on the stocks prior to the launch. I also helped out at home‚ by digging for coal on the pit heaps. 

Another little money earner was selling newspapers.  I well remember in 1939 yelling‚ "War Declared!" as I went on my round. 

The war for us started very quietly.  Every family got an Anderson air raid shelter to erect.  First‚ a hole had to be dug in the garden with the soil put into

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bags that were provided‚ then the corrugated iron sheets‚ bolted together‚ were placed in the hole and the bags placed on top and around the sheets.  Bunk beds were installed and everything made ready for use.  These shelters were put to all sorts of uses; card games were sometimes played on rainy days and one shelter in the next street held magic lanterns. 

A white sheet was stretched across a cut out piece of wood to form a screen behind which figures‚ cut from cardboard and fixed to wire to handle them‚ were projected onto the screen by means of a candle.  The price of admission was two cigarette cards. 

After we had been refused admission because we had no cards‚ decided to smoke the occupants out with a stink bomb. This was made by rolling up a piece of celluloid from an old film and wrapped up in a piece of paper‚ the paper was then set alight till the celluloid caught fire then the paper was stamped on to extinguish the flame and from this came clouds of smoke.  This device was then thrown into the shelter‚ which was emptied at top speed. 

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Everyone was issued with a gas mask‚ even babies had a special Mickey Mouse design type and these masks were carried everywhere you went.  When the air raids began a warning was given by the wailing of sirens.  This was usually at night time.  

In the darkness came the drone of aircraft‚ followed by explosions as the bombs dropped.  Then the anti-aircraft guns from all over

the region blasted their reply‚ trying to shoot the planes down.  Searchlights probed the darkness to spot the Enemy that word enemy‚ I suppose the Germans used it to describe us.

When the raid was over‚ the sirens sounded the all clear‚ and‚ if this was after midnight‚ we did not have to go to school that day.  This pleased me and I spent the day looking for shrapnel fragments of bombs

and shells.  I had a good collection of this plus a shell nose cap and the tail fin of an incendiary bomb.  

One night the Newcastle railway goods yard was bombed.  The flames could be seen for miles around and was still smouldering three weeks later. I went over to see the situation‚ where‚ water and gas mains were damaged‚ broken barrels of lard and other goods were spread all over the place‚ and railway wagons were anywhere but on the tracks.  It was complete carnage.  One wagon must have been blown very high over a few streets‚ and

Manors Goods Yard 1941

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had to drop vertically into a back lane‚ as miraculously the walls on either side of the lane were intact.  I had to crawl under the wagon to get passed.  The firemen and civil defence personal were all going about their duties to help with the dead and wounded.  I suppose the German aircrews‚ who had dropped the bombs had also been doing the same‚ going about their duties.  One thinks of the death and devastation in such cities as London‚ Coventry‚ and Berlin and Dresden caused by people dropping bombs on people they didn't even know‚ just because nations were in disagreement‚ but that’s the way of war. 

At one time armies met in some field and went into battle and all the casualties were armed forces.  All the wars since those days have involved more and more civilians including women‚ children and old folk who have nothing to do with the decisions.  They just want to get on with their lives‚ but suffer the consequences.  When will nations negotiate their differences peaceably and the money and resources spent on arms be used to improve standards of living and quality of life?  Never, I suppose.  

Whit Sunday is an occasion when Roman Catholics go to church‚ in what is termed as walking in white.  For this ceremony the girls are dressed all in white and the boys wear a white shirt.   It was said if you did not have new clothes on that day‚ the crows would mess on you.  A good enough reason for having new clothes don't you think? On one such occasion

dressed in my white shirt‚ velvet shorts with three pearl buttons on either side;

white socks and a pair of black shoes‚ I was on my way to church via the bottom road of the estate where smoke screen containers lined the road. 

The purpose of these smoke screens when lit at night time was to produce clouds of thick black smoke‚ that would hopefully screen the River Tyne and prevent the German airmen from seeing the course of the river reflected by the moonlight and so pinpoint shipyards or any other potential targets. 

Unfortunately one of these containers had been overturned and crude oil spilled all over the road.  As I tried to negotiate my way passed this dark black sticky

Smoke Screens filled with oil

Newcastle Central Station

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mass‚ my foot slipped and to my horror‚ and the delight of others I went sprawling amongst the oil‚ thereby preventing me partaking in this ceremony.  

My father‚ who was too old to be conscripted for the 1939-45 war volunteered to join the army‚ I well remember him saying‚ he wasn't fighting for King and country‚ but for his wife and family.  He died after serving in North

Africa‚ Sicily‚ Italy and the Normandy Landings.  

My mother thought for our safety that my two sisters‚ Molly and Peggy‚ and I should be evacuated to Carlisle‚ but my youngest sister Pauline was thought to be too young. 

So‚ with our bags packed‚ gas masks on our shoulders and each with a luggage label with name and address printed on it pinned onto the coat lapel‚ off we went by train.  It was sad

to leave home and I was slightly apprehensive about the future.  After we disembarked from the train‚ we loaded onto a bus that took us to a school in Currock‚ Carlisle.  All the children were crowded in a large hall and people came in and picked whom they wanted. 

My two sisters and I were seperated‚I thought we would all stay together but the woman who picked me wanted two boys.  So with a boy called Ernie‚ off I went to my new home.  

The kindly old lady who looked after us was a widow and had lived for many years on her own and had no children.   I settled into my new surroundings‚ but Ernie was very homesick and returned home after a few weeks.  

He was replaced by Stephen who came with a new batch of evacuees‚ and although Stephen and I were Roman Catholic and attended our church every Sunday morning‚ as this had been instilled into us‚ being physically punished at school for Non-attendance‚ Mrs Holstead took us to a Non Catholic church on Sunday nights‚ something unheard of back home and probably classed as a sacrilege‚ but the atmosphere was much better than in the Catholic church‚ we also got tea and biscuits‚ 

The countryside around Carlisle was beautiful and I enjoyed playing in the woods and walking by the river watching the trout swimming.  It was a different world to Tyneside. 

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Hammonds Park was a favourite venue for me‚ marred on one occasion when my sister‚ Peggy‚ having fallen into the lake proceeded to the Banana Slide‚ which she put out of action for a while due to dampness‚ causing dismay to the waiting children‚ In the park keeper's house garden‚ there were apple and plum trees‚ this was the first time I'd seen fruit growing on trees.  I always

thought these came from other countries.  

After a while‚ my fellow evacuee‚ Stephen‚ returned home along with a number of others‚ including my sister Peggy‚ making me feel very homesick.  Mrs. Holstead‚ my landlady‚ was very nice and she had a lovely house‚ but it wasn't home‚ I did not want to tell her I wanted to go home as she was so very kind‚ but‚ when relatives sent me postal orders‚ sometimes 1/ (5p) 2/  (10p) I saved these up till I had enough for my train fare. 

Then off I went to the station‚ bought a ticket to Newcastle and went home. I must have caused a lot of worry and distress by not telling anyone but I desperately wanted to go home and I thought if I mentioned it‚ I would be prevented.  

My last year at school was at Willow Grove‚ in Felling‚ where the lessons were different from the Carlisle school‚ putting me behind in my studies but I

coped as best as I could‚ and was pleased when‚ at the age of 14‚ I left. Finishing on 'Friday I started work in the International Paints factory on Monday morning. The firm supplied me with overalls‚ clogs and gloves but the overalls were far too big for me‚ as I was small in stature‚ so my mother had to alter them by various means‚ to make them look reasonable.  

My job‚ in the Varnish Making Department‚ was to take away the rubbish from this department when the materials had been used.  Empty paper bags‚ Hessian

Hammonds Park

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bags that had contained resins‚ wooden casks‚ tins and oil drums were all included. The empty barrels‚ I took to an old man‚ who was a cooper by trade‚ and he repaired them before they were sent back to the material manufacturers.  I was fascinated watching him work. 

On one occasion three of us were instructed to take a load of empty canisters on a four wheeled bogie to

a department at the top of an inclined road. After completing this task we decided to ride back down the hill instead of walking‚ and I elected to drive or steer this vehicle by means of a metal bar at the front‚ which was attached to a swivel that turned the front wheels. 

There were no brakes on the wheels‚ as it was supposed to be pushed or pulled at walking pace.  Off we started but soon began to pick up speed‚ and then it was travelling too fast to jump off. By this time my heart was in my mouth as we approached the junction.  I decided to turn right but the speed was too fast to negotiate the turn‚ and the bogie overturned and threw us head over heels to the ground.  Fortunately none of us were seriously hurt‚ just a few bumps and bruises‚ but as we picked ourselves up. There was the foreman who promptly suspended us for one week.  

On another occasion while filling a container with White Spirit‚ a highly inflammable liquid‚ it slipped and I was soaked with this spirit. 

I went into the building beneath the Varnish Making Department and stood in front of a heating element to dry out my overalls.   A few of my mates were in there and as I was drying‚ one of them said if someone threw alighted match at me 1 would go up in a blue light.  Another laughed saying this was untrue.  Well try‚ it said the first‚ which he duly did‚ and sure enough I burst into flames.  Luckily a man was passing by at that time and he smothered me in an overcoat putting the flames out.  Fortunately I only suffered singed hair and eyebrows.  

One of my other jobs was to go round all the factory roofs with a man‚ examining the sand buckets to make sure they were ready for use to extinguish any incendiary bombs that may fall on the buildings.  

My wages were 19/6 per week (97. 5p) and I received 2/6 (12. 5p) pocket money.  My first thought with all this newfound wealth‚ I would buy a Gramophone on weekly terms.  Jack Jackson was the radio disc jockey and the top song was "Here in my Heart" sung by Al Martino‚ so naturally this

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was my first record.  But as I could not afford to buy any more‚ as my pocket money would not stretch that far‚ paying weekly for the Gramophone etc.  I played this constantly to the annoyance of everyone especially my uncle Geordie.  

The working hours were 8 a.m.  Till 5 p.m.  With one hour for dinner.  One could take raw potatoes and an egg‚ and the canteen staff would make you egg and chips.  Alternatively you could buy a canteen dinner although this was meatless due to meat being rationed.

If any employee clocked in one minute after 8 a.m.‚ fifteen minutes pay was deducted from the wages‚ so the late comers‚ not wanting to lose any time‚ ran to get in before eight and the noise of their clogs was deafening as they stampeded to the factory gates.

Freya, G Granddad, Jarno & Bob the Dog

Great-Great GrandchildrenFreya and Jarno plus Bob the dog

Now 88yrs 1915

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John with the girls May 2017

John’s birthday cake 2017