History - can someone fill me in??
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Montreal Wanderer
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Link doesn't work for meBruce Rioja wrote:As an aside, this painting of Rivington Lakes by William Hume in the 1850's is one that I've stared at for hours when it's been out on display at the museum in town. Now this IS a painting.
"If you cannot answer a man's argument, all it not lost; you can still call him vile names. " Elbert Hubbard.
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mofgimmers
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Well, it was burned down first wasn't it? By those pesky suffragettes... even though Lever was really progressive in his day...Montreal Wanderer wrote:I went to the gardens many, many times - usually with the dog and my mother. Leverhulme's house was called the Bungalow (I guess it was only one storey). My mother used to go to dances there, but it had been pulled down by the council when I first went there. Must have been something at one time, when they had gardeners to look after the gardens and the Bungalow was being used.
Anyone know owt about Rockhaven Castle? I've heard tales of masked balls and Lord Rockhaven being horribly disfigured etc etc... the castle was pulled down in the war so it couldn't be used as a landmark for German bombers... um..
Viva La Portable Radio!
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Bruce Rioja
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Bloody thing's disappeared !! It was working before.Montreal Wanderer wrote:Link doesn't work for meBruce Rioja wrote:As an aside, this painting of Rivington Lakes by William Hume in the 1850's is one that I've stared at for hours when it's been out on display at the museum in town. Now this IS a painting.
I'll try and save it and host it up myself (if that's do-able
)May the bridges I burn light your way
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Bruce Rioja
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It's turned out a bit tiny !!
If you put Rivington Lakes into Google Image Search, Monty, you'll be able to see a bigger version of it. However, even the larger image does no justice to the painting itself which is around 6ft across x 4ft height and crammed with finite detail.
May the bridges I burn light your way
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Montreal Wanderer
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Very odd. "Rivington lakes" in google images draws a blank. "William Hume" and rivington in google do little better.Bruce Rioja wrote:
It's turned out a bit tiny !!
If you put Rivington Lakes into Google Image Search, Monty, you'll be able to see a bigger version of it. However, even the larger image does no justice to the painting itself which is around 6ft across x 4ft height and crammed with finite detail.
"If you cannot answer a man's argument, all it not lost; you can still call him vile names. " Elbert Hubbard.
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Bruce Rioja
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TANGODANCER
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BUMP
50 years ago today the Winter Hill air disaster
35 people killed
RIP
http://www.theboltonnews.co.uk/search/d ... ragedy.php
50 years ago today the Winter Hill air disaster
35 people killed
RIP
http://www.theboltonnews.co.uk/search/d ... ragedy.php
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TANGODANCER
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While we're on Bolton history, this is from the BBC WWII, The People's War. Might ring a bell with an odd one or two oldies:
WAR BABY
I was born in July 1940, and therefore was a War baby, and have a sister 4 years older than me.
I was told that when the sirens went off during the war that everyone made a dash for the Air Raid Shelters, and I was put into a suitcase which would act as a Cot while we were in there.
We lived in a terraced house in Mona Street, Halliwell, Bolton. Two up and two down, with a yard at the back, with a big Tippler Lavatory at the bottom by the gate. No bathroom, but there was a big galvanised bath which was dragged out on bath day and put in front of the fire, and filled with water by pans and kettles. The Fireplace was a large iron grate, with an oven and a grill which a pan or kettle could be boiled on. Then later the water had to be ladled out again to throw the dirty water away, and the bath hung up again.
The floors were flagged, and in the kitchen was a big deep sink, where my mother scrubbed the clothes on wash day, and put them through the ringer to get as much water as possible out of them.
The Street was cobbled, and pavements of large flags on either side.
There were many Streets all in rows, with the ‘Portland’ Pub at the top of ours. Shops on some of the corners of a lot of the Streets - Grocery, Greengrocery, Ironmonger, Butchers, Chip Shop, etc. Even a Bookmakers secretly hidden, entered only by a back yard, and also a Dolls Hospital in the next Street.
I had a lot of relatives in and around the Streets, which we used to visit. My Mother was one of seven siblings, and they would meet nearly every week, and play cards or dominoes, for half-pennies or farthings, while we children played with the carpet bowls, or dominoes, on the floor. I had lots of cousins within that small area. I had two Great Aunts, Aunt Mary Alice and Aunt Hannah.
They called the area the ‘Spake Aisy’ I remember being told the meaning ‘Speak Easy’. But to me it never seemed that way. I was brought up well, they were nice people all around, good and honest. It was by no means a rough place to me.
My mother was a good cook and baked cakes. But some of the meals, as I got older I refused to eat, as I did not like them. Cow Heels, Tripe and onions, smokies, kippers, black puddings - these were the economical meals of that time.
My father worked in the Cotton Mill, in the Carding Department. And when the war started he was exempt from being called up, because his job was considered a necessity for the war effort.
But in June 1941 my Father decided he should go and fight for our Country, enlisted for Service, and was sent for training with the 57th Training Regiment.
March 1941 he was posted to the 8th Royal Irish Hussars, Royal Armoured Corps. And sent overseas to the Far East as a Desert Rat. I think my Father had learned to drive with a friend who had the corner Shop at the bottom of our Street, and had a 1920’s Ford Car. So perhaps that was why he was put in the Armoured Corps. and in a Tank. I have one photograph where he is in a large Lorry.
My mother was left to care for my sister and I, and my Fathers parents lived in the same street, so as I got older I spent a lot of happy times with them.
My sister was able to write to our Father, and he would write back to her with little stories, and called her his little Jewel. I felt left out and thought I should be his little Diamond.
My mother did not believe in new ideas, and thought nature worked quite well if you left it alone. And so when I was found to have a lazy eye she did not want it treated by wearing a patch, as she believed that as I grew up it would put itself right. It never did. In fact the lazy eye problem was hereditary, my Father and Sister both have it, and also a Grandson. My Mother also went before a Judge or Official, to give her reasons as to why my sister and I should not have the compulsory injections and vaccinations required at the time.
Unfortunately my sister caught Diphtheria and was put into Isolation Hospital. My Mother and my Grandparents would go to visit her, taking me with them. And while they were there, as I was not allowed in, my Grandfather would take me onto the Railway Bridge to watch the Trains go through under the Bridge.
It was thought that Diphtheria was not contagious through letters, but my Father also went down with it in the Far East, and was sent into Hospital too. While he was in there practically all his detachment got wiped out. What a quirk of fate that was. He was able to survive the war and return home for many more years.
I think my Mother may have worked, as I spent a lot of time with my Grandparents, and my Grandfather would sometimes take me for a walk to the Park, to watch the Bowling, or to the Picture House to watch a film. My Grandmother was Blind in her 50’s, due to Glaucoma, but she could bake and cook , and she would show me how to make little cakes with cornflakes, condensed milk and cocoa. She would bake bread too in the oven at the side of the fire.
My Grandmother was always cheerful and happy. She only had a Radio, and would listen to Ken Dodd, and loved his songs. She could take him off too “Are you tickled Mrs” she would say.
They had a very large ornamental Dresser with a large mirror in the high back, and one of those Sofas with a long arm along the back, that you could recline on.
We all had Identity Cards, and Ration books. Every coupon had a value, and was worth so many ounces of some food, or item. So times were hard, and even sweets were a rarity. So I think that is why I have had a good set of teeth all my life. The Rag and Bone man used to trundle down the Street, shouting something you couldn’t make out, but to let people know. Also the ice cream man with a cart he would wheel around.
Father sent a postcard home saying that he was going to be on the Newsreel at the Pictures, and asking had we seen him. My Mother found out when it happened and dashed down there to see him. She went to see the Projectionist, who cut a couple of small bits from the film for her. One showed him cooking an egg in a tin directly on the Sands, and the other showed him drinking a cup of tea, to illustrate how they managed in the Desert, and that they could cook anything on the Sand as it was so hot.
How I wish I could get that bit of film, but I have tried to trace without success up to now.
In later years every Summer time whenever my Father went out in the Sun his face would go a very deep brown within a very short time.
When he returned home, and left the Ship to start making his way home, lots of people would stop him as he travelled along. He was so sunburnt due to being in the Desert for so long, and they would say to him “You’re a Desert Rat, aren’t you” and grab his hand to shake it, to welcome him home.
He was a strange man to me, I did not know him, and I was very shy. He asked me to give him a kiss, but I refused. So he said he would give me half a crown for a kiss. But I still refused. So my sister said she would give him a kiss for half a crown. He said he could get a kiss from her anytime. I remember he gave me a hard boiled sweet, and it slipped down my throat and made me choke, there was panic while they slapped my back in order to bring it up again.
I think my sister still has the letters and stories our Father sent to her during the War, and because they were so good, there was some talk about having them made into a book eventually, but it never happened.
He went back to work at the Mill and became Head Carder, later on to become Carding Manager at another Mill. My Mother said he had changed when he came back from the War, he never smoked or drank before, but now he did, and would go to the club or the Pub.
My Father got 5 medals plus 8th Army bar for his service in WW2. I respected him and am very proud of him, for what he did in volunteering to fight for his Country when he didn’t have to go. He was a very strong willed and brave man. He was at El Alamein, and when that was over, on to Cyprus, and later was in Holland, and then Germany, and I think in the victory parade in Berlin.
My brother was born in 1947, one of the many post War babies. He was the Son and Heir he had always wanted, he said.
Over the years we would sit up late at night listening to his stories of his experiences during that time. He would tell us about how his best friend in his Tank was doing lookout, and had his head blown off. How he was part of the front line in the Desert, and an American Tank came up asking what was up in front. My Father said “nothing, we are the front line”. So they went speeding off to find out what was in front, only to later come racing back at full speed under heavy fire. They would wake up in the Desert and find Scorpions in their blankets.
When they were in the Netherlands they were greeted joyously by the Dutch people, who were very glad to see them. No wonder we seem to get on very well with the Dutch people.
Even after the War, rationing continued for a few years. I remember being sent errands, having to take a coupon, queue up for coal bricks in one of the yards of the lower Street, and struggle home with a number of them in a bag. They were made of coal dust, but lasted quite a while when put on a fire, they were a cheap type of coal. We also had cinders, which were a grey crinkley type of coal, again another cheap fuel, which when put on a fire, kept it glowing slowly for a much longer time than ordinary coal. Everything was for economy.
I remember going to the Chip Shop and getting three penny worth of chips, and free pea soup over them. Gosh, they were scrumptious. Birthday cakes used to have a silver six pence or a three penny piece wrapped in greaseproof paper, and if you found one in your piece, it was very lucky.
Time moves on, and the Streets are no longer there, and new ones have replaced them. My parents and grandparents are no longer here, and I am the Grandmother now, with 4 children, 8 grandchildren and 2 gt.grandchildren. Yes, time moves on so fast.
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This is of particular interest to me. Wish I knew this person's name. You see I was nine months old when she was born and I lived in Mona street for the next nineteen years.Scary reading what could have been my own version to a T.
WAR BABY
I was born in July 1940, and therefore was a War baby, and have a sister 4 years older than me.
I was told that when the sirens went off during the war that everyone made a dash for the Air Raid Shelters, and I was put into a suitcase which would act as a Cot while we were in there.
We lived in a terraced house in Mona Street, Halliwell, Bolton. Two up and two down, with a yard at the back, with a big Tippler Lavatory at the bottom by the gate. No bathroom, but there was a big galvanised bath which was dragged out on bath day and put in front of the fire, and filled with water by pans and kettles. The Fireplace was a large iron grate, with an oven and a grill which a pan or kettle could be boiled on. Then later the water had to be ladled out again to throw the dirty water away, and the bath hung up again.
The floors were flagged, and in the kitchen was a big deep sink, where my mother scrubbed the clothes on wash day, and put them through the ringer to get as much water as possible out of them.
The Street was cobbled, and pavements of large flags on either side.
There were many Streets all in rows, with the ‘Portland’ Pub at the top of ours. Shops on some of the corners of a lot of the Streets - Grocery, Greengrocery, Ironmonger, Butchers, Chip Shop, etc. Even a Bookmakers secretly hidden, entered only by a back yard, and also a Dolls Hospital in the next Street.
I had a lot of relatives in and around the Streets, which we used to visit. My Mother was one of seven siblings, and they would meet nearly every week, and play cards or dominoes, for half-pennies or farthings, while we children played with the carpet bowls, or dominoes, on the floor. I had lots of cousins within that small area. I had two Great Aunts, Aunt Mary Alice and Aunt Hannah.
They called the area the ‘Spake Aisy’ I remember being told the meaning ‘Speak Easy’. But to me it never seemed that way. I was brought up well, they were nice people all around, good and honest. It was by no means a rough place to me.
My mother was a good cook and baked cakes. But some of the meals, as I got older I refused to eat, as I did not like them. Cow Heels, Tripe and onions, smokies, kippers, black puddings - these were the economical meals of that time.
My father worked in the Cotton Mill, in the Carding Department. And when the war started he was exempt from being called up, because his job was considered a necessity for the war effort.
But in June 1941 my Father decided he should go and fight for our Country, enlisted for Service, and was sent for training with the 57th Training Regiment.
March 1941 he was posted to the 8th Royal Irish Hussars, Royal Armoured Corps. And sent overseas to the Far East as a Desert Rat. I think my Father had learned to drive with a friend who had the corner Shop at the bottom of our Street, and had a 1920’s Ford Car. So perhaps that was why he was put in the Armoured Corps. and in a Tank. I have one photograph where he is in a large Lorry.
My mother was left to care for my sister and I, and my Fathers parents lived in the same street, so as I got older I spent a lot of happy times with them.
My sister was able to write to our Father, and he would write back to her with little stories, and called her his little Jewel. I felt left out and thought I should be his little Diamond.
My mother did not believe in new ideas, and thought nature worked quite well if you left it alone. And so when I was found to have a lazy eye she did not want it treated by wearing a patch, as she believed that as I grew up it would put itself right. It never did. In fact the lazy eye problem was hereditary, my Father and Sister both have it, and also a Grandson. My Mother also went before a Judge or Official, to give her reasons as to why my sister and I should not have the compulsory injections and vaccinations required at the time.
Unfortunately my sister caught Diphtheria and was put into Isolation Hospital. My Mother and my Grandparents would go to visit her, taking me with them. And while they were there, as I was not allowed in, my Grandfather would take me onto the Railway Bridge to watch the Trains go through under the Bridge.
It was thought that Diphtheria was not contagious through letters, but my Father also went down with it in the Far East, and was sent into Hospital too. While he was in there practically all his detachment got wiped out. What a quirk of fate that was. He was able to survive the war and return home for many more years.
I think my Mother may have worked, as I spent a lot of time with my Grandparents, and my Grandfather would sometimes take me for a walk to the Park, to watch the Bowling, or to the Picture House to watch a film. My Grandmother was Blind in her 50’s, due to Glaucoma, but she could bake and cook , and she would show me how to make little cakes with cornflakes, condensed milk and cocoa. She would bake bread too in the oven at the side of the fire.
My Grandmother was always cheerful and happy. She only had a Radio, and would listen to Ken Dodd, and loved his songs. She could take him off too “Are you tickled Mrs” she would say.
They had a very large ornamental Dresser with a large mirror in the high back, and one of those Sofas with a long arm along the back, that you could recline on.
We all had Identity Cards, and Ration books. Every coupon had a value, and was worth so many ounces of some food, or item. So times were hard, and even sweets were a rarity. So I think that is why I have had a good set of teeth all my life. The Rag and Bone man used to trundle down the Street, shouting something you couldn’t make out, but to let people know. Also the ice cream man with a cart he would wheel around.
Father sent a postcard home saying that he was going to be on the Newsreel at the Pictures, and asking had we seen him. My Mother found out when it happened and dashed down there to see him. She went to see the Projectionist, who cut a couple of small bits from the film for her. One showed him cooking an egg in a tin directly on the Sands, and the other showed him drinking a cup of tea, to illustrate how they managed in the Desert, and that they could cook anything on the Sand as it was so hot.
How I wish I could get that bit of film, but I have tried to trace without success up to now.
In later years every Summer time whenever my Father went out in the Sun his face would go a very deep brown within a very short time.
When he returned home, and left the Ship to start making his way home, lots of people would stop him as he travelled along. He was so sunburnt due to being in the Desert for so long, and they would say to him “You’re a Desert Rat, aren’t you” and grab his hand to shake it, to welcome him home.
He was a strange man to me, I did not know him, and I was very shy. He asked me to give him a kiss, but I refused. So he said he would give me half a crown for a kiss. But I still refused. So my sister said she would give him a kiss for half a crown. He said he could get a kiss from her anytime. I remember he gave me a hard boiled sweet, and it slipped down my throat and made me choke, there was panic while they slapped my back in order to bring it up again.
I think my sister still has the letters and stories our Father sent to her during the War, and because they were so good, there was some talk about having them made into a book eventually, but it never happened.
He went back to work at the Mill and became Head Carder, later on to become Carding Manager at another Mill. My Mother said he had changed when he came back from the War, he never smoked or drank before, but now he did, and would go to the club or the Pub.
My Father got 5 medals plus 8th Army bar for his service in WW2. I respected him and am very proud of him, for what he did in volunteering to fight for his Country when he didn’t have to go. He was a very strong willed and brave man. He was at El Alamein, and when that was over, on to Cyprus, and later was in Holland, and then Germany, and I think in the victory parade in Berlin.
My brother was born in 1947, one of the many post War babies. He was the Son and Heir he had always wanted, he said.
Over the years we would sit up late at night listening to his stories of his experiences during that time. He would tell us about how his best friend in his Tank was doing lookout, and had his head blown off. How he was part of the front line in the Desert, and an American Tank came up asking what was up in front. My Father said “nothing, we are the front line”. So they went speeding off to find out what was in front, only to later come racing back at full speed under heavy fire. They would wake up in the Desert and find Scorpions in their blankets.
When they were in the Netherlands they were greeted joyously by the Dutch people, who were very glad to see them. No wonder we seem to get on very well with the Dutch people.
Even after the War, rationing continued for a few years. I remember being sent errands, having to take a coupon, queue up for coal bricks in one of the yards of the lower Street, and struggle home with a number of them in a bag. They were made of coal dust, but lasted quite a while when put on a fire, they were a cheap type of coal. We also had cinders, which were a grey crinkley type of coal, again another cheap fuel, which when put on a fire, kept it glowing slowly for a much longer time than ordinary coal. Everything was for economy.
I remember going to the Chip Shop and getting three penny worth of chips, and free pea soup over them. Gosh, they were scrumptious. Birthday cakes used to have a silver six pence or a three penny piece wrapped in greaseproof paper, and if you found one in your piece, it was very lucky.
Time moves on, and the Streets are no longer there, and new ones have replaced them. My parents and grandparents are no longer here, and I am the Grandmother now, with 4 children, 8 grandchildren and 2 gt.grandchildren. Yes, time moves on so fast.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This is of particular interest to me. Wish I knew this person's name. You see I was nine months old when she was born and I lived in Mona street for the next nineteen years.Scary reading what could have been my own version to a T.
Si Deus pro nobis, quis contra nos?
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TANGODANCER
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Dujon
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Aye, TANGO, there're a few comments in there that bring back memories.
For the first three years, perhaps closer to four, I lived in Windemere Road in Leigh. The galvanised bath is one of the few memories of the place that I have retained. The 'ringer' to which the author refers was, on occasion, referred to as a wringer - but more often as a 'mangle'. Lovely descriptive name. When we moved to Harwood we also had a 'maiden' in the scullery on which to hang the 'mangled' clothes to dry in the warmth. It had a draw cord and a pulley to allow it to be accessed at a reasonable height and then pulled up to near the ceiling. The Harwood residence was rather flash - even though it was still (roughly) a two up/two down semi-detached - as it had a bathroom and separate toilet. When I look at it now via Google Earth and compare the size of the house to the cars parked in the street it was, well, incredibly small.
Rationing coupons were normal to me, as no doubt they were to every youngster in those days. Given that there were six of us - my mother, my father and my three siblings - bread and dripping was not an unusual dinner. I actually got to like the stuff. I sometimes wonder why I'm not fat (excluding the recently added paunch) as I've always been the 'skinny as a rake' sort of build.
To those of you who landed on this Earth of ours at a later date this is not some sort of we-did-it-tougher-than-you diatribe (I got enough of that from my grandparents, thanks) it's just a factual report and nowt more.
[Monty - if you've managed to read all this rubbish] For the time I lived in Harwood (from age 4 to 11) there was always a mast on what my dad called Rivington Pike. We had television ...
Hang on - storm coming close here - I'll finish this a bit later. Ta.
Right . . . no close fireworks for the last few minutes:
We had television, courtesy of Radio Rentals and no doubt a few bob, for a few years before I sailed off to unknown territory (1955). Perhaps the mast was some form of BBC repeater station or possibly simply a radio mast of some description. I don't know.
Then there were the 'Man from the Pru', shilling in the slot meters and coal and milk men. The school I attended had a coke stoked boiler ensconced in its own space at the back and under section of the building. Mr Hindley, the school's janitor and general factotum, did his best, but given the volume of the space to be heated it wasn't terribly effective. Halcyon days? Hardly. Chilblains were the order of the day.
For the first three years, perhaps closer to four, I lived in Windemere Road in Leigh. The galvanised bath is one of the few memories of the place that I have retained. The 'ringer' to which the author refers was, on occasion, referred to as a wringer - but more often as a 'mangle'. Lovely descriptive name. When we moved to Harwood we also had a 'maiden' in the scullery on which to hang the 'mangled' clothes to dry in the warmth. It had a draw cord and a pulley to allow it to be accessed at a reasonable height and then pulled up to near the ceiling. The Harwood residence was rather flash - even though it was still (roughly) a two up/two down semi-detached - as it had a bathroom and separate toilet. When I look at it now via Google Earth and compare the size of the house to the cars parked in the street it was, well, incredibly small.
Rationing coupons were normal to me, as no doubt they were to every youngster in those days. Given that there were six of us - my mother, my father and my three siblings - bread and dripping was not an unusual dinner. I actually got to like the stuff. I sometimes wonder why I'm not fat (excluding the recently added paunch) as I've always been the 'skinny as a rake' sort of build.
To those of you who landed on this Earth of ours at a later date this is not some sort of we-did-it-tougher-than-you diatribe (I got enough of that from my grandparents, thanks) it's just a factual report and nowt more.
[Monty - if you've managed to read all this rubbish] For the time I lived in Harwood (from age 4 to 11) there was always a mast on what my dad called Rivington Pike. We had television ...
Hang on - storm coming close here - I'll finish this a bit later. Ta.
Right . . . no close fireworks for the last few minutes:
We had television, courtesy of Radio Rentals and no doubt a few bob, for a few years before I sailed off to unknown territory (1955). Perhaps the mast was some form of BBC repeater station or possibly simply a radio mast of some description. I don't know.
Then there were the 'Man from the Pru', shilling in the slot meters and coal and milk men. The school I attended had a coke stoked boiler ensconced in its own space at the back and under section of the building. Mr Hindley, the school's janitor and general factotum, did his best, but given the volume of the space to be heated it wasn't terribly effective. Halcyon days? Hardly. Chilblains were the order of the day.
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Montreal Wanderer
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I read a lot of it Dujon - and yes we had a mangle, clothes horses (free standing as well as the pulley type). Fortunately we had a bath and boiler so everyday was bath day. And yes, I liked bread and drippings. However, I'm not sure about Winter Hill. In 1953 and onwards we only had BBC. It came from Home (Holme?) Moss and then Sutton Coldfield (or vice versa). The signal was pretty weak and died in static anytime someone drove by until they got suppressors (some pretty stiff letters were sent to some neighbours on that subject). So I'm not sure about a booster station there as early as you say - reception should have been better I would have thought. In the late 1950s ITV did erect a mast there for sure, and BBC could have put a relay up earlier because the signal did improve by 1956/57ish.
I remember rationning and cutting the coupon out (with plastic scissors) to get a sweet on Saturday. I'm told, though I don't remember, as a baby in the war I was entitled to one orange a week. Mother fed me that but saved the peel to make marmalade with that and jelatine. Actually I'm glad I don't remember.
We lived by the Bolton Golf Course and used to walk with the dog across that, up over Chorley Old Road to Winter Hill and Scotchman's stump (I think it was called). I remember the Pike and the dovecot but can't recall a transmitter. Oh well, I can't remember last week these days.
I remember rationning and cutting the coupon out (with plastic scissors) to get a sweet on Saturday. I'm told, though I don't remember, as a baby in the war I was entitled to one orange a week. Mother fed me that but saved the peel to make marmalade with that and jelatine. Actually I'm glad I don't remember.
We lived by the Bolton Golf Course and used to walk with the dog across that, up over Chorley Old Road to Winter Hill and Scotchman's stump (I think it was called). I remember the Pike and the dovecot but can't recall a transmitter. Oh well, I can't remember last week these days.
"If you cannot answer a man's argument, all it not lost; you can still call him vile names. " Elbert Hubbard.
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TANGODANCER
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- Location: Between the Regency and the Rubaiyat and forever trying to light penny candles from stars.
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Worthy4England
- Immortal
- Posts: 32756
- Joined: Wed May 16, 2007 6:45 pm
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TANGODANCER
- Immortal
- Posts: 43356
- Joined: Fri Sep 02, 2005 9:35 pm
- Location: Between the Regency and the Rubaiyat and forever trying to light penny candles from stars.
A playstation then was a wooden model of a garage with Dinkie Toy cars. As for plugging in, there were few wall sockets and you mother plugged the iron into the ceiling light socket. She had to iron in the daytime.Worthy4England wrote:What did you plug your Playstation into if you didn't have a telly?
Si Deus pro nobis, quis contra nos?
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General Mannerheim
- Legend
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- Joined: Wed Oct 18, 2006 12:45 pm
my mate at work knows you, adam hiley - just saying he remebers you and him messing about up there when you were at school, or should have been...mofgimmers wrote:Anyone who hasn't been up to Chinese Gardens must do so at the next availability. One of my fave bits of the world.
Cheers Bill Lever.
You carried any more sheeps on sticks home latley?
funny how this thread was started on the exact anniversary of the disaster!
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superjohnmcginlay
- Passionate
- Posts: 3057
- Joined: Thu Sep 22, 2005 4:21 pm
General Mannerheim wrote:my mate at work knows you, adam hiley - just saying he remebers you and him messing about up there when you were at school, or should have been...mofgimmers wrote:Anyone who hasn't been up to Chinese Gardens must do so at the next availability. One of my fave bits of the world.
Cheers Bill Lever.
You carried any more sheeps on sticks home latley?
funny how this thread was started on the exact anniversary of the disaster!
It wasnt. Keep up general.
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General Mannerheim
- Legend
- Posts: 6343
- Joined: Wed Oct 18, 2006 12:45 pm
bah, i threw that one in blind. should have known better. must read previous posts!superjohnmcginlay wrote:General Mannerheim wrote:my mate at work knows you, adam hiley - just saying he remebers you and him messing about up there when you were at school, or should have been...mofgimmers wrote:Anyone who hasn't been up to Chinese Gardens must do so at the next availability. One of my fave bits of the world.
Cheers Bill Lever.
You carried any more sheeps on sticks home latley?
funny how this thread was started on the exact anniversary of the disaster!
It wasnt. Keep up general.
I saw this last night on North West Tonight, you can watch the videos here:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/northwesttonight/l ... ndex.shtml
http://www.bbc.co.uk/northwesttonight/l ... ndex.shtml
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