The Beatles - In My Life.mp3
Rose Tinted Bi-Focals.
written by Rod Blunt.
Recently I was introduced to this site by an old friend of mine who happens to be its erstwhile host. We worked for the same company for many years and shared similar interests and even lived in the same area for a time, so it was with great pleasure that we re-established contact after a short break following our retirement. We have kept in touch via e-mail because my friend upped sticks and went searching for pastures new, whereas I have remained firmly planted in the town where I was born. The town in question being Wolverhampton. Please excuse my use of the term “Town”, but I have never recognised the self agrandissment title of “City”. I will when we have a Cathederal and something to be proud of apart from our illustrious history.Having read many articles on the history of our town it was obvious that a lot of them were simply lists of by-gone places with a few memories thrown in for good measure.I therefore decided on a different tack, prompted mainly by the derision heaped on me by my children whenever I slip into retro-mode, visually-wise as they say in my friends new homeland ! I thought that it might be interesting to paint a thumbnail portrait of a day in the life, so to speak, of a child (me) growing up in the early fifties and to compare life then with today and by doing so add a little more fuel to the debate of whether life was easier then or whether the white heat of technology has improved our lot in todays modern world. I will of course, mention various places which hold some memories for me and try to show the effect, positive or negative, that they had on me.
Let the Curtains of Time be Parted !
I was born at my Grandmothers house in Walford Avenue, Birches Barn on 10th January 1951, where we remained for a few weeks in order for my mother to recover. According to family legend, my fathers first words when he laid eyes on his newly hatched son was “Aint he ugly” a descriptive assessment I have never really agreed with ! My father had recently been de-mobbed from the army after serving in India during the Partition and in Palestine. Once back in civvy street he immediately started work at the Wolverhampton Die Casting company situated on Graiseley Hill, just off Penn Road. A few weeks after my birth we moved to a little 2 up 2 down terrace house at 51 Graiseley Row which meant my father had only about 50 yards to walk and he was at work. My mother still has the rent book for that house showing the rent to be the princely sum of 5/11d per week. That is a fraction under 30p in todays yo-yo currency! The house had no electricity and depended on gas for illumination. Gas mantles could be bought from Ryders shop a little further down the street. These were usually required after my father had had his usual Saturday night out in the Swan With Two Necks, at the rear of St Pauls Church, and wanted some light when he came in ! I can vividly remember, when I was 5 or 6, helping my mother to rip up old Football Pools coupons so that she could make spills which she lit off the black leaded range in the kitchen in order to light the gas lamps. Dad was a dab hand at poking the spill straight through the mantle, hence my constant errands to Ryders for replacements. These errands had the added advantage of allowing me to spend my sweet coupons. To be fair, I cannot remember whether these were the last vestiges of the war-time rationing system ( I believe that sugar was still on ration well into the fifties) or were something my dad got given from the social fund at the Die Casting. If my dad had 50 yards to walk to work, I had even less to go when I started school. Out the back door, about 10 yards across the yard, over the wall and I was in school. Graiseley infants and Junior School, presided over by the fearsome Miss Williams. I loved my time there and after passing the 11+ there was much wailing and shedding of tears when I had to move on to the Technical High School. I am forever grateful to the staff at my junior school for encouraging my love of reading, which has never waned. I am also grateful to the Head and staff of my senior school for giving me a life-long distrust in figures of authority, who use their position to lord it over their minions.
A Typical Saturday For a Five Year Old in the 50`s
There were 2 versions of a typical Saturday for me when I was about 5, the home version and the “educational” one. It may seem strange to the reader that a young boy could be interested in anything to do with education when it was a Saturday morning and there was guaranteed to be a game of footy on Graiseley Rec or the chance of going to the Scala in Worcester Street to see the latest Cowboy / Viking film after your mother had done the weekly shopping in town. As I have said, there were 2 versions of my Saturdays and I will start with the educational one.Because my father had spent a few years in the Middle East he hated working in a smelly fume filled factory so he left the Die Casting and went to work as a lorry driver for his Aunt who owned Farmers Transport in Ablow Street. Most Saturdays he went to Liverpool Docks with various loads such as tyres from Goodyears, beds from the Vono or scaffolding couplings from Bayliss Jones and Bayliss in Cable Street. These were the usual loads but there were dozens of other types depending on where dad had been on the previous Friday. The return load was usually sugar from Tate and Lyles or crude rubber for Goodyears. The educational part for me started about 4.00AM on a Saturday morning when my dad would come into my bedroom and get me up and dressed. . . I was the drivers mate. Dad would make some bacon sarnies, wrapped in the greaseproof bread wrapper, and a Tizer bottle of tea wrapped up in the Express and Star. Off we would go up the A41, the M6 was still in the planning then, and about 4 hours later arrive at the docks. We always had to get in a queue for the warehouse or ship and that’s when my “education” began. My dad would take me for a wander around the docks and show me the sights. The exotic names on the crates, on the ships and the multitude of foreign faces and languages were bewildering for a young lad. I learnt so much about geography, stuff that we made and exported, stuff we had to import and what different peoples of the world looked like and sounded like. As a small example of the worth of this extra curricular education. . . I wonder how many of my class-mates knew that tyres were made of a wrinkly pale brown rubbery stuff from Malaya and to make it into tyres required the addition of a type of soot called Carbon Black that was made by burning oil at a factory in Ellesmere Port? One of my favourite return loads was from a factory that processed all types of nuts, the edible variety. We used to deliver them to several bakeries for use in cakes and such. One day while my dad was hand-balling the load on, the foreman asked me if I would like some nuts and some dried fruit. When I said yes he gave me a large white paper bag and told me to help myself from the storage bins. This I did and stashed my booty under the seat in the wagon. Later on, we were well on our way home, and father asked me to give him some of my ill-gotten gains. Both my dad and myself have a love of anything fruit and nut, even the chocolate sort, so this was going to be a rare treat. Unfortunately when dad opened the bag he found that I had filled it with dessicated coconut. My fathers description of me as mentioned earlier now had the added epithet of “thick”!!
Saturdays at Home
If dad wasn’t at work on a Saturday or only got a few local deliveries to do, then I had a lie-in till about 8.00am when mother would get me up and we would be off up town shopping. Mom always had a shopping bag with her, unlike today when it seems to be de-rigeur to have everything in a plastic carrier bag with the stores name emblazoned on it. Mothers standing joke of that period was that if you saw a woman on a Saturday without a shopping bag then she must be off to a wedding! Every woman seemed to carry one and most young lads got used to being belted with a fully loaded one whenever the shopping crowds built up, or smacked up the behind with it if you were dawdling. We would walk down Graiseley Row, past the Queens Arms known to all residents as th`ome brewed, along Pool Street and down Ablow Street to the Penn Road. Here the shopping commenced with all the determination and passion peculiar to the female of the species. First off, a little sweet shop to get a bag of Squirrel Lips to keep me quiet and the over the Penn Road to Colemans grocery shop. Some freshly sliced boiled ham for Sunday tea and a single thick slice of corned beef for my Saturday tea. I still love corned beef and chips to this day, much to the disgust of my off-springs. Then off to town for some serious retail therapy. First, the outdoor market where the Civic Centre now stands. Fresh fruit and vegetables by the cwt. would disappear into mothers cavernous shopping bag. Onwards into the indoor market for tea towels, dusters, some fish for dads tea and crockery replacements. My mother, in her middle eighties as I write, still has a formidable and volatile nature. My father must have the forebearing of a saint ! Whilst in the indoor market we would pause for a cuppa in the café. Mother would have a sort out of her purse and I would rest my little legs and rub the back of my head where it had been belted with shopping bags filled with war surplus anvils. After a cuppa we would be off, across Queen Square and down Dudley Street. I couldn’t wait to go down the Arcade and glue my face to Sherwood and Millars window and drool over the latest Dinky cars or Hornby train sets. A pretty pointless exercise as regards the train sets beings as they were mains powered and we hadn’t got electricity back home. I guess they would have worked off batteries but that would have been beyond the reach of my pocket money at the time.After a few hours of traipsing back and forth we would start off for home. If it was raining we would go to see a film at the Scala but if the sun was out then we would go straight home, put all the shopping away and then go to Graiseley Rec which had a huge paddling pool. Mother would sit and chat with all the other mothers and we would do what all young lads do…try to kill each other without anyone noticing!
Observations on the Above…50 years later !
1, Money was tight but I cant remember ever going to bed unwashed, cold or hungry. Luxuries were few and far between and all the more treasured for that.
2, Work was easily and readily available which may help explain No.1.
3, No child would ever be found indoors if the sun was shining. In the winter you played indoors but most of the toys needed a fair dose of imaginative input from you, unlike today where everything is ready assembled. Meccano anyone? How about a big mixed box of Lego bricks?
4, Education was compulsory and complete. Non of todays “do what you want to” attitude.
5, Respect was something you earned, not handed out as a form of greeting to friends. Most people had a healthy respect for the Law, something sadly lacking today. ( I am writing this in the wake of the recent riots and looting spree across the country)
6, I honestly believe we were healthier in the post war years compared with today. Back then an obese person was a figure of fun e.g. Billy Bunter, but now thanks to our predilection for instant food 24 hours a day, we are becoming a nation of unhealthy people. Food was nearly always bought in fresh for that day. . fridges were an unheard of luxury. Fruit and veg were bought from the market or local greengrocer. . seasonal produce, all shapes and sizes and usually covered in a bit of the ground they had grown in. Today you can get anything at any time, washed, in a protective atmosphere, all uniform in shape, size and colour all thanks to genetic engineering. Methinks I can hear a time-bomb ticking away in our modern dietary habits.
Afore ye go, as it says on my favourite whisky bottle, a thought on shopping back in the fifties. Nearly all purchases were wrapped in paper or put in a paper bag back then. I cant remember seeing any reports of seagulls getting choked to death on paper bags or dolphins being mutilated by a piece of brown parcel paper.
This has been my first attempt at writing down my memories for other people to share so I would be grateful if you would excuse any grammatical errors and any historical hiccups. I would like to thank my old mate, Frank, for allowing me the opportunity to have this missive placed in the public domain. If anyone finds this interesting I might be persuaded to have an attempt at the Sixties and all that jazz.
And finally…I am convinced that one day Wolverhampton will throw off its tired and shabby mantle and will once again be a town to be proud of
.OUT OF DARKNESS COMETH LIGHT.
Above Graiseley School.
PORTRAIT OF CAR IN THE SIXTIES
For those of you under the age of 40, please accept the following as a typical and true example of motoring in the late fifties and particularly the sixties. I refer mainly to the cars of that era and to the things that might seem now to be fairy tales. For those of you who are over the 50 threshold or car fanatics, please excuse me and have a smile at the memories.
At this moment in time I own a 10 yr old Ford KA and my wife has a new-ish Volkswagon Golf. Both perfectly good cars and both typical of todays technology.
Until fairly recently my own car was a BMW 5 Series which some deprived person decided to borrow on a permanent basis. I think it is fairly obvious that I have a fair appreciation of todays motoring conditions and equipment.
Today, I can jump in the car, start it up and whizz off to wherever I want. There is no choke to fiddle with, I never bother checking the tyre pressures and I can relax knowing that the engine management unit will look after most things. I have a heated rear window, heated wing mirrors and tyre pressure sensors (not in the KA). Everything is perfect or so you would think!!
Skip Back To 1966
1966 was a mile stone in my love of the open road and motoring. Up till then I had been spoiled by being the son of a lorry driver and being taken from one end of the country to the other and all points in between, so the open road was not a mystery to me. The big difference was that all my experiences were from the passenger seat of a lorry and not for pleasure because it was my dad’s job.
All that changed one afternoon when I arrived back home to be greeted by a shiny car parked in between our house and next-door. To be honest, Dad couldn’t have parked it anywhere else. In those days the council never envisaged any working person owning a car so houses were built with no provision for parking. I recently took a stroll down memory lane to see the very house in question and wasn’t surprised to see that a large portion of the grassed area where I used to play had now been dug up and car parking provided.
The Car.
The car in question was a 1962 Ford Consul 375 Lowline. Dark blue and fitted with the optional spot lights. Today I can look on that car with more than a few fond memories,. . . .only to be printed after my death. But, lets just look at what that car was really like and how it compares with todays technological miracles. For today's young motorists I will try to give you an idea of the size of the car…. Imagine something a touch larger than a BMW 3 series. A full six seater due to the front bench seat. Despite a huge hump for the gear box there was a seat going from one side to the other in the front. A massive 65 BHP 1703cc engine coupled to a 3 speed column change gearbox. To do acceleration tests you needed a calendar not a stopwatch! It did have a screen wash system, which was operated by pressing a rubber lump on the floor. This was next to the button you had to press for the main beam on the headlights. It did have a screen wash system, which was operated by pressing a rubber lump on the floor. This was next to the button you had to press for the main beam on the headlights.
For todays young motorists I will try to give you an idea of the size of the car…. Imagine something a touch larger than a BMW 3 series. A full six seater due to the front bench seat. Despite a huge hump for the gear box there was a seat going from one side to the other in the front. A massive 65 BHP 1703cc engine coupled to a 3 speed column change gearbox. To do acceleration tests you needed a calendar not a stopwatch! It did have a screen wash system, which was operated by pressing a rubber lump on the floor. This was next to the button you had to press for the main beam on the headlights. But the ultimate proof that the latest technology isn’t always the best. . . it was fitted with vacuum wipers. If it started raining then you could start the windscreen wipers by simply twisting a knob on the dashboard. The further you twisted, the faster they went. Sounds a perfect system until you realise that the harder you put your foot on the throttle the slower they went. Just imagine following another car in the rain…you put your foot down to go past and the wipers just give up and stop. I wish I could meet the lunatic who sold that one to Fords. Despite being a top of the range model I cannot help comparing it with some of the things we expect on even the most basic cars today. no lectric windows, no central locking….wasn’t really needed then, No locking petrol cap….petrol wasn’t 5 quid a gallon then, Steering lock….back then it meant your top end bearings were shot, External temperature sensor…..if the screen was froze it was bloody cold, McPherson Strut wasn`t the exaggerated rolling of youths today when they walk. Has the world lost something or am I looking through the proverbial rose tinted optical aids? What was wrong with spending a few hours on a Sunday morning cleaning and polishing your car and then going for a ride out to somewhere for a pint and to meet up with your mates. I started out doing the same when I had my first bike ( no pint then ) and still did the same with my first motor bike and then whenever I could borrow dads car. So…were the 60`s better than today for motoring?? Depends on what you mean by better. Are the cars more advanced and more reliable…of course they are. But owning a modern car will never teach you anything about mechanics or electrics. I think that it is so much better to have such reliable bits of kit at our disposal now, but it begs the question…. What are you going to do when it all goes wrong….your shiny new car has come to a shuddering halt on a Welsh mountainside and you cant get a signal on your mobile??
Just as a little aside and to stir a few memories amongst our more mature mechanically minded readers…. I was born and raised in the transport world and one of my dads favourite lorries had a really strange engine. I can well remember him repairing it and taking the time to explain how the convoluted thing worked.
Anyone remember an engine, used in lorries in the 50`s and 60`s that had 3 cylinders, 6 pistons. 12 conrods, 24 big ends, 6 rocker arms, and a Roots Blower. To cap it all it was a 2 stroke diesel. Believe it or not.. the same engine is being developed today. Given todays materials and understanding of combustion principles they can't understand how a 1950`s engine could be so efficient.
Ok I started on about cars and digressed somewhat. . . .just imagine if Wolverhampton could throw up another Isambard Kingdom Brunel. The mind just boggles thinking about what he could do with todays materials and technology, The Victorians were superb at innovation……don’t start me…my dads first pub was a Victorian edifice. Smoking ban in pubs ?? the Victorians had solved that one.
Editors notes.
Thanks Rod for your memories, i am sure folk will enjoy reading them. You mentioned sugar rationing, you are correct sugar was rationed until i think the mid 50's. Poor little lads, the lot of us been dragged around the market on a saturday morning getting belted from all angles. Today that would be seen as child abuse. Maybe i am getting old but i think bacon tasted better then, especially if it was wrapped in a bread wrapper. Please excuse any typo errors on this page, i have a software conversion problem that makes it hard to get spacing etc correct. Thanks Rod for your stirling efforts on the car, it is easy to forget how far we have come in so short a time. You know you are getting old when you go to a classic car show and realise that you have either owned or driven most of the cars there. Speaking as one who has memories of changing a fan belt on an Austin 1100 in the dark, resplendent in my best suit, yes we learnt how to look after our cars.
Mick's memories
written by Mick Pritchard.
Remember the Woolpack? Down in the Market opposite the New Inns in Salop Street. Every Tuesday night was Band night. The Montana's with Terry Rowley Bill Hayward John Jones plus Graham Hollis. Best group in the area. Still keep in touch with Terry, he lives and performs in Tenerife now. The next week would be John O'Hara and the Californians. John lives in Claregate now and uses the Station Pub in Codsall. The next week it would be Dripper Kent and Finders Keepers. The fourth week was the 'N Betweens who went on to become Slade. Dave Hill from Warstones is now a Jehovahs witness. When they were on you could get in any time of the night. Worst band of the 4 mentioned and they made in big time by cashing in on the skinhead craze. Before that era we had ''for teenagers only'' at the Gaumont and the battle of the bands. The final was always Danny Cannon and the Ramrods v Steve Brett and the Mavericks. Good Days
Editors note. Many thanks Mick for your contribution. I am sure you stirred a few strings there. Don't agree about Slade but thats life.
Record shops
written by Chris (blackpool) Davies
The shops i used were Voltic Records in the Queens Arcade , Beatties Record Department , Goulds who were at the end of Dudley Street and the HMV shop in Cleveland Street . Newy Bros had a little shop on the Penn Road just before Goldthorne Hill ( i used to pick up deleted records from thier bargain bin ) British Home Stores and Woolworths had record departments and sold original stuff besides those horrid Embassy Records covers. I could tell you the story of Embassy records if you had a year to spare they were owned and run as a subsiduary of Oriole Records and eventually owned by CBS records Bet they had a dilemma what to do with all those Embassy master tapes., althouigh they did issue LP`s on the Embassy trademark There was the `Shack` on the Cannock Road which ended up selling Reggae stuff in latter years and there was a shop called Cliffs on the Dudley Road who had a similar operation to the Shack. First 45 i bought was Marion Ryan singing Oh Oh I`m Falling In Love Again c/w Always And Forever on Pye Nixa (1958). Hope that has helped bring back some memories.
editors notes. Thanks Chris, i remember the shack on the cannock road, and Embassy records, you could get cover versions of hits of the day but as you said, they were awful.
