No Comparison

It seems to me that  the limited social networking opportunities available to most youngsters in the 1950s compare very unfavourably with the present situation. To be fair we did have the church youth club and its table tennis and soft drink facility, not to mention the opportunity to talk to that strange species called 'girls'. Youth club girls were non threatening and gentle as they gazed at the little white ball that pinged and ponged. Furthermore a certain kind of boy, together with mates of the same ilk, would chase a leather ball up and down the Bracken Court pitch and pretend to be Len Shackleton or Jackie Milburn. Me? I was tough tackling Glynn Davies, a then notable Derby defender.We might also have played snooker in Durham City and I believe Alan Burn enjoyed doing that.

Men had it better: dogs, pigeons and working club pints were some of their well established hobbies, but we had not yet crossed the line into family responsibility and taken the too often stultifying jobs, many of which were  dangerous if you lived in a mining community.

In 2011 there is the expectation of being in secondary education until the age of 18, or its equivalent, and quite often that is extended into 'Uni'; it brings huge opportunities for social interaction and friendship with fellow students. Texting, Facebook and twittering give the opportunity to cement that freshly created network of friends and it  can enable youngsters [if not seriously sidetracked] to work through the complexities that often accompany adolescence. The prize at the end of the process was, and still is, a  mature outlook, true friends and an all round personality that can lead to greater things - if the desire is there.

But many of us - of 50s vintage -  got through despite the ridiculous educational system that labelled 75% of us as factory fodder. We were able to laugh, twist like we did last summer, snog, pick blackberries for pie and enjoy Pepsi Cola accompanied by Cliff Richard or Elvis. I was a Cliff man but I reckon Neil Davies was right to plump for Elvis.

WB

Memories Outweighing Our Dreams? Never!

I don't always know the nature of my article until the  very last moment; this one might have been entitled 'accelerating towards birth' and very nearly was. After all my mum frequently said to me 'you almost drowned during childbirth' . I have been perplexed about that for a long time; was I born during an initially tranquil walk alongside a canal that almost went badly wrong, with mum staggering and stumbling to the canal edge?  Or did the birth occur during an exhilarating water slide journey?

Occasionally a WB article is a vehicle for rant, rather than memories, but thankfully the cluff police [ that's my name for them] are usually on hand to stop it at an early stage and  thereby save me from appearing to be a complete arse.  Tonight let good old Bill Clinton, from the USA,  be my inspiration.

'When our memories outweigh our dreams, we have grown old' stated Mr Clinton.

Well I think he is right. My memories of Ushaw Moor and Sleetburn are almost  all good ones, although I recall the gob into my face; I dwell on the good ones to excess but I estimate that the last two years worth have been mainly motivated by the need to help Paul  keep this site up and moving.

My  memories on this site, that relate to 1950 - 1960, are about the child; they were often  personally exciting events and helped form this adult. But this adult is now fully grown, like a tall tree in the forest. Except when I'm bent over with bad posture. My dreams are those of a man rather than a child; they are  important to me and they bear down at every hint of procrastination.

A dream. I really must explore the idea of visiting residential homes for the elderly, and nursing homes, with a view to reading  good literature to residents and discussing it with them. I will no doubt learn much from it. If a creative writing colleague can agree to join in that would be great.  I must explore this idea next week and act upon it, if the interest is there. I will never turn down any offer of a cup of tea and I 'll supply the petrol needed to get me there, if fuel prices slow down a bit.

A dream. To take history as far as I can  academically.I recall fellow student Brenda Wilson of 1968 vintage;  we studied the Normans but now I have my sights on the Reformation, so wish me luck.

A dream.To be the best cook in our extended family. A tough one. Resting on my porridge  credentials simply will not do.

WB

Harwood photos of Ushaw Moor Colliery

[gallery columns="4"]

In 1935 the Harwood family (Matt, Gladys & their son Bill) toured England. These are scans of negatives taken on that trip.

Show some photos of Ushaw Moor Colliery and surrounding area.

Thanks to Ken Harwood for allowing me to add these photos.

Check out his PHOTOS on his site on PICASA HERE

These PHOTOS are also found on the main Historical Site HERE

Breaking News: The Harwood Family

A family of that name took some brilliant pictures of Ushaw Moor and London during the year 1935. Some additional pictures are notated 'Durham' but I am quite confident that some of them are also of Ushaw Moor.

Family forenames such as Ken, Gladys, Matt and Bill are there to see.

To see the pictures just google:       Ken Harwood 1935

Also picasweb.google.com/ might be another way to get to them.

Paul might be able to put the pictures on site [subject to copyright considerations] or at least provide the link.

Over to you Paul.

WB

'We Are Accelerating Towards Death'

That statement was uttered last week by one of my Nordic walking colleagues during one of our group’s very active sessions up on the local army ranges.The Facebook and Twitter versions of this article have the word 'escalating' rather than accelerating but  accelerating is the amended and accurate quoting. Anyway the statement came during a ‘putting the world to rights’ session and although it caused a pause for thought by those that heard it, it did not worry me a great deal; neither did I miss a stride as we began to climb a gentle hill, because I thought it best to seize the moment and seize that hill!

If somewhat ageing people have retained good health, played their cards right, had a fair measure of luck, and have a penny in their pocket, they may well be able to exploit their life experience and maturity whatever the amount of time they have remaining. Whether they have decades ahead or not every morning may well be a joy to saviour and every encounter a wonder to behold; each afternoon may be spent recovering but that is another matter, another load.

Even though it is understandable and pleasurable to look back and then fill this site with fond reminisce, we must live in the real world – the present- and try and fill it with a sense of purpose, otherwise we may well be living an unconsidered life. Your sense of purpose may not be the same as mine but that might be just as well.

My fond memories vary from week to week. This week they are all about buying liquorice root and Everton mints from the corner shop in Rock Terrace, Sleetburn; primary school colours in the form of deep filled apple and orange drawings on the board, made by trainee teachers with squeaking chalk; and not forgetting silver stars in my exercise book that confirmed effort and brought personal pride and purpose.

Next week it might be about the red shirt and white shorts that were handed to me by sports master Harry Barlow, for the very first time, and which led me to walk on air down to the Empire before I wheeled to the left and [eventually] joyfully turned to the right into Whitehouse Court. 'Mam, I've been picked for the school football team'.

WB

Are Your Eyes Hands And Brain Still On Song?

My wife has just this minute thrown to me my newly washed face towel; it involved projecting it twelve feet up the stairs at quite a pace yet I caught it right handed, despite being essentially left handed. How about that? She is forever throwing things at me but let's move on.

Back in 1959, during a game of rounders on a day full of sunshine, I ran down the hilly bank at Ushaw Moor school [with Mr Foster's woodwork room away in the far right corner] and then dashed ten yards before finally diving to take a catch. It was a brilliant catch - one of my best - but to this day I am not sure that catching that ball was the point of the game. 

WB

The Club Has Gone: What Are Your Memories Of It?

If the startling space in Station Road took some getting used to what about the greenery that greets you in  Sleetburn's Unthank Terrace?  It is clear that the disappearance of the two clubs located in those areas diminishes and dims the culture and memory of local working men's clubs.  All is not entirely lost: there is the New Brancepeth club at the top of Unthank Terrace, as well as the Catholic Club in Ushaw Moor, both of which serve the present social needs of some villagers; the latter with an added religious dimension.

So what has been lost apart from remnants? I can only recall one visit to Ushaw Moor working men's club; it was in the company of my fellow Ushaw Moor County full back, the late Tommy Wilkinson, in the spring of 2002. It was a reunion after 42 years and I found him pleasant and reflective as we drank our pints and chatted. We had sat  in the bar and by doing so doubled the number of customers in the room.I am aware that a few years ago there was a tragic fatality outside the working men's club in Ushaw Moor, but I will put that to one side. It was all a far cry from the glory of yester-year when beer would have flown and crack about pit outputs and pigeons very likely danced off the walls. 

My observations about the clubs are largely from primary sources. Brian M recalls the miners that bought pints for   the tired and grateful German prisoners of war that had been spotted walking up Unthank Terrace. Norman Hope recalls the Ushaw Moor cricketer that was too often drinking in the Ushaw Moor club when it was his turn to bat; Dickie Hope, the somewhat alarmed captain, often had to send someone to the club with an urgent message to 'get yourself down to the club house you daft bu.... it's your turn to bat'   That same drinking player wore a red ribbon that served as a belt.

So what caused the demise of many working men's clubs?  There are some rather obvious causes: the closing of coal mines, drink and  drive limits, smoking bans,  cheap supermarket booze, and the indifference of modern youth.  Can you think of others?

Back in the 60s some Northern clubs were ambitious and the Greasborough Club, near Rotherham, is one of the best examples of that. It was built in the early sixties and in its prime had long queues waiting to get in. Top stars performed there such as Johnny Ray, Bob Monkhouse, Elkie Brooks, Jayne Mansfield and The Seekers; sometimes on the same bill! But by 1969 it had gone, partly I suppose for the reasons given earlier.    

So what are your memories of the clubs that have gone?  Was the  beer cheap at Christmas and Easter? Did the club run trips and if so was the Crook Town v Derby County cup-tie of 1955 one of those trips?  Redcar? Roker Park? St. James Park?

WB

A Dream Job:Coaching Waterhouses Modern

Last night I was trying to do two things at the same time: follow the Crawley Town v Derby County FA Cup-tie on the PC and create another post for Ushaw Moor memories. I was very pleased to get the post sorted and in doing so felt smug and clever to have linked John Lennon to Alf Rothwell. The trouble was elsewhere: Derby had lost to a last minute goal. Being affected by that result I then began to think that Alf might not see the funny side of my linkage of him to to Hey Jude.

It all got a bit to much for my inexplicable brain during the period of darkness. Weird neurons began to fire strange impulses. I found myself coach of the Waterhouses Modern football team during their short journey to a match at Ushaw Moor. The coach - oh yes a coach - began to run out of petrol on the outskirts of Ushaw Moor so I instructed the driver to use the petrol garage located on the left hand side of the road, about  two hundred yards before St. Lukes. Yes I know there is no such garage.

With three minutes to kick off I had to instruct the team regarding formation and went for 2-3-5 with the intention of switching to 4-2-4 if we hit trouble [we?}. I also had to write Waterhouses Modern on the left breast and right breast of each team shirt. I found that difficult to do in the time available before kick off,  but managed it by writing Waterhouses  and then going below to put M just below the r and h of Waterhouses.

I think we drew the game 0-0 but only after a desperate switch to 4-3-3. I saw no sign of Harry Barlow when the final whistle went,  perhaps that was just as well.

I woke up at two minutes to three in the morning with a headache and  in the knowledge that I had been a traitor to my Ushaw Moor County colleagues. Oh and the sudden remembering that my Derby County had been humiliated. Again.

The combination of the Rams defeat to a good non league side, the silliness of my Lennon/Rothwell article, and too much coffee during the previous evening, had got too much for me.

WB

Did John Lennon Wink At Alfie Rothwell's Grandad?

There is some leading up a garden path tonight. Roses on the left and right as we walk up to the cottage! We know that people used to wink at each other in mining communities, but any Lennon connection is a long shot.

If you google Mamie Agnes Aloysius Rothwell [born Roche] you get a lot of information, as well as a delightful photograph of her!  She was born in America and married a Rothwell. She died in hospital in 1938 and at the time her home address was 2 Colliery View, New Brancepeth.

John O Lennon [google him] was born in 1884 in either Thornley or Broompark. If it was Broompark he might have played darts or something in opposition to a Rothwell. Maybe a pigeon competition! They might have winked at each during a game of cards whilst drinking pints!

WB

Facebook Is A Curious Thing

The introduction of Ushaw Moor memories on facebook is a positive thing and it gets better as time goes by. Paul has done wonders with it and all credit to him. Having said that I found a recent article [not in anyway linked to Ushaw Moor memories] in The Independent newspaper very thought provoking:it reported that a person with a considerable number of facebook friends had posted a short piece indicating that she was going to commit suicide; some of her web friends tried to contact mutual facebook friends living nearer to her to urge them to contact her, but according to the article none of them did and sadly she followed through her intention. Perhaps they did not read the message; let me make it clear this is not a criticism of anyone rather it is an expression of sadness that it all went wrong for  whatever reason. 

We can sympathise with everyone concerned and after consideration draw some lessons from this tragic case.

WB

It's A Lock Out X 2

Let my son Dave watch Dave and my wife watch whatever she wants: I am off to Ushaw Moor memories where people don't answer back.... well not very often.

So let's dim the lights, remind the audience to switch their mobiles off, and away we go.

Last week I found out that my mother, then 18, had a very similiar experience to mine: back in  1942 her guardian [cum maternal grandfather] locked her out for being very  late back home. I think this drama was played out in Eshwood Street, Sleetburn and my mum's reaction was to take refuge in the nearest lavatory located  some distance away. She was found there during the night by her father, Dickie Hope, likewise an Eshwood Street resident. He was there to use the lavatory prior to working a shift at Sleetburn pit and was understandably shocked to come across his daughter. I can try and imagine their conversation and the odds are that he was sympathetic towards her.

That experience is separated from mine by about 27 years. I was ordered out of the house when found doing some office work at one o'clock in the morning. On reflection I do not blame my step-father, afterall what a waste of electricity at a time when household money was tight. I was confined to the shed: it was about eight feet by four feet and very cold; it was also gloomy as I only had a nearby street light to chart my way through a world that was suddenly small and dispiriting. I had nowhere to sit and little more than a knife fork and spoon box to gaze at. For some reason one of my parents had put my old school reports in the shed years earlier. I gazed at them and found that, with one exception, I had finished seventh off top in the 'A' form. I know for a fact that six girls had ended in a position higher than mine in 1960 and I pondered about their names. Let me see, Lorna Bone finished second or fourth [having been top the previous term] as for the rest there would be the usual lovable culprits such as Edith Smith and her friend Pauline Newman.

I can confirm that I  never worked late again in that household.

WB

Mr Simpson You Have Charlie's Golden Chocolate Ticket

Following on from the last article - it is the Ushaw Moor miners' strike of the early 1880s that will give access to the chocolate factory. I was gripped by the endless drama and class war. There was murder, pistol shots from the colliery manager and much more. The manager was a busy man because he also physically threatened the village school mistress!

There was a local priest, Father Fortin, to bring constructive and compassionate help to the coalminers and their families. There was the pathos of the dying child; a young  child almost thrown out into the  winter cold.

I have been enthralled with the dispute for years and an abbreviated account of it is on the history section of this site - Mr Paul Clough's site. If you have the resources and the motivation you could very likely achieve much more than you perhaps presently envisage.

Have you any contacts with influential people at the BBC or some other media outlet that could get things started?

All I ask is that down the line I get an acknowledgement for the idea and a fee that enables me to buy a Derby County season ticket, and train fares to get there and something towards a pork pie and....

Wilf Bell

Documentary - Life in Coal Mining Towns

Dear all,

My name is Andy Mark Simpson, I'm a film Director from Ashington in Northumberland, and I'm looking to make a short documentary about life in coal-mining towns. I've worked hard to find email addresses because I am looking to make contact with people who have worked or lived around the coalmines or who are interested in coal-mining history and to listen to your thoughts.

I have made one film already which is a fictional film set during the 1974 miners strike ('Young Hearts Run Free' out in cinemas in the Spring) and I am now interested in making a documentary with a view to perhaps putting it on dvd.

I'm looking for opinions on what to shape the documentary around. I'd like people to come forward with memories and stories. I'm interested in the life around the villages and exactly what it meant when the mines closed. Is there a future for the coal industry in Britain? Will clean coal technologies be brought in? Can there be a coal-mining workforce?

I'm also interested in the socialist politics and in the strikes, especially the differences between the 1984 strike and those in the 1970s which are less well documented. What do you think were the rights and wrongs of the strikes?

If you're interested in my previous film 'Young Hearts Run Free' which is set in a mining village in 1974 there is a trailer at www.bedefilms.co.uk and you can leave contact details to demonstrate support for it's release around the country in April.

It's a subject I'm very interested in and I'm eager to learn more. I would be grateful if you could share your experiences and memories to help me shape a documentary. If you have friends and others who have worked in the mines or are interested in mining history then please feel free to circulate this email. I'm keen on discussing it with as many people as possible.

Thank you,

Andy Mark Simpson
Bede Films
info@bedefilms.co.uk
www.bedefilms.co.uk

Leaving Ushaw Moor - Down Under

Turning the key at our English home for the last time felt very strange. We lived there for four years and really liked the bright conservatory and lush garden.The two days of packing went well; it was cold but bright and not much snow, so the guys from Robinsons didn't have a problem with their lorries. It only started snowing heavily when we drove our car to the depot in Darlington on Wednesday afternoon 22/12/10.

via Leaving Ushaw Moor - Down Under.

Mussolini Took Me To The Durham Miners' Gala!

It all started when I was studying Benito Mussolini via a google search on the internet. I somehow got to British Pathe and it opened up lots of old films. By use of its internal search box you can see short films of the Durham Miner's Gala [spanning several decades] ; you might even recognise some people in those quality films, some of which are in colour.

Once in British Pathe you can search Durham City via the internal box and see some cracking scenes, in colour, of the city in 1960. Newcastle United? Go for it. Crook Town FC? Go for it. Sammy Crooks can be viewed playing for Derby.  It's all there and much more! Experiment! I did not search pigeons!

Having said that be aware that Sammy Crooks can be seen on film, being interviewed; by searching Ushaw Moor Memories archive  you can find out how to access that interview. It might even be situated on British Pathe.

Are we all happy about what is in the Ushaw Moor archive and how to get to it?

WB

Lilian Albone [1924- 1984]

My mother was born in New Brancepeth in the summer of 1924. Her parents were Dickie Hope [1901 - 1983] and Ethel Hope [nee Dodds - 1903- 1978]. Dickie worked at Sleetburn pit at the time but transferred to Ushaw Moor pit not long afterwards. Lilian's sister Ethel was born in 1926. It is understood that  Lilian went to stay with her grandmother in Sleetburn when Dick and Ethel had twins in 1931 [Doreen and Norman]; she never returned home except for visiting. No doubt having a miner, as well as newly born twins, and daughters of 7 and 5, meant something had to give for Lilian's mother and 'the give' was Lilian to her grandmother. 

Lilian enjoyed school at New Brancepeth and reminiscenced several times over the years about how the teacher said 'Lilian you have a wonderful  head of hair'. The teacher was right about that; it was gingery golden. I cannot make a judgement about her school work other than it would have been of an elementary nature in those days. Looking at her adult letters I see that her grammar and spelling were not at all bad and therefore it is reasonable to surmise that she had not been a  bad scholar.

As she got older she became very much a domestic help to her rapidly ageing grandmother. Apart from that there were three uncles to attend to; Tommy Jimmy and Wilfrid. She kept the front door step polished to a high standard which is just as well because some people were very judgemental about steps in those days. Not polished, bright and white, equalled not worthy! 

Mum was one of the Newton Aycliffe angels during World War Two; that is to say she worked at the munitions factory. For light relief she sometimes attended army dances at Brancepeth camp, along with several friends. More than one person has remarked 'ah, camp follower' but that is so judgemental! What was a young teenager to do in 1940 in a place like New Brancepeth? She had spirit and a love of life at that time; church just would not pass muster!

She married my hard working father Matt, but it was to give me a 'name' as much as anything else. I can speak freely about it now because times have moved on and the moral landscape has changed, largely for the better.   She had a very tense and earnest conversation with vicar Welby on the morning of her marriage and decided to go ahead with it, even though he is reported as saying 'Lilian you do not have to get married you know'. That was the measure of the great man; in his conversation with Lilian he did not blind  himself, and her, with Christian dogma and condemnation.       

The marriage did not last and she eventually married Don Albone. He is featured elsewhere on site. They lived at 20 Unthank Terrace New Brancepth for several years which involved renting from her grandmother. I have good memories of Unthank Terrace but they are all elsewhere on site so I will not dwell upon them. In late 1953 we moved to 42 Whitehouse Court, Ushaw Moor   and my half brother Colin was born in March 1954; he was the second child of the marriage - Sheila having been born in 1947.

In early 1961 we moved to Workington. These were bad years for my mother. In fact 1956 to the year she died were not very nice for her. There were interludes of civilised fun but she had much unhappiness. She suffered badly from 'the change of life' and depression. She had at least two stays in Winterton Hospital and during her time there had several sessions of dubious electric shock treatment. It was all very sad but as I say there were interludes of decent life.

In 1984 she died from heart failure. Being significantly overweight would not have helped her. I travelled up from London to say goodbye to her. She was the first dead person that I had seen. On arrival my step-father told be very gently that she was in the living room. I remember putting my hand to her brow and 'saying' to her 'dear mum'. Even though I knew she had gone I was still a little startled when feeling  her so cold brow. 

WB

Herbs And Proverbs

The proverb heading Ushaw Moor Facebook today is open to scrutiny and argument.  It goes ''The palest ink is better that the best memory''. It is a Chinese proverb, and for some that gives it added credence, but should it? What does this proverb mean? Does it mean that written evidence is better than the best memory? What do you think? I am interested to hear your viewpoint. To me the reference to ink being pale probably suggests that we are meant to think that contemporaneous evidence is more reliable than the sharp memory that brings forth comment and  judgement well after an event.

The main problem with pale ink papers is that we are at the mercy of the writer, both in terms of motive and intellect. That can also apply to oral memory but a proverb that seems to, at all times, compare a good memory unfavourably with old written evidence can be misleading. It can be wrong.

 Chinese herbs are sometimes sold as medicine but not all of them have been subjected to scientific scrutiny. No doubt some have value  but do all of them have the value attributed to them? In short be wary of proverbs and be sure of your herbs.

There is a an undiluted Valley memory coming up so do be gentle with me; I am still recovering from the bruises. I liked the red roses though. 

WB

2010 in review

The stats helper monkeys at WordPress.com mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here's a high level summary of its overall blog health:



The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Wow.

Crunchy numbers

A Boeing 747-400 passenger jet can hold 416 passengers. This blog was viewed about 13,000 times in 2010. That's about 31 full 747s.

 

In 2010, there were 122 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 315 posts. There were 17 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 18mb. That's about a picture per month.

The busiest day of the year was February 3rd with 169 views. The most popular post that day was Old Store Ushaw Moor.

Where did they come from?

The top referring sites in 2010 were freespace.virgin.net, facebook.com, ushawmoor.awardspace.info, search.virginmedia.com, and twitter.com.

Some visitors came searching, mostly for ushaw moor memories, ushaw moor, les ker football, durham palladium, and www.ushawmoormemories.

Attractions in 2010

These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.

1

Old Store Ushaw Moor January 2010
5 comments

2

Durham Boys v Crook - Ferrens Park circa 1959 January 2010
9 comments

3

Facebook | Ushaw Moor Memories January 2010
2 comments

4

Family History - School Street ? September 2010
11 comments

5

St Joseph's RC Communion Event September 2010
6 comments

Brief Notes On Accidents At Ushaw Moor Pit In 1950s

Deaths apart my grandfather's old papers refer to two accidents at Ushaw Moor in the 50s. Do either of them ring a bell?

'Middleton' February 1957  and

'Carse' just before Christmas in 1955

WB