BarnsleyandFamily

I will attempt to relate some
anecdotes and observations that are part of my life.They couldn't
possibly be as interesting as yours are to me

though.

 

Around sixty-five years ago now I was out one day alone,wearing short
trousers of course,down at our local river in Nottingham paddling up to
my knees with a jam-jar and
fishing net attempting to catch some minnows,and or sticklebacks.Close
by the tall cube-like brick and concrete tanktraps,and not far from a
semi-derelict old watermill.I do
recall it was a brilliantly sunny day,and as I wasn't at school or at
church it must have been a Saturday.The air-raid siren sounded
suggesting a raid was about to happen.This
didn't seem to worry me unduly,I had witnessed daylight raids in the
open on several occasions.I know it might sound somewhat potty but in
those days it was only the night raids
I worried about.Also the chance I might get caught by a warden or
policeman without my gasmask was pretty remote in that part of my local
area.I only carried a gasmask in its
case when going to school,or going elsewhere with my family.The raid
began and I could see the usual cottonwool-like puffs in the sky
indicating exploded anti-aircraft shells.
There was an interwoven mass of aircraft contrails too.I forgot about
my fishing and watched the aerial display instead.Spitfires,and or
Hurricanes chasing and being chased
inturn by German fighter aircraft which were there to help protect the
enemy bombers.The display continued for quite sometime.Then I noticed
an aircraft apparently in a dive
heading right for me.Or it seemed like that at the time.At what seemed
like the last moment the aircraft, with smoke issuing from it, pulled
out of the dive and flew by me,low enough for me to makeout an enemy
identification cross on its fuselage before it narrowly missed hitting
the roof of the old watermill.Awhile later I heard a loud explosion.But
I never did find out
where it crashed.I assume its pilot was killed.He was much too low to
bailout.Later to avoid trouble I fibbed about going into a street
shelter somewhere.In those days if I was
honest all the time I would never have been allowed out on my own ever
again.There again I never lied about really important matters.

 

 

I mentioned a pre-war Mediterranean cruise my late maternal
grandfather treated the family to,on the mistaken assumption that we
were all going to be gassed to death by

the Germans. About a year or so after the cruise, the ship,the RMS
Lancastria, was used as a hospital ship, and was the very first large
vessel to be sunk in WW2 by a U=Boat.

With a great loss of life.My first school in Nottingham was called
Whitemoor.It was about two miles from were I lived. I cannot recall
being taken there more than a couple of times.

 From then on,as it wasn't considered to be all that far away, I was
told to walk to and from the school on my own. I wasn't alone either,
other kids of my age(roughly four and a half)

did too. My own children were shepherded a lot better than that. Parents
today more so still. Traffic was a great deal lighter,as you may recall
yourself Mary,even though you are

several years younger than I am. I well remember street gas lighting
and lots of horse drawn vehicles. Two wheeled coal carts,brewers drays
with teams of smartly arrayed shire-

horses,usually four at least,milk floats too,At least one milkman I
remember used a dog-cart as well.crying- out "Milko!". In those early
days we bought milk and cream from churns

on the cart. We had school milk as well,which we all looked forward to
with relish.Later I was elevated to the exalted rank of milk-monitor
for my class.

John

 

Spring at last,and now we can look forward optimistically to what Summer has in store for us.To resume my own memories of yesteryear.In particular those
wonderful summers of Double-Summertime we seemed to have during WW2.I remember as a small child various strange features that began to appear
almost everywhere in Nottingham. Moreso in that part of the city where I lived.At least it seemed that way at the time.Very long and large deep trenches,which I recall we were informed were "Secret Weapons".I discovered years later they were dug by the army as mass graves to hold the bodies of
local residents, whom, it was believed at the time, would be victims of German gas attacks.Tank-traps of various kinds were erected too.Some were square ten foot high brick-lined concrete blocks set six foot apart in rows of three or four to hopefully stop enemy tanks from crossing rivers.At fordable places
beside bridges.The bridges themselves would,in the event of an invasion be blownup presumably.Nearby too were concrete machine-gun posts.At a later stage it was decided not to blowup the bridges,but to defend them with vertical lengths of trainline,which could be quickly slotted into small holes specially dug into the roads at bridge sites. Other more practical features,such as static water tanks, were also erected. One beside a main road I used each day going to and returning from the primary school I attended.After a local boy was drowned attempting to swim in it, the tank was covered over with strong steel netting. Along the central reservation of this main road wooden boards on poles were put up and then painted yellow. When I asked what they were for I got the usual reply."They're Secret Weapons Sonny-Jim!." In reality they, in the event of a poison-gas attack, would turn green.Always assuming there was anyone left around to see it.All the windows at school were at first protected by diagonal strips of brown sticky paper which our teachers stuck to them.
Later soldiers erected high walls of sandbags,which meant that classroom lights had to be left on.During the daytime at least. Any faint glimmer of light at night was frowned upon,as you may recall Mary.Where we lived we also had foul smelling smoke-screens set at ten foot intervals,which were lit up every night to fox enemy bomb-aimers.*In those early days we had raids most nights,and all but my grandad at home went out to our back garden Anderson Shelter.Even if the raids continued for several hours we still had to walk to school the following morning.

.If I drink at all it is nomore than a half of Lager.In my old age I only drink socially.Never out for a drink on my own.Looking back I suppose I began drinking alcohol properly at the age of twelve or thirteen,unbeknown to my family that is.Apart from my life-long interest in the pursuit of archaeology,I had some degree of involvement in numerous other hobbies too.The drinking
dates from my earlier rock-climbing and caving days.The latter mostly in Derbyshire,and the Craven Area of Yorkshire.I don't know if you are familiar with that part of your county.We
had bases in both Settle and at Ingleton.The club I joined that is.In those far off days it was still possible to explore,survey and map some natural cave systems where no one had ever been before,Also to research ancient mine workings too.Lead mines that is.I have been into old coal workings,but gas is always a problem there.In that case I was with people who were expert in such matters.The main problem with natural caves is water.Somewhat too much of it on occasions.At a later time I was a member of a cave rescue team.My wife perhaps rightfully made me give up such pursuits when our first child was born.My pilot's license too.There again flying could be rather expensive.So I concentrated on archaeology,which was relatively inexpensive,and in and around local areas where we lived at the time.I didn't have all that much spare time anyhow.I love to get out into the local countryside,much as you do yourself Mary.My trouble now though is walking.I can only walk around fifty yards(with a walking stick).Then I have to take a rest.Not so many years ago I could walk for miles without hardly tiring at all.In my mind I imagine I can still do it.In reality though I can't

John

I more or less live out in the countryside,At the end
of the road a relatively short distance away are fields with hills too
which stretch for several miles at least.I live on one of the hillsides
myself.It is called Gonerby Hill.Noted by Sir Walter Scott as "Killer
Hill"because coach horses died on it occasionally.He also noted that
the nearby village of Great Gonerby on the top of the hill had many
welcome hostileries,and was also well known for its many orchards.Today
there is only one pub called
The Recruiting Sergeant.It got its name from an old soldier who made a
living dropping King's Shillings into pint pots of unwary men.The story
goes that if they as much as touched the coin, by the Law of the
Land,they had accepted recruitment in the army of the day for no less
than five years.For the Napoleanic War especially.There is a hotel in
Grantham called The Angel and Royal.It is largely intact and dates back
in time to at least the reign of King John.The one who is reputed to
have lost the Crown Jewels in the Wash near Kings
Lynn.He ended up dying a rather unpleasant death at Newark Castle.He
held his court in the upper Long-Room at The Angel and Royal,which is
now the hotel dining room.Today is pretty awful here sofar Mary.The
town was crowded as usual when I drove down there this morning.The only
way of getting around properly to avoid congestion is to take lengthy
detours.Not the ideal way to cut down on fuel and do my bit to try and
save the planet.At least my old gas- guzzler runs mostly on LPG,I only
use petrol to start it with,Thank God LPG is half the price of
petrol.It is a lot more environmentaly friendly too

John

Recently I was able to find
> some photographs of the old house where
> I spent the first few months of my own life.My late maternal
> grandparent's place.At least the one they had at the time.Whilst lovely
> in a way,it was just a shade too close to a large racecourse for my
> grandma's peace of mind.It appears they'd had several
> break-ins,burglaries that is. Also it was far from being private in
> other ways on race days. On a picture
> postcard it looks idyllic.In reality it was far from that it seems.

Dear Mary  6th April, 2007

I hope you are both well and enjoying this wonderful sunshine today.It
does help enormously to cope with our ailments and any other problem
that comes our way I find.It would be
lovely if the powers that be would bring back double-summertime as we
had back in the years of WW2.As a child it seemed like a heaps of fun
to watch vapour-trails of aircraft in the
sunny sky overhead.Our's and enemy aircraft chasing oneanother in
dog-fights.I never bothered to think how serious it really was. We also
had barrage balloons in the vicinity the
aircraft weaved through,either as a means of escape,or it an attempt to
to lure oneanother into danger.At the same time anti-aircraft guns were
firing rapidly.Their exploding shells
showing up  like puffs of cotton-wool about the sky.I know I should
have been in an air-raid shelter somewhere really.I rarely was though
if out on my own.Nor did it register on my
mind that jagged sherds of hot shrapnel, often falling to earth around
me,would more than likely kill me if I was struck by any.I had quite a
large collection of the stuff,as did several
other kids I knew.The buzz of the day then was to swap bits for all
manner of odds and ends.most of which was rubbish of course.There again
I sometimes got comics,or penny-
dreadfuls left over from former times.I did get into trouble once at
least when I swapped the rudder from a German aircraft for a live
anti-aicraft shell.Someone,I know not who,told
a policeman.Rightly so looking back at the incident.We were going to
explode it.Remotely of course.away from other people.Luckily for us the
authorities turned up in force putting
an end to our game.I think I can still feel the chastisement I got
after a wigging from our local police sergeant.I found it difficult to
sit down properly for days,and my ears felt as if they were both on
fire as well.After that I was mighty careful what I swapped for
shrapnel,or other odds and ends that came my way from the sky.Two
friends and I more or less witnessed
an aircraft crash.We later discovered it was a Miles Master training
machine.The pupil pilot was a Pole.There were several Polish servicemen
in Nottingham during the war.Both
the pupil and his trainer were regretably killed.I remember that we,
together with lots of other people, put bunches of flowers later at the
crash site.We have a great deal to thank
the Poles for.And other foreign nationals who came to our aid in those
trying times.They of course saw the war differently from a perspective
viewed by a child like me at the time.
Nomatter howmuch we were warned of its perils we still took stupid
risks,keeping our adventures far away from adult ears lest we got our
own bitten off at the very least.As you are well aware Mary they were
far different times to these children grow up in today.I still wouldn't
want to change them evenso. Keep well,and I hope that Stan's pains are
easing at
last.
The very best to your lovely family too.

Shalom

John.