A 1960s Childhood in Northampton – Part 5 School Days (Senior School)

The Front Door 44 Derngate

Main school finally released us from the dreaded hats! It was a big change for us and the school buildings felt very big and confusing. Through the lower part of the school there were two forms per year group with about twenty five pupils in each form, but when we got to main school there were three forms per year group with about thirty pupils in each form. Our numbers were swelled by pupils from county schools who had passed their eleven plus exam and gained a place at the school under the government direct grant scheme. Much to my relief I was not able to sit the eleven plus because I lived in the borough, I don’t know if the borough had already abandoned the eleven plus or if those who passed were sent to a different school, but only county pupils came to our school.

Platform shoes were in fashion at that time and I’d had my first pair of shoes with a (very small) platform the previous year when I was a Towerfield pupil. I had a new pair of shoes for the start of the new term in main school, they had a slightly higher platform and I was very pleased with them but I was less pleased with the rest of my uniform. My mum had made sure that I had everything I needed for school; during the holidays we’d made our usual trip to Sanderson’s and I had endured the usual ordeal of trying on countless garments to ensure that I had sufficient room for growth.  I had two new skirts, white blouses, two jumpers, a new blazer and a new winter coat as well as an aertex shirt, wrap over skirt and a track suit for PE, all with neatly sewn name tags. At the time I had no idea how expensive the uniform must have been or how much time it must have taken my mum to sew all those name tags into my clothes, I must have seemed so ungrateful.  When the term started one of the new girls called Sally had a lovely fashionable skirt with a hemline a couple of inches below the knee.  I longed to have a skirt like hers, but I knew that it would be ages before I grew out of my new skirts. I had to wait a whole year before I was allowed to buy a more fashionable skirt for school. 

Dunlop Blue Flash

Slide Rule

As well as the new items of uniform, my kit list included a hockey stick, hockey boots and a tennis racket (with cover and press), so after our trip to Sanderson’s we went to Collins Sports shop in Gold Street to buy the sports equipment. I wonder if my mum knew what a waste of money they would prove to be, I was absolutely useless at tennis and I detested hockey. There was one other item of essential equipment that we had to buy, a slide rule for maths lessons. It was very well made and it came in a rigid plastic case. I liked maths a lot better than sport and I became quite fond of my slide rule.

The School Gates

Each morning we would enter the school through the big blue double gates on Derngate and walk down the ramp into the cloakrooms which seemed to be under the school. Mr Powell who taught Biology was my Upper Third teacher; our classroom was the Biology Lab at the top of the science block which was a modern building on the Albion Place side of the school grounds. At the back of the room there were glass fronted cabinets with assorted specimens preserved in jars. We got plenty of exercise going up and down stairs and walking to and from the various school buildings for our lessons, but it wasn’t a hardship we just got on with it. We had so much to learn, there were stairs for going up and not down and vice versa, there were doors which we were not allowed to use and there was a lawn which we were forbidden to walk on, but we soon got used to the school routines. Like most pupils I was afraid of Miss Lightburn our headmistress, and in awe of her deputy Miss Harrison, but I can honestly say that I only remember one teacher being unkind and unfair, and she didn’t last very long.

The School Hall

We had prayers every morning in the assembly hall; it was a very formal event. When we had all filed into the hall Miss Lightburn entered through the glass doors at the back of the hall and walked briskly to the stage with the head girl trotting along behind her. We usually began with a hymn, my favourites were ‘Oh Jesus I have promised’ and ‘When a knight won his spurs in the stories of old’. Then there would be a Bible reading a few words from Miss Lightburn and a prayer. At that point the glass doors at the back would be opened and the late comers would file in (trying not to notice Miss Lightburn’s disapproving stare) before the notices were read. 

In the Lower Fourth we discovered the pleasures of Latin with Mr McNicholas, he was as tall as Mr Powell was short, and he was exceptionally clever, I liked him but I wasn’t so sure about Latin. The stories about Caecilius and his family in our Latin text books didn’t really interest me, they seemed to be mostly about slave girls, werewolves and a dog called Cerberus. The Lower Forth also brought us the joys of Domestic Science lessons, definitely not my favourite part of the week. The Domestic Science Room was below the Art Room in the Cripps Block - a modern uninspiring building in the lower part of the school grounds near Victoria Promenade. It was torture to me to be so close to the Art Room as I would much rather have been in an art lesson. Domestic Science was unbelievably boring and when we were allowed to cook we were forced to make things that we would never eat and never cook again. One of the first things we cooked was Eggs Mornay, my family were used to good plain food, not ‘messes up stuff’ as my grandmother would have called it. I also recall making lemon curd; I have never made it again since then. Thankfully we made choices about our O Level subjects at the end of the Lower Forth and I dropped my least favourite subjects, Chemistry and Domestic Science. Oddly I quite liked Physics and Biology but I hated Chemistry.

The back of 44 Derngate

My Upper Fourth classroom was the Geography room, a bright airy room in the main school building with French doors leading out to the garden. I remember that one day I accidentally stapled my thumb during a Geography lesson, but I was so afraid of Mrs Durham our Geography teacher that I chose to suffer in silence with the staple stuck in my thumb rather than admit that I had been fiddling with my stapler. I later found that Mrs Durham had a very kind heart. 

It was during our Upper Forth year that some of the girls began to have boyfriends and to go to discos. Looking back I think some of the girls who had come from mixed primary schools were a lot more comfortable with boys than those of us who had attended a single sex school since we were four years old. I had no time for boys, when I wasn’t at school I spent most of my time riding and taking care of my horse. I couldn’t see why some of my friends found scruffy lads in smelly Afghan coats attractive - I had a keen sense of smell and those coats stank, especially if it had been raining  

The Lower Fifth year was wonderful, we had the cellar classroom, I loved that room, it was tucked away beyond our cloakrooms at the end of a gloomy corridor, it felt almost dungeon like in the corridor, but the classroom felt special, it was our room tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the school and no one came to bother us. Mrs Haynes was our class teacher, she taught one of the less able French groups and I made quite sure that I got into her group and stayed there, she was a fantastic teacher. Mrs Vestergaard who was head of French, taught me for the first two years in main school. She was a very elegant woman and I don’t recall her ever shouting at us or telling us off sternly, but for some reason I found her terrifying, I didn’t enjoy being in her French group and I was much happier when I was moved into the other group.

Fiona, me, Fiona and Caroline

The uniform changed slightly at the start of the Lower Fifth year, we kept our navy skirts but our ties and white shirts gave way to open neck blue blouses worn with blue jumpers. We also had very nice winter coats. I was pleased by the change, but the blouse (which had to be bought from Sandersons) proved very challenging to wear. The blouse had a stiff collar which was not intended to be worn open without a tie and my short neck made matters worse, it was a constant battle to prevent the collar from touching my ears!

I was sad to leave Mrs Haynes and our cellar classroom, but the Upper Fifth year, spent in one of the mobile classrooms with Miss Williams was a good experience. The mobile classrooms were fairly new and very pleasant, tucked away in the beautiful school grounds. I had known Miss Williams since kindergarten, but I only found out she was human when she was my form teacher - she was superb. She was a PE teacher with a boundless enthusiasm for sport (which didn’t endear her to me) but she was also a very good geography teacher, I enjoyed her lessons and I can still remember many of the mnemonics that she taught us to help us to remember important information.

I did not enjoy gym and dance lessons because even in the senior part of the school we had to wear horrible aertex blouses and navy blue knickers, which made me feel very exposed. For hockey, netball, tennis and other outdoor games we wore short wrap over skirts. Our playing fields were at the bottom of Church Way so we were taken there by coach, for hockey in the winter months and athletics in the summer. It is hard to choose which I liked least! The worst part of all was that we had to change on the coach in order to save time, I am sure such things would not be allowed these days. Every item of clothing and PE kit had to be named with an embroidered name tape sewn on neatly – a very time consuming job. I don’t remember this being checked at Spring Hill but further up the school, we had regular inspections to ensure that all our clothing was labelled.

It is hard to say that I had a favourite teacher, because there were a number of interesting and inspirational people at the school. I still remember many of my teachers with affection and gratitude. The unforgettable Mr Fiddes taught art, he was a very good teacher, I loved his lessons and I realise now that as well as sharing very sound advice, he taught us to think for ourselves and to have the confidence to express our opinions.  Miss Elliott-Binns who taught Divinity (and so much more!) was an amazing lady, she never shied away from difficult questions and her answers showed surprising insight and understanding. I remember Father Fred Baker; he was the school chaplain and Rector of St Edmunds church. He used to take us for very occasional lessons, I am not sure what for, but I remember he told good jokes and could stand on his head. I remember Miss Smith who taught English (and despaired of my spelling) because she introduced us to poets and authors that I still enjoy reading, John Betjeman, Ted Hughes, James Kirkup, Charles Causley, Saki, E M Forster, Katherine Mansfield, D.H. Lawrence and many others.

I have so many memories of school life. On Ascension Day we all walked to All Saints Church for a special service which always included the hymn 'Praise to the Lord the Almighty the King of Creation'. Every year I seemed to end up sitting behind a pillar! We had the Gift Service before Christmas when we all brought toys. For reasons that were never clear to me we always sang 'O Come all Ye Faithful' in Latin. When the weather was too bad for us to go outside for games we sometimes played French cricket in the hall and at the end of term games lessons were abandoned in favour of 'shipwreck’ in the gym. Another end of term ritual was cleaning our desks, we had to bring in our own polish and a duster. Perhaps my best memories are of ordinary days, sitting in the area outside the gym enjoying a hot chocolate from the drinks machine on a cold day and sitting in a shady spot in the garden on a hot summer day. In my Upper Fifth Year taking my turn to run the Spine and Jacket book shop at lunchtimes (under the watchful eye of Mrs Tresias). Most of all I remember the people, inspirational teachers, the gardener who kept the grounds looking beautiful, and my friends. 

The school grounds c1920s were little changed in 1970s

Derngate was a happy, friendly place, Mr Fiddes once described it as an ivory tower and of course he was right, but I am grateful for those years. For me school was a safe, protected and predictable environment at a time when my home life was dominated by worry and uncertainty. A lot was expected of us but I think that was a good thing for me, I probably needed to be pushed in order to do my best, but school wasn’t just about results. I did better than anyone expected in my exams but more importantly I left school with a wealth of poetry in my head, passion for history, a love of art, a desire to read and a need to write, and all those things have remained with me ever since.

My Town ~ the Dream Town?

By Nicky Sarti

Royal Theater

I was all geared up to write a couple of blogs about my town and its Councillors after seeing the latest play at the Royal called “Town,” I was ready to moan and ask what in the blue hell is happening to my town… I still might, but right now I want to lay some praise on someone. The first time I went on duty to this “Town” play was Thursday 26th June, which coincided with the date our “pride of lions” were unveiled around town. I knew they were coming, but much like the recent performances by England’s overpaid prima~donnas; I was not prepared for them! 

Castle Station

Heading up past Castle Station (notice I won’t use “Northampton Station” ~ it’s always been Castle Station, never mind what the sign says! As with Jimmy’s End ~ St. James and of course MK “City” ~ but the less said about that the better!) and over St. Peter’s roundabout I noticed three lions kindly guarding (or watching, you choose) over John Dickie’s home…
Having said that I was not prepared to see lions (real or otherwise) in Northampton was not an understatement, after the initial swear word and “there’s three lions!” I could not stop smiling to myself; fancy that ~ I was actually smiling for once!

Guildhall

Wandering around town now seems more fun, I actually find myself looking up more. Even nights out seem much more fun, and yes I have the pictures to prove that ~ and no, I did not break the one outside the Guildhall… and I was gentle getting on that one in the picture!

Conversations with friends are filled with “have you seen the lions?” and “where’s that one?” People seem to be stuck with something between curiosity and amazement that something good could come from this town, which is a worry! Having seen and heard all the views (including my own!) over what is wrong with this town, it seems to shock people that something good can happen.

People know my views on the things our Lib Dem (is it now a coalition too?) run NBC have and have not done, the site at Edmunds Hospital, Princess Marina and Market Square say it all. But; and here is the thing, they are all done with the view that “hopefully” people will want to come to the town and maybe invest/stay.

Market Square

I know that many people will say “but that is not enough!” and to be fair I do slightly agree. However, look at the lions for an example. People do like them, they look cool and get people talking… is that not the point? People love to see the Elephants in London, we spot them (or try) every time we go down to City; the lions seem to be having the same effect here.Which is a very good thing in my view, and should surely be encouraged? How about this for an idea: more arty type stuff, more plays from local people about local things? Let us get a little crazy here, how about this too: get more things going like those wonderful Heritage Weeks? This town has so much going for it, to let that die would surely be a crime?

Taken on Heritage Weekend

There are people willing to show those of us willing to learn around, I know this from first hand experience. Case and point, most people reading this blog will know Councillor Trini Crake; some will know her husband John is something of a town historian. All reading this blog will know that I am a member of my local St. John division too, and have been for a while.

Digressing for a moment, our meeting nights at St. John often consist of training, training and more training! Occasionally we have a few guest speaker nights thrown in among the training and the courses we have to do, and a few nights a year we have social evenings. Rarely do we leave the safe confines of our building, if we do it is either to attend our HQ for more training or exams; but it has not always been like this!

St Johns, St James

We have gone out to the pub! (Yes I know, admittedly we had to walk there; but it was fun!) If I am right in thinking, we have gone out to the hospital for a sort of “outside” guest speaker. The point I am trying to make is, visiting places is good fun, and it gets us out and about… which as many people will tell you, is a good thing!

Anyways, back to the plot… after bumping into John Crake going past the Guildhall, we stopped to have a little chat; during which he told me about the mark on a block outside the Guildhall which meant Northampton was so many feet (sorry I can’t remember how many now) above sea level. I never had a clue the mark was there let alone what it meant, which made me think; “what else don’t I know about my town?”

Guildhall

Having been around the Guildhall once (and totally enjoying it) I thought I would ask if John would show my division around too, after all many of them aren’t from Northampton (and even those that were) so they might not know about its history… of course John kindly agreed, but when I rose the subject at the meeting that night; to say it was met with the “damp squid” effect would be an understatement.

(See, there’s my rant. A slight tangent, but the usual rant I am sure you would all miss if I left it out…)

Guildhall at Night

Anyways; to end, how about this for an idea: Fred and Doris, (work with me on this!) have lived here all their lives, but there is still so much they have never seen; yet they have seen it all. Both have watched a million and one different councils try their best to “make this town better,” but all that happens is the town quiets seems to die a cold death. However, this week they have been seeing more and more Meerkats (just for Alderman Dickie there) painted weird and wonderful colours; popping up around the town.

Derngate

It looks so good and has everyone talking about it, so much so that Fred and Doris’s children have heard about it all; and their grandchildren! Moreover, that is not all they have heard about either! Imagine this; there are local plays at the local theaters. There are local bands playing in the local pubs and clubs, there is local art in the local art museums and a whole host of other things too boot.



However, the best thing about it all is the beautiful buildings and scenery with the amazing history. And guess what? It is something all the family can go and see, they can all experience the history (first hand maybe?) and the stunning scenery! Not only is it on Fred and Doris’s doorstep, but much of it is free! Gosh, how about that; a week where all members of a family can get something out of... who’da thunk it hey?

Lionfish ~ from the Pride of Northampton Lions.

Just a Boroughs Girl - Part 3

By Hair Hardwick

I was still a girl when I discovered I was pregnant and you can imagine how shocked I was, but it was nothing compared to how stunned my parents were. I was lucky of course, and I knew that back then only too well. The days of being packed off somewhere to hide your shame were over by that time and it was becoming quite a common occurrence. My parents stood by me, making it clear my child and I would have a home with them for as long as we needed it.

St Edmunds Hospital

 My son was born at St Edmunds hospital and on that day, and because of how she had treated me at the time, one of the sisters was sacked. I was only fifteen, I was scared and when I cried out in pain she hit me and told me to shut up. My mother was not amused and nor was the Matron who just happened to be passing the room at the time, so because of her actions and impatience with me that woman never got another chance to hit another patient.

Money was a problem as I could not get any help until I reached the age of 16 so I had no choice but to earn what I could and any way I could. Social Services helped me with everything I needed for my child as I was determined to keep my baby. I knocked doors and asked if anyone needed anything fetching and back then people were kind and normally said they did even when it wasn’t true. I earned enough that way to buy my son’s food for him if little else, and could often be seen walking to one lot of shops after the other pushing the pram with my baby in it.

I clearly remember one of my brothers emigrating when my son was just six weeks old and how sad we all were to see him go. For the first time ever that night I heard my mother crying.

My son was nine months old when I ran away to Gretna with my boyfriend, his father, and I was waved off by my parents who wished us well. It seems just like yesterday as I can picture it all so well, yet that was 46 years ago in august. We lived with my parents for a while then moved to Towcester to one of the caravan parks there. It may seem incredible now, to think that back then my husbands wage was around six pounds ten shillings per week. He worked for brown brother’s ltd as a tyre fitter at that time.

From there we moved to the prefabs in St David’s road Kingsthorpe our first council premises. I recall the row of shops just over the road from us, and the pub with its window where you could get served stuff to take away. I recall the bakers van, Adams, calling on me twice a week and my having to run up a tab on his second call just to get basics from him to get me through until next pay day.

From there we moved to Kingsheath and I have good memories of living there in a place we made lots of very good friends. It was while living there that we spent some time running our first bar; it was at the makeshift buildings used for a while by the Twentieth Century Club at the back of what was then the fairly new bus station. The Silver Cornet was our local though from where we lived but we didn’t use it very often and we did use the other pub up on the oval but even more rarely. I can recall watching Barclays sorting house being built during our time there and also the middle school was still standing and was where my son attended until we moved once more, this time into our very own home, at Brixworth.

Over the years we moved quite a few times all in all, first into homes of our own, then staying with his mother, before buying our own home once more in Cowper Street.  

Cowper Street

Now I am not sure if this will interest you, but I think it might so I shall tell it. The front of the house next door to us had once been a shop and its front widow was still like a shop one. Neither we nor the people who lived there knew what shop it had been but we soon found out, and not by being told by anyone or looking it up. No computers back then for our use, had we had have known how to use one of course.

The cellar in my house was a door, in the kitchen area, with stairs just inside it leading down to it, the same in the other house but with that one there was a set of steps outside that led to it also. In their cellar there were some marble worktops on the top of white walled brick bases, and there was also a very deep and large sink. There was a back door that led to a small bricked area a few feet in depth and reached across from their kitchen to our house and those outside steps were opposite the door. On the right hand side of it, looking towards to my house wall, there was a bricked up wall that obviously had once had a door that had been bricked in much later than the bricks around it had been laid. From above it just looked like ground but it was hidden beneath the bit of it next to the outside steps. Removing the newer bricks they then found a huge metal rod overhead at the back of what appeared to be very much a place the size of the old outdoor toilet I once used. There was a basin shape cut into the floor and an odd looking drain cut as what appeared to be a run away for liquid. Putting it all together we presumed this place had once been used to slaughter animals in. further investigation, this time in some records, sorry I do not know what or when as the neighbour did it, it was in fact a slaughter house for cattle and sheep that were bought on the race course and kept there until being marched along to the butchers, slaughtered and used in the shop above the cellar. It was once a thriving shop, and perhaps someone in here who knows where to look may be able to tell us more about this butcher, as personally I would love to know for certain.


It had rubbish that had been dumped in there too and one piece was truly amazing. It was a book, a proper hard back volume of what appeared to be printed pages of some sort of a journal, once kept by a woman and telling day by day, date by date, what exactly had been done in her garden, the weather and how things were progressing and it was printed in her hand writing which was beautiful. Last seen with my friend and one time neighbour and If and when I see her I shall ask if she still has it.

At the bottom of my garden there was a huge shed, the size of a double garage inside that was fitted out each side with wooden benches and shelving above and below it. We found old tools I wish I still had now and don’t, and some old empty tins without labels and that were disc and small oblong shaped rather like a tin of polish. We discovered it had in fact been the workshop of a polish maker.

The licensed trade.

Me as the barmaid at the Sunnyside

While living in Cowper Street I went to work part time in a couple of public houses to help with making ends meet moneywise. I worked first at the sunny side for Terry and Sandra Bates and I loved it there.

A while later I went to work at the White Elephant and I do wish I could recall the name of the people there but I’m afraid I don’t. To be honest I have never been sure if to thank the landlord there at that time, 1980, or to curse him for ever suggesting we went to work for the same company as he did.

The group was called The Host Group, which was part and parcel of Chef and Brewer.

And the reason I say this is because though we had many wonderful times in the trade, there was another side to it entirely. Trust me it is no fun when things do kick off in a trouble pub. I recall having to call the police, then to lock and bar myself into the bedroom and hang out of the window waiting for the police to arrive, more than once in my time, the first of which was at the Clinton Arms.

The reason I had to do that was to make sure when the police arrived, not just one or two went inside as there was no way they could have handled the situation there alone. When there was trouble, thankfully not too often, it was generally very bad. One really good thing I recall was meeting number one son as he came to be called, and though I lost touch with him many years ago, thanks to Northampton past we are now back in touch, I have seen him and his lovely new wife and that pleases me so much.

Charity Events

The best thing during my time living and working in the pubs and clubs was raising money for charity. We either held events or helped others too and were by doing so raising thousands of pounds over the years in so many different ways, all sorts of things from weight loss to the biggest one the Saint Ives Fun Bike ride as it was called back then. That still goes on over twenty years later but the fun word was taken out of it and today it is run by the British Heart Foundation I believe.

We moved from our house in Cowper Street to the Clinton arms the first of the pubs we were to run. For while we let our house when we went into the licensed trade, and that was in 1981. It was a pub that was known for trouble at the time but I can honestly say once we got to know people, through one of the customers there it turned out I knew, we loved it and had a great time. Sadly the pub was condemned at the time to make way for the ring road that is there today. We did not stay until it was pulled down though and moved on to other pubs as and when the managers above us instructed. Those were not in our county and so I left my home town and county for some time, returning a few years later to Wellingborough where we ran the Sports which it was renamed then but has now been turned back to the original it once was and that is The Cromwell. We had almost three good years there and I was able to see and spend more time with friends and relatives once again.

The Clinton Arms

It was a known thing in that company, that if profits stopped rising and steadied out they moved landlords on to another pub, as they never seemed to be able to accept that you had all of the customers there were to be had in that area, there just wasn't anyone else you could draw into your pub, just as everyone had only so much money they could spend there. So every few years we were moved on, from pub to pub, and always they gave us trouble pubs to sort out. We were not happy but got on with it as we needed the work.

Eventually we could not keep up with the payments for the house or the putting of things right due to non caring tenants that seem drawn to it rent wise, and so we sold it. This proved to be a big mistake and saw us homeless for a time.

The last pub we took was in centre of Huntingdon. We had given three months notice, due to us both feeling we needed a rest and would then go back into it, but were talked into giving that one a try. Not a good idea and we stayed there only a matter of weeks and left, not only the pub but the trade at that time.

But that break from being behind the bars was only brief, and soon we were working at The Football Club in Blisworth and living in a caravan on the site there down near the canal.

That was when we went back into the working men’s clubs.

Blisworth Football Club

We moved full time to The Double Top, a place that had been The Trades club when I was a girl and when my son was young. Dad was very much a club man and so I knew and had been to so many of the clubs in Northampton over the years, this one included.

From there we left our county once again and moved to Leicester, first in a rented house and then, once again, to buy our own. There I worked for a while in a shoe factory, and I can honestly say it must be in my blood, my relatives’ of the past working in that trade over the years, I have recently discovered.

I learned a great deal there, about marking pieces to sew that would eventually be the side, tops or straps of shoes. How to sew and use both a flat machine and post machine and I wish I had one of the later today as I could do so much with one of those.

I made buttons covering them with leather of just the right thickness and I lost count of how many times I was called into the cutting room to tell them if it had been scathed enough or needed more doing, much to the annoyance of the forewoman who I am afraid I made a bit of a fool of. Well she did it herself really, by trying to show me up for wasting bits of leather. She tried to show me it was okay and there was nothing wrong with it, and in the process wasted metal fittings that were the really expensive bits of the buttons. She could not make one out of it, so she walked away in anger and just sent evil looks across the room at me then, which made me smile and annoyed her even more.

For a while after the factory closed I worked as a filling in job packing shoe soles, but it didn’t pay enough and so it was onto a cob shop, (known as bread rolls here.)

Again made redundant but with an excellent reference I worked as yet another gap filler as a domestic in a home there and it was the night before I was offered a job full time that my back first went.

I lay in bed for weeks, and it took a long time for me to get back onto my feet, even longer to be able to make the stairs and what seemed like forever until I was able to step outside the back door just to sit for a while in my garden.

At this time hubby had taken over running yet another club bar, right in the centre of Leicester. Eventually I was on my feet and though could not at that time do a full time job I was eased back into work by doing the odd few hours on quieter sessions at that club. And then we moved again, to take the job together in Kent and while there was when I lost touch completely with most of the people, though not all thank goodness, of the people I once new here in the town, just as it was during that period that, as I see it now, our town changed so much.

Tovil Club in Kent

My back went again and that was it, I was declared disabled, unable to do that work ever again. So I became miss sandwich maker doing so many trays of sarnies and I soon lost count of how many. I cooked endless trays of roast potatoes, sausages and so much other stuff during the next years and honestly, I was not sorry to leave that place even if I was of course sorry it was because of my hubby’s ill health. With the food of course, most of what I did was in the sitting position; I had to have help along the way and did not get paid for my work. Should you wonder why I did it then, simple answer is, it made me feel of some use. I also made a lot of friends while there and some of which are on my friends list.

It was also during that period that I began to write, and now though I do not do quite as much of it, I do still enjoy doing it. Within a few days I had got to grips with typing which seemed to come to me with comparative ease. Through doing it I have learned how to overcome in the main, with a computers help, my dyslexia and other problems associated with that and so was able to put this together for you the way I have, in a comparatively short space of time. I have had a few poems published but still have to re write and correct most of my other work now I feel able to. God willing I will have time left to do at least some of that, and if not I am just grateful that it has filled so many hours with something I have loved doing.

We returned here, two years ago to our home town, a place we hardly knew anymore about compared to how it once had been for us.

Suddenly I was in a place I had longed to come back to, but nothing was the same for me. The few friends I was still in touch with had their own lives and families, though thankfully I still had good, long term friends, in Brixworth, and some of their children living right here in this town. It was wonderful to catch up with them and I just wish we could see each other more often.

And then, during the last year, I joined Northampton past, and once more home seems just that once again. I have met and befriended so many of you, I have found old friends right here within this site, I am finding through it that not the entire town has changed as much as I feared and I am glad about that. I am of course saddened to see how much has gone and is still being taken from us.

Progress has a lot to answer for as well as a lot to be said for it and we can do little about that can we, though many of us will still try to see we hang onto some of it so our children, grandchildren and so on, can one day still have a town to be proud of as I am, as hopefully those reading this are too.

Thanks to the members and those running this site, and thanks to Frank’s brilliant idea of starting it, they will at least have a record of what it once was and know how the members of this site feel about it today.

Tid bits.

Bread and dripping, bread and jam without margarine or with jam, not both, golden syrup, bread with margarine and sprinkled thinly with sugar, a fried slice on occasion, all done using a tin loaf that with ten children was sliced thinly and went around the table again until it ran out. That was once a typical tea for us kids.

Meat for main meals would consist of stew made from bones, and thickened with lentils using whatever vegetables could be bought cheaply at the end of the market day. Meat would be rare and probably pigs trotter, a shoulder of pork or lamb or other cheap off cuts that mother managed to get with her frugal means. Fish in parsley sauce would in truth be the heads and tails boiled up and stripped, the stock kept making sure of flavouring. She fed us, it was always filling and tasty, so what if the bacon and onion roll was made from bacon bits, and was it was mainly the dumpling that filled us. So what if the left over stew would fill the centre of a dish with pastry round the edge the next day, with fresh potato and onions on top and then stuck in the oven to finish it. Did we care, no, not really! We never went hungry, mum saw to that by slaving doing other peoples washing, cleaning and so many other jobs, just to earn enough to feed us. She spent hours making us clothes from old things she bought and we had to search for from Perrit’s scrap place just off the Mayorhold, knitted us jumpers after unpicking and washing the wool from hand knitted jumpers also obtained from there.

But you know what, she was one incredible woman. She taught me so much and I will always be grateful to her for that. Like mother I can sew, knit, and do so much other stuff it’s untrue. Basically life back then taught me, and I am sure a lot of those reading this, how to make the most of everything that comes your way, whatever that might be.

Just the other day, at the treasure hunt, one lady, no names given as she knows who she is I am sure, and who is a lovely person, said something that set me to thinking. She said too much pride is not always a good thing. Perhaps she is right, but for me you see, its not so much about pride, more that I am disabled now, I know it and make the most of every day, yet, its more about remaining independent, something people like me need to retain as long as they can, until the day comes we are forced to accept the help we need simply because we have too.

There were holidays along the way as well, one we were lucky enough to win was to Australia, where after a period of thirty years I was able to meet with my brother once more. So we have seen not just the tourist side of that vast country but also spent a little time seeing how the people there really live, just as we have done in Spain with yet more members of my family. My all time favourite places are, of course my home town, and North Devon especially Exmoor with which I feel I have link from the past though what I do not know, and a small town called Schillersee at the foot of the Alps in Bavaria. Some of the views there are astounding!

I have played hostess, to big wigs, stars of the sports world such as world champion dart players, snooker players, pool and so much many more people during my time in the licensed trade. We hosted a social night for Northampton cricket team that was never advertised but truly was a night of fun and relaxation for them. They enjoyed it immensely and so did our regulars who they played at an assortment of games such as snakes and ladders, Ludo and many more.

And once many years ago now Paul and I decided it was time to do some of the things we had always wanted to do, the first for me was the wish to hold a new born lamb. I held one just hour’s old, and then just for a few seconds and one at a time, twins still covered in the gunk they were born covered in. It was wonderful! But then I was a town girl and had not had the chances to do what children are able to do today.

Me & the Lamb (THE FIRST THING I WANTED TO DO)

DOLL OUTFIT I MADE IN 1978

Recently I was sent a picture of a doll from a girl I knew when she was a child back in 1978 and imagine my surprise that she still has it, that now her children love it too, and it’s just how it was, all bar a missing hat, dressed as I dressed it for her, way back then.

Right now my health is better than it was by far, at least short term, and I make the most of it while it is like that. No stairs to climb here I believe to be the reason for a lot of the changes. I am normal, so I am told, Ha Ha! I have my up days and my down days just as everyone does I believe. I have a wonderful son, daughter in law and two gorgeous grandchildren who I adore and so believe myself to be lucky.

Mostly I am happy being here, to be, just a girl from the boroughs, back home in my town, Northampton, today Tuesday 19-6-2012.

A last tribute

I feel this should be added at the end here, for the woman who taught me the values I live by today, who taught me so much about creating something out of nothing, but mostly taught me how to care for others. What comes around goes around, she used to say, a term many of us use today.

R I P mum, may the lord keep you safe so that one day, we will meet once more.

Thank you all for reading this AND I hope you have enjoyed it.

(HAIR.)

A Portrait of a 1990s Husband

This light hearted portrait of my husband was written in 1990s when he had 'accidentally' bought a whole set of golf clubs on his way home from work!

Eric Jones 1965 -2003

Respite care needed urgently

This wayward chap is still fairly young, but his wilful and demanding nature places an impossible strain on his carers. He is friendly and outgoing, he enjoys meeting new people, and on first meeting his vices and limitations may not be obvious. He is fascinated by bathrooms and in particular by showers. If he is not closely supervised he will spend hours locked in the bathroom creating various splashing and wallowing noises. He loves toiletries of all kinds and enjoy lining up bottles and sprays on the shelf - it is not uncommon to find four or five open containers of the same item. His fascination does not extend to cleaning anything in the bathroom and when he eventually vacates the room a scene of devastation becomes visible as the steam and chemical fog slowly disperses. Breathing apparatus should be used in the bathroom for at least one hour afterwards.

He also has an obsession with clothes and even the strictest carers will struggle to manage this aspect of his behaviour. His belongings already fill three wardrobes and overflow in to the bedroom. At last count, his shirts numbered more than eighty but he still buys more! And even a centipede would not require as many pairs of trousers as this chap. He often tries on a number of outfits and leaves the evidence scattered all over the room - to be picked up by the good fairy perhaps! In his teenage years, he developed an obsessive relationship with the Next store, this was destructive and financially draining attachment. Sadly, increasing age has taken its toll and he is now less discriminating in his shopping habits, these days he likes to shop at Marks and Spencer and at Debenhams. There is little hope of improvement, usually when a condition has degenerated to this stage there is no cure. Carers are warned to prevent the purchase of corduroy or thermal undergarments at all costs!

He is known as "half a job Jones" with good reason. He comes from a remote and backwards region called Cornwall and has resisted all attempts to adjust to life in England. In particular he has difficulty with the concept of urgency or time management. To get him to attempt the washing up takes hours of persuasion and always leads to harsh words and raised voiced. When he finally gets to the sink he considers he has completed the task when he has put it in a bowl of soapy water. The good fairy then comes upon the unwashed pans and crockery in a soup of congealed, greasy cold water! No wonder there is a need for respite care.

He is deeply attached to a number of security objects, the most important being his mobile telephone and the television remote control. It is a pathetic sight to see him sprawled across the sofa with the phone in one hand and the remote control the other. He cannot sit in a chair, he has to sprawl so that he can conveniently fall asleep rather than converse with his family. He retains control of the TV even when asleep and his long suffering carers cannot recall ever watching a complete programme without a 'quick flash'.

Despite his age, he still has not understood the relationship between the cash point machine and the bank balance! Strict discipline must be enforced in this area. Be warned, he collects credit cards in the way other people collect stamps.

I will only make passing reference to the more unpleasant sounds and odours you must expect, and of course there are numerous anger management issues too. It is only fair to point out that his role model is Victor Meldrew - a half hour episode may be amusing but how would you feel about spending the rest of your life with him?

Are you up to the challenge?!

Just a Boroughs Girl - Part 2

By Hair Hardwick

And now, as requested, a few memories I have of my life throughout the years.

Heathville and things I recall from that time, or perhaps have been told as I grew, and to be honest I picture some of it just as it was but other things are a little vague.

There one of our neighbours had rabbits and I would always go walk about with no one really worrying because they knew where to find me, generally in his garden sat on my backside, with a rabbit too big for me to hold onto, clutching it like mad while I sat on the ground, winter or summer.

My father grew Gladiolus and I do remember being shown how to pick tiny heads from some other plants he had so that the cluster around them had more room to grow.

Also there was a dolls house my father made for me out of an old corner cupboard, and my mother making me a family for it out of dolly pegs.

My first dog, though more a family pet, who had to be put down due to boys playing on Kingsheath green hitting her over the head with a cricket bat, injuring her badly.

My first day at school, which was at the time was Spencer infants. On that first day at playtime I was stung by a bee and so went looking for my sister who was in the juniors. There when I got into the hall, via the playground gate that split the school areas, I came slap bang upon the head that went raving mad at me. She did not check the finger I had clutched in the other hand but sent me packing back through the gate and into the other playground, telling me I should go back inside, my tears meant nothing to her. I didn’t. If I couldn’t have my sister I was going home to show my mum. I walked, age just over four, from that school right along past the park, through Dallington, over the road and up the hill into Heathville to get home.

Home in Dallington

Needless to say my mother was livid about my walking the streets like that and no one at the school even knowing I had gone. She removed the bee stuck to my finger where I had squashed it with my other hand, and treated my finger; I still have a tiny bump on that finger today. Then I was left with a neighbour and I do not know what happened but I do know the following day I started at Kingsheath infants where I remained until we moved to Herbert Street.

Herbert Street is clearer in my mind.

Herbert Street 1963 

Herbert Street demolition

I sat one day on the kerb just outside our house and a boy from next door I think, sat next to me, he was, (sorry this is not nice but is relevant,) picking his nose, rolling what he got into a ball and flicking it here and there. My mother came out to find him doing that clipped him around the ear and sent me packing indoors. When she came in I was stripped, dragged down into the cellar kitchen and stood shivering while she filled the sink with warm water. Next thing I knew she had pored vinegar in to, telling me off for sitting with him and dousing my head and all of the rest of me in the smelly water she sat me in she ended by saying ‘I aim to see you don’t get his fleas my girl and it serves you right if you get cold or it stings.’ Funny thing was mum never spoke to us like she did to folks in the area. She was really quite a lady in her speech and yet just seemed to slip from one mode to another with ease.

She was right though, he had been picking those out and showing me them before hand.

Green Dragon Bearward Street

Memories of sitting on the steps of the Green Dragon and other pubs on the Mayor Hold are quite clear to me. It was great for me as I was always given a penny or two from the men going in and coming out. Can you imagine letting your children do that today?

I recall refusing to sit back down next to a boy again, in what was my new school Spring Lane, because he had wet himself and my mum had instilled in me that if I wet myself I would stink. In my head it meant he would even if he had been washed down since.

I also have fond memories of a dinner lady at the school, she was my cousin but being older and married, I always was told she was my auntie and so called her that. She spoiled me, knowing that mum never had much she always gave me a bit extra, and coaxed me to eat a little of what I didn’t like to get extra of things I did. I wish I could recall her name but I am sorry I don’t at this time.

Spring Lane School

Once in the juniors we all had to write a play and they were to be looked at by the headmaster who was Mr Griffiths. He was going to give a prize to the best one chosen. It was mine and I received a big bar of chocolate I was so proud to take home to mum. I remember it was the first time she said I never had to share it, but it was so big I did anyway. I was prouder when my play was used as it was for the school. I had to go and tell people where to stand and how to do things. Ha ha I loved that.

I remember my sister attended a church and took me to Sunday school there. I had to learn a verse of a hymn and if did I would get a small bar of chocolate. I remembered it all, the whole thing and got my chocolate plus a pat on the head which I recall annoyed me, done by the minister there. I was a big girl and you did that to little kids not big girls like me. Funny how I remember that so clearly, and yet question sometimes if I dreamt it.

One thing always makes me smile though when I think of it, though it wasn’t very nice for one of my sisters.

While there our toilet was a small brick built shed at the top of the garden away from the house, we hated it, it was scary and at night we used pots indoors which had to be emptied and washed every morning. But you see there were many rats and mice in that area where houses were being knocked down around us, so it was not safe or nice to go out there at night really. There was also no light.

Outside the back door mum kept a tin bucket with water in it. It was always kept full in case anyone was in a hurry; of you know what I mean. We had to take it with us and use it to flush the toilet when we had done. Then we had to fill it afterwards and put it back ready for the next time.

One day my sister went up the garden in the day time, bucket in hand, nothing to be ashamed of as everyone in our street had to do that. She went, used the loo and as she stood up and wiped herself she looked behind her and saw, to her horror, she had been right on the head of a rat that was in the loo. No! She did not stay to flush the loo. She came hurrying down the path, screaming her head off and trying to run and pull her draws up at the same time, so was almost falling over with every step she took. She screamed so loud half the street heard her as well as us, and everyone rushed to their back room windows which over looked the gardens. She got teased a lot about that time I tell you. She was about 15 then and had just started work I think.

Does anyone recall the toilets that used to be next door to the co-op on the mayorhold I wonder? I ask as it was there my sister used the loo from that day on.

I did learn one thing in that house, and that was when mum said something more than once she meant it. I found that out when she told me to see the coal in and told me several times before she went out; to make sure the door between the cellar and the kitchen was tightly closed. Oops. What a mistake NOT doing that was! It resulted in me, all alone and aged about nine, having to wash the whole kitchen down dishes, pots, pans, the lot, before mum got home. No I never managed it and she was so mad she made me finish it as well. If you have no idea what a mess coal dust can make you would not understand how bad it was after three bags of loose coal were dropped from above. Let’s just say it resembled smoke clouds only trapped inside the walls of the house and settling in black thick dust on everything.

Abington.

Once there I felt we now lived in a posh house, we had a bathroom downstairs with a proper bath and running water. I think actually there may have been one at Heathville but I am not sure. For me my clear memories are of that old tin bath at Herbert Street that I so hated and we had to bathe in, taking it in turns to use it took too much to fill each time and water had to be carried up and down a flight of stairs to and from the kitchen.

Upstairs we had an indoor toilet, instead of the one up the garden at our old house.

When my time at the junior school was over I quite understood that mum and dad could not afford to buy me a new school uniform. I wasn’t worried I was used to making do, but I did want at least one new blouse, and mum promised me I would have two. I never knew how dire a state money and funds were at that time so I did not understand why she did what she did for a long while.

Mum & me in Abington

One day I came home from junior school to find two pure white crispy new blouses on hangers hanging on the wall. I was thrilled.

Later when I was in bed, I heard voices in the room below; one was my cousin who had lived in the cul-de-sac down the road from us. I heard her say, ‘well did she like them Eva?’ I heard my mother reply, ‘shhhh! she’ll hear you, she doesn’t know they were Marie’s and I had them from you she thinks they are new, and I don’t want her to know do you hear me?’

The following day I went to school wearing a blouse from the second hand pile I had in my room, I had no intention of putting on one of those hanging up. Father saw I did wear them, of course, and I got over it given time. Sometimes I wonder if I ever really did though as it’s still such a vivid memory.

At school also on the first day, I met a girl who became my close friend. We never knew it then but we would become life long friends and I mean more or less for all of it, because you see there was something we never knew at the time.

One day she was in my home and my mum asked her if she was related to someone. She was, and mum and dad started laughing and pointing to one and then the other of us. Eventually it all came out. It turned out we had played in as babies in our prams or on the grass in the gardens of the pub in Dallington village.

Her grandfather was my godfather and he and dad use to take us for walks and met there for a pint, or two, or three.

We are still friends and she lives here in Northampton too.

Before I left school I got a bit of a shock. You see I was called to the heads office and wondered what I had done wrong that old Mother Malin’s, as we called her back then, wanted me for. It turned out to my utter surprise she wanted to try and talk thick me into staying on. I wasn’t any good at anything I thought, but she and some of the teachers obviously thought differently.

They wanted me to take art, in particular, studying design, and also typing. The second I saw as a real joke as I had only had one lesson at that school, how could I have had more if I wanted them when there had only been one woman there who taught it and after just two days she left and was not replaced, I had one morning’s lesson with her and that was it. Oddly enough I taught myself to type on a computer more or less as soon as I got one.

My dyslexia and word displacement was never picked up on at school as back then it was not recognised by the medical profession. I found out I had it some years later, when my son began school and I filled in the forms needed to hand over to register him there. I have had to work at overcoming the problem and still misspell when in a hurry and even other times as some of my comments in here prove I am sure.

I refused them as I had already set up the first job I was going to, and felt my mother needed my board to be paid. So l left school and as it turned out it was a good job I did even if that first job only lasted a few weeks.

Lost orders saw to that and it was a case of first in first out. Just my luck, mind you I did well out of it with a month’s pay given me. I think they felt guilty as I had so looked forward to the job and was hard worker from that very first day, I am proud to say.

I found work straight away. Hated the new job and left again the same day, too clicky, as we used to say back then, though I think it’s still said today too.

So I loved the job at College warehouse in College Road, where I had to climb a flight of stairs to get to the factory floors. That was just more or less opposite the fish and chip shop there, maybe a slightly lower down than that. I think it’s still a painted black door on that entrance today. There I sewed buttons onto police hats, not the helmets but the officer’s hats and peak caps. And believe it or not there is an art to that, for those buttons must have no chance of falling off for quite some time. I learned how and still tend to put many buttons on things in the same way today.

I was working there and only fifteen when I discovered I was pregnant, seven months pregnant!

Then began another part of my life, for I had responsibilities and therefore had to grow up, and fast.