Well its taken some formulating, but I've finally come up with an idea that may be of interest to some people out there.
Memories of childhood can be precious and are held within one's psyche in a certain order. Mine are no different and are completely personal to me. I make no apologies for this and anyone who recognises themselves and is upset, well it has not been done with any malice.
My firmist memories can really be traced back to around 1960, when I was seven and had started junior school. Goldthorpe in the 1960's was a full blown pit village. Set within the Dearne Valley, with its sister villages of Bolton on Dearne and Thurnscoe in close proximity, social commentators would class its location as heavy industrial and deprived. To as a seven year old it was a magical place where close family ties ruled and friends were in abundance.
Our stomping ground was an area that encompassed Main Street, the lower two blocks, the front of Doncaster road and a small section of Elizabeth Street. Two up two down terraced housing.
Doncaster Road 1962, looks like rush hour on the main road between Barnsley and Doncaster the A635.
Main Street,below, just before its demolition in 2012, looking sad, but in 1960 it was a thriving community dominated by families who lived and worked and played and socialised together.
Lets introduce some of the gang, myself and cousins Steven, Robert and Billy, all born in consecutive years, very good strategy in relation to the pecking order of the gang that hung around the street. That was he family unit, backed up by the matriarch of the family, our Nan, who lived at number 30. Her house was the refuge we had when the weather was bad, or we needed to eat, basically our bolt hole in times of need.
In the two block area of Main Street all the kids between 7 and 10 all played together. By all I mean all the boys, girls never even came into our thoughts, and certainly couldn't play football, cricket, or street games.
The rest of the gang members, were Rob L, Maney, Howard B, Smitch, Barry, Jazza and Salty. A mixed bunch on reflection, but in those days we were a Band of Brothers, who in the school holidays and weekends led a life that sadly today does not exist.
Just think, no daytime television, computers and mobiles. How did we fill our days? By being outside playing and being silly and inquisitive. Most mothers in those days didn't work and had a set routine which mean't that kids, old enough, were booted out of the house and told to get some fresh air and play.
Street games were invented to help pass the day, British Bulldog, the dreaded Ringy, Rounders, Three Sticks and Tin Can Alley.
Later in the series I will concentrate on these games, but just a little taster of how we lived and a personal anecdote.
Sunday night was always bath night and this meant the tin bath was brought into the house to facilitate this task. Me and my cousin Billy had our Sunday night bath most weekends at our Nan's house. Our mother's were a successful singing duo, who worked most weekend nights in the thriving working men's clubs. Therefore we were looked after until they came in to collect us by our Nan.
The tin bath, seen hear, was a fixture in most homes, it was galvanised and took many pans of water, which had to be heated on the gas stove, to fill the said bath. With us two boys the question was , who went in first with the fresh water? To save argument it was decided that the alternative week solution would be implemented.
Being the elder by two years, I always had the upper hand, in that a little sly punch, or threat of mostly, would usually keep Billy in line, not always, but enough to keep the pecking order in place. Our favourite game, if you were the first bather, was to let a little urine into the bath water just as you were about to get out. The main point being that you let the person following know you had done it. Great fun, as Nan couldn't be bothered about all this fuss and shouts of " he's peed in the water" and just made you get in.
Once you were in and second bathing commenced, open season started to see what you could throw into the bath to upset the new occupant. Firstly, bits of plastic toys, then bits of fluff, or even better if a freshly picked boogie could be rolled and flicked in, all the better. I've seen pieces of bread, bits of coal all end up lodged somewhere in amongst the bather. Silly, yes, but such fun and even after all these years we still laugh about the Sunday night bath in front of a roaring coal fire.
One thing you had to do, when in the bath, in front of the fire, was to turn yourself around as you toasted . One side was completely red, while the other side was freezing cold. No wonder we thought all our dreams had come true, when in the 1970's, most of the houses had extensions built onto them, with proper indoor toilets and baths.
Next time we will look at the street games played and how some of the neighbours reacted to a gang of kids playing around their houses from morning until night.
