Wardy

Andy, I know all of the folk you mention David married Pat Green, Olive and Ron lived down the basement below David. David had twin cousins who lived next door. They both live in Norfolk now: one of them lives just around the corner from me, see her most weeks in town. I remember Jean and Charlie very well; broke their window when I was a kid, they had a daughter, can?t remember her name, I think it may have been Jennifer, and Chalie work as a river policeman. All the Robinsons played cricket on a Sunday. Sid and flow lived in Heber Road but their garden came into Rodwell Road. Their son John was a mate of mine, he is a little older them me and will be about 65 now. Their was another relation "Ernie" who also lived in a basement below the twins. He died some years ago in his home in Cambridgeshire. He took me fishing when I was a kid and I met up with him again just before he died about 15 years ago. Now you mention Leslie, he was obviously older then me but the name rings a bell, was he the father of the twins? Did your wife live in Rodwell Road? There was also a relation named Flow who was married to Johnny; they didnt have any children, I would sell mint from the garden to them to make some pocket money. Good old days. Regards Eric Ward

Does anyone know who lives at 25 Rodwell Road? I was born there in the back room in 1950. Would love to go back and have a look around.

I remember Dawsons Hill so well. It was a place us kids all visited during the school holidays in the 50?s and 60?s. Blackberrying was the name of the game. We would take jars, tins and any type of container to fill with Blackberries; great days. As a kid I didn?t know the history of Dawsons Hill, I always imagined it to be an old Bomb Site from the war. Its interesting to hear people say it should be a park. Leave it alone, its been there longer than anyone reading this; its Dawsons Hill not Dawsons Park.

Hawton: my pleasure have a good Easter weekened. Eric

Hawton: Dulwich Park what memories that brings. I can remember the two lady park keepers: Fatty and Sis. We would un-tie the boats and let them drift across to the island; they would chase us all over the park. You mention the men going out for the day from the Heber Arms I wrote about this in my book, it was called a Beano, probably spelt that wrong. My dad would always come back completely P?ed, but he had a good time. I can remember one year very well. Please enjoy few paragraphs from the book below: Getting back to the pub, every year all the men who drank at the Heber Arms would go on what was called a Beano. A Beano was a glorified piss-up. They would hire a coach, fill the boot with bottles of beer and go down to the seaside, normally Brighton or Southend. The Beano would always be on a Saturday with everyone meeting outside the Heber Arms at about 9am. It was traditional for all wives and the kids to congregate with the men outside the pub half an hour or so before departure. Outside of the pub there would be groups of people laughing, talking and generally mucking around. Its funny how things have changed; in today?s modern world a Beano would be outlawed; there is no way wives would wish their husbands a happy piss-up, but they did then. Beanos for me were a means of making good money. It was another tradition for the men to put loads of copper coins, that?s an old term for money, into a bucket. As the coach pulled away on its journey, the men would throw handfuls of these coins out the windows, and the kids would scramble to pick them up; these scrambles resembled an unruly rugby match. Kids would kick, punch and generally fight their way to the get their hands on the coins and I was no exception. From a very early age I made sure I came away with a pocket full of money. Beanos were happy times for me; dad would always return absolutely rat-arsed, but happy and full of funny stories from the day. I remember one particular time, when dad was out on a Beano, being wakened early one Sunday morning by loud noises coming from downstairs. I went to mum?s bedroom and woke her. We slowly crept down the stairs, hearing the noises coming from the front room. Mum went up to the front-room door and turned the handle very slowly and then pushed the door open with speed, running into the darkened room shouting, ?Who?s there?? ?It?s me,? came a reply. ?Who the f--ck do you think it is? I?ve lost my door key.? We turned to face the front-room bay window from where the voice came from, only to see dad half in and half out of a half-opened window and totally pi--ed. One leg was outside, the other inside, but the funniest thing was that in the darkened room he seemed to be struggling with a tree trunk. ?What that?? said mum. ?Turn the bloody light on before it gets broken,? came the reply. I switched on the light to see my dad straddling the window ledge, smiling and holding the biggest sea-side rock I had ever seen or seen since. It was six feet long and about twelve inches across. The look on my face must have said it all. Dad looked at me and said, ?Here you are, son. It?s yours.? At that moment I thought all my birthdays had come at once; ?Wait till the other kids see this,? I thought. I couldn?t sleep that night just dreaming about that rock, but what I didn?t know was, a big problem was about to begin: how to get my teeth around the bastard. The rock rested against the kitchen wall for what seemed to be weeks, too big to get up the stairs to my bedroom. Every now and then, dad or I would bring someone into the house to admire it. I suppose it became a talking point ? you know, when you run out of conversation with someone you can suddenly turn round and say, ?Have you seen my rock?? and bring them inside the house to gaze at its enormous size. Eventually this all came to an end one day when mum, finally having had enough of sweeping round the thing and continually having to shift it from side to side, went ballistic and told me and dad to get rid of it, or else. On the Saturday, following mum?s outburst, Dad told me to fetch all the kids playing in the street; there were probably about fifteen kids altogether. Dad moved the rock into the hallway and placed it horizontally on two chairs. He then fetched his tool bag and produced a four-pound hammer and a steel chisel. He shouted to the kids to line up from the pavement outside my house up to the front door. He then sat down, placing the chisel up against the rock, about six inches from the end. Picking up the hammer and raising it up above his head, he brought it down, striking the chisel with an almighty force. I jumped at the thud, as a huge piece of the rock fell to the ground. This memory is vivid in my mind. At the time, in my little head, it was like witnessing the decapitation of an old friend, seeing someone you loved and admired being smashed to pieces by your own dad. One by one the kids were given a chunk of my rock, a piece of my friend?s body, and each time the hammer fell I couldn?t help but feel the pain of the blow. But like all little boys my memory was short and when I was finally handed my piece, and a big piece it was, I quickly forgot our friendship an enjoyed the taste. One thing I do remember is that on that day everyone in the street was my friend and I was known for a long time to come as the boy who had the biggest rock ever. Hope you like it Wardy

Interesting. My family also supported the dark blues: I suppose we saw them as representatives of the working class and the labour party. As for going to the river: don?t know what end of the street you came from, but for us the nearest river was a tin bath on a Sunday evening. It?s funny though: I was always told to support Cambridge and Labour was the part for us. After all these years I still cant go against my mum and dads wishes, I think they would turn in their graves if I did. Suns shinning now, I?m off out to do some gardening. Wardy

Mike, there were trees in the street but my dad coped them down for fire wood just before we were born. As for the dustmen, couldn?t see dad giving them 6d: 3d would be a lot. As for the Queen she did ride on horse back at Dulwich Park. I can remember going to see her with mum and dad. Dad took a bucket, he said if the horse sh--t he would grab it, he thought it would be worth a fortune being royal and all that. Wardy

I have been on Google Streets to. I was surprised how small the houses are, I remember them to be much larger. I focused in on the wall at the top of the road to see if my name was still carved into the cement, couldn?t see much. I did notice that the Ables cat is still there, it must be about 60 years old now, couldn?t see Mitze, she was probably in doors having pups. Wardy

Josie I have sent you a private e-mail Eric

diwhy just seen the Google street thing on the TV news, I will have a look. Eric

diwhy - Mick I should have known you would remember how to play Hop Scotch. I can now show the grandchildren. Another game I remember was Follow the Leader. Got in to some dodgy situations playing that game, jumping from the top steps of the houses opposite my house. It?s a long way from today?s kids playing computer games. However, I did play football at the weekend with my grandson; I was surprised how my legs kept up with me, life in the old dog yet. Eric

Hawton (Josie) good to hear from you again. As you know the Dodds lived next door to me and they were a funny couple. Old mother Dodds (Violet) would sweep the pavement that much it was a miracle she didn?t wear a hole in it. Do you know if there was ever a Mr Dodds? When you look back it was people like them that in a funny way, made our lives special. If we took all the characters out of our childhood lives it would have been empty: The Dodds, Humpty Back Johnny, Deaf Ron, The Gas Pots, Charlie and Sis, Tom Cornwall, Mitzi the Dog, the first black man to live in the street, the Rag and Bone man, the Cobbler and Doll in the corner shop all of these and more made our lives colourful and probably help made us what we are today. The thing is we never new it at the time, it?s taken over 40 years to realise how lucky we were. Can you remember how to play Hop Scotch? I think it was called that. We would draw squares on the pavement and at the top would be a large square with the words ?OXO?. I have tried to remember how it was played so I can show my grandchildren. I know we had to hop from square to square. I was telling my wife the other day that your brother Terry, in the 1960?s was on the television programme ?Ready Steady Go?. He was dancing to a song being sung by Dusty Springfield. As she was singing she walked up to Terry and put her arms around him for a dance, Terry push her away and walked off. I can remember seeing this on TV, I was gutted, she was my dream girl at the time and I would have done anything for her to put her arms around me. Before I go, what was the name of the people that lived in Heber Road next to Johnny Robinson, their house backed on to mine? I think there was two children, a boy called Graham and a girl. Another name I can?t remember is the name of the people who lived above the cobblers shop, any ideas? Speak to you soon - Eric

Farnham (Joyce) I had forgotten old Johnny?s surname and I had forgotten that he was a window cleaner. He was a good old chap and I feel rotten for calling him humpty back Johnny, but I?m sure where ever his is upstairs he will understand; everyone had a nick name and that was his. I must say if I had remembered he was a window cleaner it would have made some comical reading in my book; perhaps I will mention him again in the next one. I?m racking my brains to remember George Orford but with no luck. I do remember a guy named Arthur who lived a couple of streets up. He would stand in the road and do a commentary of a horse race; he had a pretend microphone. I must say there where some real characters living near us; it?s a wonder we grew up normal, or did we? Do hope Brian gets well soon. Keep in touch: Wardy

Hawton (Josie): I had forgotten about Olive Ribinson and her husband Ron. Olive always wore trousers. My mum told me that Olive was in the land army where women were allowed to wear trousers with fly holes. Before the war it was against the law for women to have fly holes. Thinking about her husband Ron. As kids we would refer to him as deafy Ron. Last year I was fitted with a hearing aid. As I walked down the street for the first time wearing the aid, all I could think about was deafy Ron; serves me right for calling him that name. Hoped you liked the piece I sent you about the cobbler. I can?t remember Mr Marriott, I can remember Cyril and Lil, they lived in the Airey opposite me, they had a yellow and black scooter and would very often get p---- and have a fight on a Saturday night after a session in the Heber Arms. I remember Margaret Kemp and her husband Bob they did look a pair, but they didn?t care; good for them. Margaret would often give me sixpence for some sweets. Jennifer Scott was my brother in laws cousin and her mum did have a strong accent; I think her parents were more disciplined with her then ours were with us; that always makes the kid a little different. I have already mentioned that bloody dog Mitzi in another reply, what a scabby thing that was; slime all over its face and forever having pups; having said that we all remember her. What was the name of the lady who lived in the Airey below Hunch back Johnny and Flow. She died when she was very young, probably about 35 ? 40. I can remember her funeral. The Hurst arrived and the family came up from the Airey. However, her husband didn?t come out first. Apparently this meant, by tradition, that they weren?t married. People were more concerned at making remarks about this then the fact that her husband may have been too upset to care what tradition called for. When I talk about my childhood people often say you must have had a very happy childhood. I always say ?sometimes but mostly note, but I can only remember the god times and I choose to learn from the bad times?, works for me. Look forward from hearing from you again. Wardy.

Farnham (Joyce): Brenda the twin lives near to me and her children went to school with my two eldest, small world. I forgot about Shirley. I can remember her dad would get off the bus coming home from work one stop before Northcross Rd to save a penny. However when I told Brenda about this a couple of years ago, she said he done it to keep fit. I?m like you, I love to compare to old days with today and I find this thread very enjoyable and judging by the comments there are people out there who enjoy reading this thread who weren?t even born until the 70?s and 80?s. Keep it up Wardy.