eric wrote:

> > > eric wrote:
> > > > >It was late 1945 or early 46, I can't be sure, but it's a night I shall never forget, can never forget. My mother said to me, "Allans mother wants to know if you'll stay with him at her house tonight for a couple of hours while she goes to the pictures? Of course I said yes, Allan was one of my best friends only lived a couple of doors away, and, being an only child, had more toys and games than those of us from large families, which in those days meant most of us. So, about six o clock, I was ready to go, but first, a typical warning from, "Mam". She who must be obeyed - - or else. "I want you home here by nine o clock and no later". "Allright", I said. Now 1930'S/ 40's working class Yorkshire Mam's were a special, even fearsome breed, you did not, EVER, question them or debate with them. Amen. As for answering back, "You'd better not lad, by gum you'd better not". So we didn't, they had an uncanny knack of aallways being right anyway, so why argue? They also had an amazing aim with a sweeping brush, you had to be quick and nimble on your feet to outrun, or duck, a 1940'S sweeping brush wielded by an angry Mam with dinners to make floors to sweep and ironing to do with an old fashioned iron warmed up on a coal fire, not pleasant in mid summer. So, her voice still ringing in my ears, I shot off to Allan's for what would prove to be the most fatefull night of my life. We soon settled down to the usual 1940'S lads games, swapping comics, "Seen that, got that, Oh ere's one I v'e not got, swap yer? Followed by lots of talking and then games of ludo, snakes and ladders and a few card tricks that Allan knew. Time passed as quickly as it always did when you were a kid and having an enjoyable time, and,as I glanced at the clock, saw the hand a couple of minutes from the nine. Time had flown. "I'll ave to go now Allan", I said, "Mi Mam said I ave to be ome by nine o clock". Allan said , "Can't you stay just a BIT longer?" then dissapeared for a minute, when he came back he had in his hands something new and shiny and colourful and wonderful. It was a chemistry set . All pretty colours and wrapped up in shiny plastic. It was a Christmas present that Allan hadn't yet opened, and I can tell yout that in 1940S' Bradford, you saw little shine or colour even in normal times, and we had only just left blackouts behind. Oh it was tempting, so much so that my left foot moved, all by itself I swear, up onto the next step. But then something remarkable happened. From the pit of my stomach, the part that some call, "The Soul", came a voice, a very firm voice saying, "I WANT YOU HOME HERE BY NINE O CLOCK". That was it, down came the defiant foot that seemed to have acted on an entirely different command, and I said,"No I can't, I ave to be ome by nine "." OK" said Allan, "see you tomorrow". As I dissapeared into the thick swirling pea soup West Bowling fog .But Allan wasn't to see me tomorrow".
> Next morning, Sunday, I got up about ten, my mothet was in the living room and was pacing up and down looking very serious about something."Flippin eck" I thought, "What have I done this time?" Then she spoke, in a voice that had me worrying and wondering. "Was Allan allright when you left him last night? she asked. "Course he was", I answered, "Why?" She said nothing, just paced a around a bit more. I was really worried now, although I had no idea what about. Then she spoke, words I remember as if if it was this morning. "Allans in hospital, he's very poorly, he's been badly burned. Then of course I remembered the chemistry set. Allan died late that night, a good friend, a really nice quiet kid that all the grown ups liked. His mother, there was never a father in his life that I knew of and it was never spoken of, was a lady,also greatly respected by all the neighbours, particularly my mother who was always singing her praises. I always had to be on my best behaviour when I went to Allans house,she made sure of that. What a terrible price she paid for one mistake, if it can even be called that. I still feel for her after all these many years. But her pain was one my mother also knew well. As did, and still do I. Only months before her son, my younger brother also called Allan, had been killed in an accident in a small yard right at the back of Allan's house. He was just four years old, and Ive never forgotten him, nnor do I want to, the pain is my assurance that in some way my brother is still with me. I have also wondered, and many many many times, what would have happened if I had gone back into Allans house? Would I have helped him put out the flames and saved his life? Or would I have perished in them with h my friend? There are no answers. > > > > > > > > > > > > Eldy - it's easy, it's free - www.eldy.eu

eric wrote: WOW, WHAT a childhood

> > > eric wrote:
> > > > > B A N G. "What the eck was that", I thought. I was sat up in bed,it was pitch black, I had no idea of the time but knew it wasn't getting up time by a long way. As my head cleared I decided that I had either been woken up by a very nasty night mare, or an even nastier German bomb, so I went back to sleep, too tired to care. Next morning I went down stairs, my parents weren't there, I went up the passage to the cobbled stone sandbagged air raid sheltered street, and there were all the adults talking about a bomb that had been dropped on a textile mill not far from our homes. Soon me and my gang, the" Bowling Bowery Boys", as we liked to call ourselves, were walking around the mill, what was left of it. It was totally flattened, nothing stood, there were small fires still burning , and a very sickly sweet smell. Thankfully no one had been killed, or so they told us, in those days they didn't tell us things that might destroy our moral. The near by houses seemed OK. Luckily the bomb had been dropped in the early hours of Sunday morning, the only part of the week when no body was working. The Germans must have known this, a local spy would have told them. I remember thinking,"Them Jerries can't be all that bad if they made sure no one was there when they dropped their bomb, not all of em anyway". Children of my generation had been raised on the tale of , when, in the "last war",IE WW1,, the British and German soldiers had stopped firing and started singing carol because it was Christmas eve, and the Germans were the ones who started the singing . It only ended when officers from both sides threatened the menwith firing squads, a popular pastime in WW1, for the officer class, they missing their beloved fox hunting, so they went back to firing, but never tried to hit each other. Anyway, the war continued, but all things come to an end, and soon the news started to get better. Then came the day when I saw the headlines of a national newspaper, it said. "Days, may be hours". I was stunned, the war had seemed to be our entire lives, we couldn't think of a time without it, over? it can't be, the war is everything, there is nothing else, its just the way things are, war, thats it. But sure enough a short time later it was over. VE day had come, the greatest , most wonderful, fantastic day in the entire history of this wonderful country. The Bowling Bowery Boys were off, their parents were off, their sisters were off, their neighbours were off, their school mates were off, EVERYBODY was off, "Down Town" Yes, probably Petula, to celebrate, and celebrate they certainly did. Everybody laughing, joking, kissing, singing, dancing, climbing lamp posts, climbing trees, on to roof tops. The men in uniform, British, American, Australian, Canadian, New Zealand, and the rest, must have thought that all their birthdays, Christmas days, and new years eve's, had come together on one super glorious day, as every girl wanted to hug ,kiss and dance with them. Of course us kids thought they were just soppy. Well, the war may have over, but hard times certainly weren't, as we left school at 14 to help rebuild the country and, "Export or die" as we were told. In some ways it was tougher than in the war, we had nothing, everything we made had to be exported to buy food to keep us alive, and we were only alive to rebuild our country We kids grew up fast in textile mills, iron and steel works, coal mines, ship yards and on building sites, working for very small wages in what would today be described as third world conditions, but no body cared, things had to be done,EG, creating the welfare state and NHS. Its a funny thing , that even though I helped build the NHS, the only time I have used it in all these years, seventy nine and not counting, is for the annual flu jabs we get. I think we earned them. At eighteen we had two years national service to do, and after that, three and a half years compulsory territorial service, it was all work and serve. So I think our generation has earned its free bus passes and winter fuel allowance. But we did have the greatest, most thrilling, exciting, and dangerous, adventurous child hood of them all. No ordinary childhood for us lucky kids, and I wouldn't have missed a single glorious day of it. In fact I enjoyed it so much I never miss the annual VE week end in Haworth, it brings back so many memories. Try to go to one, it was Britain's finest our, and its a part of your life too.
> > > > > > Lisa can you do this for me? no hurry. Grand dad.
> > > > > > > > Eldy - it's easy, it's free - www.eldy.eu

eric wrote:

> > > eric wrote:
> > > > > > > eric wrote:
> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > The hell that was Shay Gap.
> > > > > > > > > > > > > > Work was short in the Perth area and the job centre advised me to seek work,"Up North". In Britain we northerners are usually told to "Get on yer bike down to the South East". On the other side of the world were told to get up to the North West. Can't win can we? Anyway, I ended up in a mining camp called Shay Gap. YE God's WHAT a place, like a soviet Gulag with sunshine. It was desrcribed in the local press as,"A space age town for the 21st century". Well, if Shay Gap is the 21st century, God help you young uns. It was just BLEAK, all red sand, red hot sun, even more flies than Perth, plus snakes, lizzards and kangaroos. Some idiots think kangaroos are cute, no they aint, their ghastly, all sores and revolting creepy crawlies. We were housed in wild west style bunk houses, I shared with an Ausie kid who'd just got back from Vietnam. He proved to be the kind that you never realise drink untill you see them sober. Not a bad bloke though as Ausies go, and I wish they would, all of em. We were putting up houses for miners and their families. The houses were supposed to be ultra modern 21st century, but to me they were just glorified versions of the prefabs we had in Britain just after the war. In fact the post war pre fabs looked a sight better. We soon learned that Space Age was the right description, it was like living on the Moon.The only entertainment were an outdoor cinema and a beer bar. The cinema was OK, and the bar was like a wild west saloon with swing doors through which drunken customers frequently tumbled. Sure enough, walking past one night the swing doors flew open and out came a couple of clearly well sozzled blokes. They picked themselves up, squared up, and threw wild punches that were more likely to hit me than either of them. Out side the bar was a long wooden bench on which the regulars would sit swigging their beloved Swan Lagers, they all started cheering and egging the pair on. Then one of them stood up, and said, in a strong Liverpool accent, "Come on fellas let's have you to your bunks before someone gets killed"He probably meant me. He grabbed their arms, they, one a pom, the other I think Italian, too drunk to know what was happening, or probably what nationallity they were. The bench mob started grumbling, "Hey let em fight Pommy," Yeah", said a big Ausie foreman, and I mean BIG,"Let em fight will ya, it's the only entertainment we get around here". The rest voiced their agreement. The Scouser let go of the arms and said. "Oh so it's entertainment your wanting is it? Well I'm just the man, I'll giveyou all the entertainment you want, which one of you wants to fight me? Not a word, total silence, and the most silent of all was the big Ausie foreman. I'd allready learned that Australians are huge bluffers, not cowards, but huge bluffers. Call it and they'll back down every time. The Scouser was short and stocky, but looked like he'd done his share of scrapping back in the Pool. I worked there about three months, didn't like it, but, because I resisted all temptations to join in the beer bar frolics, I'd done my share in the army, some of it in places even worse than Shay Gap, did save enough money to put a deposit on our first house in Australia. A deposit that was destined to make history change Australian law, and make a lot of couples very happy.
> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > Eldy - it's easy, it's free - www.eldy.eu
> > > >
>

eric wrote:

> > > eric wrote:
> > > > > Every generation claims the best songs and singers, but few songs say anything worth saying, remembering, or even hearing, just here today, gone a few weeks, or at best, a few months, later. But there was one song that did say something, spoke to, and moved, an entire generation, perhaps even today's. That song was, "Buddy can you spare a dime?" Made famous by the great Bing Crosby, and if Elvis was the King, and I'm of the Elvis generation, then Bing was the Emperor. This song was realeased in the great depression years of the early thirties, in fact just prior to the election of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, FDR. It tells of an angry humiliated people,including many ex "Doughboys", the name given to WW1 US soldiers, standing in long queues for bowls of soup and begging on the streets of the richest nation in history. A wealth created by these very people. Here are the words that shook that nation. Imagine a once proud patriotic ex miltary man who had given everything for his country only a few years earlier, now in near rags and living in what were known at the time as, Cardboard cities", because their homes were cardboard boxes, who loved his country, begging, asking for money from that very country. "Once I built a railroad, made it run, made it race against time, once I built a railroad, now it's done, Buddy can you spare a dime? Once I built a tower, up to the sun, bricks and rivets and lime, once I built a tower, now it's done, say Buddy, can you spare a dime? Once in Khaki suits, ah, gee we looked swell, full of that Yankee doodly dum, half a million boots went slogging through hell, and I was the kid with the drum, say don't you remember? they called me Al , it was AL all the time, say don't you remember? I'm your pal, Buddy can you spare a dime?" Well, they don't write songs like that any more, and you know what? Youd better hope they never have too. Buddy.
> > > > > > > > > > > > Eldy - it's easy, it's free - www.eldy.eu

eric wrote:

> > They called an election, our first in Australia. The ruling party was a coalition of liberals and the national country party. The so called liberals were a bunch of right wingers who made our tory right look positively beneficial. Their partners, the national country party, were even worse. Composed mostly of hard faced harder hearted scrub farmers who made their liberal partners look positively beneficial. Australian elections are held on Saturdays, they don't want people given an excuse to finish work early, and on this election day we were moving house. We had bought our own a couple of streets away from where we had been renting in the suburb of Mosman Park, nine miles from Perth, and four from Fremantle, "Freo". The alliance had been in power for an amazing twenty six years, elected just after WW2. Which should inspire our alliance a bit. However this time labour were favourites, and sure enough they won. A few days later we received letters asking why we hadn't voted, it being compulsory there. We'd forgotten all about it, the letter was a surprise. We were so busy moving that Saturday we just forgot. So that was what we wrote. That we were moving house that day and just forgot. Every word we wrote was perfectly true. A few days later we both received replys. Mine said that my reason was accepted, my wife's said her's wasn't and she was being fined four dollars. We had a good laugh, both letters had given the exact same reason, one accepted the other not. Only in Australia,- and Ireland. Now there are two distinct types of Australian. One is easy going, laid back, and spends most of his time saying,"She'll do", "No worries", "Fair goes ". I visualised the two types. Mine, the easy going bloke, who read my letter and thought. "Fair goes mate no worries she'll do, Iv'e moved house, its hard work, I accept your reason". The other, the very opposite. These are loud crude pushy impatient, and constantly saying, "Flamin bludgers", "Hang the buggers", "Pommy bastards",(You get used to it), and. "Carn Ausie". (Come on Australia). I imagined my wife having copped for this type, who read the letter and said. "Huh, so you couldn't be bothered to vote in our pathetic little colonial election could yer, yer flamin pommy drongoe, well cop for this mate, FINED FOUR BUCKS".
> In the election run up, the Labour opposition had made three huge promises. 1. "We will scrap the TV licence". 2. "We will end national service". 3." We will withdraw all Australian troops from Vietnam". I remember laughing, and saying to my Ausie work mates, "Its all talk mate, just like in England, they'l not do any of them, and if they do it will take years, just like in Britain". Boy was this pom in for a shock. On monday they anounced to the country that the TV licence was ended. On Wednesday, I personally witnessed NS men leaving camp, huge smiles on their faces, they'd been demobbed, and were probably heading for the near by boozer, "The Albion". And on Friday, the local evening paper, the, Perth daily news, had a front page picture of Australian troops landing in Fremantle. All promises carried out in their first week of office. Could you imagine any British party even making, let alone carrying out, such huge promises? They might consider doing so one day. Maybe after the Tory/ Lib Dem alliance have been in power twenty six years.
> > > > > > Eldy - it's easy, it's free - www.eldy.eu

eric wrote:

> > > eric wrote:
> > > > > Every generation claims the best songs and singers, but few songs say anything worth saying, remembering, or even hearing, just here today, gone a few weeks, or at best, a few months, later. But there was one song that did say something, spoke to, and moved, an entire generation, perhaps even today's. That song was, "Buddy can you spare a dime?" Made famous by the great Bing Crosby, and if Elvis was the King, and I'm of the Elvis generation, then Bing was the Emperor. This song was realeased in the great depression years of the early thirties, in fact just prior to the election of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, FDR. It tells of an angry humiliated people,including many ex "Doughboys", the name given to WW1 US soldiers, standing in long queues for bowls of soup and begging on the streets of the richest nation in history. A wealth created by these very people. Here are the words that shook that nation. Imagine a once proud patriotic ex miltary man who had given everything for his country only a few years earlier, now in near rags and living in what were known at the time as, Cardboard cities", because their homes were cardboard boxes, who loved his country, begging, asking for money from that very country. "Once I built a railroad, made it run, made it race against time, once I built a railroad, now it's done, Buddy can you spare a dime? Once I built a tower, up to the sun, bricks and rivets and lime, once I built a tower, now it's done, say Buddy, can you spare a dime? Once in Khaki suits, ah, gee we looked swell, full of that Yankee doodly dum, half a million boots went slogging through hell, and I was the kid with the drum, say don't you remember? they called me Al , it was AL all the time, say don't you remember? I'm your pal, Buddy can you spare a dime?" Well, they don't write songs like that any more, and you know what? Youd better hope they never have too. Buddy.
> > > > > > > > > > > > Eldy - it's easy, it's free - www.eldy.eu
>

eric wrote:

> > Every generation claims the best songs and singers, but few songs say anything worth saying, remembering, or even hearing, just here today, gone a few weeks, or at best, a few months, later. But there was one song that did say something, spoke to, and moved, an entire generation, perhaps even today's. That song was, "Buddy can you spare a dime?" Made famous by the great Bing Crosby, and if Elvis was the King, and I'm of the Elvis generation, then Bing was the Emperor. This song was realeased in the great depression years of the early thirties, in fact just prior to the election of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, FDR. It tells of an angry humiliated people,including many ex "Doughboys", the name given to WW1 US soldiers, standing in long queues for bowls of soup and begging on the streets of the richest nation in history. A wealth created by these very people. Here are the words that shook that nation. Imagine a once proud patriotic ex miltary man who had given everything for his country only a few years earlier, now in near rags and living in what were known at the time as, Cardboard cities", because their homes were cardboard boxes, who loved his country, begging, asking for money from that very country. "Once I built a railroad, made it run, made it race against time, once I built a railroad, now it's done, Buddy can you spare a dime? Once I built a tower, up to the sun, bricks and rivets and lime, once I built a tower, now it's done, say Buddy, can you spare a dime? Once in Khaki suits, ah, gee we looked swell, full of that Yankee doodly dum, half a million boots went slogging through hell, and I was the kid with the drum, say don't you remember? they called me Al , it was AL all the time, say don't you remember? I'm your pal, Buddy can you spare a dime?" Well, they don't write songs like that any more, and you know what? Youd better hope they never have too. Buddy.
> > > > > > Eldy - it's easy, it's free - www.eldy.eu

Every generation claims the best songs and singers, but few songs say anything worth saying or remembering, just here today, gone a few weeks, or at best, a few months, later. But there was one song that did say something, and to an entire generation, perhaps even today's. That song was, "Buddy can you spare a dime?" Made famous by the great Bing Crosby, and if Elvis was the King, and I'm of the Elvis generation, then Bing was the Emperor. This song was realeased in the great depression years of the early thirties, in fact just prior to the election of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, FDR. It tells of an angry humiliated people, standing in long queues for bowls of soup, and begging on the streets of the richest nation in history. Here are the words that shook that nation. Imagine a once proud patriotic man, now in near rags, and living in what were known at the time as, Cardboard cities", because their homes were cardboard boxes, who loved his country, begging, asking for money from that very country. "Once I built a railroad, made it run, made it race against time, once I built a railroad, now it's done, Buddy can you spare a dime? Once I built a tower, up to the sun, bricks and rivets and lime, once I built a tower, now it's done, say Buddy, can you spare a dime? Once in Khaki suits, ah, gee we looked swell, full of that Yankee doodly dum, half a million boots went slogging through hell, and I was the kid with the drum, say don't you remember? they called me Al , it was AL all the time, say don't you remember? I'm your pal, Buddy can you spare a dime?" Well, they don't write songs like that any more, and you know what? Let's hope they never have to.

Eldy - it's easy, it's free - www.eldy.eu

I started reading comics in 1938. I know that because the Dandy was launched in December 1937, and the Beano in June 1938 when I was five - and a half, and I had been reading the Dandy for some time. I remember sprinting off to our local newsagent MR Laurie Brear, to get the very first copy of the Beano. If only I had kept it. Children of every generation since have been every bit as thrilled with these famous two. However there were other comics of the time, also hugely popular, but seemingly now fogotten . I remember, "Radio Fun", "Film Fun" and,"Knockout". All these, along with Dandy and Beano, were at their most popular in the dark days of WW2. In a land of sirens and searchlights, blackouts and barrage balloons, Yanks tanks and air raid shelters, not forgetting pea souper fogs.
The war dominated the comics as it dominated every aspect of life. It was mostly from them that we kids learned about the war.Too young for newspapers, the comics showed us as the good guys and the Germans and Japanese the bad guys. The Germans, particularly Hitler, were always portrayed as bungling idiots constantly being out witted by our comic heroes. Although Desperate Dan came into it a bit late, probably something to do with him being American. As we got older, from about 11 or 12, we moved on to other, more serious comics. These had great eye catching names, like, " Rover", "Hotspur", "Adventure" and, "The Wizard". I loved them all, but my favourite character, and the favourite of most young lads of the time was, "Wilson of the Wizard". Ah Wilson, more super than Superman, and without those embarrasingly daft all American stars and tights, he'd have been arrested on the streets of 1940'S, Britain ."And not before time too if you ask me". Wilson was a real old fashioned British hero, the very opposite of today's vain gimmicky James Bond, who began as a real old fashioned British hero, then Hollywood got hold of him. Wilson was a mystery. It was said that he lived out on the Yorkshire moors, on wild fruit, berries, game and pure spring water. Very eco friendly our Wilson. He could beat anybody at anything. A major race would start, and after the competitors had left the stadium the crowd would suddenly let out a gasp, as the lone figure of Wilson joined the race. This strange, tall, lean man would then pick off one runner after another,win the race, leave the stadium, and just, dissappear . No doubt back to the moors. But Wilson could also sprint, box, wrestle, swim, jump high and jump long, nothing seemed beyond him. We young Yorkshire kids loved the idea of the great man being a Tyke, it went nicely with our great all conquering cricket teams of the age. AHH, such memories. Of course, as we grew older, even these more adult comics were left behind. But I wasn't the only 18-20 year old National Service man reading them in far flung lands of former empire. In fact whilst jumping over ditches on cross country runs, slogging through hot desert or steamy jungle on punishing route marches, or negotiating the physical cross word of the assault course, you'd be sure to hear at least one young lad grumble, "Who the hell do they think I am, Wilson of the bleed'n Wizard?

Eldy - it's easy, it's free - www.eldy.eu

In the late 1940'S, I think 47, Britain and the British people, were rocked and shocked, not by the Germans this time, but by one of our former allies.This Ballyhoo, and at the time it was a very big Ballyhoo, was caused by a tall good looking American named Billy Graham. Of course we'd seen lots of Americans, tall and small handsome and not so handsome, in the war years, in fact they'd barely left our green, pleasant, and heavily battle scarred land. But it wasn't how Billy Graham looked, but what he said that shook up the rather stuffy, and a little too proud and pompous post war British, it was what he said. "Britain and it's people", said Billy, "had deserted God, turned from him after he saved them and gave them victory in the war". Well, my goodness, what a fuss. The press, and it must have included the express, because it was the paper I ran to our local newsagent, Laurie Brear,to get every morning for my dad. Although I did pick up my Beano, or Dandy, and later, as I grew out of them, older boys comics, now long gone, Rover, Aventure, Hotspur, and my favourite, The Wizard, this containing the greatest comic character ever, Wilson. Ah," Wilson of the Wizard" More super than Superman, and without those embarrasing All American stars and tights. "How dare he?" screamed the newspaper's," (they meant Billy not Superman), headlines too in many of them. "US"? " God man were,(Pay attention), BRITISH, how dare you, you you, AMERICAN, you you, COLONIST". But Billy was on a mission and, unlike the Germans, he had no intention of giving in. He gave us both barrels day after day, though diluting it by telling us, that despite our wickedness, God still had a soft spot for us." Huh, well, thats more like it, may be this Yank isn't THAT bad?" Billy persisted and kept returning to Britain, even seemed to like it, and us, assuring us that no matter what, God would stay with us and still love us. After a while he sort of grew on us, that's Billy not God. We, for our part never really returned to him, that's God not Billy.

Eldy - it's easy, it's free - www.eldy.eu