Rhona
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Dear Readers
We are sourcing what we can from the Library’s holdings and have added 1940-1941, 1943-1950 in the last 24 hours.
https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/titles/id/staffordshire-sentinel
Thank you all for your continued interest in this title, and Happy Reading!
Regards
Team BNA
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Looking for any descendants of my great aunt, Rose Robinson, nee Davis, she married William a Middlesbrough Police Sergeant, and I know they had at least 2 daughters, Rith and Nellie, their address in 1966 was Eden Rd Grove Hill
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Few Goldenhill memories as a child playing football on the Rec
The scores were usually in the region 23 goals to 5 goals.
Cricket quite rightly was only played in the summer.
A piece of wood that roughly resembled a bat and a tennis ball were the only things needed or wanted.
The girls played tennis or rounders.
Rounders was usually the game of choice as the bat requirements were roughly the same as cricket, it just had to vaguely resemble the actual thing.
Skipping, I never saw the point of it and Hopscotch seemed to be very complicated for what it actually was.
My sister could do both games a lot better than anyone else and a lot faster too.
We played most of our games on the waste ground we called The Square which was behind our house, between Alice Street and the houses on High Street.
Football, Cricket, Rounders, Hide & Seek, Cannon, Shotties, Tin Can Nurkey, Tip It & Run, Cowboys & Indians and generally reliving World War Two.
Those poor old Indians and Germans never stood a chance, “I’m not dead, you only winged me” was the cry.
Wagon Road which led from Alice Street to the backs was reserved for skipping and races.
Hopscotch was played in the street, we usually found an old piece of pottery and used it as chalk to lay out the grid lines.
Mrs Knapper at number 12 was the arch enemy of all children, she used to let us play for a while and when we went in for our meals she would come out with a bucket of water and wash it away.
I cannot imagine what pleasure, if any, she got from that.
In Wagon Road was the back entrance to the bakery, this is where they stored the waste bins ready for collection by the man who had a pig farm.
On more than one occasion I saw the boys from a very a very poor local family eating the waste food from the bins.
That was poverty, not what they call poverty now, where they haven’t got enough money for cigarettes and p