Chris Moran
My feedback
3 results found
-
3,844 votes
An error occurred while saving the comment Chris Moran
supported this idea
·
-
2,701 votes
An error occurred while saving the comment Chris Moran
commented
I was born in 1941 in Clifton Place just round the corner from the Brewery, Paddy Row Beck - within sight of the old Mill and within hearing distance of the Convent Bells.
Normanby was a lovely village to grow up in during those austere post-war years when rationing dominated everyones lives. Families united to help each other through difficult times. We had a large garden so the Anderson shelter became a hen-house and with a large fruit and veg plot we simply lived off the land. My father laid rabbit traps on the warren near Maurice Kells farm - rabbit pie was delicious.
In those days there was no need to lock the door when you went out, it was safe to play out - Eston Hills was our playground.
Other favourite haunts were the bus-shelter in Hewley St and the reservoir at the top end of Hewley St as well going to the orchard next to the Chapel at the T-junction of Church Lane and the High Street to steal apples and pears.
Memories of Normanby Primary School remain clear: ritualistic chanting of times tables; lessons in Country Dancing; being taught to knit at the age of 5 years - then moving on to embroidery. Dreading Nitty Norahs visits - likewise the school dentist and doctor. I never felt the wrath of Pop Hugill's cane - but many did.
The village policeman was Bobby Bartram who lived in Clive Rd, first house on the right. If you were cheeky to him you got a clip round the ear. He used to stand like a sentinel at Normanby Top. He was a good man and gave out sound advice.
Regarding the Chapel at the T-junction of Church Lane and the High Street: when I was about four years old my mother would take me on a Saturday to the basement where lantern-slide shows were given by a lady called Edith Driver. She lived at 22 Church Lane, Eston and was my mother's friend. She married Doug Muxlow and they moved to Ormesby before emigrating to Melbourne as £10-Poms. Her letters to my late mother ceased to arrive in about 2004.
There was a farmer on Flatts Lane who used to deliver our milk fresh every day. It came by horse and cart and was ladled out of the churn into customers jugs. Rington's Tea was delivered to the door and the butcher would deliver your order. Fresh bread came from a tiny shop opposite the brewery and the Co-op would cut your butter and lard from a big slab. We didn't need a supermarket.
Then along came the planners and ripped the heart out of the village - but not out of its people.
When we went to the Forum we always sat near the back so we could dash out before the National Anthem was played and get to the chip-shop first.
Next year I will try to get to the Annual Exhibition - there are plenty more memories to share.Chris Moran
supported this idea
·
-
9,321 votes
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
Chris Moran
supported this idea
·
Still like looking at your attractive and informative site. Pleased to read that my birthplace, The Bowling Green pub is to be resurrected in Marple