Sitting lonely on a plastic chair.....

white chair
Originally uploaded by bltphoto

Songs are walking amongst us.

Cafe society: star spotting & fish cakes

Tales from Town: Stella Street Kendray

In he walks a shortish bloke with a large thick brush of spiky brown hair, a small caterpillar of a tash and an impressive collection of rings and necklaces. Tagging along with him is his plainer sheepish looking mate; they both may have had slight learning difficulties. They greet the staff loudly and their jokes are treated in the friendly manner cafe staff often manage.

They order and sit at a table near mine, after a minute or so the chap with the rings starts joking with chef /owner that he looks like Mr Kipling. This goes on for a while until he catches my eye and drags me into the banter.

“He duz dunt ‘e, 'e looks like Mr Kiplin’?”

Feeling more honest than usual I scrabble around for an answer before offering that I wasn’t sure you ever saw Mr Kipling and that “wasn’t that the point of the Ad? He pauses and thinks

“blimey tha might be reet there, well who am I thinkin’ of?”

 a pause

“Hang on I’m thinking of ‘im off of KFC”

His mate chips in “tha means Colonel Sanders!!wi ya blumin' Mr Kiplin!!” they both laugh loudly .

“That's it Colonel Sanders”
we all turn and look at the owner who doesn’t look like anyone much let alone the grinning fried chicken salesmen. There’s perhaps a hint of Harry Gration from Look North about him, at a push.

“Where’s our fishcakes Colonel Sanders?” is the new cry. Half listening the waitress brings out their food. I turn back to my tea and my phone before I’m baptised “Simon Bates” or ”Colin Montgomery”.

The pair tuck into the food which holds their attention for a while until.

“Jim Robinson!!”

“what the chuff a tha goin’ on abart now” the quiet one, slight exasperatedly

“the other one, he looks like Jim Robinson” says ring man pointing with a red sauce covered knife to another staff member. “and I should know he use to live near us”

“what?....Jim Robinson from Neighbours use to live near thee?”

“Yes, I think he was doing panto in Sheff”

“WHAT! Jim Robinson was living in Kendray?!”

“ay he was livin in them new houses up t’road”

This seems to settle it.

“alreet I think tha should finish thee chips na ”.

And so it went on every new person who came in was “Christened” with some arcane showbiz name, “Mrs Doubtfire” or “ken Barlow” and most bizarrely “Pat Roach” “Tha, nos the one who use to be a wrestler”. This is all good natured and often raising a smile from the “Christened” and looks of puzzlement from others .They still were doing it as they finished up and left for the bus station, probably spotting “Richard Whiteley” and “Una Stubbs” outside Fulton foods and being driven home by “im off of Knightrider”

“ What David Hasselhoff?”

“ nah the one wit’ white ‘air tha nos.... Kit”

On the bus: The fickleness of tattoos

Tales from Town:#1

A young bloke gets on the bus its cold but he’s only wearing a baggy white t-shirt and tracky bottom, he’s got the usual bed hair gelled locks. He lopes up the bus followed by a more warmly dressed girl. They are obviously a newish couple, the bus sets off and after a few minutes their conversation turns to his tattoos. He’s describing them loudly enough for most of the single decker to hear. There’s a large “Tribal” pattern on his left shoulder
“fella int shop said it were based on a shark god”
his beau nods her understanding.
After perusal of some letters on his hands he turns slightly away from her and pulls down the neck of his shirt to expose “DADA” written in florid letters on his neck.
“DADA?” she quizzically reads out (said with short “A’s)
“Nah” he says with laugh. “That’s funny that coz everyone allus thinks it sez that”
“It rilly sez D.A.D. 4” he spells out
“ya, see it’s “D.A.D.” for me Dad and a “four” coz I'm ‘is forth kid” she nods again less sure this time.
“but it looks like DADA?” she replies with a weak smile.
“I knows that but it’s a four!” he continues this time a bit annoyed
“of course I had it done afor we knew about his wife and kids in Derby”.

Edgelands

It's odd started writing about this myself the other day and then saw this will have to find the book and see if there's anything to add. I seem to be attracted to these sort of places see last post. That or just live in the crummy end of town!! Will have to just keep taking snaps

1/2 Monty

1/2 Monty
Originally uploaded by bltphoto

Saw this outside a bakers yesterday , all this in a butty is either heroic or suicidal. I once saw a sandwich not far from here that had bacon,egg, melted cheese & Black pudding in it and yet was on the "Lite Bite" menu.

and the winner is....

and the winner is....
Originally uploaded by bltphoto

You don't need to be Mary Porta or even have just watched half an episode of Madmen to know this was going to be tough sell. A cheery little bust of Maggie for your mantelpiece. A snip at 175 quid what it didn't even sell in Guildford for that much hang on lets knock it out in run down parade of shops in Barnsley for thick end of 90 quid up next exports of sand to Saudi soar....

In praise of Tat.

Mass of humanity
Originally uploaded by bltphoto

I was wandering back through town this week and it was flea market day in Barnsley and was pleased to find a good supply of tat.

It's a bit more formal than Deptford no big mounds of old clothes or really broken bric and brac. But stalls with books and comics, football programmes, one bloke selling piles of those easy listening book sets which always look better than they sound.

I suppose I like tat (some say tut) partly because it's kitsch and nostalgic but also because it's not tasteful and has an exuberance and a faded vitality that stuff cloggingup the shelves in Next interiors or worthy craft shops just doesn't have. Also there's the surprises you get, when were you last surprised in a regular shop? But almost weekly I'm cheered by some ancient badly cast cat come ships wheel tableaux or a mad C&W lp sleeve. Also snapping pictures means I don't fill my house with boxes of playmobile figures and can have the "beauty" without  the mounds of mouldy boxes and musty flysheets.

The ultimate question: Which side are you on?

So what's it to be Egg or Pineapple?

Beware lonely water

Beware lonely water
Originally uploaded by bltphoto

There's a wonderful stretch of reclaimed canal near our house , lovely except for the end bit that does't half remind me of this "scare the bejesus out of the kids just before Magpie " health and safety gone mad public info film classic

there's been a murder.....

Alder
Originally uploaded by bltphoto

The only up side to the clear felling of some local trees, was the sight of an alder stump glowing arterial blood red in the muddy gloom yesterday.
I went back to today and found this chip. The colour will fade but you can see why the Norse , Celts, Saxons all had tales of the alder, its root in water, its wood soaked blood red, its where wood folk lived and danced and seduced the unwary and some say that the first man was made from an alder, his maid from a willow, who's shiny white stump was there next to the alder this afternoon in the sharp winter sun. Most likely they will coppice and grow again, old trees like all stories are hard to kill.

Tracking down Billy Casper.

skyline
Originally uploaded by bltphoto

Wonderful few days up Yorkshire seeing the folks . Me and A&;B went for a wander and found out that basically their house is surrounded by the filming locations for Kes. I'd seen the ruin where Billy takes kes its nest many times from the M1 but it was good to see it up close.
One thing that was pleasing is that the film locations are virtually all in the same small area and Billy's walks can almost be done in real time and almost in order.

Some things have changed almost all the pits and factories seen in the film have gone. In fact its salutatory that if Billy did follow the lumpen Jed down the pit. He and his brother would ten years later be out on strike facing more time above ground looking for work.

Watching the film again that evening we decide to find some of the other sites and with the help of this site  we found the field where billy flew Kes (which you can see from A back window). Sadly the council/school in their wisdom has put up a huge fence round the site to curtail modern day Billy gaining access (although some kids seem to have snuck on). Pleasingly we aslo saw a pair of Kestrels on the power lines on the field rest ready to go hawking for for their dinner over the grassland and surrounding recently planted scrub.

Thwarted in photo op we were heading home when we bumped into a living breathing Billy Casper; well his 50 year old self. A fascinating guy who filled us in with all the local walks and history. Apparently and I'm choosing to believe this story as a  kid he actually showed Barry Hines (a teacher at his school at the time) the nest site used in the film!
So a wonderful day with excellent weather, we are hoping to get some pics of Billy's school which is being closed this term to move to another site, so we we will  hopefuly be able to snap the famous showers and footy pitch as well!

Peak of perfection

Back from Yorkshire:Had an excellent time in the company of A & B and of course S.W.A.M!

Some minor revelations: we may have found a contender for Birkinshaw’s (of Map) King of Pies Crown with Hinchcliffe’s coming up on the rails (believe me these things are important).

Stating the obvious award 2009: The Peak district is quite pretty. I know hardly contentious but the sunset on Saturday evening was truly magical “you’d never know you were 5 miles from industrial Barnsley.....”

Larkin’ about: Oh and if you stare out of the train window on a summer’s evening watching the English countryside go by listening to “the lark arising” by Vaughan Williams you are in danger of having a good time. It was ridiculous almost clichéd scene with at least three cricket matches, the pointiest church steeples, ribbons of bobbing daisies and poppies, 2 hot air balloons and a pair of excited children waving at the train (yes, I did wave back).

Blot on the landscape: oh and to the grumpy older couple across the aisle (no it was no problem lifting your case on to the rack no need to thank me and yes we were all in the wrong seats get over it) some of us thought the cooling towers near East midlands airport were one of the highlights of journey and I fear if we “blew the bloody lot of them up” we might not be able to boil a kettle on evening oh and I hope your sarnies didn’t taste as bad as they smelt.

Which side are you on?

The Genius of Don Mcphee:

After seeing this masterful shot again, I wrote a long post about my whole experience of the miner’s strike and how it affected community and people I grew up in and with but then I realised what I’d written was half formed bile at best ! Particularly when Don Mcphee picture tells the story much better than me. Go here and read the story of the two main characters and if it doesn’t move you well you are David Cameron and we’ll know which side you are on the..... wrong one.

Post 700: It's parky out (of the country)

Tha’s a reet spinner thee aka Not just lies these are M&S lies....

Listening to the radio this morning, at the half hour up popped the sports news and the discussion turned to the English crickets team’s tour of Oz and look who popped up to comment on our travails, Sir Michael Parkinson.

No big surprise there Parky’s been using the same 5 anecdotes to talk about sport for most of his career. But here’s the thing t’old MP is sunning himself down under and yet and yet before Christmas he was on the TV all the time telling us about the hilarious argument he and their lass were having about what would be on’t t’table chez Parky come Dec 25th. And yet he wasn’t as He and Mary would like us to believe sat in some prefab pensioners bungalow in Stairfoot or Wombwell blanket on their knees sharing a M&S turkey crown dinner for 2 and some mince pies with some squirty cream on top on a tray in front of the popping gas fire watching the horrors unfold on ‘stenders. Nor was He even sat next to the inglenook in his top end gastro pub in Berkshire waiting for the petit fours to come around. No Mr “we were having a reet to do about the smoke salmon starters in Mark’s wet fish section t’other day” Parkinson was sunning himself in Ramsay St. grazing on Barramundi and prawns!

If we can’t trust adverts what can we trust, you’ll be telling me next that Andi Macdowell doesn’t use 10 quid bottles of hair dye next.

Burnt offering

Burnt
Originally uploaded by bltphoto

Home Fires
Me, Dad said that the recycling bin was full or was it something about them not taking shiny paper but anyway we ended up having a fire. I think maybe we just like having them, Christmas and ativism going to together like cold turkey and helmans.

Anyway this all struck a chord and I fished out this cartoon by the majestic Giles. I think my only resolution for the coming year is to post the odd scan from my battered 1957 annual some of the pictures are horribly up to date, some are just wonderfully drawn.

I couldn't find this particular cartoon on the giles site but have a look there's loads to browse through.

Ps. In our case we did wait until the nieces and nephews were out before burning Christmas.

Giles Jan 5th 1958

Stuffing and nonsense

Life is Cheap....
Originally uploaded by bltphoto

So what have we learnt over Christmas?
Things some fancy dan London type heard on’t bus
“Tha eats like a reet soup dragon thee!”

“Duz tha see that drive next t’shop, that’s were Our Carol had a slash after town on’t Christmas Eve she were that leathered stoopid cow almost fell ova in it, I almost piss me sen laughin’.”

Modern Education update:
That it’s possible to win “Reception citizen of the week” at Primary school nowadays, Good work R!
That Ben 10 exists and that he has a watch that turns him into a monster.

Christmas Hamper Update:
That’s the world’s a better place for their being a vast variety of Piccalilly
That Birkinshaw’s (from Map) still make the best pork pies in the world.
That everyone says they like Bounties but nobody picks them out of box of Celebrations willingly.

Arts & Culture:
That Harold Pinter plays wouldn’t have had such long silences in them if he’d ever been for dinner at our house.
You should always play Morrissey of St Stephens day

That life is cheaper than timber in Barnsley!

Acts of remembrance

Sgt Fred Lindley

I found this the other day it’s from the Barnsley Pals website the soldier described Fred Lindley came from the village I grew up in, he lived at the bottom of the village, the opposite end to us up on the “common”. He seems to have lived down Spark lane so named after the nail works that were once beside the road. He probably worked in the pit next to my primary school, its’ dark seams extending under our hillside village and causing bits of it to sag and subside. The pits gone and there’s Italian restaurant and a tanning shop at Four lanes ends but he’d probably recognize bits of it.

His family name sounds familiar and as kid I probably unknowingly stood in front it every November during our Church’s service of remembrance. Fred’s name should be on our village memorial in the little walled off garden opposites the Foster’s baker shop.

Fred more than likely had a hard life and seemingly was old for a soldier being 32 when he enlisted and went onto survive only a couple of years of the Great War. The surprising figure of George Orwell gives us a glimpse of the harsh world Fred came from in a description of miners cottage in our village some 15-20 years later here it is.
(from “the road to Wigan Pier”)
“House in Mapplewell (small mining village near Barnsley). Two up, one down. Living-room 14 ft by 13 ft. Sink in living-room. Plaster cracking and coming off walls. No shelves in oven. Gas leaking slightly. The upstairs rooms each 10 ft by 8 ft. Four beds (for six persons, all adult), but ‘one bed does nowt’, presumably for lack of bedclothes. Room nearest stairs has no door and stairs have no banister, so that when you step out of bed your foot hangs in vacancy and you may fall ten feet on to stones. Dry rot so bad that one can see through the floor into the room below. Bugs, but ‘I keeps ‘em down with sheep dip’. Earth road past these cottages is like a muck-heap and said to be almost impassable in winter. Stone lavatories at ends of gardens in semi-ruinous condition. Tenants have been twenty-two years in this house. Are L11 in arrears with rent, and have been paying an extra 1s. a week to pay this off.”

All this (or similar) and 15 odd years down the pit and then off to the front. I not going to speculate about what he thought about all this I think the one thing he’s earned is the right to his own opinions. Far too many people are quick to put words in the mouths of the dead.

Anyway Fred rest peacefully.

By far the greatest team the world has ever seen

Charlton 1-3 Barnsley.

That's all you really need to know. How else would you rather spend the afternoon .

But no we had a pint, a pie, sung our version of the red flag, abused W*dn*esday, chanted the praises of our wonderfully multicultural team and won for the first time in a while.

The mighty Tykes did cause us some turmoil as they scored in 3 or 4th minute and as any fan of a lower league side will know this isn't always a sources of joy, as it's impossible for Barnsley to defend a 1 goal lead for 85 minutes thankfully they banged in 2 more and apart from a wobble when the Robins got one back we controlled the goal playing not bad football. Oh and the pies were good!

Football questions:

Why apart from at village fetes are football matches the only public occasion where they tell you the attendances?

Why do I need to know this?

Why did Charlton make their ball boys walk out into the centre circle and stand in a circle in the pouring rain while the pa played that pompous music from the Champions leagues?

It was really risible and pointless.

UPDATE: GRRRRRRRRRRRR! I've just read the Observers "coverage" of thematch now I know football fans have thin skins but would it kill them to cover Barnsley fairly; as according to the un-observant the story of the match wasn't that we walloped Charlton the story is that robins lost, according to the Guardian group no team other than Moan united outside London are allowed to win. It would be really nice to have the paper I read actually just say that my team were any good. People slag off the tabloids but at least they cover every match as if fans of both teams might be reading.

The buffet is now closed....

Confinement
The brakes go on and the air con slows
I’m regretting choosing this side of the train
Praying for that tiny cloud to block the sun
Running for the train didn’t help
“Barcelona right, Barcelona right it’s not bad for clubs and nightlife and that”
is the hot topic from the hen party behind
“But it were rubbish for shopping” they peck on,
the cloud is creeping towards the sun
the brakes are still on.
The hens are now scratching over the number slices in a loaf, their hangovers and how to fill a new fridge freezer
Come on cloud, just a few more yards
I shake a few drops of warm water from my bottle.
Out the window, on the lip of the cutting are banners for lidl and gala bingo
along the line the flags turn to barbed wired and rotating spikes
a bit harsh for an Argos and then the cloud blocks the sun
and I see Peterborough nick, the roof vents are open but the windows are closed
heat devils are rising off the tiles.
The suns back, out from behind the cloud
“maybe we’ll try spa break next year”
There’s a judder and we move into the station.

Who wants a game of Hot Rice! ?I was out playing with my pop9 camera the other day and took this picture of a tennis ball. The moment I saw it I thought “look a “tennessy” ya don’t see kids playing them as much as you did”. The sight of the ball sparked a whole chain of thought mainly about growing up.

Now our town when I was a young lacked many things; jobs! A swimming pool! A MacDonald’s! (this was a good thing) but one thing we had in excessive was tennis balls. This wasn’t because our lanky mate Soggy (a ginner) looked like Boris Becker, no the reason was Dunlop/Slazenger had factory on the other side of Barnsley making the things. Every school had at least one dad who worked there and got “seconds”, I don’t ever remember buying a new one.

Now I don’t know if these games are particularly local but we use to play a number of tennessy based games as well as the usual footy etc.

One game was called pegs (yes, this makes me sound like a Victorian street urchin but it was only 1982 Honest!) In pegs you made a tiny goal out of 3 pegs placed against the wall and then one of you threw a ball at the pegs and I can’t remember what happened next but throwing a soggy tennis ball at your best mate was involved.

No the main game I wanted to record was called Hot Rice!

How to play!
Kit: one tarmac play ground (it doesn’t work grass)
One manky hairy tennis knackered ball.
Players: at least 4 up to 10-12. (but not any “mucky binner’s or dodgy types from Woolley or Pye Ave)

Rules: Bearing in mind that games of hot Rice! have been going on centuries we must assume this isn’t the first game.

Aim of the game: Hot Rice! is a running game similar to tag, tig or dobby but using ball to catch players not your hand.

To start the game an elaborate circle was formed. See diagram.
1.The group stands in circle facing inwards.
2.The Kingey “(a lead player chosen during, either from the previous game or possibly the owner of the ball) bounces the ball in the centre of circle.

3.The ball is bounced 2 times the group chant “hot rice! bounce twice” “once” “twice” as the ball bounces.
4. On the last bounce the ball is set free and careers round the ring of legs, the players try to deflect the ball to make it go through the legs of another player who will be “ON” if it happens. To do this, players flick their legs like pin ball flippers hitting the ball with their heals. If they move their toes it counts as cheating or “ chaytin” as we would have said.

5. As the ball passes through the legs of the player who is “ON” the Kingey can choose to shout “sticky pudding” whilst holding their fists in front of them thumbs aloftC .
6. This is all happening all at once remember so one kid is now “ON”, the Kingey is claiming “sticky pudding” this allows him to stay where he is and not be take part in the first phase of the game. Other players can also claim “sticky pudding” but only if the kingey has already proclaimed it first. Players can’t claim “sticky pudding” if they have moved their feet or attempted to leave the circle .

7. If the kingey doesn’t say “sticky pudding” everybody has to break from the circle and the game begins. Even if “sticky pudding” is called one player has to run this player is the “bucket” or as we would say “ oy johnsey tha bucket from furst brek thy is”. Johnsey or whomever became “bucket” by being the first person caught in the last game. The bucket has to run whatever happens and is in danger of being bucket again if all the other players stay in the circle.

8. While everyone else is “sticky puddinging” the kid who’s On has run off and retrieved the ball.

9. The ON player now searches out players to throw the ball at. If they hit a player the player joins the ON side and hunts down the other players until they all caught. The last player becomes the Kingey and the game restarts.

10.The moment the first running player is hit the immunity of “sticky pudding” is broken and all the players join the running game and are eligible to be thrown at and caught even the Kingey.

11.Now the aim of the running game is to avoid being hit so players would twist and turn, feint right and left, duck and jump. The player who is On doesn’t want to throw until they were ready otherwise they may have to retrieve the wall from the other end of the playground.
12. The hunted can protect themselves by hitting the ball with their fists but not the open hand and could even pick the loose ball up with their knuckles but not palms. If the ball touched you anywhere else you where ON.
13. The running game could last for 5 plus minutes with the hunted taunting the kids who where ON or the ball could be thrown between the hunters making the hunted weave like piggy in the middle.
The old tennis balls where generally hairy and knadgered with beards of cloth hanging from them, that if dipped in a puddle made a delightful splatter on your mates clothes.

Anyway that is as far as I can remember the rules to hot rice! I’ve never met anyone not from Barnsley, who played it, I’m not sure kids play it today. It was a cracking game, very energetic and because of its repetitive nature strangely uncompetitive at least not in the crowing modern shirts over heads way. It did occasion the odd stung cheek from a fast thrown ball or grazed knee from hitting the tarmac but not much else. Good players could evade capture by running through the girls skipping ropes or behind teachers.
I thought I’d post it here as these sort of things go un-noticed and unrecorded. I’m not one for the Hovis ad view of the past but it would nice to know that somewhere 6 lads are chanting their version of the rhyme, laughing at the bucket and dipping a Slazenger in a puddle ready to christen their best mate’s tracky top.