Your Meadows 1

This is a page for your memories of the old Meadows

This letter by my aunt Joan recalls her memories of the Old Meadows and was printed in the Evening Post Bygones No 27 on 24 April 1999 and was also used in the book " The Meadows Remembered"

That old spirit remains for the insiders

Mention the Old Meadows and you normally get two points of view. To outsiders who did not live there it was adirty, poor, deprived area with back to back housing with outside loos and no bathrooms. Packed with rough people. The whole area needed knocking down and it's people rehoused. However, to the folk who lived there it was a special community where they lived, worked and played. A place where neighbours helped each other, doors could be left open and children were watched by all and sundry.

It was a place full of characters whose names still live on. Tricky Dick the poacher, who charged four pence a rabbit, and was very much in demand during the war years, when rationing was in force. Dolly, his wife, who always wore a moth-eaten fox fur collar on her evening visits to the local pub. Gypsy Smith of Essex Street.

The local abortionist who did a roaring trade, especially when the Americans came here. The two prostitutes who lived on Midland Cresent who often gave pennies to us local kids. Of course as children we did not know their profession. Parents were very moral in those days and such things were never discussed in front of their children.

The shopkeepers on Wilford Road, who knew all their customers by first names. Joe Turner the butcher, Miss Sanderson the tripe shop, Frank Simmonds the pot man with his window full of saucy ditties and the sound of laughter as he told his rather doubtful tales to his customers. Mr Jorden the pork butcher who so intrigued the youngsters. We used to gaze through his shop window at this very portly man. Never ever could a human being so resemble his produce.

Frank Price the greengrocer, Towlsons another pork butcher. Marsdens, Home and Colonial, Battersby's the cobbler and two pawn shops where suits and other best clothes were taken on Monday and redeemed on pay day.

Clifton pit and the clatter of the miner's boots on the cobblestones as they went to the early morning shift returning with black sooty faces. No pit baths in those days. Just the tin bath which hung outside and water boiled in the copper.

The Gun Factory which employed hundreds of people working on munitions during the the war. At 5pm Kings Meadow Road was a heaving mass of of workers waiting to catch the buses waiting on Hawthorne Street. They actually let disabled people out a few minutes early to enable them to get a head start from the crush.

The war, black-out and air raid shelters. Everyone was allocated a place. Ours was on the tips

There were about 12 in all, the last being about 12 feet from the perimeter fence of the Gun Factory.

The rows that occurred were a nightly affair with parents all trying to secure a place near the heat for their children. I can't imagine why, it was certainly no warmer there, all I can remember is lots and lots of smoke billowing out, people coughing, eyes running. You could only see the the people next to you, so children cried and parents argued to be quickly stopped as soon as the planes went over.

I can remember vividly the air raid warden saying " Hark, listen, shshsh" and everyone went quiet until he said "It's all right it's one of ours" or "get down it's one of theirs." So we all duly ducked down and were only allowed to whisper.

To this day, 50 years on, I wish someone could explain why this ritual occurred, but throughout the war years, whether at home, in the pantry, or in a shelter, when planes went overhead we whispered-children and adults alike. After many air raids it was decided that we would be safer under the castle. We all trundled of and were soon safely ensconced in the caves. I can remember the water trickling down the wall it was so damp and everyone singing songs. To children it was a great adventure.

Another night someone suggested going into the fields, so great was the fear of bombs on the gun factory. Dozens of neighbours, relatives plus children all set off to the fields around the Prince of Wales farm. (This was where Clifton Bridge was built.) It was a beautiful night, clear and warm with a big golden moon. What a treat, we played whilst the grown ups talked. One comment made then has stayed with me for over 50 years. "They'll come tonight, look at the bombers moon." Needless to say it was one night the siren never went, so back home we went, another memory filed away.

After the war the bad winter of 1946-47.  Collecting coal from the slag heaps behind the swamps. Clutching our little bags of pebble sized nuggets, running home as if we'd found gold. The '47 floods when the Trent overflowed, dirty water swirling around the streets. Milk and bread delivered by boat and hoisted to  upstairs rooms by ropes and buckets.

Voting days when children ran around with streamers fighting with the opposition. as a very large Labour stronghold the few children with the blue Conservative were very easy targets and many fights and bruised shins were the order of the day.

So many memories. When the Meadows was demolished a community was gone, it's people scattered but the Meadows' spirit still lingers on in the people who once lived there. A very special place with special people which to outsiders appears rather strange, but old Meadows folk know and understand, just ask them, they will tell you in great detail.

JOAN WILKINSON (nee Corthorn)

Carrfield Avenue

Toton

Lillian Guttridge in Australia sent this picture of her and some of her family in the back yard of 13 Goodhead Street. The picture was taken sometime in 1953. Her sister, Margaret, is on the left. Next to her is brother, George Lowe, then her husband, Ernest Guttridge with Lillian herself on the right.	Lillian's brother in law standing in the middle of Goodhead Street, looking towards Wilford Road in 1952 or 53
This photograph shows Lillian's husband, Ernest, on Annesley Street during the 1947 floods.	Lillian's sister on Goodhead Street, again in 1952
	Lillian sitting on a wall opposite their house on Goodhead Street in 1952.

Martin Mitchell has sent this photograph of his grandfather, Albert, taken on Healey Street during the 1950's. Martin himself was born in 1962 at Marshall Terrace off Briar Street.	This picture sent in by Lesley Donald from Albany, Western Australia shows her mum Jean Nutter (nee Lang) and her brother on Anthony Terrace. The picture was taken around 1954 and also shows Lesley being carried by her uncle and Lesley's brother, Gerald, in the pram.
	Lesley Donald is on the left of this picture with some of her cousins. The picture is taken outside her mum's drapery shop in Muskham Street.

Ted Crosland in New Zealand has written to say that he can remember living at 5 Newthorpe Street as a boy. At 86 years old Ted says he can recall that next door to their house was a factory where solid rubber tyres were pressed on to the metal rims.

Most of the area around there was owned by Ted's grandmother, but the houses factories and storerooms were built on leasehold land so by the time Ted's father inherited them in the early 1930's it cost him a lot of money to get them back in good order for the council to take them over again.

Some of the shops Ted can remember are Widdowsons motor bike shop at the end of Newthorpe Street, Seymores pork shop and Solaris ice cream shop. The streets then were all lit by gas lamps.

Ted went to Trent Bridge School until the age of 10, when the family moved to Thorneywood and in to a house that his father built for £300.

Ted  also recalls his first day at school as a 4 year old. "My first day at school I was met by a very large lady, Miss Rork, who frightened me to death. I promptly fainted and from that time never could stand big women." He also remembers hanging on to the backs of trucks passing by to save him walking to school.

The Midland Cinema was Ted's local "flea pit", where for a penny on a Saturday they could watch Tom Mix, a weekly cowboy serial and a lady played the piano in time with the film. After the film the would go to Solaries ice cream shop for a halfpenny cone and a halfpenny gob stopper. In those days there was a tram line that ran the whole way down Arkwright Street and shops all the way down both sides.

Sylvia Rhodes sent this memory from Australia. Granddad Nicholson lived in Cary cottages Hawthorne st meadows. across from what I think was a soap factory.When I went to visit him when I was aged 3/4 he used to send me just up the street to a small shop,to buy a round loaf, some lard and that was my dinner yummy. I do not think I could face it now."  

Missouri USA

I lived in the Meadows from when I was 14 until we were moved just before they demolished it. I lived in Osman Terrace off Briar Street and at the London Road end of Kirke White Street. Worked at Clifton Pit from 1964 until it closed where I served the bulk of my electrical apprenticeship. My local was the Sir Richard Arkright on Arkright Street, of course I went in the "stute" now again with working at the pit!! My two kids started their lives off in the Meadows too, can't remember at the moment what the terrace was called, but off Kirke White Street! I have lost contact with all my old mates I had down there, all many years back, amazing what happens when we get married, and we all move away due to the demolition of the area!! Been a long time now! I have a picture of a Clifton Pit view during the floods if you want it, it's looking up the road that went to the pit and to the old power station. I had the opportunity to view Nottingham again about 12 years back now, and how it's changed!! I'll bet there aren't many of the younger generation who know where the fountain was!!!! Remember? We would get on the trolley bus at the "a'penny" bridge terminus, when the conductor came to take our fare, we'd say t' fountain!!?? There was a pub opposite the toll bridge, can you recall it's name??? Stopped there a few times when I was on my way to work at Clifton Pit on nights!!!! Also recall when I was on afternoon shift, we'd be out the pit at 8-00pm, on Wednesday nights I'd have a darts match, so it would be rush through the baths as quick as we could, to get down to the boozer to play!! amazing how many played in darts teams thoughs days. I left Nottingham some 29 years back now, to work at Boulby Mine in North Yorks, then left there in 79 to go to Australia and 89 to here in the USA where I am semi-retired. I look back, and wonder how we used to live in those cramped conditions!! I'm building a house thats about 2500 square feet in area, and I think back to the two up two down houses we used to live in. Having a chat with the next door folk when we were on the loo!!! freezing our butts off mid winter while on the loo too!! Interesting times!!!!!! Incidently, Clifton Pit had it's baths during the 1930's, the miners had about 3 pence stopped out of their pay each week to build them, so the dirty miners you recall as a kid where those that didn't use the facilities.

John Waudby

This poem was sent in by Debbie Butler. Debbie recalls her Meadows childhood inspired by the Evening Post Bygones.

                   ARE YOU COMING OUT TO PLAY

I hear a knock at the door, I hear my Friends say

 "Hello Mrs Lupton, Is Deb In, Is she coming out to play"

Out come the Marbles in our back yard,

But trying to win the king is ever so hard.

Let's change to Skipping, out comes the rope,

Standing either side of the road with every hope,

That no traffic comes to spoil our "Bubble car No 28 " song

 

Now It's "Heaver, Weaver" thankful the rope is strong.

 Out come the balls, two each to bounce at the wall

Counting down from 10-1 hoping that none fall.

The Whip and Top Isn't so easy either,

Hitting It, Spinning It, I could do neither.

Let's get the Go-Cart out; oh no It needs a new wheel,

Don't worry from Mams old washhouse pram we can steal.

They never allow me to sit at the front with the rope to guide,

I'm always the one pushing from the behind, ending up in my backside.

 

We could always go scrumping down by the Leen,

But Dad's got it on him so I ain't so keen.

Instead we'll stand on stilts made from old tins and string,

With socks on our hands to keep us warm, that's just the thing.

We could always cut out our cardboard dolls paper clothes,

Or break off the petals to make perfume from a Rose.

Maybe tell Ghost Stories in the dark,

Or even take Banana Sandwiches to the Park.

Whichever you choose, I'll do any

But please don't expect me to sit inside and watch the telly!!!

Deborah Beatrice Butler nee Lupton

This photograph from Debbie Butler shows her dad, Tom Lupton and her brothers, Tommy and Billy on the corner of Blackstone Street.

Lawrence Butler has sent this email

As an Old Nottinghamian I had been interested by your website. My chief memories of the Meadows are visting it in the Trent floods of 1947 and 1953 when most of the houses were under 2 foot of water. I occasionally used the streets between Broad Marsh and Trent Bridge as short cuts when going to the respective football grounds at Meadow Lane and the City Ground (1946-52).

I also remember my father pointed out the pub on London Road where the landlord was Albert Iremonger, a famous (?inter- national) goalkeeper who played for one or both Nottingham clubs; my father had often seen him play and spoke of his eccentricities. I don't remember any one from The Meadows district in my year at Nottingham High School; I think that they tended to go to Mundella or, if poor, to Bluecoat on Mansfield Road.

Yours, Lawrence Butler

 

These messages have been received from Mandy Foster-Wright.

Hi Paul, it has been such a pleasure to discover your site! I have been searching my family tree with my sister, I was just browsing actually and landed on this, its been great to keep having a look. My sisters dont have a computer so I will keep them informed of any news to see if they know anyone or have information. I am sure there are some old photos to sort out and send to you, now added you to my favourites so its easier to get.

I am Mandy Foster-Wright, my brother was Ken, my sisters; Christine and Sue Foster. Thanks a million you are a superstar!!! Mandy (born 1960) My older brother and Chris were born during the second world war and my sister Sue in 1950, just in case you know em!

Hi Paul, been looking at your photo's, on one you say 1964/65, you think it is Mark Faulkner, just to confirm it is right, he's my cousin, I recognised him before I read your description. Its my Auntie Rosie's (Foster) grandson. Auntie Rosie lived at the botton right hand corner of Middle Furlong Road, quiet spot for playing in the road. I lived at 70 Rupert St, my mum and dad were Jim and Peggy Foster. I sent you a message briefly the other night. Have just found my mums old Bero Book that she used to cook from, and the Prestige pressure cooker instruction book. Going to watch a programme now but if I get chance tomorrow I will scan them along with a Bosworth School Photo, and Rupert St photo that I sorted out.

More to come on Your Meadows2.