On this page are the archived collections of Dave's guest columns for the Barnsley Chronicle. Have a read of them below.
First published Friday May 28th.
Telecommunication systems, social networks and the electronic media or to you and me mobile phones, computers and the telly. What would our ancestors of it all?
My niece sent me a text “Unc D. r u in.soz i 4gt 2 fon u.i c u2moz” My dad would have said this was a code in hieroglyphics.
We seemed to manage with just three phones in our village and when we got our first television in the fifties my dad wired the arial to the hat stand. My posh aunt came to see us from Rotherham and put her feathered hat on the stand. My father shouted “Take that off there. It makes the picture go funny. I want to watch the wrestling”
People can see and hear people from all over the world on their pc. It reminds me of the Star cinema up Britannia Street which was nicknamed the Bugs Hut. It cost two pennies and a jam jar to get in.
One Saturday we went to the Bugs and before the main feature they showed the serial. Flash Gordon, Episode 39, The Death Ray machine.
Imagine the scene. Flash is strapped to this machine and his arch enemy Emperor Ming the Merciless on his giant screen gives the order “Full power” The credits came on and we were all left in suspense.
All the kids were left wondering how Flash could possibly have escaped. What a letdown the next week. On came Episode 42 and the place was in uproar. The manager had to come on the stage to explain. I will never forget what he said. “The serial is in reels. We’ve lost one and brock the other” The place mysteriously burnt down some years later.
My son who lives in London came up to see us. Like all the young generation he is into all the modern gadgetry. I made him a cup of tea and asked him if he would change our television from AVI to AV2. “No problem Dad” I then asked him to put some computer files from the C drive onto the slave J drive. “Consider it done Dad” I then asked him if he would wash his pot. Out came the teddy “Do I have to do everything here” and he stormed off.
New technology. In the 1950’s a vacuum cleaner salesman was trying to sell his wares at a Kendray house.
All the sales talk came out. “It has a one kilowatt rating fitted with super suction” The lady of the house tried telling him that they could not afford it. “Madam. I will demonstrate “There was some horse manure in the back her husband had got for his rhubarb. He threw it onto her brodded rug.
“If it does not shift that in one minute I will eat it off the rug” Her husband walked in from the club. “How big a spoon does tha want? The electrics been cut off for two weeks”
First published May 14th 2010.
I am amazed. We are doing The Old Club Trip play again this year and have found that most of the actors have never heard ofthe “Feast Week”
Pronounced Feeast Week it was the towns annual holiday held on the third week in Augustwhenlocal people went to places like Blackpool, Skegness or Scarborough.
Blackpool is where the family holidaymakers complain of the drunks and the drunks complain of the family holidaymakers.
Blackpool always reminds me of an old mate of mine called Geoff Paddon. He was known affectionately as the Mayor of Kingstone or the Milky bar Kid. The town certainly missed a character when he passed away.
Outside the Blackpool tower he shouted to the driver of a horse and carriage. “How much to the Pleasure Beach and back?” The driver said that it would be fifteen pounds. Back came the Barnsley war cry “Thar what. Har much. In Barnsley where I live, tha can buy a pony and trap for fifteen pounds” The bloke reached into his pocket and waved some notes. “There’s sixty pounds here Sir. Go back to Barnsley and get me four” For once Geoff was gobsmacked.
One night he was leaning on a tram stop. A tram stopped and the driver said to him “Fleetwood?” Geoff looked at him perplexed and pointed North. “Straight up there. Keep going. Tha can’t miss it” He must have thought that the tram was lost.
Bill Harber, the bobby with the handle bar moustache, told me a comical tale. He was on point duty at the Pontefract road junction one Feast Week Saturday. A toff in an open topped sports car shouted to him “Jack, which way is Manchester?”
Now Bill hated being called Jack. He stopped the traffic, went up to him and made him repeat the question. “Sir. How did you know my name?”Bill asked him. “My man. I did not know your name. I just guessed it” the man said. “Well. My man. Tha can guess thi way to Manchester” and then ignored him.
Days of yore. Did people care more? Was there as much crime? I know there was not much to steal. After all, who would want to nick a mangle?
Can you imagine a house for sale in the Chronicles property page today having a “built in copper and wash tub with posher and a silver fish free lounge. All brodded rugs included?”
I heard that the Feast Week was cancelled in the war. I came from Worsborough Bridge and my dad told me an amusing story. The German bombers always targeted Sheffield. One night the bombers strayed off path and dropped incendiary flares over the village. The sirens went off and all the people came running out. My mother, who was born in Kent said “Hold there Walter. I need to go back for my false teeth” My dad shook his head.”Woman. Its bombs they’re dropping. Not pork pies”
That’s your lot. I’ll see you.
First published April 16th 2010.
I have been in New Zealand for six months. The old saying is true “You can take the man out of Barnsley but you cannot take Barnsley out of the man”
Would you believe down under there is no brown sauce, malt vinegar or sloppy peas. How does a Barnsley lad survive? I phoned from the airport and told Sharon at the Travellers at Dodworth I would call and could she fill up the doorway with pie and peas so that I could eat my way in.
I notice some things never change. Kipper is banged up again, and the town centre is still not finished. I automatically opened the Chronicle at page two to see who had died. It does seem strange how they all die in alphabetical order. I checked in the first column, but I was not in.
One thing however does strike me as odd. All the pubs that had the usual names are now called TO LET or FOR SALE. It is sad how social habits have changed and the art of conversation that has suffered with the pubs closing has disappeared. I accept the town centre has more or less remained the same but the pubs are far removed from the places I used to frequent.
I was forced to smile. I called in the CORNER PIN, one of the few pubs to retain its old name. I told the barmaid “Forty years ago I came in here” “Mister” she answered. “I am looking as sharp as I can”
The loss of the subsidised Mining Community Clubs was a devastating blow but how does that answer the loss of the town centre Liberal Club and others while the New Lodge Club is still vibrant. Likewise how is it some pubs close but others survive.
I remember with fondness all the pubs and clubs and all the punters with a tale to tell. A haven for budding comedians. The jokes were endless and with no swear words. Where will the new turns learn their trade?
I heard about Ken Dodd playing the Theatre Royal on Wellington Street. He stayed in lodgings and in the night he went to the outside loo. “Did tha pull chain?” the landlord asked him the next day. Ken nodded.”Well tha’s pulled wrong en and let all pigeons out”
I must finish with this story. I was having a meal with some Kiwi teachers. One headmaster kept calling me a POM. Some head he was. He did not know POM meant” prisoner of motherland” and he was therefore calling himself. He then asked if people really spoke like me. “Some 200,000 talk like me. I told him that the Old English that we speak comes from living in the shadow of the mountain. “A mountain in Yorkshire. What is it called?”He asked sarcastically. “KILL A MAN FOR HIS GIRO” I answered. Needless to say he did not understand.
That’s your lot. I’ll see you