Is this a 'BINGO' Anniversary
Greetings Gentlefolk - I had intended to wait until a minute or so past the hour to announce that Patricia and I have reached yet another milepost in our lives but I've had a busy day and so I am off to bed.
Tomorrow on the nineteenth June we celebrate our sixtysixth Wedding Anniversary or in Bingo terms - all the sixes - Clickety Click. Yes my friends we can now look forward to the 67th providing all goes well.
Like everyone in life, married or not, we have had times both good and bad but for a while it has been the loveliest period we have had. No mortgage, children and Grandchildren all grown up, a nice little semi with nice neighbours. We can get about fairly well although we creak a little. Getting a new car on Wednesday so it can't be bad - can it?
I am now emulating Samuel Pepys with his catchphrase - 'And so to bed'.
Goodnight my dear friends. Back with you in a while.
TC.
Tomorrow on the nineteenth June we celebrate our sixtysixth Wedding Anniversary or in Bingo terms - all the sixes - Clickety Click. Yes my friends we can now look forward to the 67th providing all goes well.
Like everyone in life, married or not, we have had times both good and bad but for a while it has been the loveliest period we have had. No mortgage, children and Grandchildren all grown up, a nice little semi with nice neighbours. We can get about fairly well although we creak a little. Getting a new car on Wednesday so it can't be bad - can it?
I am now emulating Samuel Pepys with his catchphrase - 'And so to bed'.
Goodnight my dear friends. Back with you in a while.
TC.
Hello Terry, love and congratulations to both you and Patricia on your 66th Wedding Anniversary. I raise my glass to you and hope you will have a lovely day of celebration. Love, Kim xx
Many congratulations to you and Patricia, Terry, on your 66th anniversary. I hope you have a wonderful day.xx
Originally Posted by Terry Carey
Hi Terry,Congratulations on your 66th anniversary today. It is my 74th birthday today.
Best wishes to yourself and Patricia.
Kind regards
Roy.
Thanks to all for your good wishes - it's been a warm day with a bit of sunshine and of course warm feelings all round. Some lovely cards and presents. We went out in the evening to a gastro pub we've been to many times by the name of The Heroes of Waterloo which stands across the road from the site of an old Army barracks which were demolished about thirty years ago. And yes Alfie we did have a lovely day, and the meal was lovely too, plus some photos during the day so I'll see if there's one where I don't look too bad and pop it on later.
Happy Birthday to you Roy - Hope you've had a great day. If it was as good as ours then you've enjoyed it.
Regards to all.
Happy Birthday to you Roy - Hope you've had a great day. If it was as good as ours then you've enjoyed it.
Regards to all.
Congratulations Terry... Our 66th. was back in February. Married in a shed, (Parish church being rebuilt after having been burnt out) just two days after George V1 died. A bright day, but golly it was cold. We set off on 'honeymoon' on my 500 BSA. No idea where we were going to stay, except in the direction of Nottingham with the intention of visiting aged grandparents who couldn't attend the big day. Anyway, we arrived at the city centre at dusk and there was a bright fire burning in the lounge of 'The Flying Horse' Bingo! Although the Porter would have parked a car, he drew the line at riding a bike round to the hotel car park, so I unclipped the panniers and left wifey with Porter while I drove off into the night...Happily to be reunited. Stayed three days, visited Grandparents and the smallest pub, the 'Trip to Jerusalem.' Drove home with our total wealth of £3.10.0 until next payday. Happy Days!
Cheers, Syd.
Cheers, Syd.
Originally Posted by Syd Jones
Hi Syd,Yes indeed - those were the days -it wasn't all that warm in June up here in the Northwest but the sun was bright and we just ignored the weather anyway. We didn't even have a motor bike and it was a while before we got a honeymoon. We rented a 2up 2 down at first with an outside loo and just one cold water tap. Cooked on an old cottage range but at least we had electricity.
Did you really have £3-10-00 left after the stay at the pub? Lucky bugger!
Well Terry, Three pun-ten was our total worldly wealth, mind you petrol was less than a couple o' bob a gallon, so we stayed mobile! Can't imagine not having a bike through teenage years. What else could you do to upset the neighbours? We were lucky I guess, My folks loaned us a couple of rooms at home and I'd rigged a small hidden cooker in the sitting room so that the landlady wouldn't find out and put up the rent. At the time, wifey's motorcycle had broken down at the farm where she worked, so a couple of days after our return from Nottingham we rode out to collect it. Couldn't be repaired on the spot so I towed her home...All went well until we came to a bend where she thought we were going too fast and applied the front brake. This you cannot do and hope to remain on two wheels, poor girl careered across the road and finished in a big heap. Happily, escaping with a couple of minor scrapes. The local vicar arrived on cue with a bit of TLC for her and a strict rollicking for me. However, we picked up her bike and with an instruction to simply just 'LEGGOTHEROPE' we drove home a little more sedately. Two months later and off I went to serve Queen & Country.
Cheers, Syd.
Cheers, Syd.
By heck Syd - things were different back then weren't they? I used to go to a petrol station in the fifties round about 1956 put a couple of gallons in the tank, get a pint of oil then go across the road to a newsagents for ten fags and a paper and have change from a ten bob note. Two years later things took a massive upturn - I got what I always call my first 'Proper' job. I became the Buyer for a firm making electric lamps -'lightbulbs' to the great unwashed - and things went steadily upwards from there. I'd never done the job before but I'm half Irish so I can blarney with the best. If you ever bought lamps/lightbulbs from Woolworths back then you'd have bought some of the ones we made. Trade name 'Vesta'. By jove more history lessons from we two. Aren't they lucky on FR?
Originally Posted by Terry Carey
Hi Terry,Sorry for the late 'Congratulations' but I missed your post and have only just read it!!! There are many similarities between us that's separated by a decade.
It was 'Our' 56th on the 9th June. I too owned a BSA but it was only a 350 (B31) which I bought in 1957. Although not on Honeymoon I had to go to RAF Newton on a course which, of course, meant Nights out in Nottingham. The Flying Horse was one of our favourite bars and I remember it was just across the road from the Locarno (I think that was it's name) Ball room. Joe Loss and his Orchestra were the 'Regulars' their. I recall that Thursday nights were called 'Over 21's Night but referred to as 'Grab a Granny' night. Our first home wasn't 2 up and 2 down, it was a 1 up and another next door. We rented a flat above a Plumbers shop with one 'Living room/kitchen/Dining room' and a march across the landing to a Bedroom. Happy Days?????
Hi Bill,
Thanks for the congrats - I never had a motor bike but rode on the back of my brother's many times. In fact I came off one night when we'd been to Tarpoley to watch a mate of his box. There were roadworks on the opposite side of the road when we were going but all the signs and barriers etc must have been moved before we set off back. We hit a bump they'd left and I had just relaxed my grip with my knees, had my hands in my pockets and was sitting there quite relaxed. I sailed through the air still in the same position and our kid slowed down a little. I remember as I went through the air that I never even flinched and landed back on the pillion so softly that my brother didn't feel me land. I just grabbed hold again with my knees and sat there not bothering at all. Then he put his hand back and began to feel my leg. I said very calmly, 'Oy - what do you think you're doing?' and he said he was scared stiff that I was lying back in the roadway. I honestly hadn't been a bit worried - probably because it all happened so quickly and just said that he could have slowed down a bit earlier - miserable bugger. Didn't stop me going pillion riding though. Oddly enough I still trusted him.
Thanks for the congrats - I never had a motor bike but rode on the back of my brother's many times. In fact I came off one night when we'd been to Tarpoley to watch a mate of his box. There were roadworks on the opposite side of the road when we were going but all the signs and barriers etc must have been moved before we set off back. We hit a bump they'd left and I had just relaxed my grip with my knees, had my hands in my pockets and was sitting there quite relaxed. I sailed through the air still in the same position and our kid slowed down a little. I remember as I went through the air that I never even flinched and landed back on the pillion so softly that my brother didn't feel me land. I just grabbed hold again with my knees and sat there not bothering at all. Then he put his hand back and began to feel my leg. I said very calmly, 'Oy - what do you think you're doing?' and he said he was scared stiff that I was lying back in the roadway. I honestly hadn't been a bit worried - probably because it all happened so quickly and just said that he could have slowed down a bit earlier - miserable bugger. Didn't stop me going pillion riding though. Oddly enough I still trusted him.
Back to the bikes...here's one taken around 1947 at a local airfield (Purton, near Wolverhampton) The bike, a 1934 600cc Panther. Intrepid rider, new girlfriend at the time and wife this last 66+ years, Oaf on the pillion? Well, who do you think?
Cheers, syd.
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Cheers, syd.
Originally Posted by Syd Jones
Wonderful photo Syd, thank you, and what a lovely lady you have.Love, Kim x
In the 60s i was always one for fashion, Made to Measure suits. My home town Leeds was full of Tailoring Co.s and some of the finest Cloths were woven around West Yorkshire. Then came the "Italian Look" with the shadow striped / 3 button look and Winklepicker Shoes. . Gradually, although i always kept myself smart i dropped out ot the Fashion Stakes.
Originally Posted by John Daly
AH YES, I remember it well John.The pinstripe suit with a 'Bum-freezer' jacket!!!! A Slim Jim tie and a Cut-away collar shirt. I could not bring myself to wear Winklepickers having seen the 'Ali Barba' effect, with the curled-up toes, seen on other people.
And, like you, my shoes have the strap which fastens with Velcro. We should form a club???? (lol) :)
When I went into the R.A.F. early 1954 i had a Black Single Breasted Overcoat which cost me £8. from Hepworths and had built up Shoulders, ( I had seen Robert Mitchum wearing one.) I thought I was the Bees Knees in this until one Night at the Bristol Mecca Locarno I was waiting outside and as two girls passed me by I heard one of them say " Ooh Look its Doctor Death" That Weekend I sold it for £4. to John, one of the few Rock Apes that were the Station. he had borrowed it couple of times and really liked it.
It was 1957 when I bought my first 'Topcoat'. It was a Duffle coat with bone pegs. First time on, going to Saturday night dance, it had been snowing for the past 24hrs and the roads were covered in Slush. You've guessed it A lorry passed by at a great rate of knots and I had nowhere to run. It covered me from head to toe and filled the hood with all sorts of crap. I had it dry cleaned but it never looked right. It became my 'Work' coat. I had a mental picture of the lorry driver 'wetting' himself while looking at me in the rear-view mirror.
Can't just recall when it was but Vyella shirts with a matching ties were in fashion. I was in the "Rag Trade" and some reall nice stuff used to come my way. I had purchased a Large Quantity of Gents Lightweight Light Grey Suits, so i picked out one and an Orange Shirt and Tie. I was to have a Rare Night out and meet a Pal of mine at a New Pub /Club that had opened. It was a converted Church called "Upstairs and Downstairs" So looking like a Large Jaffa Oeange on Legs. i Sashad up to the Entrance to be told it was Members only. I paid the 10/- to the Girl and another 10/- to the Doorman / Bouncer.
Went to the Bar, got a Pint and as it was Packed and i could not see my Oppo. I walked upstairs to a small Bar,but he was not there either. Deciding to return down stairs Someone had spilled Beer on the Stair so i descended from top to bottom like "Eddie the Eagle".Not only did i take the skin from my hands ( Pint long gone ) but when i got to the bottom there was this Sludgyy Slime awaiting me. I was helped to my feet by someone asking the usual "Are you alright" Me and My now Two coloured light Grey suit and me limped to the Door and the Bouncer said " Leaving so Soon Sir". I muttere a reply and I limped back to my car and threw the Suit, Shirt Tie in the Bin and the Wife did try to bathe and clean up my hands.
When my Pal rang me and i related the Story, he said "Oh i never ever go Upstairs as it is too tricky on the Steps coming down."
Went to the Bar, got a Pint and as it was Packed and i could not see my Oppo. I walked upstairs to a small Bar,but he was not there either. Deciding to return down stairs Someone had spilled Beer on the Stair so i descended from top to bottom like "Eddie the Eagle".Not only did i take the skin from my hands ( Pint long gone ) but when i got to the bottom there was this Sludgyy Slime awaiting me. I was helped to my feet by someone asking the usual "Are you alright" Me and My now Two coloured light Grey suit and me limped to the Door and the Bouncer said " Leaving so Soon Sir". I muttere a reply and I limped back to my car and threw the Suit, Shirt Tie in the Bin and the Wife did try to bathe and clean up my hands.
When my Pal rang me and i related the Story, he said "Oh i never ever go Upstairs as it is too tricky on the Steps coming down."
Originally Posted by John Daly
It 'Out-dose' my tale of Woe by a mile John (Chortle)However, the theme of 'Opening a new Bar' reminds of the time when the NAAFI club at Chipenham had been refurbished and it was 'Grand Opening Night'. (1961 - I think). There were 2 memorable events:
1. 'Flowers' Brewery put on Free beer for the first hour (OOPs). I think it was the introduction of the first ever Keg Beer.
2. The last train from Chipenham to Melksham was 12.35 am. (I was on a Fitters Course at the time). I dragged/ carried my mate to the station arriving at about 12.30 am. He was incapable and I was not far behind!!!. I sat him on a bench and told him I needed to go to the toilet and that he had to call me if he saw the train arriving. I recall sitting on the 'Bog' with my elbows on my knees and chin in my hands with my eyes closed (trying to stop the door from swaying in front of me). I realised that I had dozed off so jumped up quickly, did the business, washed my hands and ran out onto the platform where the Station Cleaner dropped his broom in shear surprise. It was daylight and I looked up at the station clock to see the hands at 08;20 am. I had been sat on the toilet for 5 minutes short 8 hrs!!!!!!!!!!! I caught the Milk Train back to camp and walked in the billet (It stank like brewery), went straight to the bed of my mate to give him a piece of my mind for not calling me. I pulled back the bedclothes to find him fully dressed, with even his tie in position and his shoes on.
He had been sick and looked dreadful so I just covered him up and left him. The standing joke at the time was, every time I went to the shower I was reminded that my A***** looked like a Dartboard and the Black and Blue marks on my Knees took weeks to disappear.
Sequel: I found out later that a couple of blokes from the camp noticed him sat on the bench and 'Kindly' helped him onto the train. He was burbling Toilet, Toilet, They told him he hadn't got time to go because the train was leaving. He was trying to tell them where I was - Bless Him.
Originally Posted by Bill
Hi Bill - I'm sure the Grand Opening Night of the NAAFI club in Chippenham was in 1961 because I was there - I was stationed at Hullavington at the time and a group of us piled into a taxi to have a 'look-see'. It is memorable as during the evening one of the airmen (rather the worse for wear and who I hardly knew), proposed to me. I jokingly reminded him of this a couple of days later and he looked rather startled but relaxed when I told him I had said 'NO'.
Originally Posted by Rosemary (Kim) Dimond
Ha Ha, It was probably me, or my mate!!!!! I do remember that girls stood outside asking servicemen to take them in only to disappear once they got past the door.
Your Stories of Train Journeys reminds me that whenever my pal and I Steve Morgan travelled back to Camp from Liverpool it was to change at Crewe. His Dad used to buy our Beer all Evening and when we got on the train we would keep saying "Stay Awake and Listen out for the Crewe Call" Sure enough we would end up in London and by the time we got to Bristol and got back to Camp it was 7 or 10 days Jankers.
When we left Leeds on a Sunday Night Train direct to Bristol ( The Devonian ) we had the Carriage to ourselves and got a Kip of Sorts. BUT when we reached Birmingham New Street it was like the Wild West. We had already pulled down the Blinds and tied our belts tightly around the door handles so they would not open but that did not stop the Matelots hammering on the doors and using some very choice language But the time we arrived at Bristol Temple Meads they were mostly asleep on the Corridor Floor.
When we left Leeds on a Sunday Night Train direct to Bristol ( The Devonian ) we had the Carriage to ourselves and got a Kip of Sorts. BUT when we reached Birmingham New Street it was like the Wild West. We had already pulled down the Blinds and tied our belts tightly around the door handles so they would not open but that did not stop the Matelots hammering on the doors and using some very choice language But the time we arrived at Bristol Temple Meads they were mostly asleep on the Corridor Floor.
Originally Posted by John Daly
I like the attempt to 'Lock' the doors. I have seen Matelots sleeping on the luggage rack on a few occassions!!! My worst journey was from Basingstoke to Doncaster to see my then (now wife) Fiance She had booked theatre tickets and a meal afterwards with friends who had just got engaged. I planned to get the 5;05 train from Kings Cross to arrive at 'Donny' at 6:15. I got to Kings Cross early and had a 'Couple' of beers - as one does. Met some Navy types on the train and had a couple more - as one does. I was dozing in my seat and noticed that we had just stopped at Newark and I thought 'Next stop mine' I felt the train come to a stop, looked out of the window 'YORK' !*^**^". Found out that next train back was in 2 hours. You've guessed it, with nothing else to do I had a couple of beers. Finally, got on the train and stood up, leaning against the wall in the passageway in case I fell asleep again. I felt the train come to a halt and looked out of the window 'NEWARK' *&^%$**&. Ended up in a pub near the station waiting for the last train from london. Finally arrived at 1.30 am. It had taken me over 10 hrs. to get from A to B. Had to get a taxi home which cost a fortune. SHE was not best pleased and I got the silent treatment for the rest of the weekend.
Sometimes wonder just how many servicemen failed to change trains at Crewe? From Carlisle to Wolverhampton on any Friday evening in 1952 needed a change at Lancaster (That was fine, we were always welcomed in the Railway canteen) followed by a change at Crewe. I actually managed not to change on two occasions, both times waking up as we steamed through Stafford and off down the Trent valley (where there was a speed restriction.) Both times I stood at the door, window down, trying to guess the speed and what I might be heading into if I jumped for it. Never plucked up enough courage though and maybe if I had, I wouldn't be writing this, but next stop Euston meant that I arrived home at 1.00pm Saturday and effectively converted a forty-eight into a twenty-four. Cheers, Syd.
Originally Posted by Syd Jones
That is Brilliant Syd, know just how you felt, although Firstly my misadventures with Crewe Station were a couple of years later 1954 onwards and Secondly would result in getting back to Camp late and a minimum 7 days Jankers.
The only contribution I have to make about Crewe station is that, when I changed there sometime in 1959. it reminded me of an open sewer !!!
Bill's anecdote has taken me back as I often used to nip up onto the luggage rack for a kip on the way back to Darlington. From there it was easy to get back to camp at Catterick but one night I woke as we steamed into Darlington to see the carriage was almost empty. In those days I was very athletic and a good gymnast so swung down casually and landed right at the feet of a young lady who was just stretching with her eyes closed. When she opened them I was about six inches away and her scream could have been used in a Hammer Horror film. She had thought I was a dummy up on the rack because I had been so still - naturally - I was fast asleep!
As there were no Motorways in the early 1950s i had to either wait for my oficial Leave which came with a Railway Warrant or Hitch hike up the A.38 and then on to Leeds. this was a distance of very near 200 miles and went through every Town and Village from the West Country to the North.
One time when i called in the Main Stores one of the Lads said "We have just got Paperwork through to send a "Thorneycroft Lorry up to a Depot near Warrington Lancs. It is going up on Friday morning. Well even though it was the other side of the Penines i thought i would have a word with my Sergeant . I told him i was due a 48 Pass and he said he would sort it with the M.T. Lad. Following morning he said "It's O.K.and with the Lads on the Gate, just be there !2 Sharp"
I thought we would have been away earlier but..... I was at the Camp Gate with my Weekend Case (About Four Jazz Albums in) The RAF. Wagon Pulled up and i opened the Door. on the only seat was this Fat women and her Kid. The Cpl. Driver said "In the Back Lad" I should have called it a Draw there and then. He dropped the back down and there was not even wooden benches on the sides like the ones when we used to go playing Football away. So away we went up the Long and Winding Road. I was hanging on stood up for hours and there was only the Wheel arch to sit on. It was dark when we got to Warrington Town and he asked me where would i like dropping off. I said the Railway Station. by that time it was about 10p.m. and there was not a Train until after midnight . Got to Leeds ,Taxi and straight to Bed......... There is more to relate but i cant face it even though it's only been 60 odd years.
One time when i called in the Main Stores one of the Lads said "We have just got Paperwork through to send a "Thorneycroft Lorry up to a Depot near Warrington Lancs. It is going up on Friday morning. Well even though it was the other side of the Penines i thought i would have a word with my Sergeant . I told him i was due a 48 Pass and he said he would sort it with the M.T. Lad. Following morning he said "It's O.K.and with the Lads on the Gate, just be there !2 Sharp"
I thought we would have been away earlier but..... I was at the Camp Gate with my Weekend Case (About Four Jazz Albums in) The RAF. Wagon Pulled up and i opened the Door. on the only seat was this Fat women and her Kid. The Cpl. Driver said "In the Back Lad" I should have called it a Draw there and then. He dropped the back down and there was not even wooden benches on the sides like the ones when we used to go playing Football away. So away we went up the Long and Winding Road. I was hanging on stood up for hours and there was only the Wheel arch to sit on. It was dark when we got to Warrington Town and he asked me where would i like dropping off. I said the Railway Station. by that time it was about 10p.m. and there was not a Train until after midnight . Got to Leeds ,Taxi and straight to Bed......... There is more to relate but i cant face it even though it's only been 60 odd years.
Arh well JD. Having a bike solved a lot of problems. Once posted to the 14th/20th at Crookham, Hants. I took the bike back to camp on first weekend off and after that it was a piece of cake, I'd borrow a tank suit from the stores and be gone. Occasionally gave a lift to a guy from Brum, who provided petrol. Only once cut the return so fine that I was still wearing the tank suit for morning parade! However, might have said before that the 14th/20th KH was a good outfit. Cheers, Syd.
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Originally Posted by Syd Jones
'Having' a bike solves lots of problems.On my very first posting to RAF Dishforth drinking in the NAAFI was not a good expeience. We found the solution. The Station Mail Room used an 'Erk' to deliver mail to all the sections on camp. He had a bike that resembled the old Butcher's bike with a large fixed metal basket on the front. We found out where he 'Hid' it overnight. It was 'borrowed' regularly by the 4 Muskateers to go to Black Swan (Mucky Duck) in the local village. 1 in the basket. 1 on the crossbar, 1 on the saddle and the 4th stood on the back with his feet on the wheel spindle. It was a straightforward exercise getting their. but a very different experience getting back. The poor 'Erk' must have got the blame for the damage to his bike on more than one occasion. Ah - Happy days
Big advantage my bike had Bill, was that it had a cracking, souped up 500cc BSA engine attached! didn't use the bike much around camp, apart from an occasional 'wheelie' between the huts. Intrigued the Adjutant no end though when, one evening and five up, we paraded round the dinky little Regimental Square at Haig Lines, Crookham. Expected real trouble from that jaunt, but never a word was said.
Cheers, Syd.
L to R: Just another 'jolly.' Tprs. Geoff Stokes, John Hutchinson, ? Kellow & Cpl. Tony Belcher.
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Cheers, Syd.
L to R: Just another 'jolly.' Tprs. Geoff Stokes, John Hutchinson, ? Kellow & Cpl. Tony Belcher.
I stayed on after National Service in the Terriers and one year we were down on Salisbury Plain next to a detachment of the 14/20th and using their gear. They had a practice polo pony just the other side of the wire to our annual camp and offered our lads a chance to have a go on it. No one stayed on longer than about half a second and the landings were varied but generally spectacular. A repeat offer was spurned but a lieutenant standing by said casually 'I'll show you how it's done chaps.' He vaulted casually onto the contraption, held out his hand and a polo mallet sailed through the air to be grasped prior to a display of 'How It's Done'. He practised forehand, backhand, under its belly, round its arse - just about everywhere then casually flung the mallet to a waiting squaddie, vaulted lightly off and repeated the offer as our lads trooped off - mainly going out of their gate and back in at ours. Climbing the fence back had lost its appeal. He did ask us not to paint it because the last lot of Terriers had painted it with black and white stripes about five inches wide.
Sunday morning I was in no condition to move but had forced myself to go for breakfast - me and my mates had had a good night in the local village of Tilshead so I was very fragile. Our RSM came as he always did to my tent - I was always I/C the Orderly room tent with the best accomodation in the camp and said to look outside. I couldn't guess what he was talking about until he said - 'That bloody stripey thing - we've nicked it!' It seems our ancient creaking senior NCOs had drunk steadily all Saturday afternoon, evening, night and early morning and then commandeered a wagon, pinched the pony, put it in the wagon while pissed as farts.
When I asked where it was he started laughing and said - 'It's on top of Stonehenge, on the highest watchdyercallit - er lintel.' I couldn't believe it but he said they'd taken a photo of it and as they were coming away some official had said he'd called the police, they were all under arrest so they had to stay. I asked him what they had done so he said me they had told the bloke to Eff off. 'What did he do Bert? I asked. 'He effed off!' A few weeks later up at the Drill Hall he said 'Here kid. I told you we'd taken a photo of that pony thing - look.
Sure enough there, on top of the highest lintel of Stonehenge, looking rather forlorn, springs all over the place, was the practice pony. Somehow it looked as if it were gazing out over the landscape as if wishing it were free to gallop at random wherever it wanted. Wistful really. The odd thing was that there was a complete blackout on the incident. Not a mention of the National news or in any newspaper I saw. Shades of 'D' notices methinks. An odd tale but absolutely true. True to our word our mob did not paint it - Oldhamers always do one better!
Sunday morning I was in no condition to move but had forced myself to go for breakfast - me and my mates had had a good night in the local village of Tilshead so I was very fragile. Our RSM came as he always did to my tent - I was always I/C the Orderly room tent with the best accomodation in the camp and said to look outside. I couldn't guess what he was talking about until he said - 'That bloody stripey thing - we've nicked it!' It seems our ancient creaking senior NCOs had drunk steadily all Saturday afternoon, evening, night and early morning and then commandeered a wagon, pinched the pony, put it in the wagon while pissed as farts.
When I asked where it was he started laughing and said - 'It's on top of Stonehenge, on the highest watchdyercallit - er lintel.' I couldn't believe it but he said they'd taken a photo of it and as they were coming away some official had said he'd called the police, they were all under arrest so they had to stay. I asked him what they had done so he said me they had told the bloke to Eff off. 'What did he do Bert? I asked. 'He effed off!' A few weeks later up at the Drill Hall he said 'Here kid. I told you we'd taken a photo of that pony thing - look.
Sure enough there, on top of the highest lintel of Stonehenge, looking rather forlorn, springs all over the place, was the practice pony. Somehow it looked as if it were gazing out over the landscape as if wishing it were free to gallop at random wherever it wanted. Wistful really. The odd thing was that there was a complete blackout on the incident. Not a mention of the National news or in any newspaper I saw. Shades of 'D' notices methinks. An odd tale but absolutely true. True to our word our mob did not paint it - Oldhamers always do one better!
Originally Posted by Terry Carey
Good yarn Terry. Wonder if we ever got it back? Just edited my previous post. Finally remembered the name of the other lad in the photo...after three days! Cheers, Syd.
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Hi Syd,
Oddly enough I couldn't remember what we all called the practice polo pony until after I had posted the story. With it having been mounted on springs and being very mobile when mounted it had earned the nickname of 'The Rocking Horse' and whenever I've told the tale I always used the moniker. It generally brings a few laughs because I can put a lot of expression into my voice. One thing you pondered about was did you ever get it back? I don't know but it didn't reappear 'next door' during our two weeks camp.
Oddly enough I couldn't remember what we all called the practice polo pony until after I had posted the story. With it having been mounted on springs and being very mobile when mounted it had earned the nickname of 'The Rocking Horse' and whenever I've told the tale I always used the moniker. It generally brings a few laughs because I can put a lot of expression into my voice. One thing you pondered about was did you ever get it back? I don't know but it didn't reappear 'next door' during our two weeks camp.
Originally Posted by Terry Carey
Like always Terry I have a similar story about 'Drunken' antics. I was on 1 Sqn (Harriers) in their Hay-day. we were forever overseas practicing for 'War'We were at a place in Denmark called Vandel. The base Headquarters had a Rune Stone (A large circular stone resembling a Polo mint) Parked at it's entrance and sunk into a lawned area. It was Huge and must have weighed many tuns. It finished up at Wittering (home) having been flown their by Hercules. There was ,nearly, a diplomatic incident. It was flown back the next day. The Hercules loadmaster stated that he had been told it was a gift to the British from the Danes. How a detachment of drunken airmen could 'Move' the thing was a source of amazement to the Danish Airforce chaps. And the loadmaster must have been really convinced that the story given by these drunken airmen was valid, particularly since it was not listed on the Load Manifest.
I was always amazed at the 'Collection' of memorabilia littering the walls of the Crewroom including signs of Station Headquarters from a number of our European Allies.
This collection was 'Matched', if not bettered, by groundcrew at RAF Lyneham. I am reliably informed that, in it's Hayday, The crewroom had a shelf lined with large specimen jars holding 'Stools' of most of the then Royal Family. They were 'Recovered' from Long Haul Royal Flights. Labels on each jar stated the name, date, type of aircraft and the destination of the flight.
G'day Terry. Never came across the 'hoss', or even heard of it until your post. Only a few weeks after demob in '54 and off to Tilshead on my first TA camp with the Staffs. Yeomany. Issued with a 'Dingo' (can't imagine why, the squadron leader never had any intention of using it.) so mostly just seemed to swan about by myself, drove all over the place, nobody seemed to mind! Visited Imber, a sad little village on Salisbury Plain, taken over by the MOD before the war and never returned, there was a tv programme about it a few weeks ago. Still used for training, but not many original cottages left. Practised a lot of four-wheel drifts in the mud and avoided putting the Dingo into a river...just. Ahh, but we were young then.
Cheers, Syd
Cheers, Syd
There was a big pub right by the crossroads in Tilshead where I went on the middle Saturday of our stay that year. I was with three mates and after a while we started singing along to the pianist as we stood near him. We had to stand because the place was packed. After a little while the pianist turned round and said to me 'Right lad - you're on your own this time.' He pointed to a mike on a stand and I was pushed up to it and off went the pianist with a song I knew. As I finished a woman came up to me with a pint and said 'Here you are love. Very nice.' pushed it at me , I grabbed it and she went off. The pianist told me it was because she liked my singing and as he was talking a man came up also with a pint which he handed over with a compliment. I'd never heard of this happening. After a few more songs I had about fifteen pints lined up, a few seats and a table had come empty right by the dartboard so we swanned across and took all the beer with us. Being a very occasional drinker I told the lads to join in which they did - willingly. When the beer ran out I went back and did some more songs and got more booze. That, I think was why, when I needed more money for my growing family I started doing it for cash and made a fair amount - enough to take foreign holidays even though at first they were just camping across in France but it was very educational for the kids. I kept it up for quite a while and could have gone a great deal farther than I did if I had wanted to but I never had the ambition or the desire to leave the family and when the last kid had left Grammar School I stopped. The money I was getting from singing paid the fees for the three kids but it was hard work for me and a good job I had a lot of stamina back then. I had progressed well enough at work, become the Chief Buyer for a group of companies so I was comfortable without slogging my wotsits off working day and night.
Bill, I reckon the 'Rune' stone may have been a symbolic one. As far as I know rune stones were small ones which were thrown down on the ground in a bunch and interpretations of what they meant were made by shamans - like medicine men type of thing. A load of rubbish I know but back then they believed in all kinds of things. A kind of early Tarot cards I suppose. Great story though and in a way like our old and knackered senior NCOs manhandling the Rocking Horse' after boozing all day and half the night! Must have been more able than I thought.
Originally Posted by Terry Carey
Had a similar experience - but with not quite the same result!!. A pianist was playing in the Mess at RAF Akrotiri. About 8 of us were celebrating a successful 'Air to Air' shoot. We new the song and started singing along. As Eric Morcambe would say "The notes were correct, but not necessarily in the right order" We were Booed off the stage and 'Asked' to politely leave the pianist to do his own thing. Couldn't believe it - we all thought that we sounded good. (lol)
Hi Bill. Your successful 'Air to Air shoot' reminded me of a one time workmate I hadn't thought of in years! During my apprenticeship in the late '40s, Cliff Perrins was a draughtsman on an adjacent board, but had been a wartime matelot serving in a cruiser. One day it was decreed that there would be anti-aircraft gunnery practice with a target towed about by a obliging 'Swordfish.' Aircraft and target duly appeared and every available gun on the ship opened up, After half an hour or so of frantic action, the Swordfish pilot was told the exercise was over, so he reeled in his unmarked target and flew off home. Can't remember what I was told of the outcome, but wouldn't have wanted to be part of it. Interesting thought, though Bill, is. How long would a target's tow line be, from a towing aircraft?
Cheers, Syd.
Cheers, Syd.
Originally Posted by Syd Jones
In those days a Canberra towed a 'Target Banner' with 100mtr line. However, The attacking aircraft had to adhere to a strict approach speed, altitude (parallel to the banner) and at a specific angle of attack. Regardless of this, the Odd round has hit the towing aircraft, but not many hit the banner!!!!!! If someone got 3 rounds in the banner after 3 'Passes' it was regarded as being successful Needless to say there was always a 'Book' run at these events.
Hi Syd, In answer to your WOW
There was little danger if the pilot followed the strict method of attack. The guns were 'Harmonized' to fire at a specific distance from the target which meant, if fired correctly. the 'Ammo' would show very little 'Spread' on the target. The whole exercise was designed to get the pilots to 'Aquire' the target at the correct height, angle of attack and the correct distance to achieve the optimum result. There was one occasion when the cable was shot through and the banner lost out at sea.
There was little danger if the pilot followed the strict method of attack. The guns were 'Harmonized' to fire at a specific distance from the target which meant, if fired correctly. the 'Ammo' would show very little 'Spread' on the target. The whole exercise was designed to get the pilots to 'Aquire' the target at the correct height, angle of attack and the correct distance to achieve the optimum result. There was one occasion when the cable was shot through and the banner lost out at sea.
During the mid 1950s I was stationed on 501 Squadron Bristol who shared their extremely large airfield with Bristol Airplane Co. ( Builders of the Brttania etc)
This squadron during the war had been quite an item, but now had been downgraded to an auxiliary squadron.
We had Meteors and Vampire Jets which on a Weekend were flown by "Part Timers" one of the things they did was "Banner Target Practice" where a long off white piece of canvas with a Bullseye (?) in the middle. This Jet would take off and head away out to Sea over the Severn Estuary. He was followed by the other Planes. After some time we would see the Towing Jet coming back in and once he was over the Airfield he would release the Cable with the Banner on it. Our job was to drive out and collect the the Banner and cable, throw it all in the back of the Land Rover and quickly get off of the Runway before the rest came in to land. We would drive back to the Squadron Offices and lay out the Banner on the grass. I should say that each Plane , just for that day, had "Marked Ammo" so whoever put a Tracer bullet / Cannon had hit the Banner they would know. I can't recall if i imagined it or not , as was it was nearly 63 years ago, but i seem to remember the Pilot of the Towing Plane at one time waiting for "John Wayn" and Co.to land to administer and sharp Boll....ng as it seems a Cannon had gone through the tail of his Plane (Maybe Not)
This squadron during the war had been quite an item, but now had been downgraded to an auxiliary squadron.
We had Meteors and Vampire Jets which on a Weekend were flown by "Part Timers" one of the things they did was "Banner Target Practice" where a long off white piece of canvas with a Bullseye (?) in the middle. This Jet would take off and head away out to Sea over the Severn Estuary. He was followed by the other Planes. After some time we would see the Towing Jet coming back in and once he was over the Airfield he would release the Cable with the Banner on it. Our job was to drive out and collect the the Banner and cable, throw it all in the back of the Land Rover and quickly get off of the Runway before the rest came in to land. We would drive back to the Squadron Offices and lay out the Banner on the grass. I should say that each Plane , just for that day, had "Marked Ammo" so whoever put a Tracer bullet / Cannon had hit the Banner they would know. I can't recall if i imagined it or not , as was it was nearly 63 years ago, but i seem to remember the Pilot of the Towing Plane at one time waiting for "John Wayn" and Co.to land to administer and sharp Boll....ng as it seems a Cannon had gone through the tail of his Plane (Maybe Not)
Well, down on the ground or sand to be accurate our mob had been very lax in carrying out normal weapon training and found itself with a large amount of small arms rounds needing to be fired off. I asked why did they not just tell HQ it was unused so we didn't need as much the next year. The answer was that we would have our allocation cut and we didn't want that! So people like me, clerks and other odd bods were detailed to go to the ranges way out of camp and fire the lot off. Some of us were busy filling in practice sheets with the names of lads who were at the time doing their normal jobs but no such luck for me.
The problem for me was that on the one day my training squad was detailed to go to the ranges near Catterick I was poorly so had never even heard a gun go off and they don't sound like they do in films. When the wagon arrived at the ranges I was told to go to draw a rifle and ammo and to my horror I was given a massive wooden box filled with .303 rounds and a rifle and pointed to target number 7. One reason this stays in my mind is that Laurel I and Hardy made a film called Come in Number Seven about a boating lake and it ties up with what happened later..
I'd never fired a rifle so didn't know how to work the sights and with my long sightedness couldn't see the back sight at all. Just a fuzzy blob and when I asked for help I was just told that I knew and to stop farting about. The first practice was at 300 yards lying down. In spite of being laid flat the recoil nearly broke my shoulder and slid me back along the sand. I'd held the weapon correctly and stuffed a hankie in my shirt but even so I hurt like buggery. Another couple of shots accompanied by the waving of a pole with a black disc attached showed that I had missed and was about two feet farther back than when I had started.
I trailed back for another rifle to the armourers who were busy boiling out the barrels to decoke them but the second was just as bad. I grew to hate that black disc and wondered if there was another colour on the other side. My shoulder ached more and more and we trailed back and forth to different distances but to no avail. All my pleas were ignored as I banged away time and time again. Then fate took a hand and the rifle jammed halfway along a bullet. I tried a bit gingerly to free the bolt but it wouldn't shift so in line with what we had been told I pointed it at 45 degrees and held up my hand.
Oh Oh! Along came Captain Turner - an officer risen from the ranks so unfoolable if there is such a word. As always he was direct and less than complimentary. I told him what was amiss and he snarled 'Well unjam the bloody thing!' When I said it needed the armourers he snorted and grabbed it from me, knelt down and started knocking the wotsit out of it. I began to sidle away thinking if the bugger goes off I want to be well away. Some hopes. 'Carey get back here - stand there and don't bloody well move!'
At last the round flew out and Turner knelt, fired several rounds and lo and behold a white disc appeared. There were two sides to it! I was told to carry on but alas there were only two more hits. The butt party had just been sent some tea and the officer i/c had instructed that all the lads must get theirs first. Just as he was being handed his tea I hit the sand bank and a spray went into his tea. He'd just taken his hat off so it went all over his face and into his hair. The second hit was when I knocked the black disc off the end of the pole.
I knew without looking that standing behind me was Capt Turner who barked at me to stand up. As I did he pointed. 'D'you see that wagon Carey? Well you've got one minute to get on it and if you don't make it then you're bloody well walking back to camp.' I saluted and asked what should I do with the rifle. 'Leave it for a proper soldier. Now Eff Off. Oh and by the way - get in the back - you're not fit to ride in the cab.' Thanks a bunch. I thought. 'I nipped over to the wagon, a 15cwt Fordson and told the driver to just set off for a few yards till we were out of sight and then I could get out of the back and into the cab.
His reaction was 'No bloody way mate - if Turner says you're in the back then that's where you're riding.' No way would he change his mind so I sat among camouflage nets, jerry cans, tool boxes and god knows what else as we jolted out way back to camp. I had to wait until he drove to the main lorry park to get out for a bit of relief. All because a clown of an Orderly in the MI Room had ballsed up my jabs and laid me up for the day. Like they say 'Shit happens'!
The problem for me was that on the one day my training squad was detailed to go to the ranges near Catterick I was poorly so had never even heard a gun go off and they don't sound like they do in films. When the wagon arrived at the ranges I was told to go to draw a rifle and ammo and to my horror I was given a massive wooden box filled with .303 rounds and a rifle and pointed to target number 7. One reason this stays in my mind is that Laurel I and Hardy made a film called Come in Number Seven about a boating lake and it ties up with what happened later..
I'd never fired a rifle so didn't know how to work the sights and with my long sightedness couldn't see the back sight at all. Just a fuzzy blob and when I asked for help I was just told that I knew and to stop farting about. The first practice was at 300 yards lying down. In spite of being laid flat the recoil nearly broke my shoulder and slid me back along the sand. I'd held the weapon correctly and stuffed a hankie in my shirt but even so I hurt like buggery. Another couple of shots accompanied by the waving of a pole with a black disc attached showed that I had missed and was about two feet farther back than when I had started.
I trailed back for another rifle to the armourers who were busy boiling out the barrels to decoke them but the second was just as bad. I grew to hate that black disc and wondered if there was another colour on the other side. My shoulder ached more and more and we trailed back and forth to different distances but to no avail. All my pleas were ignored as I banged away time and time again. Then fate took a hand and the rifle jammed halfway along a bullet. I tried a bit gingerly to free the bolt but it wouldn't shift so in line with what we had been told I pointed it at 45 degrees and held up my hand.
Oh Oh! Along came Captain Turner - an officer risen from the ranks so unfoolable if there is such a word. As always he was direct and less than complimentary. I told him what was amiss and he snarled 'Well unjam the bloody thing!' When I said it needed the armourers he snorted and grabbed it from me, knelt down and started knocking the wotsit out of it. I began to sidle away thinking if the bugger goes off I want to be well away. Some hopes. 'Carey get back here - stand there and don't bloody well move!'
At last the round flew out and Turner knelt, fired several rounds and lo and behold a white disc appeared. There were two sides to it! I was told to carry on but alas there were only two more hits. The butt party had just been sent some tea and the officer i/c had instructed that all the lads must get theirs first. Just as he was being handed his tea I hit the sand bank and a spray went into his tea. He'd just taken his hat off so it went all over his face and into his hair. The second hit was when I knocked the black disc off the end of the pole.
I knew without looking that standing behind me was Capt Turner who barked at me to stand up. As I did he pointed. 'D'you see that wagon Carey? Well you've got one minute to get on it and if you don't make it then you're bloody well walking back to camp.' I saluted and asked what should I do with the rifle. 'Leave it for a proper soldier. Now Eff Off. Oh and by the way - get in the back - you're not fit to ride in the cab.' Thanks a bunch. I thought. 'I nipped over to the wagon, a 15cwt Fordson and told the driver to just set off for a few yards till we were out of sight and then I could get out of the back and into the cab.
His reaction was 'No bloody way mate - if Turner says you're in the back then that's where you're riding.' No way would he change his mind so I sat among camouflage nets, jerry cans, tool boxes and god knows what else as we jolted out way back to camp. I had to wait until he drove to the main lorry park to get out for a bit of relief. All because a clown of an Orderly in the MI Room had ballsed up my jabs and laid me up for the day. Like they say 'Shit happens'!