early memories

I was born at 6.18am on Saturday 30th October 1954, at number 83 Grainger Street Darlington. The weather was drizzly and my Dad had been preparing to go out to work when he had to call out the doctor.  I was also informed that there was a total eclipse of the Sun that day the first in Britain since 1927.  Whether or not that has had any influence on my character I could not say. Memories grow dim with age, nearly sixty years has passed since that day but I will share with you my childhood memories as best I can.

the  terraced houses in Grainger street backed onto an alley I expect they still do. The alleys were cobbled in blue tiles which seemed to sparkle in the rain and frost.  There was a coal shute in the backyard, which had an opening into the alley so that the coal man could put his load into it.  There was also an entrance to the shute in our backyards so that we could retrieve it. The only toilet was outside at the top of the yard, a haven for spiders and other creepy crawlies, so at night and in bad weather we used chamber pots.  I can't imagine anyone using them these days but back in the 1950's many families did.  We also had no bath (until 1959 when my brother joined the army and his bedroom was turned into a bathroom).  We had a portable tin bath which we used to pull up in front of the kitchen fire on bath nights - Saturday for mum, my sister and I.

In the 1950's most streets had at least one shop, we had three, Butterfield's fish and chips shop where you could get a large bag of chips and mushy peas for a tanner and a sausage or small fish for 9d. There were also two grocery shops on opposite corners of the street- Sutton's and Miss Gibson's.  Miss Gibson better known to the locals as Naggie Annie was a distant cousin of my father's, a cantankerous old maid who occasionally gave us a glimpse of a heart of gold.  Life had not been kind to Ann Gibson, her fiancee had died at Passchendaele and with his death her dreams. Ann had lived with her father until his death, inheriting the shop when he passed away.   Entering Miss Gibson's shop was like walking back in time, there were still the old Edwardian cabinets and sweet jars, a real Aladdin's cave. She sold everything from boot blacking to old fashioned bullseyes (boiled sweets)which I remember my father had a penchant for. We also had a greengrocer and a rag and bone man who used to call every week, both had horse drawn carts and if we were good we were allowed to stroke the horses.  I preferred animals to people back then and if truth be told still do. More about my menagerie of pets in another chapter.  I looked up my old address on Google Maps and was disappointed to find the houses have not weathered well. Back in the day it was a respectable working class address but seems to be very down at heel now, and there are no longer any shops in the street. As they say time marches on.

Samhain (a poem by Kenny Klein)

Red leaves are carried in the salt west wind                        
And turn to brown on dry soil.
The sun is bright still, but not warm
On the last rich gold of scattered fall,
The great wheel turns, another year
Old, bright gold with death.
Bare branches now, the Old Lords limbs,
Chill wind the Old Lords breath.

Like dancing leaves on sleeping branches
The dark tide of memory is stirred.
The deepest thought-flame now is kindled,
Consuming, the fire in ancient words.
Samhain, the thin veil opens, fingers
Reaching through the blackness deep.
Through the grey cloud wisps, old voices
Shapes, shifting, slowly creep.
Mab's red-eyed dogs, howling wander
Through the fields as soil grows hard
Searching for uncounted jewels
The Fairy Queen's forgotten shards.
The last red morsels undevoured
Returned to her who granted birth
Mab's womb, given up its children,
Shrivels cold with the hardened earth.

In meadows that the scythe has tasted
Now the Samhain fires are high
The circle dance is weaving, spinning
On Graceful foot, on darkened thigh,
The spiral dance is downward twisted,
The Horned One's chant, the Welcome Home -
"Home" is on the north wind whispered,
The Swordless Death Lord takes his throne.
And to Mab, the Horned One's sister,
Whose loins have yielded up their spark,
"Follow" now the north wind whispers,
Mab the Death Queen, the Timeless dark.

And in the barren fruitless meadow,
Dancing round the Samhain fire,
Her face a flower, her eyes a tremble,
A young maid spins the ancient spire.
Chanting home the swordless Horned One,
Like a doe, she leaps the flame.
In cold Autumn's death a new beginning,
In Mab's cold womb, life starts again.

Blessed Be.

Great Grandfather Tom

If like myself you have ever traced your family tree you will no doubt have come across an ancestor or two  whom you would have liked to have known personally and in greater depth.  I would love to have been able to spend some time with my paternal great grandfather Thomas Jobling. 

Tom was  born in 1832 in the North Yorkshire village of West Rounton which lies seven miles from the town of Northallerton.  The son of a flax handloom weaver Tom was a bright self educated man who worked as a schoolmaster for part of his career. Upon his marriage to Elizabeth Robinson he became coachman to the German industrialist Bolckow at Marton Hall near Middlesbrough.  Bolckow co-foundeded the first blast furnace on Teesside and later became the first m.p for Middlesbrough. Sadly Marton Hall no longer exists having been burnt to the ground in the 1950's, all that remains today is a covered walkway which would have been at the rear of the house.  The grounds however are now a public park, 'Stewart Park' and well worth a visit if you are ever in the vicinity.

Elizabeth was very homesick for her hometown of Seaham Harbour,  the young couple who now had a young son, moved to Seaham to be close to Elizabeth's family and Tom gained work at the local pit as a wagon driver.  In the mid nineteenth century the 'Tommy System' was in operation in the Durham mining communities.  This meant that miners were under contract to the mine owners on a yearly basis, although the mine owner was free to evict a miner at anytime without notice.  conditions for the Durham miners was amongst the harshest in the country.  These were very deep anthrocite mines and accidents happened all too frequently.  In addition to the dreadful working conditions the men had to endure, they also tended to be paid in tokens which had to be  used at the company's own store, where prices were greatly elevated. It was a case of the rich benefiting from the labour of the poor.  Thomas worked in quite a few pits in the Durham coalfields - including Seaham, The John pit at Heworth, Esh and Blaydon.  The couple had seven children, six sons and a daughter.  My own grandfather Oliver was the youngest son.  The three eldest sons worked as hewers in the mines, but my grandfather who was very bright like Tom, eventually became the chief accounts clerk for the Great Northern Railway at its Darlington office. My grandfather also married a miners daughter.

Although they were not rich or famous I am extremely proud of my ancestors and wish I could converse with them - perhaps one day in some far away place I will be able to?

Hello world

This is my new blog, the musings of a 'Makkem' - that is someone born in County Durham for those unaware of the term. This is just a test post so I can see how it all works - watch this space!

Me in 1981 at Craven Laithe Farm, Lancashire.