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George Spenceley recalls his childhood memories of Middlesbrough and how his large family coped with life in World War II and with the happy and sad events of family life.
During the Summer months as children we went along to the nearby beck and jumped from side to side playing follow the leader. Those who weren't so good at jumping were dared to jump certain widths with disastrous results.
Not quite reaching the other side we'd land in the water getting our shoes and socks wet. Knowing that we'd be in trouble when we got home we'd take off our socks and beat them against a wooden log to try to get the surplus water out of them and try to dry them, but they were still wet when we reached home.
The wetness didn't look too bad on my grey socks but Olga's and Sylvia's, my sisters, white ankle socks were a muddy grey, then I'd get into trouble for taking them with me. Come to think of it I received more good hidings for wet boots and socks than anything else.
Saturday morning was the best morning of the week for we'd go to the Hippodrome picture club. It cost a couple of pence to join the club and a
small entrance fee. There we'd see our favourite cowboy films and cartoons. There was always a couple of serials and when the film would reach a very exciting part it would stop, to be continued the next week.
We always kept a penny for our bus fare home but being hungry after the show we'd spend it on a stick of root liquorice, malt tablets or kaly (Sugar with a citrus flavour) and then have to walk home. I'd be in trouble again for not coming home on the bus.
Most of the time in the warm summer months we'd play in our bare feet to save our footwear, then we could play in the beck with out any worries, constructing dams and trying to sail small rafts, usually with poor results.
Football was a favourite and heading a ball onto a wall to see how many heads we could get before dropping the ball. We would also kick a small
tennis ball up and down the street and the area between the lamp posts and the fence would be the goal.
Occasionally we'd use a 'casey', a proper football with a blown up pig's bladder inside a leather casing but with twenty or thirty lads kicking the ball up and down the field the bladder only lasted a short time.
The noise made by the group of playing children would have put today's football supporters to shame. One night we were very noisy when an old chap, Uncle John who lived with the Powers family called us all together and asked us to tone it down.
'There's someone dead in Stockton' he said, meaning our revelry was that loud it would wake the dead ten miles away. Having said that old John left smiling and went off to the pub for his evening pint of beer.
There was no shortage of games we could play and we never seemed to be bored. We'd go for walks across the fields, go looking for birds nests in the woods marked 'private' or make dens from branches of trees laid up against the base of a big tree.
We'd cover this with grass and another layer of smaller leafy branches and put a final layer of grass on top. It would be very warm and rainproof and could last for a few weeks or until some bigger lads came along and destroyed it.
We did get into trouble for running about in the cornfield and playing hide and seek, it soon came to an end when the local bobby caught us. He took our names so we were too frightened to do it again.
George Spenceley, 2002
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