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I lived in a place called Hetton le Hole, Co. Durham (Tyne and Wear now), reminisced Mrs Hazel Dunn. My parents moved from Fence Houses when I was about 3yrs old. Our house was one of about 48 in the street overlooking another one on the side, and the other side had a long garden.
We were directly opposite another road, Eppleton church, further down was the cricket field, and the school where I went was at the bottom. My father was a miner (coal cutter) and my job was to wash his back before getting in the tin bath and then clean his pit boots.
Everyone knew each other in the street, and my mother was always ready to help anyone, as were the other neighbours. Dad nearly fell down the pit shaft one day when he got his foot caught in a coil of rope, but he was lucky.
I had two older brothers, the eldest went down the mine and later he went into Fire and Rescue at Houghton-le-Spring. My other brother went to a local garage to work until he joined the navy, as did other relations before him.
Dad's eldest brother went down with his ship The Black Prince at the battle of Jutland, which we have recently read up about on the internet, very interesting reading. We tell the grandchildren of sitting in cold, wet air raid shelters, sweets rationed, and no fruit.
To get not much of anything long cues formed to stand in for just a couple of bananas and a few apples. But I seem to remember we were quite content.
There was the local cinema costing 3d downstairs and 6d upstairs. I recall all the lovely films: John Payne (Springtime in the Rockies); Stewart Granger in Love Story; we loved it.
I went on to marry a lad from Easington Lane who worked at the pit, and then joined the RAF for 22yrs. We moved to many places and then settled down where we are at the moment: Yarm in Cleveland.
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