ChronicleLive - Chronicle People

My new stamp collection

Wed, 07 Jan 2009 10:29:38 +0000

Because of the success of the Remember When magazine I get many letters from Geordie ex-pats, not only British-based, but from all over the world. A large envelope arrived from Canada last week and I was pleasantly surprised at the quality and design of the stamps.

At first I wondered who I could pass them onto, but I soon realised that stamp collecting is not an popular hobbie nowadays, especially when pitted against computer games.

But I really had no intention of disposing of these lovely stamps (one of walruses, one of horses, another of nesting birds and also one of insects), so I then had the idea of starting up a stamp collection for my grandson and another for my great-grandson.

Soon stamps may be a thing of the past - you never know.

Am I doing the right thing?

Miss Modern Is Not Fit to Marry

Wed, 15 Oct 2008 08:37:30 +0000

This story, written by Arnold Undew, was published in the Sunday Sun on May 3, 1931, under the above headline.

THERE'S a great deal I cannot help liking about the modern girl. She's ordinarily as good a sport as one could wish to meet, and excellent companion, a loyal friend, and a fair enemy. Life for me would be dull indeed without her.
But she is not fit to marry.
Naturally I write of the many. There are a few exceptions here and there who obviously would make excellent wives, but it is my unhappy experience that they are not, as a rule, the type, who attract male admirers. Not men under twenty-five, anyway.
We younger m en in our late teens and early twenties look for a girl who has "pep" and who is good company.
We want to marry, too, for man is, after all, the conservative and old-fashioned sex. The trouble is to discover a girl who has the "pep" and also the qualities which we seek in a wife.
Why is it such a difficult task? Why is the modern girl charming, attractive, debonair, healthy, but nevertheless unfit to marry.

NO IDEA OF MONEY
In the first place, she has little or no idea of the real value of money.
I once read a foolish article eulogising the business girl and saying how much her business experience would help her when it was a question of balancing her own domestic budget. Stuff and nonsense!
Not one girl worker in ten comes into any real contact with figures in her day's work. The so-called "business girl" imposes frequently upon the good nature of her parents, getting board and lodging under the parental roof for an uneconomic figure which may be 50 per cent, under what the same service would cost her elsewhere.
Proudly she calls herself self-supporting and looks upon the balance - the bulk - that is - of her earnings as money to be devoted to dress, hairdressing, powder, lipstick and kindred "necessities!"
What sort of a basis is this for the harsh reality of marriage in which two people normally live on the earnings of one man and in which the necessaries of existence absorb so large a percentage of the total income!
And how many modern girls are ready to face this harsh reality?

PLEASURE-MAD
Nor is the modern girl prepared to cope with the inevitable drudgery which is the lot of every woman who throws in her lot with a man in an ordinary station in life. I remember my own mother... the sacrifices which she willingly made to bring up a family of two girls and three boys.
The modern girl is pleasure-mad. I wonder if in her more solitary moments she ever seriously considers the tie which a family of small children, even a small family of two or three imposes?
It means the end of cinemas two or three times a week, an end to dances.
True, many a mother would proudly assert that the sacrifice is a thousand times worthwhile.
But how many modern girls are prepared to discover this for themselves?
Very few, so far as I can judge.
The modern girl is not a home-lover. She wants to use her home as a dormitory and beauty parlour: not as a place to eat, enjoy herself and bring up children.
All these are serious failings from the point of view of a man who contemplates marrying the major virtue he looks for in a wife are capability in spending his earnings economically, and wisely: pride in a home which will be for him a real refuge from an often unsympathetic world: and above all, a readiness to bring up a family.
None of these is surely as exorbitant or extravagant expectation. But modern girls who make these their first and foremost considerations on entering matrimony are few and far between.
The blunt truth is that the modern girl who is really fit to marry is hard to find.

Women's Utopia?

Thu, 09 Oct 2008 10:18:04 +0000

rw blog 1

While researching through old archives I frequently come across highly amusing stories which I find difficult to get into Remember When.
So I have decided to give them to readers through blogs. The first of which follows.
Found in the Sunday Sun archives, May 3, 1931:
Headline: Desert Queen who keeps a harem
Sub head: But any who run away are at once executed
Extra sub head: Story of a new tribe
(From a Special Correspondent)
Mr Francis Wellington, the famous American explorer, who has just arrived in Cairo after exploring the lesser known Southern portions of the Sahara desert, claims to have discovered a hitherto unknown tribe - half Arab, half native - who apparently completely reverse all the usages of the nomad tribes farther North.
Thus, not only are the women of the tribe, who are in the minority, allowed to have two or three husbands, but the Queen keeps a male harem, the inhabitants of which are jealously guarded by the Queen's military retinue of handmaidens.
Mr Wellington became friendly with the Queen, who consented to show him the harem.
This consisted of twelve men. All were unusually handsome. As the explorer says, they ought to be. They have nothing at all to worry about; they are waited upon hand and foot by other men in servile positions, who cook all the food, do all the cleaning and washing, and generally act as housekeepers.
The harem occupants lead a life of pleasure and ease.
Hunting parties, games and races are arranged for the men. The twelve are each in turn chosen to keep the Queen company, so that they cannot complain about favouritism.
There is a great competition for the bonus of being appointed to the harem. The Queen never keeps a man after he is 35, after which he then becomes a worker, or else he is married off to some other woman. Nor does she accept a man before he is 22.
Should an inhabitant of the harem escape from its confines and be unfaithful to the Queen, he is summarily executed.
A great demand prevails among the women of the tribe for the cast-off husbands.
Men who have been in the harem longer than 12 years are supposed to be specially desirable from the marriageable point of view.
Indeed, these men can often exact a heavy price for themselves before they marry again.
They are further regarded as being endowed with the faculty of prophecy.
The Kasangos - as the tribe are known - have no unemployment problem. The women do not work, but have everything done for them by their husbands and only ex-members of the harem are exempt from this rule.
Only the birthdays of girl babies are celebrated. When a woman child is born, the whole village celebrates and dances far into the night. When a male child is born nobody takes any particular notice.
The Queen herself has no children, and she is now 52. When she dies, leaving no girl as heir, another will be appointed, curiously enough, by the men.
Mr Wellington made a cinematograph record of these people, which he soon hopes to show in the cinemas. The film should amaze everybody.

Land Army sequel

Wed, 08 Oct 2008 10:48:10 +0000

In a previous blog (Will they ever get it right?) and in Remember When stories I have gone on about the apparent inability by the the Ministry to hand out Land Army badges to those who have lost their mother who was a member of the Land Army, before a certain date late year.

If you check back on the blogs you will see that I stated the case why they should not have a cut-off date.

I also sent a copy of my blog to the ministry and received the following reply.

Dear Mr Marshall

Thank you for your email regarding the WLA badge. My sincere apologies for the delay in responding to your email. There has been an overwhelming response for WLA badge applications and requests and it has taken longer then anticipated to deal with it all.

I send my sincere apologies as I do understand that relatives of those who served in the Women's Land Army but who are sadly no longer with us, will be disappointed that the badge is not being awarded posthumously. We did think about it but decided that it was just not a practical proposition, it is also the same approach that has been taken with other Veteran badges issued by the Ministry of Defence, and with the Bevin Boys Badge issued by the Department for Business, Enterprise and Regulatory Reform (BERR).
The original decision was made by the Secretary of State, however, due to a large amount of correspondence on this matter we are now reviewing the decision. None-the-less I will print out this email and keep a copy of your enquiry so that if there is a turn in decision we have your details and will contact you accordingly.

Again I do apologise for the decision and if you have any other queries please do not hesitate to contact me.

Kind Regards

Zarrine Sajjad
Email: Zarrine.Sajjad@defra.gsi.gov.uk
Defra, Area 2B,
Nobel House,
17 Smith Square,
London, SW1P 3JR

So all is not lost. I am still getting letters in support for families of Land Army girls being able to apply for the badges and will continue to pass them on to the Ministry to keep up the pressure. Please help by writing to me at Remember When, Evening Chronicle, Groat Market, NE1 1ED or respond to this blog.

Thanks

Wash houses and the like

Fri, 12 Sep 2008 14:26:07 +0000

I don't know, they go on about saving engergy - but do you remember the days of the old wash houses. I wonder how much they cost to run.
Maybe they were quite expensive, but I doubt it. But most of all people got together, gossiped, and didn't spend money they didn't have on the latest washing machines. At the end of the day their washing was done, everyone had a good natter and went home knowing everyone's business.
I suppose they weren't ideal, but we moved slowly on from there and everything was fine, that is, until everyone wanted everything yesterday.
Loans for holidays and cars, 125% mortgages, furniture and kitchens changed every couple of years.
I can remember when times were tough, in fact they were much tougher than today - and people got much less help.
I just wish people would think a bit more before diving in and expecting everything on a plate! We never did in the past.

Remembering Laurel and Hardy

Fri, 12 Sep 2008 09:39:58 +0000

IN THE latest Remember When, issue 63, I included a request from the Nutty Nut News Network in an appeal for any of our readers who had seen Laurel and Hardy on any of their North East tours.

They appeared at both the Empire, Newcastle and the Empire, Sunderland in 1947, 1952, 1953 and 1954 and of course Stan lived a good part of his early life in North Shields.

But it also reminded me of a story I have often told when give talks about my job retelling stories about Memory Lane.

Will they ever get it right?

Mon, 28 Jul 2008 10:32:01 +0000

There were lots of happy ladies around the North East and the rest of the British Isles as Land Army badges arrived through the post. These ladies, who proudly did 'their bit' to help in the war effort, have finally been recognised for their efforts, a bit late but, as they say, better late than never.
Of course, over the years, we have lost many of those lovely girls, but their families still recall their stories, enjoy showing pictures of their mums and grannies who donned their green jumpers, brown breeches and brown felt hats and ploughed and harvested for a nation at war.
My gripe comes from a phone call from a daughter of one of these lovely ladies. She had lost her mother a number of years ago, but still remembers with pride her stories and the fact that her mother would have been proud of the recognition the badge brings.
She asked how would she go about getting the badge and who to contact. I made enquiries and found out that the badges will not be able to be awarded to spouses or families of deceased members of the Land Army, except where death has occurred after December 6, 2007.
As usual, they stop short of doing things right. I'm sure that it wouldn't have taken many more badges to satisfy any demand and if the demand was quite large they are only badges - even if very, very important badges.
It's taken them over 60 years to come this far, how much longer to do the job properly?
Why do they have to be so mealy-mouthed.

Changing bands

Fri, 11 Jul 2008 08:29:55 +0000

My feature on singer Ivy Barnes at the Oxford Galleries was followed by many comments about the merits of different big bands. One was said to be too loud, another other too showy - one was better for dancers . . . and so on.
It wasn't until I contacted band leader and musician Stan Coates that the nuances of the big band was explained to me. As in today's world a lot of the differences were down to cash. Many a band would be in full swing and on top of their form when, through economics, they would have to lose a trumpeter or two, then a guitarist or pianist might leave and be hard to replace, especially in quality.
Obviously there was a difference in the quality of the arranging, with some band leaders, being former band members, mimicking their predecessors.
Of course it took a lot of cash to put together a big band and that was alright as long as the dance halls were full. But when they were on the wane the first thing that went was that big sound.
But weren't they awesome.

Where a story comes from

Thu, 10 Jul 2008 07:54:52 +0000

If you're lucky enough a story will fall into your lap, which happened to me with the Ivy Barnes story just featured in the Evening Chronicle. It happened I had produced a feature in the Remember When magazine on a St Trinian's night at the Oxford Galleries in the 1950s.
A fortnight later I received a phone call from front reception asking if it was possible for someone to buy one of the photographs. I enquired if that person was in the picture. That person was and it was a Mrs Pace.
But she was sitting in a position, on the picture, which made me think she was part of the band playing that night, probably the singer.
I obtained her phone number and later gave her a call.
It turned out Mrs Pace was, in fact, Ivy Barnes singer with the popular George Evans Band at the Oxford Galleries for a number of years in the 1950s. Ivy was lovely, surprised, and didn't realise people would want to read her very interesting story. She also had a number of pictures of those years as well as a CD of a live BBC broadcast from the galleries.
The story was so well liked that, beside being featured in the Remember When magazine it took out a page and a half in the Evening Chronicle and was heavily featured on the website.
We always say that everybody has a story to tell and when Mrs Pace came in the front reception to buy a picture featured in our magazine, she didn't realise that within a fortnight she would be our front page picture of Remember When.

Strange but true

Sun, 25 May 2008 20:53:49 +0000

Remember when parking your car on the street was so easy - as long as it didn't cause an obstruction. Remember when putting your rubbish in a bin was simple and not a constant worry that a rubbish policeman will pounce on you if you accidentally put in the wrong kind of rubbish.

As for parking, first came the meters and yellow lines, traffic wardens and for bins, first the wheelie and then the green bin. Now they are both part of a massive industry, whose tentacles are reaching into all walks of life, in deliberately fining the public for anything they can catch a person doing against some new ruling.

Take former TV presenter Joan Bakewell, who managed to escape a fine when she fell foul of the new internet parking rules.

Apparently, her particular town has introduced a new parking bays linked to the internet. When you park you just use your mobile phone to text in and bob's your uncle (or quite a few bob is syphoned off your account!).

If you have not got a mobile phone you have to go elsewhere. Many elderly (and not so elderly) people have not got a mobile phone and even Joan Bakewell found that she didn't understand the rules. Imagine some elderly person getting flustered trying to text parking details.

It's all becoming a nonsense and it is about time councils (and police) went back to the old ways, which meant serving the public and not fleecing them.

Finally, a story I read today said that a guy was fined for blowing up and then releasing a balloon. Actually, he then turned away and the balloonn flew and fell and became litter. Under the zero tolerace attitude of the council he was fined £50. Mmmmmm. In the same newspaper school pupils released 205 balloons carrying their address.

They flew up into the air and away. But someday, somewhere, they will be litter - and with the school address on will that mean they will get 205 fines of £50 each?

It's becoming a mad mad mad world!

A load of old tripe!

Mon, 12 May 2008 10:43:16 +0000

I was talking to Christine the other day - Christine is one of the unsung heroes of the Chronicle library, without whom my job would be impossible - and, somehow, the subject of food came up, which meant we exchanged Remember When fry-up stories.

We talked about the delights of dripping and bread. As Christine's grandfather was a shipyard worker during the war, he got all the eggs and bacon, to keep his strength up for the hard day ahead and (by way of a treat), the children were given dripping and bread, amongst other war-time delicacies.

You're as old as you feel

Wed, 07 May 2008 08:53:19 +0000

Through Remember When I have met many elderly people - and I am often amazed by what they have achieved in life, whether it is struggling through being evacuated during the war, serving in the armed forces at any given time, or dealing with the general hardships of life. But one person, Danny White, certainly stands out.

Danny arrived in the Evening Chronicle offices one day with sheet music from the days of the silent movies. He sang during the silent films - obviously many, many years ago.

I interviewed Danny and he related his life story to Remember When, his schooldays, war service, etc. Now Danny was very sharp, definitely left me standing (though that's not too hard) and, later I edited his story for Remember When.

But when I typed in his date of birth I believed I had got it wrong, I had misheard him. So when Danny returned to collect something I had borrowed, I enquired how old he was, saying I had misheard his date of birth and had him down as 100.

"I am 101 on my next birthday," said Danny. Now we have set preconceptions of the elderly, one is that their faculties begin to wane.

Danny was so fit and, all I can say, if his mind was on the wane, he must have been a genius not so many years ago.

Messages from the past

Fri, 14 Mar 2008 15:50:15 +0000

Lately I have beem fascinated by the old adverts painted on walls where shops once stood. If you glance around old buildings you will surely spot one. My first was spotted on Byker High Street, there was an old shop advertisement painted on the side of a wall - so old it offered chimney sweeping or tools for use in shipyards.

I have found it so fascinating (yesterday I found the ghostly letters of an old pawn shop on a building), that I have decided to record them. So if you come across any old adverts painted on walls, give me a shout!

When there was smoke!

Thu, 06 Mar 2008 09:15:17 +0000

I remember the great atmosphere you used to get when going into a pub. The clash of glasses knocking together, the chatter, the smoke, the ambience. What did I say there? The smoke. Of course we've taken that out of the equation with the no smoking rule.

Now let me say straight away that I don't smoke and never have. But I certainly don't think I have the right to tell others not to. I can always move away if I want to.

But what surprises me is the comments of people who previously called for the ban.

That's witchcraft

Thu, 28 Feb 2008 09:26:33 +0000

Listening to Radio Five Live on my run-in to work the subject of witchcraft came up. Various events from history were discussed and it ended with the presenter saying that the last person to stand trial in Britain for witchcraft did so in 1944, meaning how could we have been so daft in 1944 - it seems we were dafter than he thought.

At a seance in Portsmouth in late November 1941, Helen Duncan, a spiritualist medium from Callander, Scotland, announced that she had contacted a dead sailor who had told her that his ship, HMS Barham, had recently been sunk (with the loss of 861 lives).

The Admiralty were trying to keep this fact quiet from the Germans who hadn't realised they had sunk the battleship and the British, on the grounds of keeping up moral. Relatives were later told of the loss of their loved-one's but also told not to tell anyone else on the grounds of national security.

Duncan was not arrested in the aftermath of the Barham incident but later, in 1944, superstitious intelligence officers learned of the event and feared that Duncan might reveal plans for the D-Day landings.

To make sure she was kept quiet Duncan was convicted under the British Witchcraft Act of 1735 and sentenced to nine months in prison.