We would play on the frozen roads making slides, as the temperature dropped below freezing we'd throw buckets of water on to the centre of the road so that it would become frozen. We'd line up and take a run and slide one after the other to the end. Great fun but like all good things it didn t last because some disgruntled parent or killjoy would sprinkle salt on the slide causing it to thaw, this meant that the group of screaming children sliding down at great speed would come to an abrupt halt and we'd all land in a heap in the wet, where the ice had thawed. When the snow arrived it would grow into great drifts across the road making it impossible for the milk to be delivered by horse and cart. The horses were very intelligent creatures. The milkman or woman would collect a couple of pints of milk and walk up the path to make the delivery at the doorstep, the horse would take a few more steps onto the next house in readiness for the milk man to collect the next batch of bottles.

After a couple of days the snow would become compact and we lads and lasses would shovel it, making it into blocks the size of paving stones then we'd build them into igloos or forts. We also enjoyed snowballing each other.

We played outside during the dark winter nights, every so often the sky would turn to a warm red glow, this occurred when one of the steel plants opened a door on the open hearth furnaces to feed more scrap into the white-hot molten metal. As soon as the charging machine pulled away from the furnace the door was closed again and the rosy glow would disappear. It lasted for a few seconds then it was complete darkness again but as there were a number of these steel plants within three or four miles of Brambles Farm and the work was going on all the time, the sky was very often lit up.

As soon as the snow disappeared and the weather got a little warmer we'd get the marbles out, or allees as we called them, they were made of glass with various twists of colour in the centre and they came in different sizes. We'd scoop out a small groove in the soil at the bottom of the garden near the fence and from a certain distance gently throw them, one, two or even three marbles towards the groove to see who could get the most into it. At other times we'd walk along the gutter at the side of the road and take turns in throwing and trying to hit the other players marble. If the other person hit your marble it then belonged to him.

The girls played with skipping ropes and sometimes with whips and tops, we'd all play with boolers (the rim of a cycle wheel), running up and down the avenue chasing after it, keeping it going with a piece of stick. Jumping garden fences was another favourite pastime but this often got us into trouble with the owners. Another game we played was, Tee mac and aleeo, we divided into two teams, one team would run and hide while the other team stayed in base, they counted up to fifty then ran to find those who were hiding and one by one return them to the base. If the base was left unattended a member of the other team could run in shouting 'tee mac and aleeo' and 'free those captured'. We had no difficulty in making our own entertainment. We made bogeys from three pieces of wood, two axles off an old pram or push chair and four wheels. The axles and wheels were nailed on to two strips of wood, a longer length of wood was attached between the two sets of wheels, one end we fixed firmly with nails to the axle board while the other end we drilled with a red hot poker, through the centre of the front axle board we'd fit a bolt and nut and with two lengths of string fastened to the front end we could steer it.
Old bike frames were scavenged, a couple of small pram wheels were fixed and the contraption was used like an old fashioned hobby horse. Sitting astride it we propelled ourselves along with our feet.

Another pastime was flying kites, we made them ourselves with newspaper for the backing, a couple of thin pieces of wood for the frame, flour and water acted as the glue to hold it all together. String was a problem it was always in short supply but we got by. We then attached pieces of paper to the string pretending they were messages being sent up to the kite.

The Gas Man

They were exciting days when every three months, one of the neighbours would mention that the gasman was on his way round the area.
As bairns we would always be going to the window to check on his progress along the avenue from house to house he made his way collecting money from the penny in the slot gas meters. Then someone would shout "Oh look, he is at Mrs Eccles, number eighty three." Then it was Mrs Shaws number eighty five followed by Mrs Wilkinsons, number eighty seven.

"We are next." someone said. Then from the kitchen came a voice of authority. "Get away from the window, don't be nosey". We all sat down on the settee waiting for the expectant knock. Then 'Bang Bang' on the front door followed by the gasman entering. 'Gasman' he shouted and then disapeared into the cupboard below the stairs. He took a meter reading before unlocking the box that held many, many pennies. By the time he had entered the room we, the kids, were standing around the table waiting for the clatter of all the pennies as they were emptied onto the pine table. Our eyes were agog at the sight of the money. The gasman without a word commenced to collect a large handful of coins and with nimble fingers shuffled the coins into a three inch column. Then quietly counted in fours. Four, eight, twelve, sixteen, twenty, twentyfour. (That was two Shillings in those days ) Ten pence in todays money. The twenty four pennies were carefully placed on the table in a stack. The counting went on for sometime. Each stack kept about two inches from the others until all of the pennies were counted. Reaching down to his side he took from his leather bag a number of strong paper bags, and with the speed of lightning placed ten stacks of coins in each bag before sealing it with a strip of sticky paper. We looked on aghast at the speed of which such a pile of pennies were counted. Totaling the ammount up he picked up a book to calculate the ammont of gas used. Before turning to mam and saying "Not too much rebate this time Mrs Spenceley. You will get more when the winter months arrive." Mam mumbled something like, "Aye, you always say that". Then he was up and out saying good day. We stayed around the table looking at the small heap of pennies left as rebate. Mam checked the money, giving us a penny each which made us happy in the thought that we could make a beeline for Mrs Thorntons for a bag of toffees.

Noise

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.

The Works

Noise from the works was continuous due to the overhead cranes with their cogs turning and clanking as they lifted the heavy steel beams. Every now and then you could hear the loud metallic clatter when a large piece of metal was dropped on to another metal surface or on to girders, followed by the screaming of the huge circular saws cutting through the metal. The noise of the hardened teeth whining through the red hot girders would suddenly stop as they cut off the bloom ends at a predetermined length. You could also hear the charging machines that resembled a gun travelling up and down tracks in front of the furnaces, forever working, attaching its long arm onto a coffin-shaped metal tub loaded with metal scrap or limestone. Then swinging around to face the furnace the door would open to allow the operator to discharge the tub into the brilliant white molten mass of steel, he'd be squinting through the dark blue lenses of a pair of glasses that were sitting on the end of his nose. He took little notice of the blast of searing heat that came to meet him as the furnace door was opened.

Our Air Raid Shelter

We were a very large family, Dad was provided with materials to build a double air-raid shelter. He and a couple of his friends dug a very big hole in the backgarden about three or four feet deep. They bolted corrugated sheeting together to form the roof and sides then lined the bottom and lower sides with concrete, covered the top with a good layer of soil and that helped to hide it. Finally Dad built a shed construction to cover the entrance and placed a number of bunks inside for us, with a bit of luck we'd be safe.

The air-raids at night were very frightening, the siren would give the warning, we'd all get up out of our beds, put on our coats as there was no time to dress, collect our gas masks and go out of the back door to the shelter. Mam and the older ones brought the patchwork quilts off the beds. The sky would be lit with beams of light from the search lights trying to seek out the German bombers as they slipped from cloud to cloud, once located all the lights would turn on the invading planes. The planes couldn't travel low over our area because of the number of barrage balloons in the skies around Middlesbrough and along the river Tees, they couldn't risk getting tangled in the balloons wiring but the constant drone of their engines would sound louder and louder, the guns from the local army camp would start firing trying to hit the planes and bring them down.

When we sat in the shelter the funny part about it was that we always talked quietly as if afraid someone might hear. On one particularly heavy raid Mam was so worried for our safety that she gripped the candle she was holding so hard that her fingers made an imprint in the wax and the candle became misshapen. Looking through a crack in the side of the shed it looked brighter than day outside, it was a blue-white light and so bright.  'I wonder what's happening out there?' Mam whispered. Then suddenly the door opened making us all jump, it was Dad.  'Where's the bucket?' he shouted. Mam answered, 'Upstairs'. Dad retorted, 'Upstairs? Where abouts upstairs?'. Mam spoke quietly so the neighbours couldn't hear, 'In the bedroom Dad'.  'For goodness sake hasn't it been emptied yet?'.

It was used as a chamber pot in the bedroom at night as there was no toilet upstairs. Dad had wanted it urgently to put out some flares that had been dropped in a field next to our house by the German bomber, it was those flares that had made the brilliant white light we'd seen earlier.

I, like all the other members of the family always worried about going back into the house after an air raid in case a German spy had sneaked in while we were in the shelter. Our imaginations always ran wild on such occasions. On one particular night the bombing was very heavy, a bomb seemed to be screaming down, then it stopped.  'That was a whistling bomb.' Mam said quietly 'And it hasn t gone off yet, it sounded so close I wonder where it is. There should have been an explosion but nothing had happened'. Sitting very quietly we all thought the bomb was very near to our house, all was silent, there was no drone of planes or noise from the guns just silence, followed then by the all clear.

The following day I'd returned from afternoon school and was playing by the side of the house when a very loud rumble and thud seemed to come from the area of South Bank. Looking across towards the Gas Works there was smoke, dust and pieces of paper and debris billowing up towards the sky, the ground shook, I quickly made a bee line into the house. I now understand that it was St. Peters school in South Bank that had been blown up by the bomb that had been dropped the previous night.

We were sitting on the ground at another time when an aeroplane flew very low round and round the estate. I was told to go inside as it may be a German plane taking aerial photographs of the steel works, then suddenly the plane banked and hundreds of pieces of paper dropped from it as it passed over our house. They were propaganda leaflets and I think they had the face of Hitler and four Jack-boots on them, with the slogan:-  TO HELL WITH HITLER . ( I would like a copy of one of those leaflets, to add to this page)

The Junior School at Brambles Farm was about half a mile from our house and whilst there we had air-raid drill. Very often the local siren would sound and frighten the living daylight out of us, the teacher would calmly muster us all together and take us across the playground to the underground shelter. Once there we sat on wooden seats, the teacher, having calmed us, would read out the register to check that we were all there, for occasionally some of the kids would run home to be with their Mams. We'd sing songs and hymns to pass the time and after a short time we'd be given a large rich tea biscuit and a drink of ice cold milk from a large white enamel jug. We stayed there until the all-clear sounded then we were allowed back into our class rooms.

I and most of those like me found that the most frightening time was when we'd just left school and were on our way home, the siren would start wailing, up and down, up and down it went and being young we'd expect the German aeroplanes to sweep down out of the clouds and shoot at us. Sometimes a kindly person would run out of their house and take us in until the raid was over but on other occasions we'd just run as fast as we could home. Quite often by the time we reached our garden gate the all-clear would be sounding. Some of the children were so frightened they'd be screaming for their Mams.

The following morning we'd all be very brave again and walk around the school playing fields looking for pieces of shrapnel that had fallen during the previous nights raid and our main conversation would be about what we'd done while the raid was at its height. During the worst days of the war we stopped attending the main school and had to go to Mrs. Reynolds house on Colledge Road at the top of our avenue, eight of us formed a class which was held in her back room, the back room of our house was also used as a classroom for eight older pupils.

The Lady Next Door.

The lady who lived next door was Johns mother. John and I were playing in the fields when we heard the noise of an aeroplane, it was further over towards Smiths farm. It was flying very low just above the farm buildings and the engines were very quiet, then it landed in the next field to where we were playing. We thought that they may be spies, (imagination again). We ran back to our house but found no one in, so we ran on to tell Johns Mam. She wouldn t believe us at first, then she got her coat and said 'Come on show me'.

Now, Johns mother was a rather well built lady and after a lot of huffing and puffing we reached the place where the plane had landed but there was a hedge stopping us getting to it. We found a place with wooden railings topped with barbed wire and Johns Mam hitched up her dress to climb over the fence, she was almost over when her undergarment got snagged on the barbed wire. John and I started to laugh at the sight of his mothers pants caught on the wire, she was very annoyed and told us to stop messing about and help her. We tried in vain but she was too heavy for us, her pants were torn before she was free and didnt she vent her embarrassment on us. To top it all by the time we'd freed her the authorities were at the plane and all the public were kept well away.

Location: Middlesbrough
Submitted by georgie