Posted by nanholcroft on August 1, 2016 at 5:10 AM
Been on Facebook this morning to Fallin and Stirling in Scotland, the place I spent the first seventeen years of my life in. It's amazing the photos people send in. It all builds into a wonderful flashback of my younger years. Up to the age of about seven, I lived in the pit blocks, the only time I left the village was to visit my granny who lived about five or six miles away in a little village called Airth. I thought it was great going in the bus, it was the only time I did, except in trip busses to the seaside organised by the church or collections that the women organised. In them days children played in the area they were born in, and believe me the pit blocks where I lived was like a dangerous adventure playground for kids. There was the pit sprays that the older boys swam in, the gummy pond where we used to go to catch tadpoles, the stream over the school wall where we caught baggie minions, (sticklebacks) but the tip, where people tipped their unwanted rubbish that you couldn't burn in the fire, was always my favourite. In them days there was no such thing as the council picking up and taking away old pieces of discarded house furniture, not that people renewed their furniture like they do today, But we girls always found things to make houses and shops with; like old mattresses and kitchen pots and pans etc, we'd make dens under bushes to set up our house. There was two bings there, the coal bing and the drossy bing. The coal bing always had people looking for coal for their fire until they got their ton ration from the pit. Then there was the drossy bing where we would find things to slide down on, mainly shovels. The trouble with doing that if you slipped of your shovel or whatever you were sliding on, it left your knickers torn and your bum all scratched and embedded with black dust that looked like a tattoo. It was very painful, but the worse was to come when you got home, after all you had been warned not to go near the bings in the first place. The sunny days were the best, especially the picnics. Off we'd go with our jam sandwiches and a bottle of water to the Smithy, A little stream that flowed under a tunnel at the bottom of a hill in a field near the blocks. It was always full of cows so you had to look out for cow pats.We'd spend all day there with an empty jam jar that had string tied round the top fishing for tidlers. Ahh them were the days, we had nowt, but we were happy.
Categories: None
Post a Comment
Oops!
Oops, you forgot something.
Oops!
The words you entered did not match the given text. Please try again.
Oops!
Oops, you forgot something.