tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90597515199891769452024-03-04T21:19:45.801-08:00GIBSHILL 1940's 1950'sAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.comBlogger68125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-66008344670264663502014-07-29T08:04:00.004-07:002014-07-29T08:04:54.220-07:00Our Swimming Pool & Gang Huts.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi130Oyt6uC64V1yNIQJREQbybpoYZ1MKGWqc5ojYnl5wUQeV2fArhETdJkNqffuOd9I4axAH3pHr_79SDb9XtQKT_JZo2CFGjj7sndLjC5NjiAhPLdr7wpVVRAASXDl3WB3pDFECaDH8o/s1600/ScannedImage-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi130Oyt6uC64V1yNIQJREQbybpoYZ1MKGWqc5ojYnl5wUQeV2fArhETdJkNqffuOd9I4axAH3pHr_79SDb9XtQKT_JZo2CFGjj7sndLjC5NjiAhPLdr7wpVVRAASXDl3WB3pDFECaDH8o/s1600/ScannedImage-2.jpg" height="224" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong>Our Swimming Pool & Gang
Huts.</strong></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong></strong></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong>In the 1940's this was our patch, we guarded this
area, we had gang fights with the Chalmers St. mob, the Ladyburn building's mob,
the Weir St mob, the Quarrier St. mob, and even sometimes the lads from the East
side of the Gibby</strong></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong></strong></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong></strong></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong>Earlier on in my Blog I've explained all about the
" Racers " " The Old Quarry " & even the " Wee Farm ", but there are a few
other things I will explain, and I've marked it on this photo ( above
)</strong></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong></strong></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong></strong></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong>The was a Burn ( Stream ) running down beside the
Gibshill Brae, near the wee bridge, and in the summer we dammed it, and made our
own swimming pool, the depth of the water was shoulder deep, we spent hours,
diving and swimming, as the stream was constant running it overflowed at the
edges giving us constant clean water, but the trouble we had to stop outsiders
using it, we always had our sticks, catapults, and a selection of chuckies (
stones ) off the railway track on hand ready, just in case</strong></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong></strong></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong></strong></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong>Birds Eggs were a collectors item back then, and
the bushes and small trees was very dense and about 6/7 feet high, because of
our constant use, a series of tracks developed between our " Gang Huts " which
we had built, about 4 /5 in all, we chased the egg hunters, and guarded the
nests from either collectors or just kids that took a pleasure in wrecking the
nests, yes we loved our patch</strong></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong></strong></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong></strong></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong>Because of our gang fights, or even just two or
three lads trying their luck to muscle in, going to school every morning was a
looking over your shoulder walk, you never knew who you would meet, I had many a
scrap on the way and coming from school, but I loved my youth, never had a dull
moment, fights & football, what more could you expect in the 1940's....I
Loved it.</strong></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong></strong></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong></strong></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong>My house is the one with the X on it.....2 Irwin
St., Gibshill, Greenock.</strong></span></div>
</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-45529444618327559672014-07-29T03:47:00.002-07:002014-07-29T03:47:33.424-07:00Starting work at the Greenock Ship Yards<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbvwIIOjGkZ3yb7AxHvnWPwHWhdyoD0xdgqZWFL3w4PXSpoSSbOZA-N-YrKO2PVUjIb_HivZtNYyf7qyq9ATSMjQliM0A0N-wMfAr5sexX4AitXTmqgM64cWTVY5UPzgPgqK5za9dtcSk/s1600/ScannedImage-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbvwIIOjGkZ3yb7AxHvnWPwHWhdyoD0xdgqZWFL3w4PXSpoSSbOZA-N-YrKO2PVUjIb_HivZtNYyf7qyq9ATSMjQliM0A0N-wMfAr5sexX4AitXTmqgM64cWTVY5UPzgPgqK5za9dtcSk/s1600/ScannedImage-9.jpg" height="320" width="259" /></a></div>
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<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Greenock Shipyards</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Starting work in Greenock Shipyards as a young lad in the
early 50's was an experience never to be forgotten, Mother helped me get ready,
to enable to catch the " Big Gibby " at 7:30am, in time for my 8:oo am start,
</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Jas Mitchell & Sons ( Plumbers ) was sub-contracting
in Kincaid's on one of the Clan Boats, I was an apprentice plumber, and felt
really important going to work on the Big Gibby full of workers</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Mother had bought me my tea & sugar tinny, a pair of
heavy work boots, my own Bunnet, and most important my Tea Can, to make my tea
at our breaks, a man called Hughie Cox from Cobham St was a Plumbers Labourer,
who met me at the Gibby bus stop, I was his goal-keeper for a football team he
ran, so I felt 100% safe in his company...WRONG !!! as soon as I was aboard the
ship, I was surrounded, stripped of my new boots, bunnet, and tea can, plus my
tea & sugar tin, and all the workers to great delight to kick them all over
the deck, all I could do was look on, I daren't complain, my piece ( sandwich )
which my mother made up for me, boiled egg & apple, wrapped in grease proof
paper, went over the side</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">When my mother bough my boots, my father got his last out,
Segs ( Steel Plate ) toe & heel, and steel tacks all over, you could hear me
coming from miles away, I was so proud of them, I felt 10 feet
tall.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">By the time I got my possessions back, my tea tin was all
dented, my bunnet didn't look the same at all, and my boots, well, I was lucky
they still fitted, they had all been kicked to beyond recondition, My mother had
spent money that she couldn't afford to get me to work, and I was very worried
of her reaction, considering how many, back-handers or skelps as we called them,
but to my amazement her & my father laughed, remember I was only 14
Years</span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-3197202979077293092014-04-08T00:28:00.001-07:002014-04-08T00:28:25.665-07:00Boils in the Neck<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0YpY-KctlkFVd5OWg6rsShNp-Yniy_N7XRU4wcV01jZ97rvq4-ywx6F6EDH4jPVdv0NWcjZHhVN7OwfTO2mNs71e-SCzKZQWCRPLFz4GOLQyEy8GmzE-bsU4NKdC93Rnazc7ExIsBe6I/s1600/Black+%2526+White+%25282%2529.jpg778.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0YpY-KctlkFVd5OWg6rsShNp-Yniy_N7XRU4wcV01jZ97rvq4-ywx6F6EDH4jPVdv0NWcjZHhVN7OwfTO2mNs71e-SCzKZQWCRPLFz4GOLQyEy8GmzE-bsU4NKdC93Rnazc7ExIsBe6I/s1600/Black+%2526+White+%25282%2529.jpg778.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnNlLQa4BoarQ9i1Ixp0goAH2xg_Yxfjwc3Je9h6Q_nGlMBRdEEEZnrWxHfF9m8U_cRmEKGYbXQXh7NRfuxgJYvZJU4MMNEJ8q_yKs-jObaK3qY8xO65h27_nXn31KLQrYNfpl9dH7i-8/s1600/Black+%2526+White+%252821%2529.jpg335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnNlLQa4BoarQ9i1Ixp0goAH2xg_Yxfjwc3Je9h6Q_nGlMBRdEEEZnrWxHfF9m8U_cRmEKGYbXQXh7NRfuxgJYvZJU4MMNEJ8q_yKs-jObaK3qY8xO65h27_nXn31KLQrYNfpl9dH7i-8/s1600/Black+%2526+White+%252821%2529.jpg335.jpg" height="320" width="189" /></a></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">A Boil in the Neck</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">This will bring horror to a lot of you I suppose, but in
the 1940's & early 50's the work place was completely different as it is
today, people didn't take a day off cause they had a hang-over, or a headache,
or worst of all didn't feel like it.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Going to work each morning, if you started at 8:00am, as
most of the ship-yards did, if you clocked in at 08:01am, you were stopped 15
minutes, clock in at 08:16, you were stopped 30 minutes and so on</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">In the 1940's & early 50's, Boils on your neck were
rife, and it was a common sight to see folk with a large bandage round their
neck holding in a " Bread Poultice ", the boils on your neck were so painful,
but men had to go to work, and believe me they were in agony with every movement
they made</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">No my mother had lots of visitors, I think it was because
my mothers mother was Nurse Barr, and I'm sure she passed on lot's of skills on
home doctoring to mother</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">A bottle of Scotch or a bottle of wine ( Lanlique ) seemed
to be the pain killer she used, I'll never forget the first scream I heard when
I lived in Poplar Street, I thought someone was getting murdered, honestly, I
remember running for the door, from then on Mother warned me and I went " Out to
Play ", but I was so curious and asked to be shown what happens</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">There was a knack on when to minister her treatment, the
boil had to be at a certain stage, her patient was plied with drink until he
felt brave enough or didn't care about pain, which mostly took the bottle of
Wine or Whisky, Mother would get a Milk Bottle, a darning needle, now she knew
exactly how much paper to use, it was so important</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">She would sit the man on the chair, sterilize the needle,
she would then put the piece of paper in the Milk Bottle, light the paper, prick
the boil with the needle, then place the neck of the Milk </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Bottle over the head
of the boil, the lit paper would cause a vacuum then sucking the root out of the
boil, and no matter how much drink the had, they screamed believe me, BUT !!!
minutes later the relief on the men were brilliant, Mother was well known in
Gibshill of getting rid of boils and many, many Gibby folk called for her
treatment</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-78763719870281353892014-03-24T04:54:00.001-07:002014-03-24T04:54:12.068-07:00The Nit Nurse<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg37xR2wc8aTF-pPzpfburTYf0yPf0h0mYbEL2C5hLA_SdsgyjwQ50mhxcsyPqshuvfibCrCojHORBZxarjkQhfdGeLqWwiU7DT3KTb1esC-Ebd5SMNyu1bw17SeQw5b8_Bfqj5798ucFM/s1600/Black+&+White+(107).jpg123.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg37xR2wc8aTF-pPzpfburTYf0yPf0h0mYbEL2C5hLA_SdsgyjwQ50mhxcsyPqshuvfibCrCojHORBZxarjkQhfdGeLqWwiU7DT3KTb1esC-Ebd5SMNyu1bw17SeQw5b8_Bfqj5798ucFM/s1600/Black+&+White+(107).jpg123.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">This photo is a wee bit before my time, BUT, the exercise
was just the same, in the 1940's fleas were a plenty, and lots of school kids
had them, it was usually a fight who sat next to who in class, you never wanted
to sit next to someone you expected to having fleas.....somehow the word spread
round school " The Nit Nurse is here " caused panic among us, we all knew what
to expect, each class went down stairs to the hall and lined up.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">With expert four fingers and thumbs the nurse would start
on your head, she always had it in her head that you had fleas, and was
determined to find one on you, she would go over and over back, front, sides,
and seemed disappointed if she couldn't find one on you</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">My mother kept a tight ship as far as ears and fleas were
concerned, with me and my sisters, because, it soon spread from school if anyone
had fleas, the word went out and the boy or girl were bullied by other kids in
the play-ground, and the horror the mothers felt when they got a letter from
school " Your child has fleas "</span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Earlier in my Blog, I spoke of Wullie McKay and his clippers, mothers took
their kids for Wullie to shave their heads, leaving a little tuft in front, we
nick-named it " The Paint Brush " there was no way he was going to lop off my
mop of blonde curls, all the wee lassies loved my hair</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Thank god I never got into that position, I hate to say it
but I was one of the bullies rather than the bullied</span></div>
</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-77444513163798706562014-03-24T04:52:00.000-07:002014-03-24T04:52:23.259-07:00Fleas on board.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyEjOb5qOt6nYOz5daqJqjynaOGozOwZWzi2zSQ1uHb9m4LcErENd1TyR1JuVUaLEIUmGDybc0svHvnYNfNGA5Ak1dBvnuKC44g-sIRgzEXwYfVOVF6p_WnMyAVBJe9xmfb4uCHC3jytE/s1600/BLOG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyEjOb5qOt6nYOz5daqJqjynaOGozOwZWzi2zSQ1uHb9m4LcErENd1TyR1JuVUaLEIUmGDybc0svHvnYNfNGA5Ak1dBvnuKC44g-sIRgzEXwYfVOVF6p_WnMyAVBJe9xmfb4uCHC3jytE/s1600/BLOG.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRXcV4UvAje4tsAmMbRsS3GJeMWos7eBRSgEq9oEOyrzPJHrc-WB8cn9UMLUvUzOXPhLpyIlxR4X89l-RKNPef_1J04FCgxBtMo0HusWsyr2wSlYqzv20Ko15bkGf2xP-Ix2iL8BYGIwc/s1600/Black+%2526+White+%2528107%2529.jpg980.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRXcV4UvAje4tsAmMbRsS3GJeMWos7eBRSgEq9oEOyrzPJHrc-WB8cn9UMLUvUzOXPhLpyIlxR4X89l-RKNPef_1J04FCgxBtMo0HusWsyr2wSlYqzv20Ko15bkGf2xP-Ix2iL8BYGIwc/s1600/Black+%2526+White+%2528107%2529.jpg980.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Flea's on board</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">If mother seen me scratching your head, all hell would
break loose, up went the shout " Billy Sinclair here " pointing to a spot on the
floor, " Stand there and don't move, or you will get one of these," SLAP !!!! so
I was rooted to the spot, mother would appear from the bathroom, sit on the
chair, and somehow twisted her legs, locking me in, unable to move, cause she
knew, I would have run and took the slaps later</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Out would come her Bone Comb and a bottle of mixture, I
can still smell it to this day, a clear bottle, hexagon shaped with ribbed
sides, I don't know whether it killed fleas, or ward them off, it smelled
horrible, she used to dab it on my head with cotten wool, you couldn't go out to
play, cause everyone knew the smell, so I used to nick my father's Brylcream, to
hide the smell from my mates I looked like George Raft with blond
hair</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">My mother searched and searched all over my head, Flea
Hunting, fore fingers and thumbs, now I was the same as the other lads, and
mother would find the odd one or two, and I would get a slap for each one found,
mother would get the flea, squeeze it between finger and thumb, quickly place it
on her thumb nail, and with the other thumb nail press them together, you would
hear a crack, dead !!, then I got a slap as if it was my fault, then she would
use the Bone Comb over and over in case they had laid eggs, I always got the
slap, to remind me to be more careful who I played with or sat beside, as if you
could.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-2657600155742325342014-03-24T04:45:00.001-07:002014-03-24T04:45:16.470-07:00Ear Wax.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2amAkpLSVNcC9ggWEtNQuZ5Ly940tK8HAWPLnIbd5vSsnKmIqW7E-SvZQwWzDjlJ4mxenBM-6O9pwyAt5FGOj6L02_5x4ujjZhM3-aOGiSQuvsDMYlVs5fQkdCu-v48Lg-XjrZTyVvFQ/s1600/Black+&+White+(107).jpg6789.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2amAkpLSVNcC9ggWEtNQuZ5Ly940tK8HAWPLnIbd5vSsnKmIqW7E-SvZQwWzDjlJ4mxenBM-6O9pwyAt5FGOj6L02_5x4ujjZhM3-aOGiSQuvsDMYlVs5fQkdCu-v48Lg-XjrZTyVvFQ/s1600/Black+&+White+(107).jpg6789.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Ear Wax</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Now this was a weekly task I went through, and it was
hell, I would get locked between mothers legs, the way she placed me when doing
my hair, so I was unable to move, and with one of my mothers Kirby Grips, she
would search in my ears, and in would go the rounded end of the Kirby Grip, and
she would scrape any wax that was there, it hurt, but...I had two choices, moan
and get a slap, or put up with it, I put up with it, but my ears were always
spotless, the big struggle would start if she said " I may as well have a look
at your head, while your here "</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-73681457308977332222014-02-27T01:00:00.003-08:002014-02-27T01:00:32.072-08:00The Gibby, Bogston Bridge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBPxQ-c3ZBcjGEN7erEZlWZ0ubKWr4VkY5XR27afx6VXRGhBPodHOo_99IcmYsx94tEwd31q_OCPpQmv2awv-dSIyVzJIp-BWM64a9VRKO1oN3UQtQm75MTrXSP3w7U6GZ4BbjfOrhtaI/s1600/Davy++Baxter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBPxQ-c3ZBcjGEN7erEZlWZ0ubKWr4VkY5XR27afx6VXRGhBPodHOo_99IcmYsx94tEwd31q_OCPpQmv2awv-dSIyVzJIp-BWM64a9VRKO1oN3UQtQm75MTrXSP3w7U6GZ4BbjfOrhtaI/s1600/Davy++Baxter.jpg" height="211" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-1436335205620603242014-01-22T02:44:00.001-08:002014-01-22T02:44:13.736-08:00The Accumulator<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0QPjZocYJdgqhWs3vKI8FFLp9Uly04Yv7NKG30zTwrrCvXqAX8FkBLkaqdaiS5-NObAw3xbh5_nkiqnDYR-x2saiWbqYv7EkYQLPkHdZ020Eaka1W_2UiqzLGnDHb2ibU02vkwGNAU08/s1600/Accumilator.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0QPjZocYJdgqhWs3vKI8FFLp9Uly04Yv7NKG30zTwrrCvXqAX8FkBLkaqdaiS5-NObAw3xbh5_nkiqnDYR-x2saiWbqYv7EkYQLPkHdZ020Eaka1W_2UiqzLGnDHb2ibU02vkwGNAU08/s1600/Accumilator.jpg" height="320" width="233" /></a></div>
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<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">
<div align="center" style="background-color: #ffffcc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
<b>WIRELESS ACCUMULATOR, 1940's</b> </div>
<div align="left" style="background-color: #ffffcc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
2 Volt accumulator used in wireless sets for the heaters of the
valves. It was normally given to the local garage, hardware merchant, or cycle
shop for recharging. They would give you your spare unit while this was being
done.</div>
<div align="left" style="background-color: #ffffcc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I mentioned earlier on in my Blog, that we had no TV, and
the wireless and the gramophone were our only music based listening , the
accumulator was such a vital part in our lives, just about everyone had two, one
in use, and one on standby, so it was an unwritten law, that as soon as one went
flat, and your wireless stopped, as soon as the change over went, the flat
accumulator was sent to be recharged, I cant remember how much it was, but there
was an old man who had a " Scrap Dealers " below Boston station bridge, in
Greenock, who used to do them cheaper than the shops in town, so it was my job
to carry the accumulator, leave it over night, and collect next day, most
Gibshill folk used him</span></div>
</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-70565358245248206892013-12-18T04:14:00.002-08:002014-05-14T03:14:09.809-07:00Sounds of the " Gibshill Trio "<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/KimKTFYJfw0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">
</span>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Gibshill Trio Sounds</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<br />(MEET ME IN MY DREAMS TO-NIGHT)<br /><br />VERSE<br />UNDER THE MOON I AM WAITING,<br />DOWN LOVER'S LANE WHERE I STRAY.<br />PLEASE COME ALONG,<br />SING LOVE'S SWEET SONG.<br />SWEETHEART, THO' YOU'RE FAR AWAY.<br /><br />CHORUS<br />MEET ME IN MY DREAMS TO-NIGHT, DEAR,<br />LET ME SEE YOUR SUNNY SMILE.<br />MEET ME IN MY DREAMS, TO-NIGHT DEAR.<br />LINGER IN MY ARMS A WHILE.<br />YOU HAVE BEEN MY INSPIRATION.<br />LOVE HAS BEEN MY GUIDING LIGHT.<br />WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES,<br />MY HEART ALWAYS CRIES.<br />MEET ME IN MY DREAMS TO-NIGHT.<br /><br />2ND VERSE<br />FLOWERS ARE BLOOMING AGAIN DEAR,<br />BLUEBIRDS ARE MATING ONCE MORE.<br />SPRINGTIME IS HERE,<br />LOVE TIME IS NEAR.<br />YOU ARE THE ONE I ADORE.<br /><br />REPEAT CHORUS<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Wingy O'Neil, Joe Robbie, and one of the Gilmour
lads.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">4 Irwin St, Gibshill, Greenock. Ground floor, Corr's to
one side Burkes the other, Millars and Gilmours in the middle, the Gibshill Trio
always rehearsed on the ground floor stair well, we ( the kids ) sat 3 to 4 to a
step all the way up to the first landing.....we have no TV, and the radio worked
off an accumulator, so playing time was limited</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">We all grew up with music, Gibshill was well known for
parties, we, ' the Sinclair's' were lucky, we had Jimmy Neill, who played
accordion & piano, we all took it in turns round the room to sing, you
didn't have to be good, just join in, " Wan Singer, Wan Song " the cry would
come up if you talked or try to join in when someone was singing</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I CAN'T SING as you will hear from the video, but I just
wanted you to hear the sounds we loved and grew up with</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">lived in London for over 25 years and carried on the
Sinclair style...Parties & more Parties, I sang this song, nobody heard it
before, but I've never forgot it....." PLEASE DON'T LET THIS SONG DIE ", I would
love to hear a singer record this, and let me hear it before I pass on to the
Happy Hunting Ground.</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-85919467754211320442013-12-06T13:01:00.004-08:002013-12-06T13:01:53.838-08:00The alert Siren & all clear<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-kbuyLfbNZz21Hh08EmoRqR3QrPFbycrff32yu0FrrSGs9grzxlxfwpJXYeDEllKtCrmX2Bqe72QAL7BXoJIbkH-FFNM3KxZaytlSvRsakC3VYnRNhgQhtN5KffHjKO2IjCSb38UXbqI/s1600/1464021_10151829029833161_575163004_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-kbuyLfbNZz21Hh08EmoRqR3QrPFbycrff32yu0FrrSGs9grzxlxfwpJXYeDEllKtCrmX2Bqe72QAL7BXoJIbkH-FFNM3KxZaytlSvRsakC3VYnRNhgQhtN5KffHjKO2IjCSb38UXbqI/s320/1464021_10151829029833161_575163004_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">We had coastal flood warnings today on the Norfolk Coast,
and the sirens were blaring away, I closed my eyes and I was back in Gibshill in
the 1940's, and it got me thinking,</span><span style="font-family: Arial;">I shut my eyes and
there are sounds or noises or sights, come flooding back, taking me back to my
youth in 20 Poplar St. Gibshill, Greenock, through the magic of T.V, Computers,
Films these sounds are still about. this is 7 sights and sounds, that played a
major part of my youth.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">1. The sirens</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">2. Train Whistle</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">3. Drone of Lancaster</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">4. Sea-Plane</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">5. Steam train Labouring</span></div>
<div>
6. Barrage Balloons.</div>
<div>
7. Accordion</div>
</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-28033648580253796802013-12-06T12:59:00.001-08:002013-12-06T12:59:13.173-08:00The Drone of the Bombers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju5MEO2LodCUNqZmmXpHQMj-z_cAMXqoQlEkyryCKoo2VFsdNMcO0TgGH-brzc8NivVW1zY1FWWECBIS66jXDI2gJVvFgiaFfMlCUYB8rGdxzd3baVeIWiacLtq-8h89ZU6VMkGvY2-S8/s1600/0,,16792031_303,00.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju5MEO2LodCUNqZmmXpHQMj-z_cAMXqoQlEkyryCKoo2VFsdNMcO0TgGH-brzc8NivVW1zY1FWWECBIS66jXDI2gJVvFgiaFfMlCUYB8rGdxzd3baVeIWiacLtq-8h89ZU6VMkGvY2-S8/s320/0,,16792031_303,00.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I loved this sound, it made my blood tingle, I used to
stand rooted to the spot when a Giant troop sea-plane took off, or landed at the
" Tail o' the Bank " this sound I will never forget, I watched a film the other
night, a war film, which included scenes of sea-planes, landing & taking
off, my memory was back in Gibshill, Greenock so much, couldn't follow the film
one bit, but standing on Poplar St. watching this take off or landing, I feel so
lucky to have seen this for myself </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-72338187978326515362013-12-06T12:32:00.001-08:002013-12-06T12:32:37.806-08:00Sea Planes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-nWnlnEEta8WANWO6uHqulwmpujMvksNkITz4qCJGtM9PFbIQJDpTtDeuxA1PPRvZ8CrepgkGwymNbiRq9epMPBjAp-Kcv5ox6xFN5RcnKU453upLt43xVp-dPw8K65dsolEzNfFnYoc/s1600/B54-AfloatLastSunderland_sized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-nWnlnEEta8WANWO6uHqulwmpujMvksNkITz4qCJGtM9PFbIQJDpTtDeuxA1PPRvZ8CrepgkGwymNbiRq9epMPBjAp-Kcv5ox6xFN5RcnKU453upLt43xVp-dPw8K65dsolEzNfFnYoc/s320/B54-AfloatLastSunderland_sized.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I loved this sound, it made my blood tingle, I used to
stand rooted to the spot when a Giant troop sea-plane took off, or landed at the
" Tail o' the Bank " this sound I will never forget, I watched a film the other
night, a war film, which included scenes of sea-planes, landing & taking
off, my memory was back in Gibshill, Greenock so much, couldn't follow the film
one bit, but standing on Poplar St. watching this take off or landing, I feel so
lucky to have seen this for myself </span></div>
</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-86096221433622477962013-12-06T12:24:00.005-08:002013-12-06T12:24:43.474-08:00Steam Train at Poplar St.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsMzrX0iswDd3qBWTepqakf2RIfo-I2UFJsqnfhD0kax3oqSPEk1Cy8vEsdr_xLFyIVbqlEUdxb2Zuo-O-gMUlK3lHwRHBDyYCOeFX6Zur8u9ziXgric0tZfM2Not8TMUVjygoautSoGQ/s1600/blog+1940.2.jpg3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsMzrX0iswDd3qBWTepqakf2RIfo-I2UFJsqnfhD0kax3oqSPEk1Cy8vEsdr_xLFyIVbqlEUdxb2Zuo-O-gMUlK3lHwRHBDyYCOeFX6Zur8u9ziXgric0tZfM2Not8TMUVjygoautSoGQ/s320/blog+1940.2.jpg3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I live in a little village on the North Norfolk Coast, and
we are so lucky to have a Steam Train service, now the age of steam was a huge
part of my life in Gibshill, Greenock, I can stand on the foot bridge of our
local station, and close my eyes, listening to our old engine pulling 6/7
carriages of holiday makers up from Sheringham, and immediately I'm back up
Gibshill, Greenock, " The Yanks are Coming " alerting everyone, to get ready for
the Dimes, Dollars, Life-savors, and wriggles chewing gum, I've explained the
task further down my blog</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">But sadly, when our old engine blows the whistle, I think
of the people who were killed behind Poplar St. the Express, as it was coming
downhill, used to blow the whistle, one long blow from the 9 Arches, and kept
blowing it, all the way round the sharp bend to Poplar St....Now if the express
came at the same time as a troop train was chugging up the line, people were so
engrossed on catching favor's thrown out by the troops, never heard the
whistle......Once again a local sound today, takes me back to
1940's</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-35845506207121308952013-12-06T12:19:00.001-08:002013-12-06T12:19:35.634-08:00Barrage Balloons<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6zC_uKqxi0-DouqYyFbi0ePvHFQ-EyCigxodqdGyAlU-0CrwykWDcoI8SfQAxC1f6kWrDahhpb9OT9DvtwcQBTMBdZ3GOJY6j_rmhRwSp3zsvEF0M6Qoo3CpQPU5sVl5xRf62uQjX5Ks/s1600/Barrage%2520Balloon%2520vessel%2520adj.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6zC_uKqxi0-DouqYyFbi0ePvHFQ-EyCigxodqdGyAlU-0CrwykWDcoI8SfQAxC1f6kWrDahhpb9OT9DvtwcQBTMBdZ3GOJY6j_rmhRwSp3zsvEF0M6Qoo3CpQPU5sVl5xRf62uQjX5Ks/s320/Barrage%2520Balloon%2520vessel%2520adj.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsF_UtMXzb3znZRdKtHqF4V9TWyN1nHuOk6URVuSS4GL8_vvlEu4Ye370V88BdOXoIYRRCi4sglvGnZJhP3EWlw6vcWZUka4CiDX4n0owZU7e4OgzsHzJK3Q5p6XCsGqzFuHrbVjUHCTI/s1600/Blog+1940+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsF_UtMXzb3znZRdKtHqF4V9TWyN1nHuOk6URVuSS4GL8_vvlEu4Ye370V88BdOXoIYRRCi4sglvGnZJhP3EWlw6vcWZUka4CiDX4n0owZU7e4OgzsHzJK3Q5p6XCsGqzFuHrbVjUHCTI/s320/Blog+1940+6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Cindy & I were driving along to A17 on Sunday morning
and there was a Air-Balloon Race, I was so taken back, I pulled into a lay by
and explained to Cindy that in the 1940's the whole of the " Tail O' the Bank "
were dozens & dozens of Barrage balloons, anchored with a thick metal rope
and all at different heights, the troop sips anchored at the " Tail O' the Bank
" were targets, all these Barrage Balloons hampered the bombing aircraft, they
couldn't fly under, because of the ropes, I used to stand or look out my window
of 20 Poplar St. Gibshill, Greenock. and wonder at these Balloons, they looked
so big, what a sight, never to be seen again, one air-balloon race on a Sunday
morning 2012 could take me back so clearly to 1940's</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-46739177117407828842013-12-06T12:14:00.000-08:002013-12-06T12:14:00.044-08:00Jimmy Neill ....Thanks for adding life to the Sinclair Household<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPZOahKFLm3dMfa4PdGHYZrzUuCKMEOn8nffHtUZZrKBh6iCTGet3pitYk0QSGGXon-7-EWiKtIt6t-23dfT2FFmRTOTRBr7KCv_lfKa9YTgJCyZkiDyJdYwRswBpom5oTGaybuvlzhuE/s1600/Brandoni%2520Mod%2520149W.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPZOahKFLm3dMfa4PdGHYZrzUuCKMEOn8nffHtUZZrKBh6iCTGet3pitYk0QSGGXon-7-EWiKtIt6t-23dfT2FFmRTOTRBr7KCv_lfKa9YTgJCyZkiDyJdYwRswBpom5oTGaybuvlzhuE/s320/Brandoni%2520Mod%2520149W.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDZrrwW83ioca6l39GZN8o2uvmzf6q_8yYhyphenhyphenisi5_x_mUbxvU1AQRgs-4zLJ76bN6zOHDbv2Ui-RKy8qPqyqGvr0hpv9foGjsN1-MWtGfEuYrnZ_2fiwciO6WITAvM_Nb42OgxF2ZEiI/s320/blog+1940.jpg" width="320" /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
My father & the lass gillan from 2 Irwin st.</div>
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</div>
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</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I would like to thank Jimmy Neill, my sister Jessie's
husband, both sadly departed now, but Jimmy was a master at the accordion &
piano, and brought the Sinclair parties every weekend my fun and laughter, I
will never forget dancing, singing, everyone had to sing, Yes !! even me, my
song was Al Martino " Here in my heart ", when I see or hear an accordion
playing now, I close my eyes and I'm back home, " Isn't your wee Billy got a
strong voice Ann " " Aye " my mother would say .....Thank you Jimmy, for
bringing the Sinclair household to life.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-70913013190863154632013-12-05T05:04:00.006-08:002013-12-05T05:04:57.305-08:00One man, One job<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I watched Greenock Shipyards slowly die. In my
opinion</span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I hated the union rule " One man, one Job "</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The quote " One man, one job " haunts the life out of me,
when I started my apprenticeship as a Plumber at Mitchell's, corner West Stewart
St. & Nicholson St in 1952, I wasn't asked, I was told I had to be in the
union, now Mitchell's were very proud of their apprentices and you were given a
trade on conditions, you had to go to night school twice a week, and a day at
James Watt Collage, Mitchell's wanted their plumbers to be the best in
Greenock</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"> was trained in every thing, from hard metals and soft
metals, lead burning, welding, brazing, in fact every aspect in plumbing, right
through to our City & Guilds exams.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">When I worked on the Shipyards as a plumber, . if I wanted
to bring my hot & Cold water pipes through a bulk-head ( Wall ) 1st. I had
to find a " Marker ", he would chalk the section of bulkhead and using a
compass, draw a 2 inch or 3 inch circle or what ever was needed, 2nd we would
have a " Centre Dabber ", who would come and mark round the circle, 3rd we had
to get Oxy- acetylene cutter, to cut the hole in the bulk-head, after these
three workers had finished, I could put my pipes through, then I would have to
go and find a " Tacker " an electric welder who tacked the pipes to the bulkhead
before I was allowed to move on</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Now !! I was qualified to do all of these actions needed
to get the Hot & Cold water pipes through to the next cabin, BUT !!! the "
One man, One Job " was quoted, I could have done the job in ..say 30
Minutes...where as, depending where on the ship these different men were, this
action could take me 3/5 days, sometimes even longer.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">You don't have to be a mathematician, to count up the cost
of putting pipes through, I only used this as an example, but this " One man,
One job " affected every trade on the ship-building, you weren't even allowed to
clear up a cabin floor to start work, we had to find a " Sweeper Upper ", who
was generally a almost retired worker</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I can say I had the pleasure of working on the Queen
Elizabeth, Queen Mary, when they both docked at the " Tail O' the bank ", and
the Royal Yacht Britannia at Clydebank, but due to the " One man, One job ", the
cost of Ship building on the Clyde, was so high, other countries could build the
ships at a third of the cost</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">When I came out of the army in the 50's I returned to
Mitchell's the plumbers, 2 days back I was approached by the union Rep. I packed
up my tool box and walked out, I don't understand unions, and don't like
them</span></div>
</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-69321761050716928762013-09-23T03:41:00.002-07:002013-09-23T03:42:34.373-07:00My Four Sisters<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaTZgDNotzBY_wb5K2ltEmWZWa1FEHYLDuo4tmYKo7ZVQAcnxH4HNIvDKN4wqIUShyYxvQiD7qgEkzTAhXeRqW2G8bqccCriawzdx7POBo7d4wYYRAE_HiRdSFzcYWbT_LfCtl6Cr_uIo/s1600/Black+&+White+3+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaTZgDNotzBY_wb5K2ltEmWZWa1FEHYLDuo4tmYKo7ZVQAcnxH4HNIvDKN4wqIUShyYxvQiD7qgEkzTAhXeRqW2G8bqccCriawzdx7POBo7d4wYYRAE_HiRdSFzcYWbT_LfCtl6Cr_uIo/s320/Black+&+White+3+(2).jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Jean :- the baby of the family, sadly we lost Jean &
her lovely husband Rab Archibald, as I said before I left Gibshill long before,
so I really missed her growing up as well, I know she lived in Cobham St. &
I think Poplar St. but I never visited her there, it wasn't till she got to Port
Glasgow, that I started to visit when up from London, Jean had 2 children Wendy
& Andrew, Wendy is a lovely girl but sadly I never knew Andrew, what a
terrible thing to say, </span></div>
<div>
.................................................</div>
</span><br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">ANN :- Ann is the same age as Cindy, and the only sister
left alive, her name on my Facebook friends list is Ann Gorbould, Ann spent
years in South Africa, and Benidorm, now settled in Dereham, married to a
brilliant bloke Ben,, as luck would have it, we are 40 minutes drive from each
other and visit each other on a regular basis, I call her " Daft Ann " a loving
term. or maybe it's because she does daft things, in other words she always
makes me and the family laugh, Loves ya Sister XXX</span></div>
<div>
..............................................................................</div>
</span><br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">RAY ( Mary ).:- Ray was the rebel of the family, always in
trouble with my parents, but we always got on, she stood up for all of us
against our parents, stopped me from getting many a hiding, I remember she had 3
jobs, not at the same time of course,1. was Drummonds, 2. was Mitchell's at the
Smillie St. shops in the post office, and 3. a conductress out of Ladyburn, that
would have been in the late 40's, I was always good for 2d or3d out of her float
money she kept in her leather bag they used</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">On one of my visits to Gibshill, I brought a couple of
friends with me, we had a party at Ray's in Cobham St. I think it was number 2,
we had loads of Wine, Beer, & Whisky, Big Del, as her husband was known, he
was a giant of a man, worked as a Navy deep sea diver, fit as a fiddle, during
the early hours of the morning, Big Del collapsed whilst up dancing, we thought
he had enough to drink, but he started turning blue, someone ran down to Irwin
St and got my father Wullie Sinclair, Dad pulled his socks off and felt his
toes, " He's Dead " nobody knew what to do, in those day's there were no mobile
phones, so someone ran down to the phone box and dialed 999, the ambulance came
and pronounced him dead, BUT !!! were not allowed to move him until the police
checked all was OK, so we picked Big Del off the floor and laid him on the
settee, covered him with a white sheet, and as we were all drunk already, we
carried on with the party, Police didn't come till 9:00am, all was checked and
the ambulance came back and took him away, when I was leaving for London on the
Monday Morning, Ray gave me his Diver fur lined boots, " Del would have liked
you to have these " Size 12 I don't think so, </span></div>
<div>
......................................................</div>
<div>
.
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Ray ( Sister ) :- Ray ended up down the " Isle of Dogs "
in London, now called classy Docklands, she had severe breathing problems,
couldn't go to bed, as she couldn't lie down, so she slept in her big easy
chair, she constantly wore a face mask connected to an oxygen bottle, the folk
who know best, thought it would be a good idea to put a oxygen bottle in every
room, including bathroom & toilet, so all she had to do was unplug the mask
and plug into which ever room she wanted to go into, Great !!!! BUT """ what
they didn't bank on was that Ray started the day around 5:00am with a Pint of
Lager and a roll-up of Wacky Baccy</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Unknown to Ray one of the bottles had a small leak, nobody
know how long it was leaking for, early next morning, she lit her ciggie, which
started a series of explosions, one bottle exploding the next one, the whole
house exploded, the old boy upstairs was blown out of bed and was months in
intensive care, there was nothing left of Ray, the only thing that survived was
a photo of me which I had sent her a few weeks beforehand, a comic one with my
Wee Jimmy hat on, she thought was funny, but nothing else in the house
survived</span></div>
...................................................................................</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">JESSIE :- Jessie was my oldest sister, but thought she was
my cousin in the 40's, Jessie didn't stay with us, she was brought up by my
uncle Bertie ( Mothers brother ) and aunt Annie of 11 Ann St. Greenock,
apparently they couldn't have children,
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Jessie married Jimmy Neil, and had 5 kids, Alan, Billy,
Ann, Jean & Janet, all great kids, but I'm afraid I didn't see them grow up,
in Cobham Street, Gibshill, I came to Greenock once a year from
London.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Jimmy Neil was a typical shipyard worker, he was a
Copper-Smith in Scotts, Greenock, worked very hard, and depended on his " 2
Nights & a Sunday overtime " just to live, people worked to live and never
live to work, it was hard, that's why most yard workers drank so much at
week-ends, enjoyed Friday night through till Sunday morning, then back to
work</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Jimmy Neil was responsible for the success of the
continuous week-end parties in the Sinclair household at 2 Irwin St, we had a
piano in the kitchen ( Front Room ) which jimmy was a master plus his accordion,
he didn't like the latest chart music, if I wanted him to play a particular
song, I would buy the sheet music, he was
brilliant</span></div>
</span><br /></div>
</div>
</span><br /></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-16148177510438231112013-08-13T01:45:00.003-07:002013-08-13T01:45:49.818-07:00Penny Gas Meter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSs74rN69bFGaauLX3fplMLHWTR9KUPNT5W17iQd7-qQWJ68Y4Z0HTevE6Fq8yNAJuXlZ6gKLC4UihyD_TrG6YEIJ2sO4JbkqBuE5iWObSu6hymMEZ_Vc2w5PXVbVfJb02fs9USTz3Xm8/s1600/Black+&+White+44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSs74rN69bFGaauLX3fplMLHWTR9KUPNT5W17iQd7-qQWJ68Y4Z0HTevE6Fq8yNAJuXlZ6gKLC4UihyD_TrG6YEIJ2sO4JbkqBuE5iWObSu6hymMEZ_Vc2w5PXVbVfJb02fs9USTz3Xm8/s1600/Black+&+White+44.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">1d Gas Meter</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">We all had a Penny Gas Meter up the Gibby, even back then
mother would complain she wasn't getting enough gas for her Penny, I remember
the excitement from mother when the Gas Man came to empty the meter, he would
tip the box from the meter on the kitchen table, the begin to count it into
piles of 12=1/- ( 12 Pennies= 1 shilling ), after he counted he would give
mother so much, cant remember if was for over-paid, or a rebate, or what ever,
all I remember mother feeling a wee bit rich holding a pile of pennies, which
was spent over a Smillie St. shops, for some much needed food for
us</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">During the war, when building were hit, it was common to
see folk, including me I might add, scrambling through the rubble looking for
pennies, this wasn't called looting back in those day's, it was called survival,
everyone done it, it was part of war, when I think back, we were given the all
clear on the siren, that the raid was over, we all left the shelter, we would go
looking for pennies first, the secondly my mates and I would go looking for
shrapnel, looking back we must has been Mad or Desperate, the danger that must
been lurking in those bombed buildings, and there we were picking through the
rubble looking for pennies</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Another down fall of Penny Meters in the house, was that
everyone was broke, some desperate, so many a meter was broken into, survival
again, people got into loads of trouble, couldn't pay it back, so got deeper
& deeper in debt, we were one of the lucky ones, mother got a part time job
in Kincaid's, up Bakers Brae, she worked so hard to keep us on food &
clothes, but new clothes where few and very far between</span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-40039484840236095552013-08-13T01:43:00.003-07:002013-08-13T01:43:42.973-07:00German Map, showing the Gibby<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeM9aH6RFmCyY3uHr9A5iSgbpn7d-YJfK97gHlJpoyvR9M1FClQnIcq0FRNC9ZWIY8b0e_ZRGbkqEkqRKfE97LcuXi91H0iU9mUjmYgSyrOPY53cIJWlusbmTyOAvRQMg2YGLOGZmvAig/s1600/Copy+of+Black+&+White99.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeM9aH6RFmCyY3uHr9A5iSgbpn7d-YJfK97gHlJpoyvR9M1FClQnIcq0FRNC9ZWIY8b0e_ZRGbkqEkqRKfE97LcuXi91H0iU9mUjmYgSyrOPY53cIJWlusbmTyOAvRQMg2YGLOGZmvAig/s320/Copy+of+Black+&+White99.jpg" width="257" /></a></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">German Map</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">This German Map, shows how important Clyde Ship Building
was so important to the Germans to destroy, and how close the Gibby was in their
path, now you can see why we had so many raids, and because of the hills, so
many bombs went astray</span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-42403524732920671072013-08-13T01:40:00.005-07:002013-08-13T01:40:57.018-07:00This was the Gibby<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9QrLj3nI9Li9yqHSV7YbPfukNdCu5fodWuOj9rH54Q7waHHk7JGIi0wX4lLQ9LL856iTCS4SgIq1PnVqMnqBafkXgx7q4G5GUNp7fp7FYMLYQZW9OdvTe9blxFcLoxxG9ImON3IwHCw/s1600/Black+&+White+88.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9QrLj3nI9Li9yqHSV7YbPfukNdCu5fodWuOj9rH54Q7waHHk7JGIi0wX4lLQ9LL856iTCS4SgIq1PnVqMnqBafkXgx7q4G5GUNp7fp7FYMLYQZW9OdvTe9blxFcLoxxG9ImON3IwHCw/s320/Black+&+White+88.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">This was the Gibby</span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-54784571743856678042013-08-13T01:38:00.001-07:002013-08-13T01:38:04.641-07:00The Gird<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuc592Q9HpG2AAll3LdyK8B6w9XlkbhstoLGgNI0TvDJ8FYg6xFMn21rT2c5KsFYs0WSJQ8W6VnFmZL7p3UxrIhkt4kWqP_VlcbMgDGPczvU5dklRLq-OmSHSCAnjDnF5r3bRSotbWiHA/s1600/Black+&+White+55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuc592Q9HpG2AAll3LdyK8B6w9XlkbhstoLGgNI0TvDJ8FYg6xFMn21rT2c5KsFYs0WSJQ8W6VnFmZL7p3UxrIhkt4kWqP_VlcbMgDGPczvU5dklRLq-OmSHSCAnjDnF5r3bRSotbWiHA/s1600/Black+&+White+55.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The Gird</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">We all loved our " Gird ", we ran for miles hitting it
with our stick, steering it with our stick, we ran all over the Gibby, up-hill,
down-hill, 3,4,5 of us even went to the Coronation Park up the Port, to play in
the swing Park, even down to the Battery Park to the Swimming Pool, we didn't
need buses, mother didn't have the money for bus fares anyway</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Many a time mother would tell me " They have run out of
bread, go over to Thomas Muir Street shops, and see if they have any ", no
problem, out came my Gird and off I ran</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Some lads, but very few, when they got a bicycle wheel,
would leave the tyre and inner tube on, and the spokes, but they found it to
hard to steer and run with it, so off came the tyre & spokes, this must have
kept us a lot fitter than we realized, but we didn't run with our gird to keep
fit, that was the last thing on our mind, we ran because we loved our
Gird</span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-77864318528387014412013-08-13T01:35:00.001-07:002013-08-13T01:35:24.348-07:00The Kleek<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMrMTAHkYSPsotdC0jbwPhxNrwJ08MsrrOEZwQdmd9_DppmAZXaOfwWJ1npAnuax_-iA0xS4roHbHhZ1IaFxge1FQ67Uyf1aOQ02USRhh2iz7F3cgdai9agNLZjfkHBpx-4nCc8rfo6OM/s1600/Black+&+White+50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMrMTAHkYSPsotdC0jbwPhxNrwJ08MsrrOEZwQdmd9_DppmAZXaOfwWJ1npAnuax_-iA0xS4roHbHhZ1IaFxge1FQ67Uyf1aOQ02USRhh2iz7F3cgdai9agNLZjfkHBpx-4nCc8rfo6OM/s320/Black+&+White+50.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The Kleek</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">A lot of stories have been said about the Kleek, some say
rich boy's toy, didn't come from the Gibby, cost a lot of money, all rubbish,
these were made by people who worked in ship-yards, and we had many of them in
Greenock back then</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I know when I started in Mitchell's Plumbers in 1950, we
learned how to make Kleeks by journeymen, how to bend the rod & weld, was so
easy, we also had to make 2 Pokers from 1/4 " square rod twist it, screw one end
and put different nuts on it and buff, everyone had coal fires, so everyone
needed a " Poker " so it was down to us Apprentices to make Kleeks & Pokes
to order from all the work force</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The Kleek took a bit of getting used to, the balance, the
steering, the speed, so it's was the Gird we all took to, easier to pick up and
go</span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-52544083971027262392013-08-05T08:52:00.000-07:002013-08-05T08:52:02.381-07:00Fitba 7 days a Week<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIX3S22eqsCfi7C4lc1FdVGLTWpI1VLuY-A21K8YKPh6xyZj6rvDCPUY9SnyqonyxhiNOfBFtheOvoKV5NSyYHoEGLklR6x48bucCuISzfnik9XWlB_CMcDCLd1e73Cn1PrSMXaA9CKNg/s1600/Gibshill+26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIX3S22eqsCfi7C4lc1FdVGLTWpI1VLuY-A21K8YKPh6xyZj6rvDCPUY9SnyqonyxhiNOfBFtheOvoKV5NSyYHoEGLklR6x48bucCuISzfnik9XWlB_CMcDCLd1e73Cn1PrSMXaA9CKNg/s320/Gibshill+26.jpg" width="306" /></a></div>
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<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Fitba 7 days a week</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">This photo was taken from my mothers kitchen, you can see
80 % of the football pitch, " The Wee Farm " just to the left there was a Hugh
Oak Tree, that always had a rope swing on it, how did we get the heavy rope up
and over the high branch, easy, tied string to a stone and threw it over, tie it
to the rope, every one who was either in the Boys Brigade or Scouts knew how to
tie a slip knot, ...we had a swing</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">But my interests were Football, and I classed myself the
2nd best goalkeeper in Scotland, next to Jimmy Cowan, Morton's keeper, I always
went in goal and having scrolled my angle line from the penalty spot as Jimmy
done, I was ready, I always played in that goal to the left of the Oak Tree, out
of mothers eyes, many a time you would hear the dreaded shout " Billy Sinclair,
are you down there " all the lads knew to ignore my mother and carry on playing
football, BUT, there was always one wee skinny lassie, with legs like knots in
cotton, playing in Keir Hardie St.., would shout, " There's he's there Mrs.
Sinclair " so I had to show my face, " Whit dae ye waant Mammy ", "I want you
to go a message" she would shout, that time I had 4 sisters, Ray & Jessie
were working, Jean was too young and our Ann ( Ann Gorbould on Face book ) well
she was too daft to send messages, by the time she went from 2 Irwin St to the
Shops she had forgotten what she went for, if mother gave her a note, 9 times
out of 10 she lost it, so I had a abandon my match and run home, as I wasn't
allowed to cross the railway line, I had to run up the track to the Low Bridge,
up the Gibshill Brae, to Irwin St.. get mothers massage, then back to the wee
farm and the game</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The game was never 90 minutes long as matches were, it
was like 9:00am till dark, every once in a while we would get hold of a proper
football, but those days were few and far between, our leather ball's bladder
war repaired that often it was passed it's day, so we stuffed our ball with
paper, true ..Paper, but we played on, nobody could afford a proper football
then, sometimes the men would lend us theirs, but only if we were pals with his
younger brother of our age, but we didn't care, our paper stuffed football
worked just as well, every game was like an international, I was Jimmy Cowan,
John Boyle was Tommy Orr, Andy McMaster was Billy Steel, and Ian McDonald our
Captain ( As it was his ball ) Billy Campbell, Yes we were all internationals
down the Wee Farm.</span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-65976624631402340582013-08-05T06:02:00.001-07:002013-08-05T06:02:07.188-07:00The Cheeky Forty<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The Cheeky Forty</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Now call these lads what you will, a Gang, a Jury, a Mob,
call them what you will, BUT !! they handed out justice where police were unable
to do so, because of lack of evidence or some other excuse</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Bus loads of girls came from Glasgow, Paisley, all over
the area of Greenock, with one thing in mind, TROOPS, who were anchored at the
"Tail of the Bank ", now they weren't always American..there were Canada, Poles,
French, allied troops, with money to spare before being shipped out, they wanted
a good time, and rightly so</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The Troops always aimed for the same places, Burton's,
The Co-oP ( Where we held the Gibby Re--Union ), The Bay Hotel and their
favourite pub in Greenock was the Imperial Bar, they got to other places but
that was their main hold outs, the Moorings in Largs was quite popular as
well</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Some girls as you expect, no fault of their own, were
Molested, Raped, Abused & Assaulted, by troops waiting to be shipped to god
know where, some never to come back, so they got drunk and wanted a woman and
there were plenty about, the troops had their own police, " White Hats " who
patrolled 4/5 handed, carrying batons, and weren't shy in using them where
needed, but there weren't enough White Hats, and our Police were on foot in
Two's</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">When a local girl was Raped, Assaulted, or abused, the "
Cheeky Forty " would find out the nationality of the offender, and go into town
and dish out punishment, the Gibby folk were always tight lipped in all ways, we
knew 5 of the Cheeky Forty, 2 from Irwin St. 2 from Keir Hardie, St and 1 from
Landsbury St, there were probably more up the Gibby, but 5 from our end that I
knew of, we never spoke of them, it was an unwritten rule dished out by our
parents</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I'm not saying they were right, and I'm not saying they
were wrong, but the were feared by troops in Greenock, they were known to
everybody BUT, not their names</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I'm sure the police welcomed the punishment dished out by
the Forty, where their hands were tied</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9059751519989176945.post-16690322503061846002013-08-05T04:23:00.002-07:002013-08-05T04:23:35.886-07:00They called it Marbles, we calld it Bools<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">They called it Marbles</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Wee Gibby folk called it Bools</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Every youngster loved Bools, Lads or Lassies, but Bools (
Marbles ) came in different sizes, the common Bool was called a one'er, the next
size up was a two'er, and so on, </span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">For those who have never played Bools, the object is you
toss your Bool about 8 to 10 feet away, and your opponent tosses his trying to
hit yours, it's your turn next to try to hit your opponents where ever it
landed, you take it in turns till a bool is struck then you claim that bool
(Marble )</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">If your opponent has a larger Bool a Two'er, then you have
to hit his twice before you can claim it, some lads would have Ball Bearing (
Large ) they would call it a ten'er or a twenty'er, I kept away from these
cheat's because you would get half way through the game, and if he saw you were
to good for him, say you struck his Bool 6 times out of 10, he would say " Got
to go, that's ma Mammy shouting on me " so you could never win</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">This was a great game going to school, got the " Strap "
more than once for being late</span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Some lads drew a large circle and you were only allowed to
play in that circle, we never did that, our back close, was our pitch, or up
& down Irwin St. we always carried bools in our pockets, some bools were
just plain, but some were coloured with flashes of colour inside, a work of art,
I hated losing them</span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03176517987449598634noreply@blogger.com0