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WHY can Millions be found without hesitation to rebuilt a Cathedral , yet millions go homeless and hungry

Sunday Drinking Hours

Years ago, when the opening times of the pubs and working men’s clubs was limited. Sunday Dinner time (or lunch time to southerners) was a mere 2 hours of socialising 12:00 to 14:00. Allowing opening times to be extended to all day had a diverse effect on this two-hour ritual. Why?

We used to meet at the Newcastle Labour Club, you were always there bang on 12 to greet the doors being opened. The 2-hour session was the best in the week, regularly we used to down a gallon of beer. The entertainment as great, there would be a local band, usually playing Heavy Music, two or three strippers to whet your appetite for Bingo. Yes Bingo. The Bingo as looked upon as a bit of fun rather than a desperation to win money, although it was nice if you did of course. There were plenty of songs chanted out as the numbers were called. Some are listed below,
50 – Five Oh Five Oh, it’s off to work we go…………….
69 – Sixty Nines the best way, Sixty nines the best way, lah lah lah lah ……………

This used to annoy the bingo caller who was an old man. One this particular Sunday when we called number 10, the club broke into 10 green bottles hanging on the wall and sang all the way down to no green bottles. The bingo caller took offence to this and stormed off the stage, this brought howls of laughter and it took a lot of persuasion from the concert chairman to get him to come back to the stage. We were all asked to settle down and the bingo commenced once again. First Number out, ‘top of the shop blind 90’. The response:

Ninety green bottles hanging on the wall, ninety green bottles hanging on the wall

Bingo was abandoned that day,
DI Knowles sat across the road in the same café that Peter had been in hours earlier. He had Jones placed up the north end of the street and Finch at the south end. He looked at his watch: 2:55pm. The street was busy, but it did not stop him picking out the man he was looking for – he appeared on the street walking like a man with a mission. Knowles placed his cup in its saucer and picked up his phone; the text he wrote said, ‘GO’. He stood up and made his way to the shop. The two accomplices were also heading in that direction; Knowles indicated to one of them to make their way around to the back of the shop. Knowles opened the door and Peter turned instantly. The shock on his face said it all. He looked around; there was no escape.
‘Come quietly, Peter, the game is up.’
‘You bastard,’ he shouted at the coin dealer as he turned and picked up the chair next to the desk. The chair smashed over the dealer’s head, the dealer’s arm made for little protection, and the chair hitting him rendered him almost unconscious as he fell to the floor. The door opened and Jones came rushing in to see the chair being lifted again and swung at Knowles, fortunately he was swift enough to dodge and ducked down as it flew over his head. It caught Peter off balance as the momentum carried him round twisting his body. Jones took full advantage and leapt onto Peter bringing him down to the ground with ease. The two wrestled on the floor each trying to manoeuvre himself into a more advantageous position. Knowles stood back not really knowing what to. He kicked out at Peter’s back when the opportunity arose, but with little effect. Jones managed to pin Peter down and landed several punches to his face, hampered by the arms and elbows of his victim. A knee came up into the groin of Jones and he reeled in agony. The pain grew as Peter’s fist landed on his cheekbone, followed up by a big push that sent him clambering to the floor. The door opened again as Finch entered. Peter’s attention was diverted by the door opening and he never saw the next kick from Knowles coming.
This was the first Ship i worked on as a young apprentice down the shipyards, it set sail from the Neptune Yard on the River Tyne in 1973 , I worked in the Engine Room was a Marine fitter working on the installation of the Main Engine and Auxillary equipment .In 1983 she was sold to Cunard Line, retaining her original name until 1999 when she was renamed Caronia. In 2004 she was sold to Saga and sailed as Saga Ruby She sailed her final world cruise in the first months of 2013. However it was marred by technical difficulties which kept the ship in Southampton until late February, which led to the cruise being renamed the ‘Grand Voyage’ visiting South America and South Africa.In 2014 she was sold for use as a floating hotel and renamed Oasia.

When i first started work down the Shipyards as an Apprentice Marine Fitter i was earning 16.25 pence per hour . £6.50 per week . out of that i gave my mother £2.00 per week and the rest was mine to squander how i liked. Beer was 10 pence per pint and ……..
Pint of milk: 6p
Loaf of bread: : 9½p
Packet of cigarettes: 27p
Gallon of petrol: 33p
Ticket to Wembley Cup Final: : £2

oh to be young again on the wage i get now
My First Job

Back to when I was 16 years old in 1971, I left school on the Friday and Started work on the Monday at Ringtons Tea Depot in Tynemouth. It was a fill in job before I started my Apprenticeship at Swan Hunters.
The day consisted of me getting dropped off by the driver with my basket of tea and doing a few streets while the driver sped off to deliver elsewhere. This particular day we were delivering in Whitley bay, he dropped me off and he headed for the hotels that Ringtons supplied. I had done my door to door and was waiting for the driver to return, it was raining, and I was getting wet. An old man was stood in his doorway, he shouted at me asking where the driver was, I shrugged my shoulders, he ask me if I had any tea in my basket that he used, so I went up to his door and he checked to find I didn’t have his brand. He offered me a cup of tea which I found hard to refuse because of the weather. I entered his house and was directed to the front room, he soon returned with a cup of tea for me. As I stood there he walked back and forward muttering where is he, where is he his pacing got closer to me and then to my surprise I turn and grabbed my Testicles , he had big grin on his face , my jaw dropped in shock, my reaction was to punch him in the stomach which as you can imagine made him released his hold and fall backwards , I ran out the house picking up my basket of tea on the way out and then knocked the van driver off his feet as I ran up the drive .
Back in the depot the story was told, and everyone had a good laugh about it!
How things have changed , by the way that isn't me in the picture LOL

Back in 1970, I was a young lad of 15, in the summer holidays I used to go down the Quay very early in the morning with my Mothers friend and his mate, they used to buy fish off the market if the price was right, then gut it in the back of the van and sell it locally in pubs etc. I used to go on the quay side and help stack the Herring boxes as the Fisherman throw them over the side, because of this they used to throw fresh herring for you. The odd herring got stuff in the boxes so that was a bonus. It wasn't easy getting your own Sciene netter and sometimes fights would break out, these were usually stopped by the fishermen shouting and pointing at the lad that they wanted to stack their boxes. The first time I took a sack full of herring back to the van to find the two of them sorting out their bought Fish, mainly Cod and Haddock. The Pain in the Arse (Mothers Friend) stated he would give me 10 shillings for the lot, as you can imagine I nearly took his hand off. The end day very early in the morning I was there again, I took a bag full of herring back to the van. They were sitting down looking glum with no purchases, 'Don't need that lot today we have nowt to sell’, BASTARD I thought, so I looked around for Kipper boxes and threw a handful into the Van, 'what I you going to do ‘, 'sell it' I said. That day walking from house to house I sold Fresh Herring at a penny a fish and made 30 bob . Next day same routine got back to the van they were busily gutting, 'here's ten bobs for that lot ‘, he held out his hand, I told him to f&*k off I will sell it myself. That didn't go down to well. memories

It was early morning, the date was the 18th of December. Peter sat on the small hill overlooking the beautiful Hertfordshire countryside. The early morning mist lay deep in the valley, a blanket of white covering the land as far as he could see. An early morning frost was a beautiful sight – it almost brought a smile to his face, but the sadness and the loneliness he felt prevented such an expression.

It was bitterly cold; the wind stung as it bit deep into his face; his only protection from the wind was the oak tree where he rested. He had turned into a bitter man and he knew it. He recalled all the events that had taken place over the last few months. He knew he could not return to his normal life, he knew things would never be the same again.

Can anyone remember when your mother took you to the barbers , the styles were non-existent , but once when i was there to get by Short , Back and Sides , i dared to ask for a different Style called a Chop, this was more money but it meant that you had a even cut of hair all other instead of nearly being scalped. i made the incident into a poem , enjoy .

Sixpence for a haircut, short back and sides
No style at all, the barber decides
I watched each one go up in turn
The clickers going causing concern

There was plenty for boys sitting with Mam
Off to the slaughter house just like a Lamb
I turned to my mam and called out her name
Mam that boys having a Chop can I have the same

Its threepence more to have that haircut style
You’ll have to do chores to make it worthwhile
Feeling happy now I sat back to rest
The boy next to me put his mam to the test

That boys having a Chop can I have one to
His mam looked at him, her irritation grew
No you cannot do you think food is for free
I’ve already got you liver and onions for Tea
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