Old Photos For No Reason Whatsoever

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Fulwood Blade said:
that "type" of house describes perfectly, my grandma's house on South View Road, S7 - can still picture it and at the age of 6 (ish) I wouldn't go up to the attic !

UTB

Edit: outside toilet was dark in winter, so I made her a light, switch with a 9v everready battery when I was about 10.
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We had a candle fixed in place, but had to remember the matches.
Mind you, nobody seemed to go after dark in winter.
Wish I could manage like that now :(
 

Cerberus Blade said:
Yep we had two at home when I was a kid. A "Viceroy", which was a box-shaped thing, and a slightly more curvaceous "Paul" heater. The paraffin of choice was called "Aladdin" and it was pink. Fina also used to make a green one - and of course there was Esso blue. The paraffin was stored in a tank which had a cap with a needle on it. When the tank was placed inside the heater and the heater was switched on, by means of a revolving wheel, the needle would depress, allowing the paraffin to pass through to the wick. You had to remove the "pint pot", the heater burner with a gauze top, and light the wick, then place the pint pot back on top, evenly, or it wouldn't burn evenly. The heater also had to be on a level surface, or again, it wouldn't burn evenly. I still remember as a child, laying in bed at night with the paraffin heater on in the bedroom. It used to gurgle every now and then as more paraffin was fed through to the wick. The sound of that thing, and the smell, have remained with me all my life. Can't say I miss it though!
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you had a paraffin heater? posh c@nt :D
 
Cerberus Blade said:
2 up 2 down mid-terrace for me. "Living kitchen" with Yorkshire range and "Front room" or "parlour". 2 bedrooms upstairs. No toilet or bathroom. Most folks didn't use the front door regularly, because that would be treading muck into the front room, which was the best room in the house. It was unusual for folks to have fitted carpets, I can't remember us or any of my mates having one. it was mainly lino and a rug. Access to the house was down the gennel. The "front step" was really important in terms of "street cred". People would judge you by the state of your front step, if it wasn't clean then they'd assume the rest of the house wasn't clean either. Rag and Bone men used to come round collecting old clothes and they'd give out a "Donkey Stone" in exchange. This was used to clean the front step. Wash day was a fixed day of the week, usually Wednesdays. (It would be considered a sin to wash on a Sunday). It would be done outside in the yard with a zinc tub, a washboard, a posser and a mangle. Dolly blue bags were used to keep the whites whiter than white! I remember being treated for a bee sting with a dolly blue bag as well - so it must have had some medicinal use.

It was hard work for women back in those days. In my childhood most women were at home, doing things like washing, cleaning, ironing, cooking, and being a mum. I think it's only right that women have equal rights and opportunities as men, but I also think we've lost something as well from the times when most women's main role was in the home. Home cooking and baking for one. Recipes passed down through the generations are becoming a thing of the past. Spending hours making a meal, like (my favourite) meat and potato pie, was normal back then. Home made bread cakes, fresh out the Yorkshire range oven, cooling on a tray and filling the house with a wonderful aroma - then sliced and buttered and apricot or damson jam on them! It's so easy now to make nowt and buy everything and live off convenience food.
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My grandma (dad's mum) lived at Victor Street, S6. This was actually posh as they'd moved from a decrepit slum on Albert Terrace Road (where the apartments are on the corner of Penistone Road) in about 1935. I used to love going as it had an outside bog and the plumbing consisted of one cold tap in the sink and a kettle. Quirky! My dad told a great tale about why they had no light in the kitchen. When they had electricity installed in about 1936, the company gave a basic number for nowt - any more you had to pay for. My grandad said they'd have the basics and have more installed when they had the cash. They had a light in the "front room" (used about every 3 years and at Christmas), but intriguingly not in the kitchen (a room that my grandad didn't venture into except as a means of getting into and out of the house!). My grandma moved in about 1966, and still without no kitchen light. She had cooked meals for 30 years, between November and March, essentially in the dark, with a torch or candle! She had a hard life, but she was great, and rightly or wrongly, "just got on with it"!
 
As a follow-on to the conversations above, seems rather sad that these were taken in Sheffield as recently as the 1960s:

shelter.jpg


1969

 

Numpty's Dusty Ruts. said:
My grandma (dad's mum) lived at Victor Street, S6. This was actually posh as they'd moved from a decrepit slum on Albert Terrace Road (where the apartments are on the corner of Penistone Road) in about 1935. I used to love going as it had an outside bog and the plumbing consisted of one cold tap in the sink and a kettle. Quirky! My dad told a great tale about why they had no light in the kitchen. When they had electricity installed in about 1936, the company gave a basic number for nowt - any more you had to pay for. My grandad said they'd have the basics and have more installed when they had the cash. They had a light in the "front room" (used about every 3 years and at Christmas), but intriguingly not in the kitchen (a room that my grandad didn't venture into except as a means of getting into and out of the house!). My grandma moved in about 1966, and still without no kitchen light. She had cooked meals for 30 years, between November and March, essentially in the dark, with a torch or candle! She had a hard life, but she was great, and rightly or wrongly, "just got on with it"!
Click to expand...
Great story that! Reminds me of my dad. The house was a wedding present from my grandad. I was told he paid £100 for it and bought the one next door for him and my grandma. Identical pair of mid terraces. That must have been in the 1930’s.

First thing my dad did was have the gas ripped out. He thought gas was dangerous. So mother cooked for years using only the Yorkshire range and open fire, or a small prmus stove (Remus brand) with a single burner that ran on paraffin and meths.

The only source of hot water was the boiler - part of the Yorkshire range. The hot water in there was not much good for owt as it got soot falling in it from the chimney. On bath nights we’d boil up water on the open fire in a big bucket and fetch the tin bath in that hung on a nail on the outside wall. Then we’d have a laden can to put cold water in from the big stone sink with a single brass cold tap.

The electric supply was 3 round pin sockets. Dad never had it updated because he said it would mean having the whole house re-wired and cost too much.

We had no fridge, washing machine, telephone or cooker. The toilet was outside across the yard. Lit in winter with a paraffin kelly lamp to stop the pipes freezing. It was a scary place, home to big spiders, and a makeshift store for a few garden tools and an air rifle. (Later a 410 shotgun that my brother used on the farm where he worked).

Next door and on the rest of the street, most folks had at least a few “mod cons”, but we had none. My dad refused to modernise. Around 1970 the entire row of houses was condemned and the council came offfering us keys to a council home. My dad refused to budge. They started demolishing the empty houses around us. We went from being a mid terrace to being an end terrace! We had wallpaper on the outside and a fireplace sticking out of the upstairs wall where a bedroom once was in the demolished house next door.

Being surrounded by rubble on one side brought all kinds of problems, including rats. My dad used to tape a torch to the barrel of the 410 shotgun and sit out at night looking for them and blast them to smithereens. It was like a hillbilly existence.

I lived like that till I was 18, when my dad died of a heart attack, aged 54. He’d not worked for years due to being crippled from arthritis, a condition not helped by working for almost 30 years without a day off sick, in the coal mines.

In 1975, following his death, me and my mum moved into a house on the council estate. It had running hot water and gas, we had a cooker and a fridge and a telephone and she got her first washing machine!

My story is not unusual for someone brought up in my fathers generation, in the 1930’s. But it was unusual for my generation.

Hardship can shape you for better or worse I suppose. Despite the paltry existence I had a great childhood and lots of happy memories. But I wouldn’t want it for me or mine and have busted a gut to make sure we had a better life.
 
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Cerberus Blade said:
Great story that! Reminds me of my dad. The house was a wedding present from my grandad. I was told he paid £100 for it and bought the one next door for him and my grandma. Identical pair of mid terraces. That must have been in the 1930’s.

First thing my dad did was have the gas ripped out. He thought gas was dangerous. So mother cooked for years using only the Yorkshire range and open fire, or a small prmus stove (Remus brand) with a single burner that ran on paraffin and meths.

The only source of hot water was the boiler - part of the Yorkshire range. The hot water in there was not much good for owt as it got soot falling in it from the chimney. On bath nights we’d boil up water on the open fire in a big bucket and fetch the tin bath in that hung on a nail on the outside wall. Then we’d have a laden can to put cold water in from the big stone sink with a single brass cold tap.

The electric supply was 3 round pin sockets. Dad never had it updated because he said it would mean having the whole house re-wired and cost too much.

We had no fridge, washing machine, telephone or cooker. The toilet was outside across the yard. Lit in winter with a paraffin kelly lamp to stop the pipes freezing. It was a scary place, home to big spiders, and a makeshift store for a few garden tools and an air rifle. (Later a 410 shotgun that my brother used on the farm where he worked).

Next door and on the rest of the street, most folks had at least a few “mod cons”, but we had none. My dad refused to modernise. Around 1970 the entire row of houses was condemned and the council came offfering us keys to a council home. My dad refused to budge. They started demolishing the empty house around us. We went from being a mid terrace to being an end terrace! We had wallpaper on the outside and a fireplace sticking out of the upstairs wall where a bedroom once was in the demolished house next door.

Being surrounded by rubble on one side brought all kinds of problems, including rats. My dad used to tape a torch to the barrel of the 410 shotgun and sit out at night looking for them and blast them to smithereens. It was like a hillbilly existence.

I lived like that till I was 18, when my dad died of a heart attack, aged 54. He’d not worked for years due to being crippled from arthritis, a condition not helped by working for almost years without a day off sick, in the coal mines.

In 1975, following his death, me and my mum moved into a house on the council estate. It had running hot water and gas, we had a cooker and a fridge and a telephone and she got her first washing machine!

My story is not unusual for someone brought up in my fathers generation, in the 1930’s. But it was unusual for my generation.

Hardship can shape you for better or worse I suppose. Despite the paltry existence I had a great childhood and lots of happy memories. But I wouldn’t want it for me or mine and have busted a gut to make sure we had a better life.
Click to expand...


I think lots of people have similar stories. I certainly do. Especially big spiders in the outside toilet. When they saw the candle light they'd be out.

Shame about the house though. Being in Chezvegas it'd be worth double the purchase price nowadays ..... :)
 
Harrisblade said:
That's the first game I have any 'memory' of.
Once found an old school exercise book with a match-stick man picture of what was supposed to be footballers.
I must have written the result and scorers as I can clearly remember 'Dyson' being among them
(but not the rest:().
The next one I remember was playing Wolves at home under floodlights - their old gold shirts looked magnificent, with the blonde (?) hair of Ron Flowers especially prominent.
View attachment 44157
Cue another drawing, but can't remember any words written on that one.
Click to expand...
Yes Dyson scored, Greaves and Smith were Spurs other scorers.T. Wagstaff, Simpson and Docherty scored for us
 
Sean Thornton said:
I think lots of people have similar stories. I certainly do. Especially big spiders in the outside toilet. When they saw the candle light they'd be out.

Shame about the house though. Being in Chezvegas it'd be worth double the purchase price nowadays ..... :)
Click to expand...

I speak to a lot of folks who can relate to some of those things, but few who had the full set of Victorian attributes like that, from my generation.

I remember starting Comp school and bringing new friends home. I quickly became a source of ridicule for the way we lived. “You should see his house!” was the regular remark. I quickly stopped bringing friends home. As I got into my early teens I was acutely embarrassed about the slum I lived in. I used to get off the school bus a couple of stops early so the kids who lived in the next village and had to pass the house, didn’t see where I lived.

It was Eckington to be precise. Not Chesterfield, not Sheffield. Somewhere in between...” The Twilight Zone”. :)
 

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