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Las Vegas, Nevada, USA
formerly of Ryton
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Pre-school days
I was born on the 25th of June 1936 at Tower Lodge, Ryton, Co. Durham England, the first child of Harry & Peggy Irving and was Christened Andrew Michael Irving.
We lived in Tower Lodge until 1947 when we moved to the new Parkfield Estate nearby. The family now included brother Peter and baby sister Margaret.
Drew aged two
During my pre-school years I seem to have had more than my fair share of childhood ailments, including Whooping Cough, Croup and Scarlet Fever. I remember still that dreadful Whooping Cough, and the Croup was awful; but in those days before antibiotics, Scarlet Fever required a six weeks stay in an isolation hospital.
The symptoms of this were far less stressful than I'd had with the other two conditions, but oh! The taking me away from home for 6 weeks at age five was almost unbearable.!
Norman's Riding Hospital was where I had to go, it was only 5 or 6 miles away, but not on any regular bus route, so to me it seemed like the other side of the world.
During the latter three weeks of this incarceration, patients were allowed out during the day to play, and, being an isolation hospital, it was located in a country setting with fenced in grounds.
Well, one day my parents came up on Dad's motorcycle to try to spy me through the trees that surrounded the place - and I got my eye on them. I think I'd kind of settled down by this time, but seeing my Mum & Dad unexpectedly like that, without being able to go to them, or talk to them through the fence, set me back a little I believe.
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I remember the joy of my first banana after the war was over!
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The War
The War broke out when I was three and I can remember that very day. My dad was taking me to church on Sunday morning when word came through.
I can't remember if the sirens went off or someone in the street told him but we turned right around and went back home. I must have been the only person that was happy about the event . . . I was fidgety in church!
Most of my childhood memories are not wartime specific, this was life as I knew it, I didn't know any other way existed. But I do remember spending parts of some nights in our Air Raid Shelter, a corrugated iron covered pit at the side of the house.
This was a domed structure, sunk about three parts into the earth and covered over by the soil and rocks that had been dug out. The floor area was about 7ft by 6ft, enough for maybe three adults to sleep.
But of course there was no drainage so water used to seep into this hole causing it to be constantly soaking wet. People would put boards and things on the floor, but we could never sleep there. I think we just huddled till the 'All Clear' sounded.
My mother, if I remember correctly, was always reluctant to go in there, so unless the raid was very bad, we just took our chances and stayed in bed.
I remember too the Gas Mask case I had to take with me every day to school and my mother pleading with me not to leave it on the bus. I also remember the search for shrapnel in the mornings after an air raid and the joy of my first banana after the war was over!
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Whoever said 'School days are the happiest days of you life' didn't go to Stella school!
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School years
My school years, from 1941 to 1951, were spent at Stella RC School, a four classroom four-teacher establishment with no electricity, flush toilets or hot water.
The school had no history of academic or sporting success either. In fact, when Monica Jackson and I passed the first part of the 11+ exam for acceptance into Grammar School the news was trumpeted from the pulpit of the church the following Sunday. We were the first pupils from the school to do so.
Alas, neither of us overcame the next hurdle, the second exam at Hookergate. I think Monica's parents decided to send her to private school after that disappointment.
I know it was wartime and everything was in short supply, especially for cash-strapped Catholic schools, but my most vivid memories of my time there was of the one cricket bat the school had . . . one! Until my final year that is, then, under a new Headmaster we got . . . another one!
My memories of School Dinners still give me chills! Brought in from the bigger school at Ryton, they were not very hot when they got to us.
And oh! That Stew; lumps of fat meat suspended in a thick, barley broth, very slimy! The lumpy turnip, the cabbage stalks, the un-mashed mashed potatoes. Ungrateful wretch that I was, I hated it.
As for the toilets at the top of the schoolyard . . . how everyone failed to get Typhoid is a mystery. As I mentioned, we had no flush toilets, just stalls with a drop to a pit below, which was occasionally shoveled out.
Many times this chore was neglected until you had to literally put your feet up on the seat and sit on your haunches to avoid contact with previous deposits.
Whoever said 'School days are the happiest days of you life' didn't go to Stella school!
Tower Lodge
My childhood at Tower Lodge and Parkfield was happy. I had the extensive wooded grounds of the towers to play in. I wasn't supposed to; we were, of course, just tenants of the Lodge. But as it was not in private hands; it was used as council offices and no one seemed to make a point of chasing me off.
There were several large Horse Chestnut trees in the grounds so I always had a good collection of Conkers in the autumn. Also there was a large Rookery in the tall trees and I think this is what sparked a lifelong interest in birds.
In the winters it was sledging (Tobogganing for US readers!) either down the Station Bank or on the Bankies, those were steep grasslands between the churchyard and Ryton Dene.
In the days before Christmas a few of us kids would go round the houses singing carols at front doors for small change.
In November we built bonfires on spare ground for Guy Fawkes Day - spent days gathering branches and logs for this enterprise. Part of this tradition was defending your stockpile of combustibles from the kids from rival bon-fires who might steel it for their own.
In Spring,we would be looking for birds nests in the woods and hedgerows around the village. In those days it was considered OK to have a birds egg collection.
Parkfield
I was eleven when we moved to Parkfield, a straight-line distance of only 400 yards between the old house and the new, but I made a brand new set of friends.
New kids from Greenside, Crawcrook and Crookhill began filling up these nice new council houses, the first to be built in Ryton since the war.
Team sports was our main activity now, cricket in the summer and football (soccer) the rest of the time. There are two nice grassy areas in among the houses - The Top Green and The Bottom Green we called them - and this is where we spent our time after school.
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The game was sometimes terminated by 'Lost Ball'
. . . very unsatisfactory!
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The Cricket Season
In the Cricket Season it would be dustbins (trash cans) for wickets and any kind of ball of the right size we could get our hands on.
But bats were in very short supply. So much so that we generally had to modify the game rules and play one batsman at a time, with one wicket, and a coat to indicate the bowling crease and the target for run outs at the bowlers end. (US readers, please forgive this lapse into an unknown tongue!).
A six would be scored by the ball clearing the garden walls of the surrounding houses on the fly, and a four by getting there any other way . . . they were low walls.
Because it was sometimes not possible to recover the ball that had made this journey, either because the home owners were there glowering at us, (who could blame them!) or we simply couldn't find it, the game was sometimes terminated by 'Lost Ball' . . . very unsatisfactory!
Another modification to the rules of cricket that we made to suit our less than perfect playing conditions was that if a fly ball made contact with a tree branch, lamp post etc. before being caught by a fielder, he was allowed to use only one hand for the catch otherwise the batsman would not be out.
Of course we had no umpire for these games. Close decisions were decided by consensus and most times this was not a problem. When it truly couldn't be agreed, the matter would be decided by giving the bowling team one free shot at the wicket, with the batsman only allowed to keep a stationary bat in front to defend it.
If the ball hit the wicket, then judgment went to the bowler, if he missed or struck the bat guarding the wicket then the decision went in favor of the batsman.
I don't know if these unwritten rules were from a long tradition or were adopted only by boys of our age in our district, but they were understood by all without question, or reference to official rules. As you can see, we took our games very seriously!
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We travelled back on the bus from Jockers Field in Greenside to Ryton - muddy and boisterous!
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The Football Season
Come the Football Season, it was jackets and sweaters for goal posts; no crossbars so height was a judgment call, causing much argument. We had no formula for settling this, the closer the game, the louder the argument as I remember.
Real leather footballs were always in short supply. One or two might make an appearance as someone's Christmas present but they usually didn't last too long.
The streets surrounding the Greens where we played took their toll. In fact, I remember on one occasion a resident who got tired of the ball being constantly kicked into his garden stuck a pair of household scissors into one football . . . game over!
This caused big trouble between the parents of the ball owner and the irate gardener. I don't know how this was resolved, the dispute had been taken to a higher plain than could be settled by us kids!
However, the scarcity of real footballs was not a big hindrance. Plastic and composition substitutes were becoming available and in some ways were more suited to our game.
They were lighter and did not soak up water like the leather balls. Our often wet and muddy playing surface caused the leather balls to become very heavy. The smaller kids couldn't kick the ball very far in that condition.
We played mostly among ourselves, selecting teams from all the kids who regularly showed up to play. If there wasn't enough for two teams - I don't mean a full 22 players, we could get a game going with maybe six-a-side - we would divide what we had and take turns to attack or defend a single goal.
Some Saturdays we arranged full-blown games with other sets of boys from distant parts . . . like Greenside and Crawcrook. The connections we all had from our homes prior to moving to Parkfield helped us in this.
These games were played with great enthusiasm and rivalry. I have many memories of our trips to play at Jockers Field in Greenside and travelling back on the bus to Ryton, muddy and boisterous.
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We would use the streets that circled the houses and greens for various length races from about 100 yards to one mile.
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Athletics
As well as Cricket and Football, we also held athletic competitions. (Track & field for US readers) This would be during the time of major national or international events like the Olympics when the athletics got our attention. We would use the streets that circled the houses and greens for various length races from about 100 yards to one mile. (4 laps of the outer perimeter streets)
On a few occasions we ran longer distances. One time a mixed group of us, including a dog ran from Parkfield, down the Peth, across Newburn Bridge, along the Tyne to Wylam Bridge then back along the south side of the river and up the steep paths across the golf course and finally along Westfield Lane and back to Parkfield.
This is no marathon distance, but to our untrained minds and bodies it seemed like a daunting endeavor! Only the hardiest could be persuaded to participate. Harry Kyle was the best sprinter, Jack Kelly was good at 400 yards or so and I was best at half mile and up . . . happy days!
Sport today
All these organized sporting activities; Cricket, Football and Athletics took place without any input, encouragement, or even interest from any parent or other adult.
TV was not yet available, so most kids just 'went out to play' and made their own entertainment. The pictures (movies) were of course very popular, but this was evening entertainment - and cost money - so was separate from our daytime activities.
When I compare this to the adult-driven sports scene here in the US, with its frenzied soccer moms, the Texas Cheerleader's mother plotting murder to boost her daughter's chances, the millions of Dads sure their boy will make the majors, the floodlit fields, the adult coaches, the equipment in abundance, trophies to be won and displayed for even the smallest tots I wonder if our way was, in fact, better.
Are the children happier? I submit not, and to me that's the bottom line. The pressure to succeed is often too great, expectations too high; the win at any cost attitude is seen more and more. It may be good for results but not for a child's well being.
My memories of these times are happy, that's what childhood is for. I doubt if many of today's kids here in the US will feel the same way when they look back.
Find out more about Drew
Drop me a line if you have childhood memories to share!
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Copyright (c) 2000-2001 Sue Kelly. Tastes of Home