Up at 0430hrs. No kip much last night, I’m getting irritable now. And that’s not a good idea when you live alone, cause it’s only yourself you can take it out on.
Gawd I hate missen!
Between WC visits I got the laptop going, made a cuppa and took me medications.
Still no luck with getting colour graphics to me posts.
I tried the site that Ratty advised me to, but couldn’t work out how to get me graphic onto it, let alone save em. Thick? Me?…
Got me laundry ready and set off. As I was hobbling along, Arthur Itis stabbed me up me left knee – the worst single pain ever shot through me limbs, and I said: “Well fancy that!” Not exactly but…
Got me laundry done, but I wasn’t in good spirits.
Came back to the flea-pit, and tried again at sorting out what was wrong with me laptop or Coreldraw9 package, waste of me time that was.
Updated me Lochmaben post for the Inchcock site. Mononchrome graphics of cause. But I did a decent one of me at the van with me tackle. (Fishing tackle I might add!)
Decided around 1315hrs, I’d get some more stuff ready for the Nottingham Hospice Charity shop, and take a hobble to Sherwood with it. I just hope the left knee ain’t too painful, if it is still, I’ll have to go see the GP in the morning… well, go get an appointment.
That is if I remember.
Yobs lurking about outside as I left the hovel.
Hobbled with Arthur Itis in my left knee rampant, up to Sherwood’s Nottingham Hospice shop with the bits for them.
Crossed the road and caught bus into Arnold.
I managed to get the last pack of cheapo microwave sausages in Fulton’s foods, then waddled into Iceland and got some lollies.
Managed to avoid yet another mobility scooter seemingly, driven by a drugged or drunk driver as it forced its way through the fleeing pedestrians.
Limped to the bus stop and caught bus back to Carrington. I intended when I got off the bus, to call at the GP surgery to book an appointment, but I stopped to empty me bag of some rubbish into a roadside bin, as I was doing so a car ran into the back of a parked van. The van driver sitting behind his wheel banged his head on it, no air-bag? Anyway, I called the emergency services and went to see if he was alright.
He was fine, but I think he would have liked to have beheaded the driver of the Mistubishi that hit him. Gave details to the police when they arrived, then hobbled home, well tired again.
Not up to doing owt when I got in, so got me head down to try and get some sleep.
Penned by our Nottingham WordPress resident the decrepit impecunious pensioner, of great senility and ill health Mr Juan Inchcock, with the hopes of encouraging.. er… well something!
Quote from Inchcock:
On my last walk around Nottingham City’s abandoned shops… I mean City Centre, I came across some council workers removing a sign from the wall.
The sign read:
‘Visit Nottingham Castle to hear the fables of Robin Hood and his Merry Men’
The graffiti written below it said:
‘Then visit Nottingham Council House to hear the fables of the Merry Men and their robbing hoods’
“I thought it was hilarious!”
The Lions at the front of the Council House
Created by Joseph Else, the 2 stone art-deco lions stand guard on either side of the entrance steps. They are similar in design to the lions used to publicise the British Empire Exhibition at Wembley in 1924-25. There are alternative ‘names’ attached to them, some people call them “Menelaus and Agamemnon”, others “Leo and Oscar”.
Whatever their names, arranging to meet ‘At The Lions’ has become an essential part of Nottinghamian life since the building opened.
The Left side Lion
1963:
Where the higher class ‘Totties’ would gather, hoping to ply their trade with the more affluent visitors to the ‘Black Boy’ hotel (Now criminally destroyed by backhander seeking councillors) just along the road. I’m told the Totties provided £3 and £5 servicing.
2014:
A popular meeting point for the shoplifting squads and locals. The regular appearances of Protest meetings, Big Issue sellers, a Parking Attendants favourite point of observational value and during the regular various foreign markets, an absolute haven for pickpockets.
The Right side Lion – The more popular of the Lions as a meeting-up place.
1963:
Where local PC’s Dennis ‘Tug’ Wilson (7′ 2½ inches) and Geoffrey Baker (6′ 8½ inches) would position themselves to keep a keen eye on the populous of the City, and responding to questions from the public, and always alert.
2014:
The graffiti is cleaned off regularly nowadays. The CPO’s (Community Police Officers), and occasionally a real PC can be seen using their mobile phones, and if they are needed, as soon as they end their phone call, citizens can speak to them. Nearby you will find the Big Issue sellers, street artists, beggars, Motorbility scooters, Skateboaders, Cyclists and other dangers.
Special Foreign Market’s
1963:
No Special Foreign Market’s were held then. But there was a speakers corner.
2014:
Themed markets are a regular appearance in the slab square nowadays. Themes including: Lithuanian Foods, German, Polish, Austrian, Australian Foods, French Products, and Asian Foods. Amongst the items you would not have been offered in 1963 are: Kangaroo burgers, Shark steaks and Blueberry candyfloss.
Violence
The Sacheverell riots of 1710, riots were a series of public disorder outbreaks that spread across England during the spring, summer and autumn of 1710 in which supporters of the Tories attacked property and places of worship of Whigs St Mary’s Church just off the Slab square becoming a victim.
The Spitalfield Riots of 1769, Luddite Riots of 1812, Reform Bill riots of 1831, Racial Riots of 1958, Protest Riots of 1981, and the Protest Riots of 2014 all had occasion to ply their violence, along with other locations, on the Nottingham Slab Square. The muggings continue, but most of them have moved to the suburbs where there are fewer CCTV cameras.
1963:
I recall a few skirmishes between Mods and Rockers, and between football fans occasionally.
2014:
Last year there were 485 shoplifters arrested (Although less than 200 were prosecuted) – 211 arrests for using threatening behaviour or using violence – One murder – Nine stabbings – 156 assaults – 18 nights of rioting activity – 3 police vehicles fire-bombed and attacked – 4 police officers hospitalised – 9 Ram raids – 11 shop raids with violence – 2 street dwellers died. 8 people knocked over by drunken or illegal drivers – 4 Taxi drivers robbed and assaulted, and 126 muggings. Oh, and the nearest police station was fire bombed.
Transport
1963:
Black Taxi’s with white bonnets and boots lined up on the right side of the Slab Square. Fairs from 1/3p (5 ¼d) Some of the drivers could speak English too.
Trolley and Motor-buses with conductors ruled in this year. Tickets from 1p
2014:
Custom designed and built London style Taxi’s are now ranked off the Square. Fares from… well I don’t know, I can’t afford to use them nowadays.
The new Trams and Motor-buses without conductors rule now. Tickets from £1.80.
Retailers/Trade outlets
1963:
There were about 65 businesses around the square.
Lyons Cafe being another popular meeting place for Nottingham residents.
2014:
There are still about 65 businesses around the square, but a third of them are closed down.
There are now far more eateries, less banks, and the excessive proliferation of Pawn Shops, Charity Shops and Pay-Day Loan sharks were not around in 1963.
The new fountains are a popular place for children to play in and swear at passers by. Unemployed benefit seekers, immigrants, shoplifters, muggers, and wino’s to meet.
In the event of anyone being tempted to move to Nottingham for its Multiculturalism, Wealth, Serenity, or Placid lifestyle, as a result of these meanderings – Please read between the lines!
Twenty feet below Prince Charles, in the QMC Hospital, Nottingham
Inchcock listening to Radio 4 Extra
I was, lying in a bed in the busy Ward E19 in the Queens Medical Centre, just after having had surgery, to repair a hernia, and treat prostate cancer. I was listening to the radio.
Tubes were extruding from various regions of body.
Particularly cumbersome was the drainage tube from my ‘Inch’, which at that time the bruising had swelled to such a degree I would have been happy to put up with if only it would have stayed that size.
For the life of me I can’t understand how they managed to get a camera and lazer down their!
Prince Charles, who had the Ward above to himself, with two nurses and a Sister in attendance 24 hours a day – with me 20 feet below in Ward E19, who couldn’t get a bed pan! Bothered, jealous… me?
On the floor directly above the ward, was the ward where that Prince Charles had to himself, and two nurses, and a Sister in attendance 24 hours a day, to have his tennis elbow looked at.
I was lying in extreme physical stress below, pressing the button for twenty minutes to get a bedpan! Then stuggle down the ward with me attachments hanging, to find that that WC was occupied! More later on that one.
The talk of the ward was the imminent arrival of Princess Diana to visit Prince Charles.
As I lay painfully awaiting another bedpan, the staff and patients were more interested in seeing ‘Lady Di’.
A student nurse arrived at my bedside and nervously informed me she had come to remove one of the drainage tubes, the tube from my little used, lesser endowed lonely lower regions.
She set about trying to release the valve to drain the air from it, she was so nervous (not her fault) the more she shook the pain increased – I was about to say something about this, when a great whoops and shouts of “Look it’s LadyPrincess Die” came from those who were looking out of the window down to the ground level outside, and there was a massive surge of staff and mobile patients to the East windows – indeed I feared the building might topple!
Inchcock – Worried, embarrassed or what?
Unfortunately, and unforgettably my student nurse was amongst those Royalists so keen to see her, and as she ran to the window to join the others, she took the tube with her, leaving me in great pain, and covered in blood and urine!
Afterwards, when she realised what she’d done, the poor thing burst into tears, and begged to be forgiven. Some ‘fully trained’ nurses appeared, and sent for a doctor, who arranged for me to have some X-rays, and I was transported to the radiology department, where I spent a good two hours in a draughty corridor waiting to be seen to.
When I was eventually returned to the ward, I’d missed the meal, and still wanted to use the bedpan!
I climbed into the bed, the nurse reminding me drink plenty of water all the time to get my bladder working.
I got my book out to read, by the time I’d read a chapter, I felt a warm wet sensation appeared between my legs. A quick peep, and the blood all over me and the bed, I pressed me red button, and eventually someone arrived – and boy did I get a rollicking off of ‘em for making a mess.
They grumpily cleaned up the bed and me, and almost threw me back into the newly cleaned bed.
Oh dear…
After a few beakers of water were imbibed, I felt the need for the WC – I hobbled painfully trying to stop any leaks, to the WC, it took ages. Unfortunately it was occupied.
I limped walking painfully cross legged to the one at the other end of the ward… it was torture really. As I got in front of the bowl, boy did me bladder release its contents. It was like a fire hose, painfully belting out and hitting the wall behind the WC, and rebounding back at me, covering me in blood, and leaving an outline of my body on the wall behind me!
Embarrassed, oh so embarrassed, I tried to clean some of it up with toilet paper, both rolls were used up in minutes.
By then, they had missed me cause it was time for me medications, and a nurse opened the door and said: “Are you in there Mr … oh good heavens!
I was again cleaned up, and lodged beck into the bed.
Inchcock was in great fear!
I thought the rollicking I got last time was fierce, but this one made me cringe.
I remember thinking at the time:
“I do so hope that Prince Charles’s tennis elbow was getting better, and he enjoyed his wife’s visit!”
Join our guide for the day, decrepit Senior Citizen and Retired Cinema Wall Gas Light Lighter and Snuffer Outerer Technician of bad sanitary habits and Nottingham resident Bartholomew Utterswaithe, for a walk: Along Bulwell Main Street today, comparing the same walk with that of 1963, when your guide was working on that same street.
Your tour guide Bartholomew will stroll down from what today is the KFC take away, at the end of Hucknall Lane along Main Street into Bulwell Market and to the train and tram Station.
We start off at:
2014:
The recently ram raided Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet.
1963:
Where once stood the proud Adelphi cinema, tickets from 9d (4p) to 1/3d (5¼p).
2014:
On our left, is a second hand car showroom, offering on the front, a 1992 Land Rover for £6,999.
1963:
On the same spot, amazingly, there was a Land Rover dealership outlet, offering a new Land Rovers at £2,935.
2014:
Further up on the left, stands the dilapidated old Sharp’s Vauxhall Dealership premises – destroyed when travellers used it as a base some years ago, and been for sale or rent ever since, no takers though.
1963:
Sharp’s Vauxhall Dealership premises, offering the new Chevette from a price of £1,593!
2014:
On our right, the Cancer Research charity shop, that was in the news recently when they were raided by two knife wielding local yobs.
1963:
Two cottages, later bought by investors and sold to Councillor Arbuthnot.
2014:
Further along, the Extra Charity shop, with furniture etc available for those in need.
1963:
A motorbike shop. With the new Honda 50 cub at under £100 for sale.
2014:
The new Tesco now stands on our left – as yet not raided or fire bombed, but it’s new, give them time. Although the local shoplifters took to it straight away.
1963:
The Scots Grey public House, beer at 1/- (5p) a pint, skittles alley, darts, dominoes, tip-it, bar skittles, shove halfpenny, fags at 3/2d (15¼p) for twenty, good company, an RAOB lodge and a buxom landlady… ah memories!
2014:
As we veer left to main shopping part of the road, come across, a closed down retail unit, another charity shop, a closed down retail unit, a stationery shop, a bank, another charity shop, a closed down retail unit, a Pay Day Loan outlet, a cake shop, a bank, a building society, a closed down retail unit, a butchers, Iceland, a cheap frozen food shop, a closed down retail unit, a shoe shop, a charity shop, a pub, a bingo shop, a buy your gold shop, a closed down retail unit, the ATM that was raided last week outside the bank, the alleyway where the two women were attacked last February, and the ram raided jewellery store that has not opened since, Ali’s newspaper shop, a closed down retail unit, finally near the market place, the Wilko’s store that was broken into last weekend, another favourite with the local shop-lifters.
1963:
There was, a newspaper shop, a sweet shop, a greengrocers, a wet fishmongers, a chip shop, a second hand shop, a bank, a police station, two pubs, a butchers, a cake shop, a Sanderson’s Tripe shop, a Fine Fare supermarket, a Cycle shop, a hairdressers, a hardware shop, a bakers, Roses shoe shop, a Farrand’s grocery shop, a post office, and a wines and spirits shop. The shoplifting craze hadn’t fully installed itself with the local at this time.
2014:
Now at the market: It has all been pedestrianised, the market is no longer held five days a week, but three, and the 54 stalls that used to be there, are down to about 11. Bakers, three greengrocers stalls of sorts, socks & gloves stalls, hot-cold take-away foods, fishmongers van, four women’s clothes stalls, games stall, DVD stall, Accident
cinsurers/claims people lurking, and depressed big issue sellers were there on the day of our visit.
1963:
Then, there were several greengrocery stalls, two bakery stalls, two butchers stalls, pottery stalls, a fishmonger, a hot pie and peas whelks etc. stall, a chip shop van, a grocery stall, a florist stall, men’s-wear stalls, ladies-wear stalls, shoe stalls, toy stalls, record stalls, hardware stalls, sweet stalls, etc. The trolley buses terminus around the traffic island. (3d [1¼p]maximum fare)
2014:
Around the market: Greggs hot food (20% VAT), Cohen’s Jewellery shop, cheap freezer centre, cheap foods, a pound shop, stationers, a butcher who sells his meat by the tray with no weights indicated, a book shop, JCP benefits office, the Police Station torched in the riots (still closed), the bus station (£1.80 minimum fare), café’s, the canal (where the two kids threw another kid into it last January), the new Tram stop, and the highly ignore pedestrian crossing.
1963:
Marsden’s Grocers (I worked there), Newspaper shop, sweet shop, shoe shop, Jewellery store, Woolworth’s, Elmo supermarket, Co-op grocers, pub, the butchers who sold the glorious beef dripping with jelly, Chip shop, Police Station (With Policemen), furniture shop, record shop, and a Cowheel, tripe, pie & jellied eel shop.
The sound of the market in 1963 were those of the barkers selling their wares and food, the bus conductors calling out to the passengers, the laughter of the children and their mothers telling them off, and the occasional sound of traffic. (The trolley buses made no noise other than that of their tyres)
Today, we heard the constant stream of bad language coming from the kids, while their mothers ignored them as they were using their mobile phones to shout down, and the sound of emergency services sirens seemed to be always in the air.
Grizelda and I were going to see the film ‘Das Boot’ at the Metropole Cinema in Sherwood, Nottingham. Not far from the flat where I had the erotic pleasure of sharing with my beloved Grizelda.
Earlier, I was on the step ladder, hanging the curtains, when she reminded me to get ready in time, as she lifted me down from the step ladder, and carried me in her magnificent rippling arms into the bathroom to get ready.
Another lost Cinema – but not as painful of losing Grizelda
All ready, we walked to the cinema, me as proud as punch as I walked alongside her looking into her square jawed Arian face.
We got settled into the seats, ready for the show to start.
As soon as the lights dimmed, I felt her left hand creep over my right leg, (I instantly sensed a grateful tingling sensation), and a smile crept over her face. (And an even bigger one over mine).
A big desirable cinema – a bit like Grizelda!
After a while she put her rippling arm around my neck and shoulders, I can still sense the perfume from the underarm hairs that encased my ear-hole, as she tweaked my left nipple. By gad she was wonderful.
I looked up and gave her a big thank you smile, and in reply she gave me a little cuddle with her left arm – I felt and heard me ribs crack, I’m sure I did.
At the first interval of the film, she explained to me how the U-boat’s snorkel was a device which allowed U-boats to run on diesel engines even when underwater, who invented them, and other technical details of the boats design failings.
She continued with telling me where and when the different Wolf-packs operated, and how her Uncle Otto, had been in the Kriegsmarine and had survived the war, and was now a Polizeihauptmeister, one of her bosses at home, in their Landespolizei force.
As the lights once more dimmed for the second half of the film, she turned her attention to a very pleasurably accepted activity.
I’d have liked to return the favour, but being under her muscular solid body, I could not move. Let alone reach any suitable target.
I hadn’t managed to concentrate on the film much, but I was deliriously happy by the end it, and reached up to hold her hand as we departed the cinema to go home.
Through the flats front door, and excited mutual passion broke out again!
A love lost. Tsk!
Into the bedroom: I was thrown all over the place in the ensuing grappling.
Inchcock looking a lot more cheerful today after his morning medications
As we at the Inchy’s True Tales of Woe Corn-plaster Appreciation Society move temporarily into Inchcock’s Security Career Woes, let’s take a moment to reflect for a moment on the earlier true masterpieces formulated from the memory of the insanitary, bald old chap’s tormented mind.
We know he was born a bloodied Park Drive cigarette ash covered unwanted little 3lb 3oz mite. Let’s face it, his mother and the mid-wife told him it was so.
But did it discourage our little hero? Well apart from the suicide attempt, and the rampant depression like.
Today in his twilight years, as he searches and hopes to find anyone other than Benefit office staff, bus drivers and shopkeepers who will talk to him, he has (He tells me), found a minuscule but certain iota of acceptance of his fate and Woes. How did he manage this you might ask? (If you don’t ask, please proceed to the main body of this True Tales of Woe Part 23)
Inchcock himself explains:
“Well, yer see midduck, I thought if I don’t not expect owt good to happen, I cud accept the things that ain’t good like, yer see?”
Security Guard Inchy – Has to call for backup
I was working as a static security guard in Nottingham, at a furniture making factory.
The company had asked for a security officer, as an end wall to the factory, had been hit by a fork lift, and it had collapsed. So security was well and truly compromised, and they required cover over the night until it could be repaired or rebuilt.
I was summoned from my first night off in fourteen days to attend.
The night manager met me there, and took me on a quick walk around the site, as it started to pour down with rain.
Bad signal
He warned me that the RT (Radio Transmitter) did not work well in that area, nor did the mobile phone.
I was based in an old dilapidated office near the entrance gates, with a land-line phone that did not work. A cold outside tap and an electric kettle that leaked and a holed roof.
The unit was at the end of a cul-de-sac, they had sensor lights in the lorry yard, as I found out on my first patrol, I also discovered that in the centre of the yard, the RT worked a little better, so decided I’d make my check calls through the night from that spot.
The night manager called at the site about 0030hrs for a sit-rep, and kindly freed me of the problem I was having of whether to eat my shortcake biscuits now or later, by consuming them himself.
Off he shot into the night, it began to rain again, I relocked the gates, and realised I was a little late with my regular check call to the control room – so I walked into the centre of the lorry park yard to make the call. While doing so, the sensor lights came on, and lit up the sight of two male bodies at the far end of the site near the damaged wall!
I asked for back up, as the two bodies went in different directions, one I saw jump over the fencing.
I waited near the gate, and the back-up arrived in the form of Mick, a mobile patrol officer along with his white Alsatian bitch dog, named ‘Belle’.
I opened the gate to let them in, then relocked it, and joined them as he was letting the bitch out of the van. I gave him a quick explanation of events, and the three of us were walking down the yard to the area where I’d last seen the missing intruder.
It was at that point that I realised the dog was chewing on my right ankle as we walked! Mick laughed, I cursed ‘Belle’, and she just growled a bit in my direction and looked at me with a puzzled expression!
We moved on to where they had placed stacks of pallets in place of the wall. I moved towards the pallets, to see if I could find any rain made footprints on them, to identify whether the intruder had or had not climbed or tried to climb over the pallets into the factory.
There were no footprints, but as I was returning into the yard, I noticed a large drain cover was dislodged in the yard. I pointed this out to Mick, who also thought it possible that the intruder had hid himself under the drain cover – so I bent down, and as I shone my torchlight into the depths… ‘Belle’ decided to chew on my left hand this time!
More laughter from Mick. More cursing from me. Oh, and tail wagging from Belle as she gnawed away at me limb ensued.’
There were no signs of the intruder in the drains.
At this point I told Mick top get the ‘…king dog back in his van.
A visual check of the site brought no signs of the intruder, and we walked back to the vehicle at the gates, to find that the night manager was sat outside trying to get our attention to offer further support.
Mick and ‘Belle’ departed, and the boss came in.
He looked at my leg and hand, and went to get the first-aid kit out of his van. I followed him out of the office and down the steps towards the gate where he’d parked, and slipped on a wet step, going arse-over-tit onto the concrete path, cutting and bruising my right knee!
I was really concerned that the Night Manager might do himself an injury – because he laughed so load and much!
By then, I was genuinely concerned for the health of the night manager, as he was laughing so much!
The boss managed to contain his merriment long enough to treat the wounds, and as he was about to leave site, two police officers arrived and they all came in for a cuppa, and finished off me shortcakes whilst laughing energetically at my downfall!
It was an awfully long time before for the other lads stopped the jibes. You’d be amazed at the ingenious ways they brought ‘bite’, ‘dog’, ‘bell’, ‘Wood-Would’ and ‘blood’ into the conversations!
When they had all gone, I secured the gates and started on a patrol of the site, as it started to thunder and lightning… guess who got hit my the lightning?
Our local historian, guide, agniologist and doddery pensioner Juan Inchcock takes you along the route, describing what we sees now, and what was there in his youth and before. A Nottingham born Lad of a gentle nature, uneducated, insanitary, and in ill health, he’s been reporting on Nottingham for many years. He’s currently the top unpaid journalist for WordPress.com. and a founder member of the ‘Outer Peruvian Pregnant Kangaroo Appreciation Society, and offers half of all the money that he doesn’t earn to support to the ‘Bring Back the Death Penalty for Politician’s – Senile Diplegic Supporters Division, Nottingham Branch’, as Secretary to the branches cleaning operatives third cousin.
The comparisons depict the changing face of life for Nottinghamians’.
Nottingham City Centre
1863:
We stand in the market-place amidst the horse and carts of the traders, opposite the Soup kitchens.
1963:
Bill Fury, one of my all time favourites, along with Nat King Cole, Dean Martin, Adam Faith, The Shadows, Acker Bilk… I’d better stop or I’ll not have any room left!
We stand at the taxi rank, opposite the McFisheries supermarket. Billy Fury, Elvis, Adam Faith and the new group theBeatles records on sale at Griffin and Spalding store.
2014:
We stand on the new tram lines on South Parade, opposite the bank raided by armed robbers last July, the Pay-Day loan shop, and the Fountains provided for our children to play and urinate in, and the three Coffee Houses.
Friar Lane (bottom)
1863:
On the corner on our left, is the Mikado Cafe, tea or coffee costing 1/8th of a penny. (Farthing) 0.005p)
1963:
On the corner on our left, is The Friary Cafe, tea or coffee 3d (1¼p) Toby’s department store, and Burton’s Tailors next to Wimpey Cafe/Bar.
2014:
On the corner on our left, is Starbucks cafe, (looted in the 2010 Nottingham riots), tea £1.20 coffee up to £3.39. Where a few years ago I was responding to an alarm call, and got booked my a traffic warden.
Friar Lane (Way up on the left)
1863:
No buildings at all by the lane, which was almost a very wide pathway then.
She earned more in a month as a part-time Barclay’s ‘Advisor’, than I did in a year! Didn’t bother me though… oh no!
1963:
A sweetshop, Hambro’s Bank (went defunct in 1988), no Conservative minister investors to save them then, like William Hague to ensure his wife’s income from her part-time job as a Barclay’s bank advisor remained profitable, like in 2010, an old peoples help centre (conveniently positions at the top of the hill).. oh dear, now closed down, and an Indian restaurant.
2014:
A cobblers, hairdressers, empty Co-op bank building, and a Charity Shop, Chinese Food shop, and Pay-Day Loan crooks shop.
Friar Lane (Way up on the right)
Many beautiful designs of Fothergill’s in Nottingham have destroyed by our wonderful Nottingham City Council. This one survived, but is unoccupied.
1863:
Some magnificent houses of the rich, designed by William Fothergill, gargoyles included.
1963:
The grand Toby’s Department Store (Vernon House). Went Bankrupt a few years later.
2014:
A Charity shop, the Citi Restaurant (Beer from £2.99 per bottle), and a newsagents.
Friar Lane (Junction of Derby Road)Corner one on the left:
1863:
This area was (apart from a footpath forged through it) all wasteland, with lookout posts from the military based at the Castle.
1963:
A cafe (cannot remember the name, possibly Maid Marion Cafe. Fish & Chips 1/10d (9p)
2014:
Indian Resturant Fish and Chips £7.99.
Corner One on the right:
1863:
Wasteland
1963:
Newspaper shop – Evening Post 1d (¼p)
2014:
Newspaper shop – Evening Post 50p weekdays, 60p Saturdays.
Corner Three on the left:
1863:
Lookout post for Nottingham Castle troops.
1963:
Derelict lookout post for Nottingham Castle troops.
2014:
Abandoned office block.
Corner four on the right
1863:
Wasteland
1963:
Tesco supermarket (purchased from Elmo supermarkets)
2014:
Abandoned Robin Hood Centre (torched in the Nottingham Riots 2010).
Friar Lane (Top end right)
1863:
Stables for the cavalry based at Nottingham Castle.
1963:
Travel Agents, Wimpey’s snack bar, and ice cream shop.
2014:
Row of abandoned businesses, charity shop, and a night shelter for street dwellers.
Friar Lane (Top end left)
1863:
Residential premises.
1963:
Residential and now offices built.
2014:
Abandoned offices.
Nottingham Castle Entrance
1863:
Near main gates: Horse-guard’s Cavalry Stables and arsenal. No admittance to the citizenry.
1963:
Near main gates: Ice-cream vendor, flower seller, and Boy Scout hut. Robin Hood statue and car park. Admission free.
2014:
Near main gates: Graffiti ridden Robin Hood statue cleaned up, CCTV cameras, No parking sign, Admission fee £6.50.
More Historical Walks of Ye Olde Nottingham to follow
Late December 1963: This incident took place while I as working at Tesco on Goosegate, Hockley in Nottingham. (The only Tesco in Nottingham at the time).
I was manager of the Greengrocery Section at the time. It was 0800hrs and I was setting out the display, as I noticed this tramp-like chap with a heavy sack under his arm, and the biggest blotchy nose I’ve ever seen walk into the store and he said to me, in a refined sort of voice “Good Morning young man” and proceeded down the aisle to the tinned meats sections shelves.
As I was looking at him, a mate (Butchers cutter Ray Miles and old school chum) was filling the meat fridge opposite where the chap was, and we acknowledged each other. At that moment the big-nosed chappy opened the heavy sack, and scooped all the Fray Bentos corned beef tins into it – slung it over his shoulder, and proceeded to walk out of the store.
I jumped down from the trolley of potato sacks I was putting on the display as he passed me, and said; “Excuse me Sir…”
“Fair enough governor, you’ve got me!” Then handed me the sack, and he actually led me into the back and upstairs.
The manager joined us, and the police were called.
They arrived through the back loading door within 10 minutes, and you should have seen the beaming smiles on their faces when they saw the chap and greeted him with; “Hallo Arthur, how the devil have you been keeping son?”
One of the policemen handed out his fags to the other officer and ‘Arthur’, and they chatted merrily away for an hour or so. Eventually they arrested him, and he was collected by another officer who came to fetch him, and another old-time gossip session took place between they all, with laughter, back slapping etc.
After he’s been taken away, the remaining plain clothes officer told us that it was near Christmas, so Arthur always got himself arrested so he could be fed and looked after over the holidays.
The Shoplifting Lemon Jacketed Vixen
1964: I had been promoted to the grand title of ‘Trainee Assistant Manager’. The store manager’s name was Mr Wynn, and we had a new Assistant Manager, Mr Goodhead.
I was helping out on the tills, and unbeknown to me, Mr Goodhead and a store detective had been following this giant of a woman, wearing a bright ‘lemon’ jacket and had been seen hiding tinned products in her own shopping bag.
The first I knew of this was when Mr Goodhead, tried to stop the woman as she exited the doors, and she swung her bag of canned food around and into the face of Mr Goodhead, knocking him out for the count.
For some reason, she ran not out of the shop, but into it, and a chase ensued with me, Mr Wyn, a woman supervisor (Can’t remember her name) the store detective woman, Ray Miles and several other brave staff chasing her around the gondolas and shelves for a few minutes (Even at the time I thought this is a bit like a Keystone Cops film).
Then she ‘Lemon’ woman ran into the back of the store, up the stairs and into the warehouse, where she was eventually wrestled to the floor. Several cuts and bruises were suffered by the staff in this scrap, ‘Lemon was strong woman.
As we waited for the police to arrive in the warehouse, a rather weather-beaten Mr Goodhead appeared, with a hell of a lump of his forehead, along with a trickle of blood from his ear-hole.
Two women PCs arrived, and that set of the ‘Lemon’ again. It took the PCs and three of us to calm her down again.
Another police car arrived, and we managed to get her into the back of the Panda, not easy trying to carry 16 stone of unwilling ‘Lemon’ to a car, I can tell you.
As the car drew off up the back road with ‘Lemon’ ensconced in it, it was amusing to see the car swerve and shake about with the springs being tested to their limit.
We counted our injured. Mr Goodhead head injuries, sent to hospital three days off work – Our female supervisor broken nail, bloody lip and pulled hamstring, eight days off work – The Store Detective woman, bloody nose and scratched face – Ray Miles bruised testicles, Inchcock bit fingers and broken glasses.
Eventually we found out that the woman (Lemon) had received 3 months probation and a £20 fine.
Was it worth it I asked?
The Lincolnshire Chase
So there I was, sent to the Lincoln Tesco, as additional help in getting the store sorted in time for reopening after a fire.
Tesco had got Bruce Forsyth and then David Nixon to do a visit to encourage shoppers to attend the reopening.
We only just managed to get everything ready on time, and I worked throughout the night, along with many others.
The opening ceremony went well, Mr Forsyth and Mr Nixon, especially Mr Nixon, ere true gentlemen and remained unflustered as their fans approached them.
After they had both gone, I had hoped to get some sleep in – but the codeword for a shoplifter came over the tannoy, so it was all male staff to the shop floor.
The distinctively dresses Teddyboy doing the shoplifting, skipped past the manager, and had it away on his toes, with me in pursuit.
Eventually I had to give up the chase, I bet he’s not been working all night.
Then it dawned on me… I was lost.
Eventually, after asking for directions repeatedly, I got back to the store, just in time to start my next shift.
I was working at the Nottingham Cooperative Society’s Co-op House on Upper Parliament Street, in the food hall, as general dogsbody, and not very popular goffer.
The Caves
On my first day I was sent down to the cellars (Tunnels come caves) below the building, to lay mouse traps and rat poison, in an effort clear the place of the little mites. An order I thought a little out of the ordinary, but I followed them, collected the traps and poison, and went down into the bowels of the building to do my duty. (Little realising that the staff had set up a tape recording of eerie sounds, thinking it would be fun to scare me to death!)
I soon spotted the ‘Bush’ tape recorder after hearing the sounds it emitted, and carried on laying the traps and poison pots. By the time I’d finished, there were already some dead rats in a few of the traps.
Full of myself, I extricated a larger one from the trap, and carrying it in my outstretched hand, re-entered the store warehouse smiling and grinning, saying to I thought the mates I’d left assembling orders fro delivery, thinking I being rather droll and witty: “‘Ere you are then, dead as a dodo, we can put it in the mincer with the beef un make some money… haha…”
I stopped as soon as I realised the area shops inspector was stood directly in front of me!
I managed to get another job with Tesco.
Pat Phoenix’s Visit to Tesco
Pat Phoenix as Elsie Tanner
Tesco on Granby Street in Nottingham, had arranged a promotional visit from Pat Phoenix, who at the time was playing the part of the very popular feisty Elsie Tanner in Coronation Street. She was supposed to sign autographs for ten minutes, and then do a mock shop to impress the public.
It was utter pandemonium, we had earlier built a wall of Heinz soup boxes covered in colourful crepe paper, behind which we had placed a table and chair for her to sit on and greet her fans, and offer her signature to them. (With her very large body guard stood next to her)
So many emotional fans turned up, we had to get all the male staff on the shop floor, to try and control them as they all wanted to speak to her first. At one time, we all linked arms to try and stem the rush of the dear old biddies from causing physical damage to the Ms Phoenix, it was like a football match at times.
She and her bodyguard chain smoked throughout the time Pat was signing her signature for her fans. Rothman’s King Size they both smoked.
After about 40 minutes, she was able to escape the confines of the table and chair, did a very quick pretend shop, took her cheque, and left.
As she was leaving, I noticed that the soup boxes had their crepe paper coverings torn apart, and the tins were crushed and spread out on the floor during the melee. At this point, I also realised that I had blood coming from my ear-hole, and running down my white coat.
A few days later, a photographer, who had been taking pictures of the event on the day, came in, to find the staff in the photos he’s taken to sell them a print.
One of the girls (Kathleen, I remember Kathleen… sorry…) pointed out to me a particular photo; it was taken when I was in the line of staff trying to stem the flow of women, and it showed an old lady, about 5 stones and 4 foot tall, just about to push the pointed end of her rolled up umbrella into my ear-hole, in her efforts to get through to her soap opera idol!
Well at least I now know why I had to have four stitches in my lug-hole!
There was 15 of us, all looking forward hopefully to sampling the Lancashire ales and lassies, as we climbed into the battered old AEC Regal coach – and set out for the ‘Gladstone Pub’ Darts Team Annual Outing – this year, a weekend stay at Southport.
As seemed traditional, we got lost on the way there, and our ETA of 1800hrs, was actually 2100hrs at the hotel on the seafront road.
The place was deserted, not a single person in sight, apart from our motley crew, as we exited the warmth of the bus, out into the, oh so cold wind blowing in from the sea, and we each grabbed our luggage and ran into the hotel foyer.
We were dispersed in three bedrooms, five beds in each, and were soon washed, changed, and back down to meet the others in the foyer, ready and eager for the quenching of our need for ale, as we hurriedly (it was getting late, and the pubs there closed at eleven) walked into the centre of the city, to find a pub to sample.
After my fifth pint, I think our group were playing dominoes, or trying to, things get a bit fuzzy memory-wise, and the next clear but painful recollection was of the next morning.
I awoke, and was gripped by a panic; I could not open my eyes! As I moved to find the edge of the bed, I hit my head on something solid – now I was really confused… then one of the lads said (over the cheering of the other lads) “Hang on, hang on, Christ I’m sorry Inchy, I thought it was a tube of shaving lather…”?)
It seemed that I had opened the door of the wardrobe, and got my head down with my feet sticking out the night before, and one of the lads thought it would be an amusing prank, if he covered my face in shaving lather, but in his inebriated state, he thought the tube of my toothpaste was Palmolive shaving cream, and he covered my face in it, thus I could not open my eyes this morning when it had dried like concrete!
They were now concerned for my predicament, despite their hangovers, and took me into the bathroom, and dipped my head in and out of some hot water, until the toothpaste was soft enough to be picked off in lumps, much to their amusement. They managed to take off a third of my moustache at the same time!
Nipper, as we named him
We all decided it would be a good idea, to go for a bracing walk along the seafront road to help clear our heads, and so in a short while there we were, fifteen of ambling along the centre of the road, shuddering in the wind, with me bringing up the rear – when I noticed the lads in front split up to either side of the road, to reveal this little dog, belting though them, only to stop at me, and decided to have a chew of my ankle, much to the merriment of the lads! I still cannot work out why this beast should run passed fourteen lads, and twenty-eight ankles, to get to mine for his breakfast?
AEC Regal
That being the last night there, we set out to enjoy the amenities on offer at the ale providing hostelries of Southport, not at that time concerned that we had foolishly arranged for the coach to pick us up at 0500hrs in the morning!
The Concorde flight simulator
We then entered an amusement complex; There was a massive new machine, that for 2/6d (12.5p), one could test ones skills at trying to land Concorde. There was if I remember right, controls for speed, left right, up, down, braking etc. And a crude map of London to guide you in. A read-out was produced after the game was over, with estimated damage caused in cost and casualties.
A few of the lads had a go, and really made a mess off it, nearly all of them crashing on the landing. This caused the usual gambling instinct among them to come to the fore, and about eight of us put 10/- in the kitty, to go to the lad who had the least number of casualties, we assumed none of us would actually get to land the thing! (And we were right)
I went last, feeling sure I could do no worse than the others had, they produced end figures like, Cost: £1m Casualties: Deaths 75 Injuries 102.
The map, I thought was the secret, I had to use it to guide myself near enough to any airport, (the scenario chosen for me by the machine, was that the plane had to land within so many minutes of the game starting)
I espied a ‘Greenwich sign location early in the game, and tried, even when it was taken off the map, to keep an eye out for it at all times.
As the plane descended, there at the bottom corner of the screen I could see the word Greenwich again, and moved hastily in its direction, turned, and made what I thought was a spot on landing on it!
It turned out to be Greenwich Power Station! (They tell me that even if it was the airport, the landing strips were too short for the plane to land on anyway)
So, with a read-out of Cost: £150 billion (The machine could not record anything higher) Casualties: Deaths 500,000 Injuries 901,808, I did not win the bet.
Afterwards we split into little groups, and again I lose many facts of what occurred after that, again until the morning.
With much effort and pain, we slowly got ourselves up, after the coach driver had been allowed to come up to our rooms to offer us verbal and physical encouragement for us to get up!
ER Statue: Assaulted
As we assembled a sorry looking bunch indeed, it came to light that we were short of two bodies… Clive, and Frank. It later transpired that Clive was in local nick, and Frank was in hospital with something broken, after he’d apparently in his intoxicated revelry thought it a good idea to nick a ladder and decorate Queen Victoria’s statue, with a beer filled condom, and a bottle of Mackeson. His leg was broken in two places as he lost his balance and fell to the ground. The fool!
All I had was a part-missing moustache, a bloodied ankle, and a massive headache. So compared to some of the lads, I’d done well.
That was until it came to alighting from the coach, as I missed my footing on the steps, and joined Frank with a broken leg.
Hey-ho, young and impulsive I was… nowadays I’m just old and repulsive!
