Spardo:
Amuses me that the word ‘carboy’ sounds very much like the word ‘cowboy’ when spoken in a Nottingham accent. A term much used in the long ago years before tachographs.
True story David although I might have mentioned this before.
I was week ending at The Prater Stadium in Vienna in April 1980, with a lad called Mick who drove for Thompson Jewitts from Nottingham. There were three of us sat in my mate Alan’s Foden Fleetmaster and Mick was sat in the driver’s seat, staring out of the windscreen, looking at the falling sleet, on a cold and drab Saturday afternoon.
Alan said “what would you be doing now Mick, if you back at home”.
Mick just kept staring out of the window looking lost in thought and then said, “I’d be up our kids aaarse”.
Alan and I stared at each other, not quite believing what we had just heard and then after a couple of seconds Mick continued.
Well, it’s not really an aaarse,… it’s more like a little cottage that he has been renovating for the last six months.
Classic, and just as I remember it. I was never quite that broad but a couple of weeks ago I had a trip back to an old boys’ school reunion and spent a couple of days visiting various family members. At our Grandson’s house I made a 30 minute video of him, his wife and our 2 young Great Grandsons. Playing it back now and listening to myself talking to them, both are very Nottingham, I found my own accent slowly changing.
Before Fran’s illness we would often just for fun resort to really broad speech between us, and, as we lived right on the border with Derbyshire you might imagine what it was like.
Spardo:
Amuses me that the word ‘carboy’ sounds very much like the word ‘cowboy’ when spoken in a Nottingham accent. A term much used in the long ago years before tachographs.
True story David although I might have mentioned this before.
I was week ending at The Prater Stadium in Vienna in April 1980, with a lad called Mick who drove for Thompson Jewitts from Nottingham. There were three of us sat in my mate Alan’s Foden Fleetmaster and Mick was sat in the driver’s seat, staring out of the windscreen, looking at the falling sleet, on a cold and drab Saturday afternoon.
Alan said “what would you be doing now Mick, if you back at home”.
Mick just kept staring out of the window looking lost in thought and then said, “I’d be up our kids aaarse”.
Alan and I stared at each other, not quite believing what we had just heard and then after a couple of seconds Mick continued.
Well, it’s not really an aaarse,… it’s more like a little cottage that he has been renovating for the last six months.
Classic, and just as I remember it. I was never quite that broad but a couple of weeks ago I had a trip back to an old boys’ school reunion and spent a couple of days visiting various family members. At our Grandson’s house I made a 30 minute video of him, his wife and our 2 young Great Grandsons. Playing it back now and listening to myself talking to them, both are very Nottingham, I found my own accent slowly changing.
Before Fran’s illness we would often just for fun resort to really broad speech between us, and, as we lived right on the border with Derbyshire you might imagine what it was like.
H
Ere you go mi ducks
I’d say a lot of this dialect is from Ilkeston (Ilson) being born and bread there and escaping in 1972.
Although I’m a Geordie my younger Brother married a girl from Selston and they settled in the area when they both left the Forces. First living in Jacksdale then Underwood, I often parked up there for a night out on my way up or down country over the years. Although I knew lads in the Army from the Notts area I didn’t get the full extent of the accent until having a pint in his local and listening to the chat. They were all very welcoming and friendly and we had some great nights, my Brother now has a slightly mixed accent and when we meet up again the first thing we say to each other is ‘Hy up Yooth’. I got to know the accent quite well so understood many of the quotes on that list, I’ll maybe have to put a Geordie one on see how you get on. Franky.
Sanderson Murray Elder were a big company in Bradford , apparently having large interests in the Australian wool industry. Their drivers were well paid but loading wool wasn’t easy . The two Mammoth Majors in the photo would be typical of how it was done in West Yorkshire at the time. Shame Les P isn’t on to add to this he’s done his fair share
Coles Cranes Sunderland. The first photo is taken on the docks where new cranes were exported from. The last one is an ariel shot of the entire plant. We had two tippers working on site for a few weeks when the new road and test beds in the foreground were built.
Tyneside
Larry, my first job in transport was riding a butcher’s bike for the Jarrow and Hebburn Coop,
I was 15 years old in 1962, the bike I rode had a smaller front wheel and a bigger basket.
That summer of 62 led into the dreadful winter of 62/63. I rode that bike most days delivering meat to local homes and also the shipyard canteens on the North side of the river via the ferries. Can you imagine a fifteen yr old being allowed to do this now? The health and safety bods would have a fit! Thanks for the memory, regards Kev.
Larry, my first job in transport was riding a butcher’s bike for the Jarrow and Hebburn Coop,
I was 15 years old in 1962, the bike I rode had a smaller front wheel and a bigger basket.
That summer of 62 led into the dreadful winter of 62/63. I rode that bike most days delivering meat to local homes and also the shipyard canteens on the North side of the river via the ferries. Can you imagine a fifteen yr old being allowed to do this now? The health and safety bods would have a fit! Thanks for the memory, regards Kev.
Been there too Kev, my last term in school, a day boy after 5 years as a boarder and I took advantage of Saturdays at home to get a butcher’s job with just such a bike. One day with a basket full of meat I decided to make myself more streamlined by laying on the handlebars and steering by the basket. I quite forgot that the basket was part of the frame, not of the handlebars, and didn’t turn. I crashed to the road and scurried around collecting the steaks and picking the gravel out of them as well as my knees. Amazingly there were no witnesses and nobody complained, if any of them found a little grey stone in their roast. That would be December 1959, I think.
Larry, my first job in transport was riding a butcher’s bike for the Jarrow and Hebburn Coop,
I was 15 years old in 1962, the bike I rode had a smaller front wheel and a bigger basket.
That summer of 62 led into the dreadful winter of 62/63. I rode that bike most days delivering meat to local homes and also the shipyard canteens on the North side of the river via the ferries. Can you imagine a fifteen yr old being allowed to do this now? The health and safety bods would have a fit! Thanks for the memory, regards Kev.
Been there too Kev, my last term in school, a day boy after 5 years as a boarder and I took advantage of Saturdays at home to get a butcher’s job with just such a bike. One day with a basket full of meat I decided to make myself more streamlined by laying on the handlebars and steering by the basket. I quite forgot that the basket was part of the frame, not of the handlebars, and didn’t turn. I crashed to the road and scurried around collecting the steaks and picking the gravel out of them as well as my knees. Amazingly there were no witnesses and nobody complained, if any of them found a little grey stone in their roast. That would be December 1959, I think.
I too rode one of those trade bikes as a kid. My only catastrophe was when I was delivering a large box of groceries to a large old Victorian era detached house. As I approached the front door I suddenly found myself falling through the path. The house had a coal hole in the pathway and the cast iron cover gave way when I stepped on it. As the hole was only about a foot or so in diameter only one leg went down and I crashed hard on my backside. My eyes were certainly watering… The house holder told me that yes, it was cracked already and this had happened before. They really did not care. Hey ho…
Seems like those delivery bikes have a lot to answer for, the apprentice route for driving big wagons.
But that last term as a day boy involved one bus journey, 3 train changes and a 1 mile walk at the end of it and then all the way back after school. But a mate of mine who did his whole 6 years on it and at Rolleston Junction one day stepped out of the carriage, and missed the platform. One leg down, just like you.
only one leg went down and I crashed hard on my backside.
Franky.
