JUMP VILLAGE MY CHILDHOOD (Allott Crescent)
- Louie
- Aug 23
- 34 min read
Updated: Sep 17
Part 1
After having been out with friends and reminiscing of our childhoods, I thought I'd put a couple of pictures and a brief account of where l spent most of my childhood: Jump’s famous landmark, the 'Big Bullring', on Allott Crescent, which at that time had a large centre grassed area. Unfortunately, the council, in their knowledge of wisdom, decided to have it removed.
Though I only intended to give a brief account, one sentence seemed to lead to another. So I thought bol*%cks: let’s go for it! After tenths of months... finally.
The only downside to living in the 'Bullring' was that it was a distance from the shops: Beeches, Majors/Mrs Jackson, Murphy’s paper shop, Turners and Crumps butchers, Rose's, Co-op and the post office. Oh! And not forgetting the top and bottom fish shops. Those days it seemed my only existence was doing errands all day up and down to the shops. That's where my Auntie Barbara and Uncle Jack’s garden came to my rescue, 'the perfect shortcut'. Up their back garden path over the fence, into June Carnell’s garden and I was practically to the shops; saved me four hours, this shortcut :-).
I used this route many times: this was providing my Uncle Jack wasn't at home; if he was, I had no chance. He was a miserable sod at times. (However, Sundays, somehow, his mood lifted. That’s when he used to let me go round the crescent with a hessian sack, collecting potato peelings, veg and bread from the neighbours to feed his pigs and hens on Pigeon Park allotments. He used to take me up occasionally to boil the veg remains and feed the animals; loved and miss those times!)
Therefore, if my Uncle Jack was at home, I had to revert to route B; this saved time but nothing like the big one. The B route meant having to go over Blunts, who lived opposite our back garden. This shortcut was no problem because they had a broken fence between us and them; well, I assume it was their fence. One door up from Blunts was the Hardys. Now we’re talking fences: reinforced concrete posts finished with rolled barbed wire, especially built to keep the Nobles out. Nothing got past Reg or Joan. I never tried Mrs Hudson’s, not with her perfect trimmed lawn and 'Alice in Wonderland' veg and fruit patch, though I did sample her strawberries, spring onions and radishes a few times in the dark hours. But she was such a lovely woman and an excellent seamstress; she used to do all the alterations and dressmaking for most people on the crescent, and always took my mam’s curtains up.
Mrs Fellows: another lovely woman, with a wonderful family and perfect neighbours. Their back garden just led the way to Taylors and Sharmans, which, to get over their gardens, needed three days’ planning and bolt cutters. Did try Jacksons once, but halfway up their path the spotlights and sirens were activated. I'm sure Harry used to patrol his back garden in his suit armed with an AK-47.
Those years were some of the best and happiest of my childhood, playing in the Bullring with friends or flying our kites on the old tip site behind Priors and Beevers. Or playing football on the many pitches on Allott Crescent that consisted of the gatepost of Marshalls to Cleggs, Olivers to Mcquillans, Widdosons to Hardys - and the one which was regarded as the Wembley of the Crescent, Lockwoods to Cleggs. However, you had to have watchful eye out whilst playing there, for the 'Axeman' Benny Hough...
Part 2
Carrying on, I would like to talk more of the wonderful families, people and characters of Allott Crescent that made my childhood special.
The people I remember from my time in the Bullring were our Carol Lee, Denise and Carol Jackson, Paul and Pauline Graham, Gary and Janet Peet. These are the ones I remember spending most time with.
The families of the Bullring were Mr and Mrs Lovell and sons, David and Bob; Mr and Mrs Cocking; old Mr and Mrs Firth; Mr and Mrs Whitlam; Mr and Mrs Count; Mr and Mrs Jackson; Uncle Jack and Auntie Barbara; our Kath, Carol and Sandra Lee; Mrs Fellows and family, Joyce, Linda, Bob and Joe; Just before I move on, a man used to visit the Fellows quite regular, and if he ever saw me playing football alone he'd come and have a kick about with me, I appreciated that; ken Lumby they called him, he married Joyce Fellows, and now both happily living together at No56. Next door to the Fellows was us, the Nobles, at number 52.
I loved that house. It seemed to me at that age to be very spacious: a living room, kitchen with pantry, and a passageway leading to the front room (well, what we called the best room). Upstairs was the landing; two decent-sized bedrooms, one with fireplace; a smaller box bedroom; and bathroom with toilet. Outside was the outhouse; some called it the 'wash house', ‘coal house’ and ‘toilet’. We also had a large front and rear garden; in fact, about everybody on the crescent had decent-sized gardens.
The 'best room' was only used on special occasions. It also had a fire grate, so when the room was in use we used to shovel part of the fire from the living room into the best room. This is also where we had this cabinet-type record player. My sisters used to put around ten records at a time on top of each other, then put an arm across after each record had finished playing so only the next record above would drop down to play.
There was no central heating in the houses at that time, so on cold winter nights my older brother Tony would wrap a blanket around the oven plate from the oven that used to be part of the fireplace in the living room, and put it at the bottom of our bed for us all to keep warm. I think we had eight to a bedroom, or so it seemed; our family was that large.
With us having a large family, Christmas time was always special. On Christmas Eve I remember the older family members always having a party. I used to sneak out of bed to watch. It seemed as though there were hundreds in our house. Eventually, I'd be seen and told to get back to bed or Father Christmas wouldn't come, which made me rush back and go to sleep. On Christmas morning there was always a pillow case at the bottom of my bed, filled with presents: and not forgetting the tangerine and tin of toffees. But most of all a big main present from my Mam & Dad...Oh, I was so happy back then! And how as a child in the summer it always seemed that every day was bright sunshine and every winter it seemed to snow every day, especially on Christmas Eve...
My friends just off the ‘Bullring’ were Ian Marshall; Owen Denton; Steve, Brian and Pauline Clegg; Albert and Carol Beevers; John Martin; and, least of all, Irene and Maureen Prior, the Reg and Ronnie/Bonnie and Clyde of the crescent. I do remember having a small Raleigh bike that I got from our Elsie’s brother, Derek Brooks of Turners Close (I’m still paying that off). I’d be at the top lamp post in the Bullring on my bike. I can see her now as if it was only yesterday: Irene marching towards me with that swagger, nonchalantly chewing gum, with Maureen following behind chewing bacca. Irene would ask if she could have a ride! No, I’ll re-phrase that. Irene used to take my bike then go for a ride. Give her due, she always brought it back; ok, it may have been a couple of days after but I always got it back, and most times she’d give me a few pennies to get some blackjacks or a toffee dainty. Such a lovely woman, ‘Irene Prior’, taken far, far too early...
There weren’t many cars on the crescent at that time. I remember my dad once drove his double-decker bus around the crescent and Bullring when he worked for Tracky. He’d probably have difficulty getting a mini bus around now, with the number of cars. The only two I can think of having them in the Bullring were the Whitlams and Counts, the posh family: the type that gets out of the bath for a pee. My brother Tony did get a car - a Vauxhall Viva I think it was - but that was in later years.
The only obstruction we really had was the tonnes of coal on the pavement dropped off by Hernshaw coal merchant. We used to run or ride over the pile of coal on our bikes, until we got told to ‘bugger off’. I used to help Ian Marshall get Bernard Loftus’s coal in: ‘that was no job for Bernard with his pencil tash, flat cap and rouge’! I remember other friends used to get other people’s coal in for them for some pocket money. Thinking about it now, it must not have been easy for some, pushing over 20 wheelbarrows of coal up and down their garden paths. If you take our Jeff’s path as an example on Dyer Road, which is inclined with 40 steps, it can’t have been easy. However, we are talking about a different breed of men: ‘miners’: men that worked in a terrible, dangerous and filthy environment: people that had once been the backbone of our village for years. I respect them all!
There seemed to be different parts of the crescent where kids spent their time. Ours seemed to be from Boldys all the way round to Taylors, who lived more or less opposite from the Boldys. Then you had the ‘Little Bullring’ up to the snicket. Here you had Russ and Keith Blower; Trevor Naylor and Family; Alan and Harry Dickson; Mr Lea (park keeper); Claydons; Ackroyds; Palmers; Arnolds; Eva, Margaret and Roy Longdon; Bill and Eileen Butterworth and their son and daughter Barry and Sue; my great friend and sadly-missed Martin Evans and his family; Corkers; Dave and John Wright; Keith, Margaret and Anton Roberts; Mellings; Norths; Wendy and Trevor Grievson; Peter McGuinness and his wig, Donald Brookes (don’t know what happened to him); Mr Wodoski (a lovely Polish man; he used to fix clocks and watches); the lovely woman that worked in the library, Mrs Roper. Oh!, and Mr Evans who lived on the corner: ’Piggy Evans’ we used to call him. My Mam used to send me to his house for potatoes; he used to weigh them in his living room on the old-type scales.
Then, from the older houses - Sharmans to the end of the crescent from what I remember - you had Terry and Alan Jackson; Alan and Brian Butterworth; June and Cliff ‘Buster’ Carnell; Kirks; my old hairdresser Bryce ‘Basin Cut’ Parkin and brother Harold; Sheff and Tinker Moore; Fellows; Whartons and Saunders. These are just a few friends and families I remember. I do remember been at the Fellows house one Sunday evening, when Melvin had this inspiring idea to form a five-aside football team, as I recall this existed of Me, Melvin, Bernard Fellows, Richard Darlington and I think Graham Fellows, it couldn't have been Stephen 'Skippy' Fellows he was quite younger. Melvin took us all out on the street to start our training, we did stretching exercises, running around the crescent, star-jumps, I even got us practicing throw-ins with an house brick, a technique I saw 'Roy of the Rovers' using in one of Ian Marshalls comics.. After we'd discuss tactics and even decided on the strip we were going to wear, hooped shirts I think it was, I went home that Sunday evening on an high so exited. Monday is was all over, forgotten, it was the shortest lived five-aside team on the crescent, well, in actual fact the village. I'll always remember that Sunday, It was a lovely dream for a little boy at the time.
In the first house that we considered 'our area' lived Mr and Mrs Boldy: Jim as I got to know him in later years. They did have neighbours: Taylor, I think they called them. I didn’t really know much about them but I do remember that they had a daughter. Their house was on the corner so I didn’t really know what area they belonged to; let’s say ‘No Man’s Land’.
Jimmy and Mick Boldy were two friends I spent time with on the crescent. Then there was Judy, Mandy and younger sister, Jill. Mandy was my first crush; I remember sending her a love letter when we were in Jump School infants. It wasn’t too explicit, but at the time, Paul Graham (who at a later date emigrated with his family to Canada followed by their neighbours the Taylors soon after) and Julie Martin took the note to Mandy. I remember her looking at it, then looking at me. She turned the note over, smiled and wrote out a 2-bob ‘Round Robin’...
There were plenty of large families on the crescent at the time, including my own. If my mam was getting the same benefits as they are today, she would have been on ‘Forbes’ top hundred. Charlie and Amy Oliver would both have had off-shore bank accounts. There were the Golbys (I still see Liz, Steve and Flog regularly) and the Olivers (I still don’t think Amy and Charlie knew how many kids they actually had, but those I remember - Ady, Mick, Alan, Brian and Roy - I have fond memories of them all). We also had a celebrity on the crescent: Mr Jarrett, a former Mr Great Britain in bodybuilding: a great achievement by any standards. When we used to call at the Jarretts for our friend, Charlie, Mrs Jarrett always corrected us by saying, ‘it’s not Charlie, it’s “Royal” Charles.’ Then she would shout, ‘Charles! Charles!’
‘Yes, mum?’ ‘Get the f^*k down here. Ya mate’s at the door!’
Then there was Mrs Lindley, commonly known has Connie. But when you’ve served under a dinner lady you always refer to them as ‘Mrs’ or ‘Heil’. She was one of the good guys, though, not like Mrs Cookson, who ruled the playground with an iron fist, and on many occasions was not shy to use it. I think the previous occupants were the Bonsers, my older brother’s friends. I could be wrong, but I’m sure I once went to that house when I was very, very young with my sister or brother to buy eggs? Next door were the Johnson family, Russell, Susan, Jannette and Raymond, they were all older than me, but I do remember my brother Tony being a good friend of Russell. I see Jannette quite regular, she lives nearby. Respect to Mr & Mrs Johnson..
Philip, Kay and Paul Mcquillan I knew well, but I got to know their dad in later years and found him such a great bloke. I used to meet him and Mr Taylor in a morning when I first started work, both of them with a Racing Post paper in their back pockets. Mr Taylor I also found to be a good bloke, considering what a miserable sod he used to be, especially when our football went in his garden years before. If we’d kicked f@*king Willie Carson in his garden he wouldn’t have complained.
I’ve fond memories my friend John ‘Sher’. I always remember his dad, Mr Sheridan, wearing a trilby. Mrs Sheridan always reminded me of one of those beautiful Spanish women when dressed up on her night out with her Latin looks. But at that time all the men were always suited and their wives always elegantly dressed, with a spray of Youth Dew when they went out on a Saturday night.
I still keep in touch with my old friends - the Houghs: Kev, Allan and Patricia; and the Widdowsons, in particular Margaret. I still see her in Hoyland. I remember when her brother, David formed a gang. We called ourselves the ‘AC Bootboys’. We only went as far as the top fish shop. I think we disbanded after a week. My old friend and school friend John Williams’s mam still lives there, bless her!
Talking of old school friends, my mate John Taylor (Tate) was the best all-rounder on the crescent. Football, cricket, tennis, table tennis: you name it and he was naturally good at it. Twat!
Mrs Turton used to collect the rent many years ago. I remember her coming knocking at our house one day and my mam did a ½ somersault dive behind the settee that would have put Tom Daley to shame. ‘Tell her I’m not in,’ she’d say.
‘My mam’s not in,’ I’d tell her.
‘Ok, love. Tell her I’II call next week,’ she'd say.
You’ll call next week!
If that had happened today, social services would have been round in 10 minutes responding to a 4-year-old ‘home alone’. To be honest, I think she knew Mam was in when she got the faint whiff of Yardleys. It was the same when ‘Pecks’ or other payment collectors called. We all had to freeze and be quiet till we heard the gate close. It’s not surprising that at every party I went to I always won ‘musical statues’. I’d had enough practice.
Blunt’s and Hardy’s both backed on to my old house. I spent some great times with both families, Ian and Nigel Blunt but in particular, with Chris, Andy and Pete Hardy very good friends of mine. So are Lynn and Joy. They’re all good footballers, apart from Lynn.
Mr and Mrs Barber and family: Jeff, Anne, Jackie and Dawn Barber, unfortunately, the sisters had progressed onto more mature pastimes than playing ‘Tigs’ and ‘Hiddy’, but like most of my mates still remember them walking round the crescent in high heels and miniskirts.
Eva Williams: my Mam would send me to the shops at, say, 1 o’clock Monday afternoon (weren’t they shut for dinner at that time?), and I’d see Eva gossiping at Boldys. I’d go to Beeches, Turners and the paper shop, come back down 45 minutes later and she’d still be there. I’d go back up at 5 o’clock when she’d be at Oliver’s, and she’d still be there 30 minutes later. I’d go back round Tuesday afternoon and she’d be at Guest’s, gossiping. She didn’t get home till Wednesday..She passed away only a few years ago. Such a wonderful, lovely lady...
Talking about the paper shop, Johnny Murphy was such an impatient git. You’d go in for a 5 pence mix and you’d say, ‘I’ll have...’, and it’d be - bang -, ‘there you are.’ He’d picked them for you and you didn’t like half the sweets. I’d have been happier if he’d given me all black jacks. His mother was even worse. You didn’t have chance to say anything. She’d already bagged them up, then she’d finish with a ‘piss off’!
How things have changed. My sister, Mary used to send me up to Murphy’s for 20 Sterling cigarettes, a box of Captain Webbs and a bottle of Belair hairspray. I was only 5 years old. Sometimes, she’d give me a note. I didn’t know what it said, but Johnny used to wrap the goods up in newspaper.
The Smith family: I got to know Mick and Ricky in later years, but I knew Anita well. We went through school together, from Jump Primary through to Wombwell High (Royal House), and in all that time she only spoke two words to me. The second one was ‘off’. In truth she was a lovely, quiet girl. The Smith family moved on to Cemetery Road in 1970s, Another good family moved into No 40, the Evans, they had a son called Philip, around my age, we eventually became good friend for the latter period of my time, living on the crescent.
Stephensons and Lockwoods: do you know, their outhouses are the closest to each other than any other on the crescent? I know because I used to jump across from each to the other regularly. That is until Anne Lockwood and her chest came out to bollock me! Margaret is the only one of the Stephensons I see now; I’ve not seen Tony for quite a while.
There was one particular family, the Hancocks, whom I didn’t really know. They lived opposite the Lockwoods. They had a daughter, Elizabeth, who was older than me. From what I remember they seemed a good, friendly family. There was another couple who just lived off the bullring, Mr and Mrs Wilson. I always saw Mr Wilson in a trilby hat, smoking his pipe. Mrs Wilson always seemed to have a smile on her face. They had a son, Stuart. I never knew him when I was younger but I got to know him very well as I got older and we became good friends. I’m now also good friends with his sons Mick, Dave and John.
The Parrs at number 76 lived next door to the Priors. I think there were two brothers, Jess and Jack, and a sister, Evelyn. I remember that Jack was a tall chap, and very kind. He was such a lovely gentleman. Even when I was a little child he always spoke to me. I’ll never forget that man! It was fitting for another lovely couple to move into the house when the Parrs left.
Steven Clegg, from number 86, and his wife, Linda... Next door was another great couple, Tony and Winnie Allert. They were originally from number 78 (Priors). Tony and Winnie moved in after the Taylors emigrated to Canada. I see Tony regularly when I’m down Wombwell, when he’s on his way to Ladbrokes and still laughing and smiling, as always. Everybody was friends with each other on the crescent. I remember on some nights when friends would talk to each other from their bedroom window, either from across the street from each other or to their neighbour.
My little bedroom window was occasionally used as my escape route when I was sent to bed early. I would climb through the window onto the ledge above the front door, then dangle on to one of the pillars situated either side of the front door steps. Then I’d be away to Rose’s shop, which opened till late, for a ¼ of Yorkshire mixtures or Kopp Kops. I’d play with friends off the crescent, wait till dark, then back the way I’d come.
I remember it was around this period that we had to call the fire brigade. My sister was up Sunday morning and tried making the coal fire. She managed to get the fire alight, then, using the method of crossed pokers across the fire to form a guard, put a sheet of newspaper across to ‘draw’ the fire, as to give it stronger flames. She then did her errand to the butchers; Crumps and Turners used to open then on Sunday morning. On her way back home, beef joint in one hand and penny arrow in the other, the fire engine came hurtling past her. The story goes that Shirley forgot to take the newspaper sheet away from the fire, which caught alight. From all accounts, there wasn’t much damage. However, the living room carpet that was apparently new and only laid two days previously had somehow burnt to cinders. I think my mam slightly exaggerated on the claims form; I was the only 8-year-old on the crescent with a pure sheepskin duffle coat, Jean Paul Gaultier plimsolls and a blue balaclava with matching gloves from Cole Brothers. I never saw them; apparently they all went up in flames. Neither did I ever see my mam’s Gucci mules that were also listed on the form. Aye! But happy days!
Finally, on to our old neighbours, the Radleys at number 54. Well, where do I start? It was no secret that both our families didn’t see eye to eye for various reasons. I think they had a son and daughter, but far much older than me. One birthday, I walked down to Mrs Marshall’s, to show her my cards. She would always give me a bundle of Ian’s old comics: Beano, Dandy, Beezer, Hotspur, Victor and Jackie :-). I always got a peck on the cheek from Lynne and a grunt from her dad 'Walt' whilst cleaning his motorbike. On my way back up I thought I’d call and show them to Mrs Radley. She looked at them, smiled, said, ‘wait there a moment, Scruff,’ and walked off. This was on the 3rd. She never came back. I was still standing there on the 5th.
One of the things I loved doing was jumping off our outhouse (pity our Carole, who lives there now, knocked it down in later years) into Radleys’ back garden pretending I was Action Man. It was a well-cut lawn with flower beds containing white and red roses that were pretty high with thorns, so it needed a decent jump. I had a plastic Action Man- style machine gun, so when I jumped into their garden I would do a couple of rolls like a soldier and fire the gun into the direction of Wilsons’ or Smiths’, depending on my roll. On this particular day that I jumped off, Mrs Radley was walking round the corner of her outbuilding, and I fell on the top of her. I took her with me while I did a couple of rolls and let off a couple of rounds in the direction of Wilsons’. Well, Mr Wilson must have been shooting back, because Mrs Radley was really screaming now. So I retreated to my own garden. I never saw Mrs Radley after that; I think she died in battle!
One final thing before I leave this part: we were the only family on the crescent that had a garage in the garden. We had no drive, no double gates and, most importantly, no car! And it was asbestos. I got told many years later that my brother Tony got the garage from a bloke down Wombwell, near the cricket ground. He used a wheelbarrow to get it back to Jump. He pushed it all the way up Woodwalk, over the five fields down Arundel view, then onto Allott Crescent. He made that journey three times.
Wheelbarrows then were a multipurpose transporter. One day it would be used for moving a tonne of coal or soil and vegetables from the allotments at Pigeon Park, or for moving furniture and beds. You used to see people advertising themselves around Jump as ‘Man & Wheelbarrow’, with their top-of-the-range barrow, with red rubber handle grips, and colour-coded wheel with a thick inner tube tyre for extra suspension, finished off with fitted hessian coal sacks for extra padding for those wardrobes, dressing tables and sideboards... and an old flowered bed spread if needed...
It still goes on today; a few weeks ago I saw some family do a house move with three wheelbarrows and an old Silver Cross pushchair.
Part 3
We had some great characters on the crescent: Benny Hough ‘Axe man’; Jowdie Booth and his son John JB; Mr Baker ‘Rifleman’. I don’t know why he was called that! But when children went in his garden we never saw them again. That lovely man Bernard Loftus with his sheepskin coat, flat cap and rouge. Not forgetting Top Bloke Derek Denton, who still lives in the same house and is still big friends with my brother Jeff. Derek and his brother Harry were both in the army; my dad used to speak highly of both of them and, as I got older and got to know them both, I could see why. They had a younger sister, Patricia (Pat, as I used to call her). I used to deliver notes to her from my sister. I remember taking notes to various houses for my older sisters, Angela, Jackie and Mary, to such as the Evans, Grievsons, Dentons, Henleys and Whelans, on Cemetery road. It was the only form of communication. Not many had landlines and there were no such things as mobiles, so it had to be a note on scrap paper or the inside of an Embassy or No. 10 cig packet.
Bud Prior: who can forget Bud! When I lived on Joan's Walk he used to knock me up for my day shift, like he did for a number of people in Jump. The first time he knocked me up I was unaware that my mam had been in Jump W.M.C. the night before, playing bingo as usual with Hazel, Gert and Mrs Hough, sharing a sweet stout between them. That night, she’d made arrangements with Bud to give me a knock the following morning. At 4.30, the letterbox starts rattling with ‘are we up, Noble?’. I thought, what the fff...and dropped back off. Ten minutes later he was back, this time with a sledgehammer. He always got me up! He always had a pocketful of 'gas bobs'. My mam used to send me regularly to his house for one when we lived on the crescent. Top man, Bud; still talked about to this day.
Talking of Priors, I do remember a story I was told years ago about Lenny. One year, he took part in the Jump W.M.C. annual sports day cross country. This started from Jump football field, onto the Four Lane Ends, down Wood Walk onto Hemingfield Road, to Hemingfield Green, then back up to Jump up Roebuck Hill, back on the football field followed by a final lap. Lenny got to Hemingfield Green and caught the Jump circular to Jump Coop, where it used to stop in those days. He then ran up Roebuck Hill, did his final lap, and still came last! What a character!
Apart from the annual sports day, we had another big annual event: Jump W.M.C. trip. Now, that was special. For most of us kids from the crescent - well, most of the families in Jump, actually - it was the only holiday we had. Like every other child, I used to get so excited weeks before the actual day.
My memory of the club trip was the build-up waiting for the committee to put the board out allocating which bus you were on. We knew they wouldn't put it out till Wednesday or Thursday, but we would still be there from 6 o'clock Monday. Even at such a young age we knew not to look below bus number 10. That was only for the privileged; men in the street used to doff their caps to people who had that privilege. And if by such miracle you happened to get on the legendary Bill Butterworth’s number 1 bus... ooh! Here we're talking royalty global recognition.
We always seemed to go to Cleethorpes every year. We went that many times we were on first-name terms with the locals. It wasn’t till I was 14 years old that I became aware the country had other seaside resorts. One year, the Club trip went to Mablethorpe. The bus driver made a mistake, turning left instead of right.
It also seemed the only time of year you got something new to wear: usually a pair of sneakers, blue jeans, or a black or white T-shirt. We looked like a miniature 1950s James Dean getting off the buses behind Cleethorpes railway station. And who can forget the pop and salted crisps, name tag, and sand and salad sandwiches on the beach. Miss and loved every minute of it!
In later years, friends and I used to go on the club trip just for the day out, to spend a few hours in the local bars, basically just having a good day out, and more often than not having my good friend ‘Greeny’ by my side.
Steve 'Greeny' Green and his family came up from the South when I was around 7 or 8 years old. His dad, Mr Green, who was originally from Jump, came back to live in the area with Steve’s older brother John and sisters Deborah and Tracy. We became best friends from the second day he arrived, and nothing has changed to this day (the first day I’d had a fight with him and his brother John). The family only lived on the crescent for a short while before moving onto Dyre Road, where Mr and Mrs Green still live to this day.
The Greens came to live with relatives Mr and Mrs Peak at number 84, who where neighbours to another top friend of mine, Brian Clegg at number 86. All three of us mated together for years. Me, Greeny and Cleggy: now that would be another great story to tell about my later years, and my second home, the ‘Birdcage’.
Part 4
I mentioned how we played football on the crescent previously, but we did so much more commonly on the ‘Old Jump Tip’, as we used to call it. We used to go down the banking on homemade trolleys; fly kites; climb over Wray’s fence to have a nosey in his yard when he wasn’t in, and to use it as a shortcut. We also cleared an area to play football and cricket. But, most of all, it was also our fortress against ‘Scotch Village’ (Welland Crescent): the ‘Jump raids’, as we used to call them. These raids were going on way before my time and came to an end, I would say, around the early 80s. The raids were really quite basic: kids from around the ages of 10 to 14 throwing stones at each other, with us standing on the Jump tip banking throwing stones over the railway lines onto the Scotch villagers, and them throwing stones back. But we had the advantage of throwing downhill. This would go on for days, until we’d pluck up the courage to run down the banking over the railway line and chase them back onto Welland Crescent. We’d cheer and shout, until we realised they’d stopped running, had turned and faced us, and started chasing us back.
When this happened, one thing you never did was to be in close quarters of Graham
Hamer: a heavyset lad, to put it mildly. Graham wouldn’t hesitate for a second to trip you up so he could get away, and there was no place for heroism. This wasn’t the Western Front: if you fell or were tripped, you were on your own; you’d just have to get back up, sharpish.
There was a family, the Henleys, that lived across from the ‘Old Tip’ in a large house called ‘The Haven’. This was situated at the bottom of Wentworth Road. There was Mr and Mrs Henley, daughters Pat and Teresa, and sons David and Philip. My older sister Jacqueline used to be very good friends with Pat many years ago. David had many friends on the crescent. I used to go to their house frequently to see David and Philip, whereas quite a few of the older boys on the crescent seemed to have more interest in the sisters Pat & Teresa. I also remember Gran and Granddad Henley, who lived in the annex of ‘The Haven’. A lovely family, all of them.
Though the family have been left so many years, when people of the village make reference to the house in any aspect, they still refer to it as ‘Henley’s’. But that can be said of a few more families. The bungalow on Church Street is still referred to as ‘Cid Heeley’s’. The large house on Scholes View ‘Leomont House’ is still referred to as ‘Hewitt’s. It shows the testimony of the association these families have with the village.
Just one other point: at this point in time the Henleys’ wasn’t actually the last house in Jump before you entered the village of Elsecar - or the first house in Jump, whichever way you look at it. Under the right-hand side of the ‘Brocken Bridge’ were the Garwoods. I didn’t really know too much about this family, apart from the fact they had a really large orchard that we used to raid quite often, by going down the old railway banking. The house was eventually demolished and, soon after, so was the ‘Brocken Bridge’.
Anyway, back to the ‘Tips’. Apparently, many years previously, the site had been used as a refuse site: hence the nickname, ‘Tips’. (now a levelled green open area) It was a large, unkempt area of bushes, foliage, weeds and long grasses, which in the summer was an ideal mixture for a field fire. Unfortunately, this did occur on a few occasions, which resulted in visits from the local fire brigade. We also had a couple of the crescent community bonfires there. Normally, we always had our bonfire in our own back garden, like most families did on the crescent. We always started our 'bunnywooding' a good month before the 5th of November. We used to collect it from everywhere: Wombwell woods, Bluebell woods, the local neighbourhoods, and about every possible place in the village where we could smell wood. It wasn't unusual for a family in Jump to wake up one morning to find their back door or fencing had disappeared. To be honest, there wasn't that much loyalty between friends where bunnywood was concerned; it was like gold dust. We used to keep it stored in the outhouse, or on top of the outhouse, and guard it every night the week before Bonfire. We’d put string with tin cans around it as an alarm: you couldn't trust anyone. I'd go to my mate’s house to have a look at his stash of bunnywood, and also to see if there was any weakness in his security,‘just in case I decided to pay a visit in the dark hour :-)’.And you'd find among his bunnywood our wooden green gate. I knew it was ours: it still had the house number on it. I'd ask where he'd got it from.
‘Oh! I found it,’ he'd say. Yes, he'd found it alright: on a couple of hinges on a concrete gate post at the bottom of our path. Twat.
Oh! And, not forgetting at this time of year, making a Halloween turnip lantern. Eating the raw turnip as you scraped it out, cutting out the scariest face possible, making a couple of holes either side and threading an old boot lace or string to hold it. Then into Johnny Murphy’s for a candle and, Aye! Job done. Then on to mischievous night: doing the 'bull roar' up Lockwoods’ drainpipe, tying doors together in Turner's Close flats, putting milk bottles on door handles and letting off a few bangers on doorsteps. Yes: all harmless fun. And, in between all that, making a bit of money outside Jump W.M.C., Flying Dutchman Inn, Coach and Horse and Wellington Inn with your Guy Fawkes, complete with mask you'd made at Jump Primary School. Great days!
I also spent many happy hours playing on the ‘Broken Bridge’, as it was known. As I remember, there was only a wooden fence and a safety barrier preventing you from falling onto the road, which to us seemed like a 100-foot drop. But that didn’t stop us walking along the ledge and sliding down the bridge’s siding; at that young age you saw no danger or had any fear.
Hague’s field served its purpose, not only as a shortcut from the crescent to Cemetery Road, but also for throwing our homemade flights consisting of a length of dowel wood, a couple of playing cards or a cig packet. We also played various games on the crescent, such as hopscotch,’kick can’, ‘tigs’! And, if you were playing that and finished up in a confined space, you and your friend could be there for hours, tapping each other.
Dalivio, ‘whip and top’, cricket using an old dustbin lid as the stumps, and ‘sticks’: who remembers playing that! And, in some of the games, somebody always had to be ‘on’ with an ‘I draw a snake on this man’s back’ or a ‘one potato two potato three potato four’- and so on!
Marbles was another top summer game. There were ‘mab holes’ in various parts on the crescent pavement. Sometimes, we would venture round to the little Bullring to test our skills, but always under the eagle eyes of Eileen (Butterworth). Leaning on her gate, armed with baseball bat and .22 pellet gun slung over her shoulder, any disturbance or disagreement with her Barry usually resulted in being dragged into Hague’s field for her to fit you with a fresh cowpat. Usually, we’d play each other in a 4er 6er 8er. We’d either play standard, tints, or little finger, but always under the rule that the last marble missed be always put back to the same point, which always seemed to be on the pavement’s edge. Sometimes, the big guns would come out with the 30ers or 50ers. When such games were in progress, even Johnny Williams sitting on his back doorstep would pause from chalking his snooker cue. Mr Softy and Monty would silence their chimes.
Talking of ice cream: I loved Mr Softy’s whipped ice cream cornets more than I did Monty’s scoops. Plus, Mr Softy used to give me his broken cornets when he stopped in the Bullring. Actually, we used to have quite a few vans on the crescent selling their wares: the fish man with his shout of ‘tripe and cartwheel’, or whatever it was; Fletchers bakers; the greengrocer - I think we used to refer to him as ‘Hawkeye’. He used to stop outside Smiths. We also had a ‘pie an’ pea’ man that used to come Friday evenings. And, not forgetting the one I can just vaguely remember, the ‘rag and bone’ man ‘Cammy’, with his horse and cart. If you gave him some old clothes, he would give you a gift. I once gave him a bundle of rags. It didn’t bother me walking about in the nude. I was as happy as a sandman with my stick and balloon!
My childhood didn’t just take place around the crescent. I also had friends all around the village on every street, friends I saw daily at school and in the evenings, and in our great institution, ‘Jump Youth Club.’
I first went there when I was around 9 or 10 years old. Steve Clegg and Ian Marshall (R.I.P my good friend) sneaked me in through the side door of the added partition that used to separate the hall from the junior school. The door leading into the classrooms was always locked, but there used to be a cloakroom with sinks. We used to stay there, out of the way, and play football, with a tennis ball and waste paper basket as goals. Great times! The hall was the main youth club part and, at the rear of the hall, I assume was the old infant class. I remember seeing the little old desks and chairs, and the adjoining cloak room with little sinks and coat pegs. I got hooked on the place and carried on going until I was 19. I then only stopped because they put the subs up to 10p.
Such great happy memories. I would love to go back to those times, even if it were just for one day. Unfortunately, when I was 13 or 14, we left Allott Crescent and moved into the centre of the village: The new builds number 4 Joan’s Walk, built on the old 'Turkey' site now demolished. They didn't last long...
To the present, there are still a few families and family members that live on Allott Crescent from my childhood days that I still see quite regularly. Most, though, have now left the village and moved on to other parts. Fortunately, through the wonders of social media, I still keep in contact with many of my friends from that time, and also their older family members.
Oh, well! Sadly, that’s me done. I'm not a writer; I don't pretend to be by any means. I've written this as I feel it, and put it in my own words. I've loved every minute of writing this story, and love all the people and families I’ve mentioned. If, by chance, it's brought back memories for some - happy memories, hopefully - then it’s all been worthwhile.
Sadly, many of the people I have spoken of are no longer with us, some taken far too early. To their family and friends, I’ve mentioned them all with special fondness and feel privileged that they've been part of my life.
Until next time
Allott Crescent New Part Built Circa 1949/50
How it is Today 2019
First House (white door) Our old house No 52
Neighbours Mrs Fellows No54, Auntie Barbara & Uncle Jack No56, Mr & Mrs Jackson
( Betty & Harry) No58
Allott Crescent Old Part..Built Circa 1939
leading towads the 'Snicket'
Families From my Childhood
Looking Up Towards The Snicket From The left
Evans No19, Arnolds No21, Harry/Jim Ackroyd No23, Mr & Mrs Blower No25,
Mr & Mrs Parkin No27, Mr & Mrs Naylor No29, Mrs Smith No31, Mr & Mrs Parr No33..
Looking Down From The Right :
Alice Short No35, Anne Ackroyd No37, Mr & Mrs Dickson No39, Mr & Mrs Lee No41,
Mr & Mrs Palmer No43, Mr & Mrs Claydon No45. Mr & Mrs Saunders No47,
Mr & Mrs Beaumonts No49, Fletchers/Corners No51, Mrs Longdon No53...
The Havan
Henleys old House
Built Circa 1935 By Cyril Baker,
His Daughter Lilian married
Fred Henley and resided in the Havan till 1999...
where the 'Brocken Bridge' was situated..
On the Right between the two light post (Top Pic)..
Opposite was the Garwoods home and orchard..
Only reminder now, part of the surrounding brick built garden wall
The Village Annual WM Club Trip Day..Circa 1967/68
Friends and Families of The Past, That Lived On The Crescent
Fellows Family
From L to R... Back Row - John, Jean, Herbert 'Tippy' holding his youngest sister Joyce..
Frtont Row - Eric, Bob, Linda, Sam, Joe..
David Lovell sat on the steps of No 68
showing the old grassed centre of the 'Bullring',
with our house directly in the background
Family Relatives day out
Mrs Jackson, Mrs Golby (scarf) Denise,Carol & Jackie Jackson and cousins
Susan, Graham, Brian (smallest & Steven (glasses) Golby
Christne Loftus No 96 & John Woolley No 106
Wedding Day
Showing outside No 98 - 96
John Lived at Number 106 with his Dad (Enoch)
Brother-Inlaw Eric & Sister Lavinia..
Later Mr Woolley and John moved to 204 Cemetary Road in an exchange
with the Guest family...
Johns Brother Roy Woolley & wife Anne
and daughter Carol lived next door at No 108
Bernice & Christine Loftus No 96
front - Ratcheal Wooley
(Lavinia's Daughter)
Patricia Hough (sat on fence) and Susan Johnson No 122
In Houghs backgarden that overlooks 'as it is still known' Hague's field
with the Farmers horse 'Daisy'
From The Snicket Down To The Little Bullring
On the steps of No 57 toward the 'Little Bullring'
Janet North,Susan Grievson, Pat Evans, Martin Evans,
Julie Grievson,Jonn Wright, Donald Brookes
Mr Grievson and george Bagnell
walking towards the Snicket
(Club trip day morning)
(Back) Susan Grievson, Janet North
(Middle) Jane Wright, June North, John Wright, Julie Grievson
(Front) Joyce North, Gillian North,
Diane Wodoski.
Left, Valarie Doughtie,
Middle Sylvia Grievson Right, Anne Lockwood
Background, Trevor Grievson
The Lady herself Eileen Butterworth
We feared her when we were kids..
Until we were adults and realised what
a lovely soft character she was..
Saw her till the end... RIP Eileen
Margaret Corner & Susan Grievson,, No 51
Sat in Margarets Grandma
and Mothers (Kathleen Carr) Garden
From Wentworth Road Onto Allott Crescent 'Old Part/Houses'
Mr & Mrs Hinton No1
Longest Residents On Allott Crescent
Mr Royal Hinton and his parents were the first family to move
into the newly built houses in 1939, moving from Kitroyd..
Mr Hinton was only 18mths old when the family made the move, he is now coming to
his 80th year of living on Allott Creasent.... House No1
The Henleys
Cyril Baker built the 'Haven' circa 1935.. Their daughter Lilian
married Fred Henley in 1946 and set up home in the 'Haven' that year..
Cyril & Cynthia Baker moved into the Annex
David, Pat & Teresa Henley
with Grandad 'Cyril' & Grandma 'Cynthia' Baker..
Philip on Grandma lap..
Mr 'Fred' Henley 2020
96yrs young..
a Gentleman
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