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This is my maternal Grandmother (or Nana as we called her) Beatrice Ainslie (nee Scott) She was born in 1898 and died in December 1990. She lived most of her life in and around Sunderland but she did live briefly in London when she entered service in a shop in Edgware Road.  She married my Grandfather Christopher and they had 5 children – 4 girls and one boy. My mother was the youngest born in 1938 when my Grandmother was 40. She outlived all but 2 of her children and had many grandchildren and great gandchildren.

The other day I was looking through a bag of things that my father had given me and I found a battered small brown box. When I picked it up a medal fell out of it and my first thought was that it must have belonged to one of my Grandfather’s who both saw action during the wars. However when I turned it over I found it was addressed to my Nana.

The medal in question was awarded to men and women who were service personnel or in one of many civilian organisations for three years service in non operational areas subjected to air attack or closely threatened. I presume my nana was awarded the medal for her work during the war in munitions factories. The area around Sunderland was heavily bombed during the Second World War due to the shipyards and other industries – there were still bombsites around when I was a youngster in the 1960’s.

Along with the medal in the box was a note with the official crest on it from the Home Secretary saying that the medal was awarded for service during the war of 1939-45.

My Nana was a tough old boot – she had to be she lived through both World Wars and much more besides. My Grandfather had joined the army in the first World War after lying about his age to sign up. he joined the Cavalry and my Nana still had the spurs he wore during the war. They also lived through the great depression in the 1930’s when times were tough and jobs were few. My Grandfather was, by all accounts, like Norman Tebbit’s father who went out to look for work and din’t give up till he found some. He would later tell my mum that if she went for an interview and was asked if she could do something to say yes and worry about learning how to do it later! here he is with his family in about 1912 – a couple of years before he joined up. he is at the front on the left.

My Nana had also been a member of a ladies football team in her youth, at a time when women didn’t really do that thing. I have somewhere a picture of her holding a football when the Sunderland Echo did a feature about her when she was in her 80’s. I will have to try and dig it out sometime but in the meantime here is her medal.

This is now part of BBC Radio 4’s History of the World Project

ne of my favourite Radio programs has got to be Desert Island Discs which I listen to every Friday morning with a regularity bordering on Obsession! I should start work at 9:30 but I’m invariably late and this bothers me every day except Friday – in fact it used to be so annoying to arrive at work on time and miss the last fifteen minutes - this is less of a problem now that the show is finally available on iplayer but it’s still annoying!

As well as the music I find the life stories of people, some of whom I’ve never heard of until they appear on the show, quite fascinating. There are stories to which I cannot directly relate and can only image what that person must have been going through, for example violinist Gyorgy Pauk telling of his life in the Jewish ghetto in Budapest during the second world war and how he was brought up by his Grandmother who he eventually had to leave behind in order to live freely in the west. Then there was Dame Stephanie Shirley who escaped Nazi Germany when she was sent to the UK by her parents to be brought up by complete strangers. Things that happened before I was born and which, as I said,  I can only imagine what it was like.

More and more frequently now  there are guests who are the same age as me and although they may have been brought up in a different place with different experiences I can still still relate to their memories and musical choices because they are from a time and mindset that is recognisable to me. One such person was Morrissey who I blogged about on a previous occasion and today it was Frank Skinner who although he is a few years older then me I recognise the world he grew up in and some of his musical choices hit the target and fired off memories of my youth.

This was probably helped by the fact that I had spent some time the previous evening looking through some carrier bags of stuff that I had brought back from the garage where we have some of our stuff in storage. A lot of stuff has been in storage in one place or another since  Sarah and I moved in together and has been too painful to sort through due to the memories of a acrimonious divorce. However I’m starting to be able to move on and in the bags I found some interesting things such as almost all my school reports – junior and secondary, my Chipper club membership card from the Sunderland Echo,  even my Baptism Certificate.

Frank Skinner’s fourth track, amongst a very eclectic choice of music, was the 1970 England World Cup song Back Home, possibly one of the first (and best – alongside Frank’s own effort Three lions)  World Cup songs ever and one which reminds me of my first World Cup. As far as I know I did watch the 1966 final but was too young to remember it. In fact my only memory of 1966 was World Cup Willie the mascot who I missed in 1970 and wanted to know where he had gone!

There were huge expectations as the Mexico finals approached, as England were the champions, but as we all know they crashed out in the second round to eventual winners West Germany, who we had beaten to win the cup 4 years earlier. We had been winning 2-0 but eventually lost 3-2 after extra time when Gerd Muller put the winning goal past Peter Bonetti who was playing as Gordon Banks had come down with food poisoning a few days before the game.  This experience seems to have been repeated every couple of years in either the World Cup or European Championships by the English football team. The constant expectations of success in the build up, the inevitably disappointing first game, followed by a scrabble to qualify for the knock-out stage only to lose on penalties or after extra time in either the quarter or semi finals!

Frank commented that football was different in those days and I think he is right. His memories of watching West Bromwich Albion were summed up by saying that football grounds smelt of Woodbines and Meat Pies struck a chord but I would have also added Bovril to that list! Watching Sunderland in the early 70’s at Roker Park would on occasion lead me to buy a cup of the meaty drink. The drink had such a wonderful smell but to me tasted bloody awful, a fact i would remember after a few sips!! He also mentioned the terraces and how small boys would take crates to stand on so they could see.

Well I never did that but have fond memories of standing in the Fulwell end on the terraces….there was a section in the middle at the back we used to call “the Chanters” which was where the most noisy fanatical fans used to stand and from where the most enthusiastic chanting used to come. It was always rough and fluid in that section and you had to be brave (or big) to stand a chance. The most wonderful thing about the terraces was the movement of the crowd. The Fulwell end was almost always full and when the team came running with the ball came towards the goal in front of us about 10,000 people would all stand on their toes to see what was happening before inevitably loosing their balance and falling forward causing the crowd to surge forward to be stopped only by the crash barriers that were spaced at intervals down the stand.

At the back of the stand where the steps opened onto the terraces there was a shop, selling amongst other things, the aforementioned Bovril, running along the back of the stand was a fence, but ducking behind the shop you could get up behind the fence and this would afford you the most wonderful view. You were right behind the most ardent supporters and could see the whole ground. The experience of seeing the fans react when a goal was scored from up there was incredible and worth the risk of occasionally getting told to get down by a Policeman or steward.

The other thing I miss is the event that used to be the FA Cup final – watching it on TV was an event that used to start at about 11 in the morning and slowly build up, following the teams on their coaches to the ground, covering their paths to Wembley and then finally the game itself and then the interviews and celebrations afterwards. I think the first FA cup final I watched was the 1969/70 final which Chelsea won after a replay. A few years later Sunderland made it to the final and although only a second division team beat first division Leeds Utd 1-0 in an historic win. Sadly I wasn’t there but watched it in colour for the first time!

Anyway my flirtation with football was short lived, I seem to recall the last time I went to see Sunderland play I was queuing up to get out when the doors opened! My first love was and still is music and bringing this back to that topic I will move onto Frank Skinner’s 7th choice namely George Formby’s Why don’t women like me? When I was growing up my earliest musical likes were Military brass bands and George Formby – a diversity of taste which has stood me in good stead for the following years! It was good to see someone else my age still has a soft spot for the ukulele wielding comedian other than me (although I understand that the late George Harrison turned Bob Dylan onto him as well) but unlike Frank I have no desire to take up playing the thing!

I loved the stories about his father, how he would not go to the pub or betting shop without putting his suit on first! he even used to say to his wife – nip down the bookies for me because if I put my suit on I’ll have to go to the pub as well. It’s strange now to think that men used to be like that. I remember my dad, who it must be said must have been quite modern and with it, expressing surprise when we bumped into a neighbour in Belgium while  we were on holiday and found he was wearing a suit even on holiday. I watched a wonderful old film on youtube the other week from 1927 which, surprisingly was in colour and in one scene there is a shot of Petticoat Lane on a Sunday and in it all the men are dressed in suits. (I was also amused by the fact that the crowd was almost exclusively men – strange given that my father used to hate the idea of going shopping).

So that’s it for my trip down memory lane for now but in the near future I will scan some of the things I found and no doubt pour forth on a variety of subjects triggered by memories.

Last night I was working at an awards ceremony and the guest speaker was former England goalkeeper and member of the 1966 World Cup winning squad Gordon Banks. After cracking a few topical jokes about recent sporting events and the forthcoming World cup he started to reminice about his career and then got onto the subject of 1966. It was a really interesting and amusing tale which featured one name in particular – that of Nobby Stiles.

While I am told that I watched the 1966 World cup Final I was actually only 4 so I don’t remember doing so. I do remember the 1970 World cup Finals in Mexico and his wonderful save from Pele in the match against Brazil – probably the second greatest save I’ve ever seen eclipsed only in my somewhat biassed opinion by the double save from Jim Montgomery in ithe 1973 FA Cup Final. Bank’s career was cut short by a car accident before I was old enough to go to football matches butI did however get to see Nobby Stiles play.

It was towards the end of his career* when he was playing for Preston North End under the management of former 1966 England star Bobby Charlton. Sunderland beat them (3-1 I think) and at one point Nobby was a source of amusement for the crowd when he went to kick the ball, missed and fell over! After the game we waited outside the players entrance trying to get autographs of the two England world cup heroes. Nobby Stiles came out and started to sign peoples programs etc. However after a minute or two Charlton emerged and not only brushed away anyone who asked for his autograph but made Nobby Stiles get on the coach as well. Sore loser?

* I think it was the 1973/4 season, the year after the FA Cup win against Leeds, because I remember being in the Roker End as my dad wouldn’t let us go in the Fulwell End where the  Sunderland fans were at that point. A very scary experience in amongst a bunch of Middlesborough fans during a local derby did finally change his mind though!

This picture taken during the Vietnam war was seen all over the world. I seem to remember seeing it on the news at the time in 1972 – it shows a family running from a napalm attack. the girl at the centre was running naked because the 1200° C heat caused by the napalm burnt the clothes from her back.

Today on Radio 4 there was an interview with the girl, Kim Phuc, who now lives in Canada. She was interviewed by former ITN reporter Christopher Wain who was there with a film crew on that day and who along with Nick Ut, the photographer who took the iconic picture, helped to save her life that day and in the days that followed. She was taken to a Vietnamese hospital but she wasn’t expected to live and the men from the international press who witnessed the event organised getting her transferred to a better hospital.

This picture was in the Croydon Advertiser in about 2003 – it was taken outside Witchfest at the Fairfield Halls during my Morris Dancing days with Wolf’s Head & Vixen. We were performing at the festival and were asked by a photographer to pose for a picture outside. Keith and John still dance for the side and in fact feature in the video in this post.

On my way to work this morning I listened to a program on Radio 4 called the Reunion. The premise is that the program brings together people who were at a particular event in history to discuss the events surrounding it. Today it was the Dunblane massacre which 14 years ago touched so many people and even now I found myself being affected by it.

On the morning of 13th March 1996 Thomas Hamilton walked into Dunblane Primary school armed with 4 handguns and 700 rounds of ammunition. He entered the gym and opened fire on the teachers and children, who were aged about 5 years old, and in a matter of minutes he killed 15 children and a teacher ( a further child later died in hospital). He then left the gym and fired further shots in a corridor and into a classroom before returning to the gym, putting the gun into his mouth, and shooting himself dead.

On the program were one of the teachers who was shot in the gymnasium along with two of the parents whose children died, a journalist and a social worker who worked with the families who lost children and was there when they were told that their child was among the dead. The witness accounts gave an insight into something which you had only been able to imagine up until now, what it was like inside the gymnasium or the pain and grief suffered by the parents as they waited for news of their children and of being given the news. Even after all this time I found myself crying as I listened to their stories.

The teacher told how it had just been an ordinary day, how she chatted to the class teacher (who was killed) while she waited to start her gym class. She said that the door suddenly burst open and a man walked in wearing earmuffs, raised his hand, pointed at her and opened fire. In all she was shot 4 times. She described how the innocent children were running round, she thought that some of them may have thought it was a game as it was beyond their understanding at 5. She managed to get some of the children into a store room along with another member of staff where they hid while the gunman continued his shooting spree. Then she told how she heard the door go and that for a while she was relieved that he had left but then she heard him return. She told of the fear that she felt as she lay there expecting him to come in and start shooting at her again but then she described how he put a gun into his mouth and shot himself. She said that after the noise of the gunshot faded away there was complete silence for about 20 seconds and then all at once everything started to happen.

The parents told the story of how they first heard about the event and how once at the school they were kept in the staff room for a long time while the Police built up a picture of who was alive and who was dead. They said they kept being told that there would be news in 2 minutes by the Policeman in the room but how it dragged on for hours. At one point the Police came in and read out a number of names and asked the parents of those children to come with them. At first they thought that the parents who had been called out were the parents of the dead children but how they soon realised that they were the lucky ones who were being reunited with their children who had either survived or been injured. After that the parents were called out one at a time and were taken to be told the bad news. The two parents who were on the show were finally given the news and 2:45 and 3:30 – around 6 hours after the first shot had been fired.

I think the reason I was so affected by the program was that in 1996 my two eldest children were 5 and 3 so were the same age as the children that died. And now 16 years later Ben is the same age as those poor innocent little ones who suffered that day. I can try and put myself in the situation that those parents were in but even in my wildest imaginings I couldn’t even begin to comprehend having the endure the death of a child in those circumstances. It is said that parents all over the country arrived early to pick up their children from school that afternoon. I don’t know if that is true or not but I’m sure that we were all so glad that our children were home again safe and sound that day.

The worst day of my life.

The day my mum died.

Still miss her

While listening to Frank Cottrell-Boyce on Desert Island Discs this morning he said something about how important childhood books were and this made two books from my childhood suddenly pop into my head this morning. I remembered being read them when I was at school and I’m pretty sure I used to have copies of them as well.

The first was Stig of the Dump which was the story of a little boy called Barney who discovers a caveman called Stig living in a dump near his Grandmother’s house. Although they can’t speak to each other they have many adventures including catching burglars breaking into the Grandmother’s house and being transported back to Stig’s time to help his tribe build  a monolith.

The other book was the Otterbury incident which was written by Cecil Day Lewis which was set in post war Britain. the action takes place in the provincial town of Otterbury which has largely escaped the war except for one bomb which landed in the middle of town – now known as the incident. The main character Nick accidentally kicks a ball through the school window and is ordered to pay for it by the Headmaster.

The other boys feel responsible and decide to help raise the money by busking and shoe shining but just as they have reached their target the money mysteriously disappears and the boys suspect the local spiv and set out to find evidence to prove it.

I suspect that both books are somewhat dated now although Stig of the dump was made into a TV series in 1981.

I found a box of negatives in one of the packing boxes stored in the garage and in amongst all the packets was one with a load of pictures of me taken in photobooths between approximately 1975 and 1985. So I arranged them in roughly chronological order from top left to bottom right.

I think the first one was taken while I was still at school so it would have been before 1978. The next one has a stamp of Monkwearmouth CFE on it so it would have been during my A levels. The third one has a stamp dated 13 October 1990 so it would have been just after starting University. The fourth, the first with short hair was during my second year at Salford and has the Student Union stamp on it.

The colour one was obviously taken after I finished university as the beard has reappeared and I grew that while on holiday in Greece in the summer of 1983. The next one has a Newcastle Polytechnic stamp on it so that would have been 1984. The final one must have been when I came down to London to start work in 1985.

I was just looking through a box of old stuff and I found this picture of Jonathon Ross taken on a show I did at the Brewery in Chiswell Street, London many many years ago – you can see how many by how young he looks!

If I remember correctly Mike Smith and Maggie Philbin were also presenting on this show too. It was for a NEC and it was showcasing their new products some of which are old hat now. I seem to recall a voice activated phone that had a mind of it’s own!!