Leadgate, St Ives Road c1955

Memories of Iveston

I was born in 1934 and lived in Iveston for 18 years, leaving reluctantly in 1952. We first lived beside the duckpond, in the cottage attached to Letch Farm, run then or later by Mr and Mrs Harrison. Avis Harrison baked my wedding cake. We then lived on the village green across from the school where I started at the age of 5. The headmaster/teacher was a Mr Smith (there was only one teacher). I was only there for a year or so and then went to Leadgate School, but I remember we had slate pencils and slate boards to write on. The only other pupils I remember were Alma and Velma  Bates, who were much older than me. Just above the school there was Cruddas's shop. We then moved to Parkers Buildings. I went to the chapel and was on the Anniversay service until I was 18.
Mostly I remember the farms. There was Bob Wright's on the other side of  Bogle Hole, long gone with mining subsidence. Then Board arm (Joe Parker's) where I spent a lot of time. During the Second World War I used to go out with Joe with the milk float on a Saturday morning to deliver milk to Leadgate.  Housewives came out with their jugs and cans and milk was served straight from the churn. The pony was called Hitler. Across from Board Farm was Townend Farm owned by Alf Bates. At one time during the war there was a squad of American servicemen based there. They used the dairy as a cookhouse and if we went to sit on the barn steps we were given papers of chips and other 'goodies'. When they left in convoy they all waved and tooted as they passed the house. Following on from there was the war memorial and then Tot Bates farm. My father built a garden for Mrs Bates at the front of the house. Also in later years Tot converted a small building into a cabin where Cecil Stirk used to come up once a week with his records and play them for us I remember listening to 'The Woodcutters' Ball' and 'Night Riders in the Sky' among others.  I also remember listening  to the broadcasts of the big fights on the radio there. Next was Best's, then down the hill to Kirkpatrick's, there was another farm at the bottom, then further on past Red Houses was Parky Bate's farm. We spent a lot of time on the farms helping with the haymaking and harvest. I remember being allowed to drive a Ford tractor at harvest time and also a Massey Ferguson. Smaller farms gathered in hay with horse and bogie, the pike being winched on to the bogie. Larger farms had tractors.  There was also Woodside Farm on the Lanchester road which was run by George and Mary Robinson. During the war George had German P.O.Ws working on the farm and they used to make slippers and shopping bags from straw and sell them.
There was carol singing around the village and all the farms at Christmas, and an annual trip to the seaside, all organised by the Chapel. There were wonderful bonfires on Guy Fawkes Night on the village green.
I have snapshots taken at the 1937 Coronation celebration outside the Smithy (Tom Armstrong's, I think), and the village is decorated with bunting.
There was sledging down Bogle Hole and also the other side of the village down past Kilpatrick's to the Red Houses. Mind you, it was a long haul back up. I remember going across to the pools just below Happy Land to fish for frogspawn, and my father skating on the village pond when it was frozen. My father was born in Iveston. Mr grandfather, Kit Stockdale, lived at Stockerly Grove Cottage at the bottom of Bogle Hole, the one with the stone cat sat on the east gable.
Cruddas's shop just above the school was where we bought our penny peg bars. Mrs. Bainbridge (across from the Smithy) made toffee apples and cinder toffee during the war - if you took her a bar of chocolate she would make you the most amazing Easter egg. The New Inn was where when we were older we could buy crisps and bottles of pop. And I remember that the Motor Bike Scrambling Club was extremely popular.
I corresponded with and visited Mary Kipling (now deceased) who wrote a book on the history of Iveston and she would keep me informed of all the changes (she fought hard against most of them). The village I knew was a close-knit farming community. Now it is commuter-belt country, full of expensive properties and converted buildings. Where are all the farms, village chapel and school and the duckpond? I am amazed at the changes, and walking through it now is like visiting a foreign country. BUT memories never fade and I can close my eyes and visualise Iveston as it was in 'the good old days'.

The 1970s

I was born in the 1950s but, despite having memories of happy times spent in the old bus station in the late 1960s, I would class the 1970s as more my era. Us lasses would sport shaggy-cut hairstyles, mini-skirts, hot pants and platform shoes and we'd buy stuff from She Fashions. We would do a tour of the pubs, usually preferring the less classy establishments because they didn't mind if we stuck a few bob in the jukebox and danced in the middle of the floor. So each Friday night, we would all meet up in The Duke of Wellie. Our boyfriends would usually be there too but they sat in their gang and we sat in ours and we didn't really bother each other, but it was a set-in-stone rule  that we would meet up in Testo's Night Club, The Bowl, after the pubs closed.
We went from The Duke to The Coach then on to The Turf for the "Go As You Please". Old Maggie always sang "The Wonder Of You" and I thrilled the captive audience with my rendition of "Paper Roses".
We would  dash off to Testo's at about 9.45 cos it was free admission if you were in before 10! There was always a canny crowd in by then and the regular house band "The Joe Morrell Trio" would be playing the hits of the day. This trio comprised Joe on keyboards, Bill on guitar and Brian on drums. They were also there to provide backing for the cabaret.
We always sat at the same table right next to the main doors and handy for the netty. The "restaurant" was pretty handy too and Sally Rafferty cooked a lovely steak, or a toastie sandwich if you weren't rich enough to afford the steak.
All the lasses drank lager and lime but if a bloke asked if we wanted a drink we would always say "Yes please. Pernod and Grenadine" (cos it was trendy).
We had to make many trips to the "Ladies Room" to check that our false lashes were still in place and to apply more purple eyeshadow and equally purple lippy. We all looked as though we had a bad heart!
The lads would usually arrive after 10, just to give the impession that they were "flush" and had enough to pay to get in. As usual they would all sit in a huddle together. They would get us up to dance though and make it known that we were part of their lives.
Many famous faces performed there as cabaret guests, Freddie Starr, Liz Dawn, Frank Carson, Roy Walker, The Searchers, Susan Maughan and Tony Christie to name but a few.
All of the singing performers obviously felt compelled to sing "Beautiful Sunday" and the house band did the same so it wasn't unusual to hear the same song four times in one night. Even now that song drives me batty!  The place was never over-crowded despite getting in a canny number of people. Everyone knew everyone else too so the atmosphere was homely. If strangers DID descend on the place then they were interrogated by the regulars in a friendly enough fashion and welcomed into the crowd.
Though Friday was our Big Night Out we sometimes went out on a Thursday and Saturday too and everything would be the same.
After a while a band from Teeside called "Pittsburg Steelers" took over the vacant slot after Joe and his band left. I recall the singer being called Alan and he had a fab voice. His verson of The Eagles "Desperado" was wonderful.  So was "Please Stay" (an oldie) and The Animals song " Bring It On Home to Me".
Pittsburg Steelers drew in a larger crowd but then they left too. Now then, this time the resident band became Ocopus  - a very handsome bunch of Maltese guys who were sensational. They drew in many of the "Botto's Crowd" (especially the lasses) who seemed to appreciate their talent.
We would watch the clock and at about 1am our respective boyfriends would get us up for the "smoochie dances" that would be par for the course for the last hour. Many of them had cars and would take their lasses home. But for those who didn't it was a case of toddling across to the Venture Taxi Office on Medomsley Road to book a taxi through a tiny grill type window.  No luxury of standing in the warmth there then. The queue would be miles long and folk would be frozen to death in the winter.
Then, after a couple of tragedies, The Bowl lost its licence. No more special place with a resident band and cabaret artists. It was off to Botto's for us then where we had to learn to dance round our handbags to records like Trammps "Hold Back The Night", The Drifters "There Goes My First Love" and George McCrae "It's Been So Long".
Not quite the same, having to squash past people to get to the dance floor, having to stand 10 deep at the bar to get a drink. And another thing, hot pants, high boots and mini-skirts had now been replaced by "New Length" dresses and skirts that came way down past the knees. Not nice.
I'd give anything to relive those 1970s days trekking fom The Duke to The Coach often taking in The Alex en route and maybe nipping into The Norven and Brit as well.  Then having the entertaining cabaret, dancing and hot meal that The Bowl provided as the big finale to the night out.
Now they were Golden Days.  
I have many memories of my hometown. But the 1970s were very special.