Quarry Bank

To me the first eleven years of my life, growing up in Quarry Bank, was the most enjoyable. I was born Kenneth Graham Sewell, on the 26th January 1947, at 59 Saltwells Road, now renamed White City, and the whole country was in the grip of the worst snows for years. I can remember from when I was eight months old and can recall being held in my mother's arms, watching our new council house being built. Number 3 Montgomery Crescent was to become a wonderful place for me, with my dad Joe, mom Lily, and my sister Janet. And later at number nine, a boy named Danny Priest was to become my life-long friend. One fine memory I have is of the Queen's coronation in 1953. The government doubled the sugar ration so as our mothers could bake cakes for the celebrations. Chairs and tables were lined up all down our streets and they were festooned with red white and blue. And that day was the best day of my life up until then. Other memories of my early days were spent playing up the park, down the Lye Wood or down the coppice. And we played hard and fast. The park in those days was a wonderful place with swings, slides, a see saw, and a monster machine known as The Giant Stride, also in that park was a band stand, a fine shelter, two tennis courts a few football pitches, a cricket pitch, and a wonderful paddling pool. Behind the pool, there was a crown green bowling green, the green having been laid a few years earlier by my grand father, Ben (double blank) Homer, and for a few pence, we could play bowls. That park also held some grand galas. But when Dudley took over the council, they destroyed all that was grand in that park. No more fine galas, no more ox roasts with us kids getting a penny dip, the Bowling Green was dug up, it saddens me of to think of the destruction done by Dudley council, but at least we kids had the best of that park. As a child, I remember there being a great amount of public house in our town, as I recall there were about twenty counting the clubs, but sadly only one pub remains in the high street. But on a good note I have been in all of them with my grandad Ben, alas I sat out side most of them with Vimto and Nibblets, but the memories are there. We lived in a time when all the neighbours got on with one another; we did not steal other people's things, mainly because we never had anything worth stealing. But there was a feeling of security when I was a child; we played under the glowing lamps well into the evening. And all around was the call of leaky one two three. As we played in the surrounding darkness hiding behind walls and sheds we never needed to fear what was lurking in the shadows, it was safe. And I think it a shame that children cannot enjoy the freedom we had. We played down the coppice on grass slides and swings over the brook, and when we played war we often played with real guns and grenades all decommissioned and borrowed off the surplus arms dump at the Round Oak steel works that were waiting to be melted down. During the war, the Germans dropped two very large land mines on our town and both failed to go off, and thanks to a few local men who defused them Quarry Bank is still here. After that episode Quarry Bank was renamed the Holy City and I am very proud of my town and the people who saved it. So my early years were wonderful and full of grand days playing in and around my town. And until the age of eleven, summer and winter, it was all done in short trousers. The high street contained every type of shop we needed and three of the shops that I think were renowned were Kendal's, Hawkswood's, and the shop we kids used the most was Oliver's with their grand penny lollipops. We fell off swings, splashed into the brook on our sledges in the snow, fell out of trees, shot with catapults and arrows, burnt with flaming fire cans. How did we survive? I hope that someone can supply me with pictures of Quarry Bank town; I think it needs putting on the map as we are slowly losing our identity. Please Contact me if you can help at: kensewell@live.co.uk Also have a look at the Quarry Bank Unite page on Facebook.