Peterlee Then And Noe

A Memory of Peterlee.

I don't remember any of my childhood until I moved to Peterlee in 1971. I was 5 years old at the time and was started at Eden Hall infants. When I moved to the big school aged 7 I was placed in Mrs Hoy's class, she was a fantastic teacher. In my second year I was put into Mrs Hudson's class, where for the first time I realised what a strong willed woman my mam was. Mrs Hudson gave all the kids in class a nickname; Michael Fairhurst became 'fairycakes', Paul McCabe was 'cavey' Michael Burns was 'burnsy' and so on. As my surname was Collins at the time I became 'collywobbles', my mam heard about this and went berserk. At the time the lower school had their assembly on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. On that particular Thursday morning my mam marched me to the school and virtually invaded the assembly. The headmaster (the towering Mr Pascoe) was addressing the school when my mam let rip. She wasn't very subtle at the time but is still with us to this day. I'll never forget her words at the time "I gave my kids proper names, I don't want the likes of that cow giving them nicknames just because she hasn't got any of her own." The response from the rest of the assembly was electrifying & Mrs Hudson didn't know which way to turn. Mr Pascoe just said "now then Mrs Collins, perhaps we can discuss this sensibly" my mam was about 5 foot four at a push and Mr Pascoe at least a foot taller, it was like watching David taking on Goliath & my mam didn't even have a slingshot. We went into his office where Mrs Hudson just stood there looking sheepish. Mr Pascoe said that one of "his" teachers would never condone giving the kids a nickname, when he realised she was lying there was "all hell" to pay. I was in Mrs Caddows class in the third year and the only thing I remember about her was her long fingernails which she used to use on the blackboard and make a horrible screeching sound. Then in the fourth year I encountered the best teacher a young lad could ever have, Mr Adamson. He was a brilliant teacher unless you got on the wrong side of him. If you messed around in his class he would take out his size thirteen plimsoll and give you a swift half dozen on your bum in full view of the rest of the class. I eventually learnt my lesson after about half a dozen encounters with this mammoth plimsoll. I moved on to Dene House school for just over a year before the family moved to Wiltshire in 1977 which was a huge adventure. We moved back to Peterlee in August 1981 having "seen the world". All my friends had gone to their own world in this three year period and I was no longer one of them. I left school in 1982 and was enrolled in one government scheme after another. My first "proper job" was at Tudor where I was given the extremely important job of watching thousands of crisps pass before my eyes and "picking off" any bad ones. The amount of times I went home with burnt/scalded fingers is incalculable; within 5 years I had progressed to the mighty rank of chargehand/relief supervisor but things didn't turn out well when I was involved in a fight with one of the workers and I was sacked. Not a good time, but all this time I never noticed any changes in Peterlee with the single exception being that the man who used to run the newsagents in Yoden Road throughout my childhood years had suddenly transformed into Manjit Singh (a great bloke in his own right).Ffor the next few years I drifted from job to job and never relied on any benefits. I started working for Orange when I was 32 and spent the next 15 years working in call centres (I was never Mr Popular) with the general public but always tried to stay true to my roots. On to Peterlee today, I have never seen as many changes in such a small place as I have in the last few years. Eden Hall school has been demolished, Asda is now huge, the estate where Tudor crisps was is virtually derelict and only a few buildings remain occupied. The town centre has no shoe shops or card shops, even the charity shops and £1 stores are deserting in their droves. I look around me from my house in Crawford Avenue and wonder what has happened to this New Town that once promised everything but now delivers nothing anymore, not even hope.

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