The Sales

A Memory of Newburn.

It was about 1956. John Sample had started to change with the times and bought himself a pick up truck, him, 'Auld Jimmy' and me went to the horse sales at Gateshead just over the bridge, and I cannot for the life of me remember if it was the High Level or the Redheugh. They went to buy a horse, which they did, and it was my job to bring him home, they bought this poor sad horse showing its bones and saddle sores, it had obviously been ill treated so they left me with a rope halter to make my way back on the five mile trek. Normally I would be on its back like a shot, but he was a bit skitterish because of the bridge so I waited until we got to the other side. Once over, I did the normal thing of getting him near a bit of a slope so I could use this as a step up, I grabbed his mane and was about to jump on Indian style then he reared up. I tried another time but no good, it must have been to do with the sores on his back, so I resigned myself to the long walk back, and to cap it all the heavens opened up. Well! We must have looked two sorry sights, walking alang Scotchie Road. We got to Lemington and it was starting to get a bit dark by this time, rain still coming down, when this wagon appeared, it was John and Auld Jimmy looking for me. I explained he wouldn't let me on his back. At this, John grabbed the halter I cricked my leg and he threw me straight on, slapped its rump and we beat them back.
Pattisons Crawcrook sales was good as well, I used to go with John or Auld Jimmy sometimes with both and while they were doing what they had came to do I would get around by the hen cages, which were stacked maybe five or six high with every type of hen you could think of. Well, the hens had been cooped in there a while and I knew there would be a prize here, yes! It was the eggs that had been laid. I would quietly open the cage doors and get the eggs, take them back to our cart and hide them, then every hour or so go back for more. We would be there quite a while as the men met other horsey men and go to the pub. I was happy on the back of the cart, looking after my goods with a bottle of orangeade, the glass bottle one with the screw down cork and the bits of orange that would get stuck in your teeth.
There was another rag and bone man who lived in the first little cottage next to Newburn Memorial, he was Big Bill Leyton, a mountain of a man who was having an affair with little Gladdy Aikman from Walbottle. Gladdy was a dwarf all four foot nout and they were a sight to see going along Scotchie Road to weigh in, the cart loaded with rags etc, Big Bill at the front with the reins, and his feet almost trailing on the road, and little Gladdy at the back, way up high with her little legs just protruding under the black Burberry mack she was never seen without. I was told Big Bill's wife had given him the ultimatum to pack Gladdy in or sleep up the yard and stables, which was halfway up Hareside path. He finished his days in the stables.

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