OneGuyFromBarlick

I thought there was an air of something different about him....
When I was in Berlin in the early 1950s it was a hotbed of signals/intelligence operations. Here's an extract from me memoirs about one aspect of it....

"One of the advantages about being detached from Battalion was that we didn’t have to do guard duty at the entrance to the airfield as this was manned by the RAF Regiment and civilian security. However, we soon found that we had to make up by doing other guard duties in the Sector. The first we encountered was Border Patrol. About eight of us were given two Austin Champs and a German security policeman who knew the route and could speak English. The Austin Champ was the British Army Jeep, Jeep by the way was the Yank’s corruption of the designation of their standard small transport which was originally General Purpose Vehicle, abbreviated to GP and corrupted to Jeep. Ours was a heavier vehicle than the American one and had a Rolls Royce engine, the particular ones we had also had a Telefunken radio in the back which we could use to contact the Military Police HQ as we went round the border.
Our job was to patrol the border with the Russian Zone where it ran alongside the perimeter of the British Sector. This was largely in open country but occasionally the border passed through a village. In those days it was partly fenced and guarded on the Russian side by Volks Polizei or VOPOS for short. In many places like villages, there was no physical barrier, just a white line painted down the middle of the road.
At intervals along the route there were Military Police Telephone (MPT’s) which we knew were tapped and monitored by the Russians but this didn’t bother us because all it told them was where we were and they knew that anyway because the whole of the border was lined with watch towers manned by VOPOS who could see where we were and reported back. Usually we used the MPT’s to report in but occasionally used the Telefunken instead just to keep the VOPOS on their toes. We were told that the radios were special and scrambled the signal and that the Russians hadn’t cracked it yet. I think this may have been correct because this facility enabled us to have a bit of fun with the VOPOS.
At one point on the border we had to go into the Eiskeller, an appendix shaped exclave of the border which we used to call the Cabbage Patch because that was the main crop growing there. The entrance was a narrow gap in the wire and it was fenced all round and ringed with watch towers. The VOPOS were always a bit nervous about the Cabbage Patch and we used to wind them up by reporting in on the Telefunken when we entered. I should mention that unless it was a really bad night, we didn’t show any lights at all. The Rolls Royce engines were very quiet and if the conditions were just right we could trickle slowly round the Eiskeller without being spotted, there was a lot of cover. On the way out we would call in from the MPT at the entrance but speak very quickly. The result was that the VOPOS thought we were just going in.
We would trickle quietly off down the track and then stop to see what happened. After a while a searchlight would stab the darkness, then another until the whole place was bathed in light. One memorable night the we thought the VOPOS must have been really wound up because they started firing so we decided to scapa. Off we went like hell down the border in the dark, it was a very rough track because it followed the line of the border fence regardless of the terrain so there were lots of blind summits even though the track was usually straight. Cresting one of these we found a bed in the middle of the track, we swerved to avoid it and narrowly missed going through the fence. The VOPOS had sprung a trap on us. I should mention here that as far as fire power was concerned, we were at a definite disadvantage because all the time we were in Berlin and no matter what we were guarding we were never given live ammunition. I often wondered about this, who did they think we were going to shoot?
We found out later that our encounter with the VOPOS wasn’t the first time it had happened. The story was that one Champ had gone through the fence and stuck half way in the Zone and the back half in the sector. The patrol was instructed to withdraw 100 yards from the border, take cover and wait for the cavalry. This seemed like a bloody good idea so off they went. Remember, the Russians were our bogey men at this time and nothing would have surprised us. Having said this, they gave the lads a hell of a surprise! After about 10 minutes they heard a large vehicle crashing through the undergrowth on the Russian side of the border. A tracked vehicle hove into view, a gang of men jumped out and did a quick and efficient job of cutting the Champ along the border line. They hooked on to the front end and by the time the MP’s arrived with a REME breakdown crew, all they had left was half a champ and the Telefunken! There was no problem about this, evidently incidents such as this were quite common. All our Allies had done was apply the concept of the border literally and had taken what they regarded as theirs. The MP’s gave the patrol another Champ and away they went to complete their stag. (A period on guard was always called a stag, don’t ask me why!)"

The thing I remembered this morning was one war time Xmas when we were expecting a turkey to be delivered from a farmer friend of my father. It was coming by rail. It never arrived and Xmas was a scrabble to get something on the table. A few days after Xmas the bird arrived and was definitely a bit high! Undeterred, father got hold of a small barrel of vinegar and immersed the bird in it overnight after scrubbing it inside and out. The following day it went in the oven and we sat down to it for New Year and guess what, I can still remember that bird as the most tasty and tender I have ever eaten! Perhaps the gentry knew a thing or two when they hung their game.....

Mrs Tiz's sister is having to cook a turkey on Christmas Day for her daughter because the lass's oven is too small. Sister then has to drive with the hot turkey to daughter's house. I hope there are no traffic jams - although she won't go hungry if there are!

It will not suffer, it will be well rested when she gets home.....
We always had a good gas cooker because one of the perks of my father's job as works manager at General Gas Appliances was that when a new model of their gas cooker came out he had one on what was called 'Area Test'. See THIS, funny thing is that as far as I remember the telephone number was 2274 not 84......

One of the shortages during the war was bedding. I can remember a green quilt on my bed that had definitely passed its sell by date. Remember our bedrooms were totally unheated. I can remember that on very cold nights my mother used to put my father's Home Guard greatcoat on my bed.... Perhaps that's why I still prefer a cool bedroom.....

When we lived at Napier Road in Stockport our old Victorian house had a front cellar that had no window but louvres and stone slabs all round the walls and in the centre of the floor. The Victorian equivalent of the modern fridge. We continued to use it until we got a fridge. The back cellar had a fireplace and bells that used to be connected to the rooms above. The house was designed for servants....

We still have the old bell system in the house. Works off a push button in each room. The down side is that just when I'm polishing the family silver with the understairs maid, please no rude thoughts from you lot, Milady rings a bell so I have to dash off as quickly as my zimmer frame will go.

These must have been state-of-the-art when installed. Before electricity they were operated by cords to a small bell on a spring. Now we have wireless buttons on restaurant and bar tables to call the waitress.

Napier Road had one more state of the art feature. The ashes from the big Iron Range in the kitchen dropped down a shaft into an ash pit in the cellar.



The kitchen at Napier Road. The first thing that we did when we moved in in about 1945 was to replace the range with a Rayburn cooker which General Gas Appliances made as a cheaper variation of the AGA. This pic was done in 1988 just before the house was demolished and I hadn't been in there since 1953. Nothing had changed in 35 years, spooky!

This was the spookiest room of the lot. My bedroom in the attic at Napier Road which I occupied from 1945 until 1953 when I left home to work on the farm in Warwickshire.... Not a thing had been changed in 43 years.

Xmas morning always reminds me of those days long ago when mother put us to bed at half past seven and told us to go to sleep and that Father Christmas would be coming during the night. It seemed to take ages to drop off but we were up at about 5AM and the funny thing was that there was a fire in the front room and Xmas presents. I could never understand how Santa had managed to get down the chimney with the fire lit! During the worst days of the war there was always one really good Xmas present and a stocking with an orange in the toe and some sweets and chocolate. God knows how they managed it!
Then my mind goes forward to a sitting room in a house in Skipton in about 1985 one Christmas Eve. Mary and I had gone to deliver presents to them and when I went in the room I was astounded! There were three enormous piles of parcels, presents for the kids. It had never struck me that things were any different for kids than it had been for me and my kids. It left me profoundly depressed. Were they any happier? Was there some sort of arms race of buying affection going on? I suspect the same thing is happening as I write this......

Looking at the current floods, I think back and cannot remember any flood scares when I was a lad in Stockport. I can remember the Mersey running at very high levels but it ran in a gorge through the town and was never a danger.

Sometimes the Blakewater used to flood in Blackburn. There are old photos on the Blackburn `Cottontown' web site showing Salford, Church Street and the Boulevard flooded. Remember the underground lavatories in the middle of Church Street? You'd have had to be in a diver's suit to use them! Remember also how the Blakewater was, for most of the time, just a stream but running in a very deep and wide cutting. It had to fill the whole depth and width of that cutting before it could flood the roads, which shows how much extra water was flowing through. There are 4 pages of links to photos of the Blackburn floods here: LINK

What is often forgotten is that the L&L canal is a very efficient piece of water engineering and plays a major role in managing land drainage in the district.

Are there places where the flood waters are higher than the canal and can get into it? If so, what happens then?

The top length has its own overflows above the top lock at each end of the length and at odd intermediary points. Barlick end at Greenberfield takes any overflow from the top length to below the bottom lock. Each length has its own overflow arrangements into local watercourses. In the recent flooding down there the excess water from Skipton Road was pumped into the canal and for a short time the level was just onto the towpath under Greenberfield bridge, this would self regulate though as described.

Tiz, see forgotten corners yesterday. The canal is very well engineered and there are frequent by-wash cills along it where any excess level is discharged into becks below the canal level. Apart from the big one at County Brook, they all discharge into the Ribble catchment area. Bad luck for those downstream but that is the nature of water, it runs downhill!

One of the human traits that hasn't changed over the years is our collective tendency to avoid thinking too much about things that disturb us. We ignore history at our peril and what has triggered this is the present blind spot about our water management arrangements and the consequent flooding and misery. Almost all our engineering works to deal with excess water are relics of the 19th century. We are still riding on the backs of the Victorians.....

Another factor which I suspect hasn't changed is the way major policies that affect all our lives are conceived and formed in conversations in back rooms in Westminster. Quite often based on bigoted attitudes, like the Letwin memorandum. We still don't have enough transparency in policy making. Jeremy Corbyn appears to be addressing this with his suggestion that planning for flood protection should be an all party decision and not subject to changes of government. I have argued for this approach for years. Look at the wartime coalition governments and consider the improvement in decision-making that came out of that. There is a lesson in there somewhere!

New Year's Eve, even in the depths of wartime, was a magical experience for a young lad because at midnight all the mills and railway locos sounded their steam sirens and whistles! I can still remember my mother getting me out of bed to hear it.

It's getting colder but the gas CH and the modern stove in the front room ensure that I have a dry warm house. My mind goes back to coming downstairs on a cold winter morning to a brightly burning coal fire in the kitchen. My mother had laid it and lit it before we got up and as the room hadn't warmed up properly we lived on the hearth rug! I have always said that when we got efficient heating our homes became larger and there was no longer competition for the hearth rug. We tend to forget these things....

One of the things I miss is the lovely smell of an old fashioned grocer's shop. Everything is packed so well these days that the smell never escapes. When I was in Perth I went into a Greek shop that sold spices. They were all in open sacks on the floor and you helped yourself with a scoop. The smell in that shop was wonderful! (Leather shops like cobblers and saddlers as well)

As late as 1950, the grocer's shop on Heaton Moor at Moortop always had a barrel of Danish butter in the counter with the staves broken off. If you bought butter the staff cut a lump off, knocked it up, wrapped and weighed it and there you were. No refrigeration, it sat there covered with greaseproof paper until the barrel was finished. I can still see it in my mind's eye. Half way down the long counter to the right when you walked into the shop....

My Dad worked in a big grocer's shop next to Blackburn market for a while when he left school and talked about his job being to cut cheese, cold meats etc.

We were still selling butter, cheese and sugar loose when I was Open All Hours at Sough in the 50s. Why was it traditional to weigh sugar out into blue bags?
Marble cheese slab with a wire to cut the cheese....