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Watson Street Baptist Chapel, Derby |
I have no doubt that my grandparents were a big influence on my
interests. I have always been interested in history. Any kind of history. Local
history, family history, obscure history. Whether this was enhanced by or
directly attributed to growing up listening to their oft told tales, I do not
know. One thing that I do know however, is that my maternal Grandad,
Len Calladine, is undoubtedly, my inspiration for this blog.
This blog is my "Cabinet of Curiosities" and will represent
my eclectic mix of interests. Please check out my other social/political history blog at http://oratoragitator.blogspot.co.uk/
I feel privileged to have grown up in the late sixties and early
seventies. Our generation had a brief glimpse of a world that belonged to
another time. We experienced the tail end of a way of life that our children
will never know. I grew up in the old west end of Derby. A world of red brick
Victorian terraces. Our first house in Clover Street was knocked down in the
early seventies. We had no bathroom, we had a tin bath in front of the fire.
Hard to believe now really. I was baptised in Watson Street Baptist chapel. That
was also knocked down in the early seventies. A sad fact considering all
the buildings of that period which are still standing. I recall the local
shops, like Smith`s, Dean`s, Hartshorn`s and Upton`s (always a cut above, well
it was on Kedleston Road, I suppose) They were either an aladdins cave of
assorted goods, much like Arkwright`s shop in "Open All Hours", or
like the old girl`s shop, who sold fruit and veg, over the road from our
second house in Leyland Street, very sparsely fitted out. I seem to recall all
that was in the shop in the way of fittings, in what must have been at one time her front
room, was a rough wooden table, used as a counter and a bit of knocked together
low level wooden racking with potatoes, cabbages and a few cooking apples in. I do recall that there
was an over-powering earthy smell of soil in there. I can smell it now.
Many will not agree, but for me, one "hardship" our children will
not have to endure, is hearing about the “swinging sixties” ! For years it was
forced down our collective throats, in overheard conversation, on the radio and
on TV. Understandable I suppose, for those who grew up in Austerity
Britain. For me though, my interest always lay in that which came before.
Hopefully, thankfully, the "swinging sixties" has raised it`s head for the last time ? I guess our parents were sick of hearing about the war years. Believe me, I know how they must have felt.
Hopefully, thankfully, the "swinging sixties" has raised it`s head for the last time ? I guess our parents were sick of hearing about the war years. Believe me, I know how they must have felt.
My grandad passed away in 1998. I remember with fondness one
of our last conversations. One afternoon, just a stones-throw away from where I
sit now as I type this. He shared details of his life that I had not heard
before. I remember in particular, him telling me that he considered,
he had led an interesting life. When my time comes, I sincerely hope
that I am able to say the same Grandad.
