My Life Stories

By

TG Richardson

ROCK AND ROLL

It was 1954. The start of rock n' roll. Our hero was Bill Haley with his group the Comets, It was still such an innocent and simple time to be alive, The big in thing to be doing at the time was drinking coffee in the local coffee bar and playing the juke box.

Cinema of course was big and we were all waiting for the film that was to bring a revolution in teen age music "Rock Around The Clock". George, Tommy and I had already planned what we were going to do when the film came, We were going to rock n roll in the aisles just as they were doing in London and throughout the country and every where the film played. We had this planned months before the film arrived even though none of us could dance a bean.

There were four cinemas in Bishop Auckland namely The Kings Hall, The Hippodrome, The Eden Theatre, named after the Eden family arr~ Is~t arrj most impressive The Odeon, ~e~b were ~ons~d~~a~ flea pit but the Odeon or ~; ~n working class kids thought,

Rock Around The Clock was due to be shown in Bishop Auckland at the Kings Hall. in U ie s ~mne ~ of ~~. Advance p~slirity ~~~r~ the i%l~ ~~i ~~e ri~~s it ~~; causing throughout the UK aSounded, We had aL1 seen newsreels every week in the cinema showing fans of rock and roll ~~~~hing wp I~~~na se~~~! dan~~ny ~n the aisles of cinemas and rioting in general

It was our music, Teen age music, No one else could understand

It.
and CRose in authority, A~J ,, loved it; For once we had something that was ours, ~~ne~7j~g n~ o~~ could Ca~e ~way~ I~ was a time to be ~~~?g; Ahov~ a%~ tine fa; ~oc~ a~~ roll. It w~s a ~e~jlution, Th~~~ w~s ~i~~ing li~e it a~J prohaSly will ~eve~ be anything ]i~e ,t ~~ain~ Jus~ ~rjtlng a~~~t it b:in~s b~ik my ~c~~, a~~ ti~~ tai;~~ d~~ce In ~y he~d; "~ee ~~~ Later All?~at~r"?" ~,~~ with ~~e C~~e Man", "Lung How could an adult see the ~aglc in t~tL es ; ~as q:~~j,,,, r~je I~~~us, ~t ~~seale~ deq~ p~r~ilive urgrs, Urges we never knew we had uneil the media told us we had them,

"It's not coming to Bishop after all', said

"Kubbishl" I said 'It's just got to come here,

They can't stop it, Now now'

The three mucky steers George, Tommy and myself were sat in Sam Zaire's coffee bar.
Three cups of coffee slowly going cold. The jukebox was playing "The Great Pretender":

"Well that's what me dad said was in the paper," 'Apparently the council are going to ban the film because of the trouble caused in other towns."

Silently we drank our coffee, our world was crashing to the ground. Even my new blue suede shoe didn't seem so glamorous,

"Oh yes I'm The Great Pretender,
Alone in a world of my own,
I seem to be but I'm not you see",
played the Juke Box,

Fortunately the newspapers were wrong. More hype I suppose just to build us up even further. That summer "Rock Around the Clock arrived to our great excitement.

By

TG Richardson

I had been working for about 6 months when George told me he was leaving his job at Bell & Ridleys and moving to a private decorator to work.

"I can get you my job if you want it. It will be better than working in a factory and at least you will have a trade at the end of it”.

I agreed anything seemed better than working in a factory. Life in a factory was pure drudgery. I handed in my cards and the following Monday I reported to the building site to start work as an apprentice painter. It was as simple as that. But then life was simple and straightforward in those far off days.

It was the summer of 1955 and the weather was great. The building site was on Woodhouse Close Estate. As I lived on the estate it suited me down to the ground. On Monday morning I found the site office and was told to report to the painter charge -hand Geordie Herd.

I found Geordie in one of the houses being built sitting on a distemper drum rolling a cigarette.

“Take a seat lad,” he said indicating a nearby drum. “Do you smoke”? I shook my head.

“So your George Collin’s mate. Been working in a factory. You’ll find it a lot different here. Couldn’t work in a factory myself. Too closed in. Always been used to being outside a lot. Used to be in the Merchant Navy during the war, fresh sea air on yer face” He paused to take a drag on the roll up, “Can’t beat the Navy.”

He handed me a brush and a pot of pink paint. This he explained was primer. “All woodwork is primed before it gets its final coats. The first job of an apprentice is to learn to prime. Start on that door over there”.

A little apprehensive I started to slap primer on the door laying it off as he had told me. I seemed to be leaving a fair few bare patches.

“You’re rubbing more off than yer putting on. Put more on yer brush and don’t be scared of it. He gave me a demonstration, “Right I'll leave you to it for an hour or so”. Prime all the doors in this house that need it. You’ll soon get the hang of it.” He was right I started to pick it up quite easily and found it very relaxing. I finished one door and passed on to another, I had a sense of freedom my own boss as it were left to get on with it.

By

TG Richardson

I married my Chinese wife Anna on the beautiful island of Penang, Malaysia on the 19th January 1960. She had been brought up by her auntie and uncle having been orphaned during the war. Our first date was on a Sunday morning at Mass in church. This was so I could convince her that I was in fact a devout catholic (God must have been shaking his head at the time). Outside the church I was looked over by a group of her relations, aunts, uncles, cousins. I seem to pass muster as I was invited to the Chinese New Year celebrations.

Chinese New-Year celebrations are held over a four day period during which there is lots of drinking, eating and gambling. The Chinese are not noted for their drinking but make up for it in the eating and gambling sections. They are a very polite race and do all they can to make any guest welcome including Kwai Loh (white devils or white ghosts). Anna’s uncle had asked her what I liked to drink and she had replied that I liked a glass of gin. A glass of gin is what I got! A full half-pint glass full of gin!

In some respects the Chinese and North Easterners have similar natures. Both cultures hate to lose face. I had just turned nineteen and considered myself a bit of a drinker so felt I could hardly point out that you don't normally drink gin in half pints. Her uncle who spoke no English handed me the glass with a smile. I took it and started to sip it. Looking around I spotted a large bottle of lemonade and kept topping up the gin to try and thin it down. The point is with alcohol however much you thin it down if you drink the lot it still has the same effect. I slowly got drunker and drunker. I needed to use the toilet and was shown a door. I opened the door and stepped into a small room. To one side was a gutter and in the centre a large tiled square sunk into the ground. It was filled with water and I proceeded to urinate into it. It looked to me in my drunken state like a posh kind of toilet. During the evening I paid several more visits to this magnificent toilet. After about my third or fourth visit Anna whispered, "When you go to the toilet where are you doing it?" "In that square thing in the middle of the room". ' Oh my god! That’s the bath' she said. '1'11 have to tell my uncle as it will have to be emptied and cleaned before they can use it'.

She whispered in her uncle's ear and a broad grin spread across his face. The word spread around and there was giggling and polite smiles. Fortunately everyone thought this was an hilarious joke. As I said to Anna "I wonder if they would have thought it so funny if I wanted to do something other than urinate?"

I know that I have gone down in their families race memory as the foreigner who pee'd in the bath because thirty years later we had a visit from one of Anna's many cousins. We were laughing about the various mistakes you can make in a foreign country and leaning across he said, 'We still laugh about the time you used the bath as a toilet'.

I admitted that so do Anna and I. Recently in 1998 we returned to Penang for a holiday and I went to the same house. I was casually looking around for this small room which had been on the ground floor when I saw her cousin smiling. "I know what you are looking for", he said. "It’s the toilet but it no longer exists we had it removed a few years ago and everyone burst out laughing!

By

Thomas G Richardson

'Granda, said Gordon, ‘I’m being bullied at school'

His grandfather smiled down at him, 'Well Gordon you’ll have to learn to take care of yourself. If someone hits you, hit back'

'But Granda he's much bigger than me and he has a gang'

'He might be bigger than you but no bully likes his or her victim to fight back. And that is what you must do. If you punch him a couple of times even if he beats you I'll guarantee he will leave you alone after that and pick on someone else.

I digested this piece of information. Grandfather was always right,

The next time Billy Ratline picked on me he would get a shock. I glanced up at my grandfather’s towering figure.

When I'm as big as you are nobody will pick on me I’11 bet'.

Granddad bent down took me by the arms and swung me high up onto his shoulders, we strolled on through Blue Bell wood His cloth cap perched on his head and a trickle of smoke tickling my nose from his pipe, and I felt very secure, warm and loved. What I hadn’t realised was that my Grandfather’s words would change my life and those of others including my son’s.

On Sunday morning I used to go to church on the school bus. Billy was also on that bus little did he know what a shock awaited him. The worm was about to turn with a vengeance. It was on the way back that Billy always used to pick on me. The bus arrived at the bottom of McCullough Gardens and we all got off. Through the journey he had told me how he was going to kick the living daylights out of me. As soon as I got off the bus he ran at me. My fist shot out and hit his nose more by luck that judgement but the blood was real and he was in shock. I immediately jumped on him and bore him to the ground. I sat on his chest and began to beat his face to a pulp. If a grown had not pulled me off I do believe I would not be writing this story because I think I would have killed him.

I read now of children using guns in some countries (America, Japan and others) to mow down children and teachers alike. I wonder whether those children who did this had been bullied till they could stand it no longer and used what means they had to destroy their oppressors. I know that at various times in my life when I was bullied I certainly felt like killing people but fortunately had no recourse to the weapons that children use today. All I can say is this “If you bully someone and the worm turns you could end up dead”

The person who is bullied often has defects. They maybe disabled, have a different colour skin, a different religion in other words they appear odd to some people. In my own case I was of small stature, had thick lips (today these would be a bonus! People pay to have their lips made thicker how times change) but at that time I was called all sorts of names which I will leave to your imagination as it hurts me even now to think of it. I also need glasses which were two round pieces of glass which a plastic frame which look awful (again there came a time when they were in vogue when John Lennon wore them ( I suspect he was also bullied when young). On top of that I had a bald patch at the front of my head where no hair grew. I use to plaster my hair over this patch with brylcream but when the other kids found out about the bald patch that was another reason to bully the odd looking kid.

I passed the eleven plus examination to go to grammar school in 1952. I was the first and last of my family to do so. And how I wished I hadn’t passed. The bullying started again but this time as well as being odd looking I came from a council estate and was working class. If you are a masochist and wish to be bully try the middle class or upper class they know how to do it with panache they are born to it, it seems to be inbred. Again I turned to my grandfather for advice. He said it was time I took up boxing. I ponder on this and I knew that my best friend George Collins did boxing with the Army Cadets. He said that I would have to join the cadets first but that once I started boxing I wouldn’t have to worry about the army side of it as I would be left alone.

I started to learn to box and had a natural aptitude for it. I progressed rapidly and so did my confidence. We were entered into various contests and I started to win. Soon my school friends knew about it and the word spread. Eventually I won the Durham County championship then on to win the North of England championship. I still have the medals but the main thing was the bullying stopped. Then I lost in the final of all England championship the blows seemed to come from no where. It was my eyesight. My trainer (Cess Ramsey from Shildon Boxing Club) asked me to watch his fist as he brought it towards my face. At a certain point I couldn’t see it and he said my eye sight was not good enough to continue boxing. To say I was disappointed was putting it mildly.

(1207 words 13 Nov 92
further addition 21 June 2005
to be continued

The enclosed stories are taken from my own life as suggested by a book called "Writing Your Own Life Stories'. The idea behind the stories is to give your children and future generations some idea of what parents or grandparents got up to in their lives. Many children often wonder what their parents were like when they were young and what they did. Hopefully these short articles which in some cases will not he complete may give them some idea and hopefully be of interest. At a later date perhaps future generations will like to add some stories of their own lives and so on down the generations.