Glynn Edwards recalls

The coke ovens at the pit as a child we used to go and watch them being emptied, I never worked in the pits, Dad said no but I am still proud of my heritage
John Waller writes :

Reading your memories of coming home to "get the coal in" brought back memories of things once so common in our area that they were the norm.
Returning home from school and turning into Reasby Avenue to find a ton of Dinnington doubles tipped in the road waiting to be shovelled into the wheel barrow then carted up the drive to the coal house. Shovelling in the first loads with ease and adding the retaining boards. As the coal house filled the coal had to be thrown higher and the job grew harder. A careless throw and you got your own back! Taking pride in being big enough to get the coal in while dad was on shift. Without realising it the job growing easier as you grew older. You can't half shift some coal when you're 10. Thinking all the time how lucky you were to have a barrow rather than getting a ton of coal in using 2 galvanised buckets.
Chopping sticks to light the fire was another regular chore. To cut the wood used underground to length most pits had a large circular saw in the pit bottom area. Some had two and I think that Silverwood was one of them (CORRECT ME IF I AM WRONG) that has a snap tin saw whose sole purpose was to trim prop wood to the correct size to fit in a snap tin (a snap tin was a sandwich box) - sandwiches go down the pit and a block of wood comes out in the same tin! John, on a personal note you talking of your dad and silicosis brings back a much less pleasant memory; that of jelly fish on the pavement from men with congested lungs spitting. In later life it angered me greatly when men circumvented dust suppression equipment on the coal face just to keep the job running - not for the pride of the job but to achieve bonuses. 

Cliff Bierton writes

Now living with the softies of the South of England and showing them what a real graffter looks like. Born and Bred on School Street in Thrybergh, by the side of the railway line that ran up to Silverwood Colliery,moved to St Leonards ave in 1969 into flats at the bottom end by the school field, so it was just a hop to school for me, left comp in 1974 and went straight to Silverwood as an Apprentice Fitter (surface then underground) left in 1986 now residing in Bognor Regis in West Sussex, but even now I still miss my roots and I think I will till the end of my days.
Fred Spencer writes.

I started at Silverwood in 1955 at the age of fifteen, along with several other school leavers, I recall a number of the names, there was of course George Speight, Alf Lord, Garry Frith, John Longden along with others who's names will no doubt come to me at the wrong time, generally in the middle of the night, I will have then forgotten by the next morning. We travelled by Coal Board bus to the Manvers Main Colliery, the training centre, where young lads of a similar age, joined us from other South Yorkshire Collieries.
The wife and I went to a show at the Rotherham Civic Theatre, last year, it was a sort of chat show, the host being Steve Smith a well known criminal solicitor, I don't mean he's bent, he is very good at representing those that have fallen by the wayside. His guest for the show, was the one and only Paul Shane alias George Speight, a very good show it was, Steve interviewed George about his life, if I remember rightly, George was born on Eastwood lane at Rotherham, this was opposite the old part of the Rotherham Technical College, he then told the audience of his going to work at the Silverwood Colliery and whilst underground in the Melton Field at Manvers, he took at chew of tobacco from an old boy and of course it made him as sick as a dog. I was there at the time, so after the show I wrote to Steve Smith and told him I was present and that the name of the old boy was 'Archie' now Steve is a good Author and has written many humorous books about his own life as a solicitor in Rotherham, he has also completed several biographies I can foresee one coming about George.