South Yorkshire England
Pronounced locally Thrybur Old English Triberg
Webmaster John Doxey
Main Photos Jonathan Dabbs
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|John Doxey's Memories|
|John Doxey's Memories pg 2|
MY OTHER SITES
GROWING UP IN THRYBERGH pg 2
By John Doxey
The great thing about growing up in a place like Thrybergh was that we had adventures, and I feel sorry for the youngsters here in Sydney Australia living in the suburbs today, they don't have too many adventures and walking is something people did in the past.
A few years ago I went to a parent teacher meeting with my son Matt and when we came out someone had locked the main gates, which meant a fair old hike to get out of the grounds and back to our car. People were milling round in confusion with no clue. Not me! "What are we going to do Dad" asked Matt" " Ah'll tell thi what we going ta do, we're going oe'er gate son" The gate was a good eight foot high.
So there I was 55 years old and I scaled that gate like a ten year old, Matt followed somewhat slower he had never climbed a gate that high before. When he got to my side of the fence he started laughing "Where did you learn to climb a gate like that Dad ?"he asked in disbelieve. I winked at him and replied "You had to grow up in Thrybergh to learn how to climb like that"
He laughed all the way home, and couldn't wait to tell his friends about what his Dad did. [ We never grow up do we]
Back to Thrybergh
During the 1950's and early 60's Constable Mash lived on Gullingwood Dr. Thrybergh, a familiar figure riding around on his pushbike. I don't think there would be too many of us back then as kids who did not receive a warning from Constable Mash, and at times we were very lucky to get away with a warning, thankfully he was lenient in his approach to youngsters. Now when I hear the song "I shot the sheriff " by Eric Clapton I recall the time Constable Mash came close to being shot!
The names in the following story have been withheld to protect the guilty:
Three local lads about eleven years old at the time went to the area at the bend
of Vale Road, where a pathway led up to the railway line, it was a popular spot
for youngsters to play. Today there are Bungalows there. One of the young boy's
had sneaked out of the house with his older brothers airgun, an old Diana rifle
which required you to unscrew the end off the barrel to insert a pellet. Now
Now to imagine the reaction from the boy's, and look on the boy's faces you
would have recall the crowd scenes from disaster movies when the final moment of
impending doom strikes, or scenes like the moment the aliens took out the White
House in the movie Independence Day, a moment of shock, horror, and cold blooded
fear, followed by blind panic, and then you run. Well
Now the boy's had a second surprise, Bobby Mash was not in hot pursuit, he was not astride his bicycle peddling like mad, or blowing a whistle like the Keystone Cops, no not Bobby Mash, he was waiting at the scene of the crime for us to return, how smart was he!
"Lucky for you that you had the sense to come back" he remarked and then he gave
Reaching home the boy told his mother what had happened, lets just say his mother was not impressed. Then came that knock on the door which sounded like the hangman testing his trap to the youngster who by this time was a shaking little blob. Much to his surprise Bobby Mash explained to his mother what had happened, then warned them both if he caught the boy with an airgun again he would take further action. Needless to say that airgun never left the house again, and Bobby Mash had at least one reprieved kid in the Village who thought he was the bee's knee's.
The other new estate of that time was built off Popular Avenue and was referred to as '' OE ÉR TINS " (the estate over the tins). So called because the railway line to Silverwood ran between the new estate and the old estate (dahn't backs) and a tin fence bordered both sides of the railway line.
Back then in the 1950's we walked everywhere, it didn't matter if it rained , hailed, or snowed, we would be out there enjoying what we could. Winter time would see us making ice slides on the pavement, or we would grab a piece of timber or anything that would serve as a sledge and make our way down Dingle Dell to the hill behind Barracloughs Farm and have our own Winter Olympics.
Saturday mornings [ if we were lucky] we would be given money to go dah'nt Brook ta Bugat, [ BUG HUT ] which was a small cinema in Dalton Brook. There we would watch Hopalong Cassidy, or the Black Hawks, and get pelted from behind with ice cream and other projectiles thrown. When it got to rowdy the usherette would appear with a torch and threaten to throw everybody out. Though you could hardly make out what she was saying over the catcalls and comments she would receive.
I remember one night aged eleven me and Michael Painter sneaked off and went to see the movie Dracula, starring Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee, we pretended on the way home that it hadn't scared us, but it was weeks before we slept at night.
How many of us used to go and buy a packet of Park Drive or Woodbine cigarette's from Mr. Nichols Off License [ For Dad ?? ] Back then you could buy one or a packet of two, five, ten, and twenty. Talking about cigarettes who could forget the journey home from Rotherham on the top deck [ upstairs] of the bus, you could hardly see anyone for cigarette smoke could you. If you didn't have a cigarette you just breathed in deep and shared everybody else's.
As a child one of the hardest jobs was to return home from School to find a ton of Coal tipped on the footpath outside our House. The Coal was delivered on a regular basis to each and every Miner. To store this coal we had the Coal house which was usually near to the back door. The slight problem with our house was the narrow passageway which was both ours and the next door neighbours access. It was not very wide and the trick was to swing the wheelbarrow around to the left and dump the coal outside the coal house door without losing the coal or your knuckles halfway around. So you would dump two or three barrow loads outside the coal house and then shovel it from there into the coal house, and then repeat this process until all the coal was gone off the street. On a windy day the dust from the coal made this task even harder. That was the nearest I ever got to being a Miner. I wonder how the Kids of today would react if asked to perform this chore.
'Ome from School lad, well coalmans bin,
Get thisen shovel 'n' barra, 'n' gerrit in,
Al open coaloil door for thi, 'n' wedge it back,
'N' when tha's finished, al mek thi a snack,
Dun't forget to sweep up rowd,
When tha's emptied thi last barraload,
Tha'll ave plenty a time ta play later on,
But tha'll need a bath first won't tha son,
'Av' finished it Mum, nah can a av a drink,
Awreight al wash me hands in kitchen sink,
Dad'll be pleased when he cums ome,
He'll see all coils in coilouse won't he Mum,
Think he'll gi me a half a crown for gerrin it in,
Or tek me ta footy ta watch Rotherham win,
Am goin' fa me bath, is water hot enough,
An can a ave that towel that's not rieght rough.
Heyup lad thanks fa doin that fa me 'n' thi Mother,
Tha gerrin big 'n' strong just like thi brother,
Fancy going ta watch Rotherham on Satday,
It'll be special 'cos the're playin' away,
Ah!, al buy thi a drink n summat to eight,
Not too much tho', dun't want thi puttin on weight,
Awreight gerrof aght wi thi, go an', ave a run,
But dun't be too late back, or tha'll be in trouble owd son!
In this period I was hanging out with Kevin and Terry Brennan, John Wagstaff, Geoff Boden, Paul Thornton, Stuart Morte, and the one and only Terry McGann. Now old Terry unwittingly set the course of my life when he turned up at our house one Friday evening and said "Fancy going to Ravo youth club ?"
So of we went, we entered the youth club and the first thing that happened was that I found myself looking into a pair of blue eyes belonging to a girl on the other side of the room. That's how I met my late wife Susan at the Ravenfield youth club run by Mr. and Mrs. Harold Wood. The Wood's were great people and would invite us Thrybergh folk back to their house after the club closed and we would watch "Ready, Steady, Go" on T/V and then walk home.
There were many more characters in the area, too many to mention here on this page, but you will find many of them on the Thrybergh, Ravenfield, Dalton, and Silverwood sites.
© John Doxey 2003
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I have no affiliation with any Trade Union, Political body, or organization regarding the information on this site. All information on this site is Factual and correct to the extent of my knowledge. There is no intent to cause offence to any individual. Should you spot an error please let me know and that error will be corrected.
This site is the result of over 7 years research,
and compilation, should you wish to use any of the content for
publication of literature please contact me. The poetry and life of
James Ross, the story of St. Leonard's Cross, and other items on this
site were compiled, and first published on this site in their present
context as a study of Thrybergh. If you use this site as a source, out
of courtesy, please give credit where it is due as I have done on this
site where appropriate.