Moving account of times gone by
Dec 5 2007 By David Whetstone, The Journal
A new Tyneside memoir launched today fulfills a dying wish, as David Whetstone explains.
Mr Brown recalls, in his foreword to
Then, by his own admission, Mr Brown was slow off the mark.
Today, at Newcastle’s Lit & Phil, Tyne Bridge Publishing launch the book, which is sub-titled
Beautifully illustrated with drawings by Tony Kenyon, it tells of Thomas’s childhood in Gateshead and Northumberland before the Second World War.
Books of North-East memoirs are not uncommon, but this one is very nicely written and will unleash waves of nostalgia for older readers. For those not around at that time, it is an education and a pleasure.
It begins in suitably compelling fashion: “My mother, Ada Newton, was a Cinderella without a Prince Charming. She was imposed upon when young, not by two ugly sisters and a stepmother, but by three rather good-looking cousins – Dorothy, Arthur and Knowles Frank – and by their stepmother, a snobbish, domineering woman with a heart of flint.”
There is a nice streak of dry humour running through the chapters which many will find appealing. The author was also a man of vivid descriptive powers.
Thomas Knowles Bell was born in Gateshead in 1915, when the First World War was raging overseas. His parents were Plymouth Brethren, austere folk.
“I cannot call to mind a single display of affection between my mother and father, nor can I recollect any rifts between them so they must have been moderately happy together,” he recalled.
When Thomas’s father died, the family was plunged into poverty and his mother was forced to seek help from the Board of Guardians, which she found dispiriting and humiliating.
Being just a lad, young Thomas found consolation in ‘scratting’ for coal during a miners’ strike, playing truant from school to go swimming and watching the buskers outside the Theatre Royal in Newcastle. While lacking two pennies to rub together, he had fun.
In 1925, just before his 10th birthday, Thomas’s mother suffered an attack of tuberculosis and the family had to move to Swinhope, near Allenheads.
There Thomas would help with the harvest, clear snow and act as a beater for grouse shoots. He developed a deep love of the countryside. This is a lovely book and its author would no doubt be thrilled to see it in print. It costs £6.99 and is in the shops now.
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Fond memories of ‘Penny Scrush’ at the cinema
“My favourite pennyworth was the Saturday matinee which we called ‘The Penny Scrush’ at the cinemas.
“The nearest to Windy Nook was the Corona in Felling. Long before the doors opened, hordes of lads used to gather, all fighting for a place near the door.
“Any lad unwisely wearing a cap would have it snatched from his head and flung into the roadway. When the doors did open, the ‘checkie’ would use his peaked cap like a flail, vainly trying to beat back the writhing, pushing mob into an orderly line.
“Once inside, the hubbub was enormous; boys shouted the names of their pals they had been separated from during the melee outside, and fought for priority over certain seats.
“Audience participation was a very important element of the Penny Scrush. We shouted advice to the heroes on the screen, warned them of impending danger by yelling, ‘Nit, nit, look oot’, and booed the villains with all our might.
“We disapproved strongly of any love interest and expressed our disgust by stamping on the floor and delivering great smacking kisses on the backs of our hands.
“If a film snapped, the hall was at once filled with the noise of stamping feet, whistles and ironic cheers.”
