"Burglar Bill" and other old tales of Radford

The owner of the" twentyfourers" was, if my memory serves me right, a Captain Miller who would let his Old English Bulldogs loose to scare you off!

Thanks for coming back to me on this, I don't think I ever knew the owners name, but I do remember being chased off on occasions. We did not enter on to the land, but threw sticks up into the tree to knock them down, which left a right mess in the road. I can well imagine him being upset, but being kids we never thought about it, but considered grown ups as spoilsports. If I saw me and my mates around today, I would chase them off as well. Soaking your conkers was a mean trick, but it did go on and was definitely cheating and looked on with distaste. I used to bake mine in the oven, but don't tell anyone. Love this site, thanks Colin for pointing to it, having just gone into surfing.

A shot in the Eye I wonder if you remember the day I got shot whilst padding in the pond at Bablake playing fields? You may recall, you, as per usual had been instructed to take care of me, and I have to say you didn't do a bad job considering I am still here. It was a loverly summers day and you with me in tow set of to the pond at Bablake playing fields (our favourite pond for catching tiddlers and Stickle Backs), armed with a couple of home made nets ( the nets being made from an old pair of Mum's stockings, a length of cane and a bit of wire) it was only a short walk from Radford road where we lived. Not too sure if I had Wellies on, did not matter anyway the water always seemed to fill them. One thing you did not do was paddle without something on your feet, too many broken bottles, anyway we arrived and began to fish after, a short while some other lads arrived with Air riffles, it was common practice in them days to float bottles on the pond and use them as target practice ( hence the broken bottles) another common practice was to float roundel type targets on the surface of the water and and try to hit the centre. Well me not being aware of what was going on began to wade out into the centre of the pond under the guidance of my Brother,( He could not see any problem as we had both done the same in the past) now while I was exploring I noticed a floating target, not sure what it was or what it was doing there I picked it up to examine the said item, just then I felt a sharp pain in the left of my Eye socket and also a pain on the bridge of my nose. "What the eck was that I thought? " It did not take me long to work out that I had been shot by an Air riffle. I quickly turned round and began to scream and cry, it must have seemed real bad to Jim as by now my Eye had filled with blood and I lost my sight in my left eye, not too sure what happened after that but it not only scared me but it must have scared Jim , i think he waded in to get me I heard someone shout, "Some kid has been shot in the Eye" well when I heard that I felt even worse. From all accounts the Kid with the gun thought he would shoot the target out of my hand as I had lifted the target to the same height as my Eyes, he had not shot me on purpose he was just a lousy shot. From what I remember my Brother knew the Kid (as we knew all the local kids in them days) and gave he a right telling off ( a bit vague that bit) he took me home and I seem to remember, after Jim had cleaned my Eye it turned out to look worse than it was, he had shot the Gun from behind on my left side, the pellet hit my eye socket, traveled past my Eye ball and hit me again on the bridge of my nose, the blood ran into my Eye socket. What a lucky escape that was! Poor ol Jim copped it again although he was not to blame , I bet when Jim reads this it will jog his memory. It's a funny thing but out of all the times I have been shot with a pellet gun that hurt me the least but looked the worst. Colin.

You are so right Dreamtime, 18 lives not 9 for me. Lol. Back from France now, could not wait to have a proper breakfast. I love France but they have no brown sauce! Only kidding. I am glad you have made my brother so welcome, he will fill in the spaces I hope. Colin.

Growing up in Radford Such a long time ago but I still think of it as yesterday, some things in this account you may find as distasteful, but it is a true account and not fiction. We lived in an old cottage back to backed with another cottage, ie we shared the same roof. We had a gas supply for cooking and lighting and piped water, no toilet or bathroom, we shared a communal toilet which our parents took turns in keeping clean, not a very nice place I have to say, in winter the toilet would freeze and before we could use it it had to be thawed out, it's a funny thing but me knowing no better it all seemed to be the norm. I can honestly say that I had a great time growing up there, apart from having a long garden we also had a large amount waste ground abutting our garden, trying to think how I felt then I seem to remember that I would always be there growing up in this wonderland of make believe, never thinking it would ever change, this waste land could be anything our imagination would stretch to, the Wild West, the Battle of the Bulge or the Normandy landings, something the kids today will never have or if they did would they get as much fun as we did? (I refer to the modern games consoles around today) big difference is, we played out our games. The period in time I am referring is 1957ish, things were so much different then, no such thing as the RSPCA (I think), anyway we never used them, it was my job as a 7 year old to dispatch any new born kittens that our cat had produced (the cat was an essential part of our household, apart from mouse traps it was the only way of keeping down the mice population). This is the distasteful bit, to get rid of the new born kittens we put the kittens into a sack, tied the neck of the sack, then I would fill the metal bath with water, when it was filled enough to cover the sack I would place the sack into the water then with a stick I would hold down the sack until bubbles stopped at that point I knew they were dead. Can you imagine the outcry today, I am sure my dad would have been arrested for animal cruelty, as for me, just another day at play. Don't forget the chickens, we kept chickens, egg layers, but come Christmas one of them had to be killed to provide our Christmas lunch. On many occasion the chicken to be killed would have been supplied by our old mate Burglar Bill, him not knowing that he had supplied the Christmas dinner, his chickens used to run wild and they were very skinny, under fed. Dad used to corale a couple of his chickens, put them in with our chickens, we fed them up for about two months before Christmas then about a week before Christmas my dad would sell one back to Bill, he thought my dad was a great bloke, he even came round one day asking if we had seen one of his chickens. Then he commented on what a great chicken run we had (did he know? And thought he was getting a great deal or did he not realise it was his chickens? We will never know). Back to the chickens, after my dad had shown me how to kill a chicken in the usual manner it was now my job with the help of my Mum to dress the bird, after plucking all the feathers I had to remove it entrails etc, I thought nothing of it at the time but now I think back and ask myself if I could do it now? Well the answer is if needs must I would but I still find it a bit distasteful, especially the cat drowning. The memory I still have to this day so it does hurt to recall. I had a big fluffy rabbit I kept in a shed (my dad bought an old commercial van and removed the body, the body was then rolled into place in our garden and the used as a shed), all was ok until one day Dad noticed that we had a rat run under the shed, "the rabbit has to go" he exclaimed and so without much ado he killed my pet rabbit ,"why, why did you kill my rabbit?" he told me the rats were there after the rabbit food and he thought it better that he kill the rabbit rather than to find the rabbit dead and mutilated. Did I cry? Well it broke my heart, I cried all day, well until lunch time, i was called for dinner, yes it was my rabbit on the menu (not that we had a menu) you either eat or go hungry so I ate my dinner, then I cried some more. It's a cruel old world, but not all bad, I hasten to add we had a lot of fun, Friday night was bath night, as I was the youngest I was fourth in line, makes me cringe now but that's how it was. The hot water was boiled in a saucepan on the gas stove, have to say because I was always digging holes and making dens my mother could never tell if I had removed my socks, lol. Loved Christmas, always had a new cowboy outfit complete with a gun and holster, our favourite cowboy at the time was Hopalong Cassidy, Roy Rogers with his horse Trigger and Gene Autry. How we cleaned up the west, well the waste land. That's all you could hear on Christmas Day until the caps ran out, "bang bang, you're dead". When the weather got a bit warmer we would be out looking for Indians or the outlaws. We would ride our imaginary horses, jump so called fences, we never fell off once, even if we got shot. To go faster we would slap our thighs as if it was the flanks on the horse, in our left hand we held the imaginary reins and to stop the horse we shouted "whoa, whoaaaa" I cannot ever remember my stepping off the horse, only to tie up the reins or just walk away. Nobody messed with us, we were mean hombre, the wildest in the west. Another thing we used to do was to throw a sheath knife, you could get one anywhere, they were took into school to swap or to show your friends, never let the teacher see them though, they were taken off you and disposed of or you could tell your parents to collect it but in doing so you would get into trouble from them. We learned how to throw the knife just like Jim Bowie (he had invented a throwing knife which looked a bit the blade on our sheath knife) with a lot of practice we worked out the optimal distances the knife could be thrown so as to hit the target almost every time, I can still throw a mean knife to this day. One of the benefits of having a big brother was the fact he had to take me with him when ever he went to meet his mates, he hated it and I loved it. I could share some of the older things that he got up to, but one of the best things he used to do for me was to make longbows, wow they were good and so powerful. It took all my strength to pull the bow back, I remember the puny bow and arrow kits in the toy shops at the time and they were rubbish, it was using one of these bows that I shot Burglar Bill's chicken. But that is another story. A game we used to play was to see who died the best, if the theme at the time was the Wild West then we used a Gatling gun or if we were on the beach in Normandy the gun would be a Vickers machine gun, the gun was stood on an upturned bucket, the gun could have been anything we could lay our hands on, usually a chunk of wood, the idea was to shoot at your mates as they tried to creep up on you, the person deemed to have been most realistic in dying was the winner, the winner would be the next machine gunner (not that much difference to the kids today in a way) we got all our information from the cinema, loads of war films then, not sure that we would have been so bloodthirsty if the film were shown in colour (all black and white then). How about this for stupidity, we used to build a den using (you've guessed it) Burglar Bill's scrap sheet metal, the den was covered with grass, old carpet, lino and sticks, a group would volunteer to stay in the den while the other group would bombard the den with bricks, spears or arrows, the idea was to make the group inside to surrender due to the noise or the impending collapse of the den. Either way they got it. From what I remember my Brother Jim got shot in the leg with arrow, the scar he bears to this day. I will close with a message, "Don't try this at home, kids" I was lucky. Colin

Hi RKid, I am beginning to see you in a different light now, but what great times you must have had. Whilst all the 'goody' guys were struggling to be good you were out chasing the 'baddies'. That was a good one RKid - Just adding to this post RKid, I don't think it was 'stupidity' as much as being 'fearless' as most children are at that age.

Thanks again Dreamtime, I can always rely on you for a nice comment. I think your comment re being fearless is very true, it's only with age and experience looking back I see the real dangers. I hope my last posting was not too distasteful, it was an open and honest account. Colin.

Hi RKid, Just goes to show how times have changed. Our 'Titus' had kittens too and when they disappeared I was comforted in being told that they had gone to heaven. Of course since then I have known a lot better but I can only imagine the number of cats that were dealt with in this way, also the consequences if they had not. All in the makeup of the harsh realities of life when we were children even for a Radford kid. Cheers, I enjoyed your open and honest post.

My mum had chickens too for the same reason, Colin, for eggs. I'm sure it's still in the rules, even in council houses, you can have chickens in your garden. I recall a man coming out to see our pet rabbit as it was ill, he said it had a ruptured stomach and put it out of its misery there and then, but it wasn't eaten, it was buried. I also recall my mum getting the mobile butcher she had do the same to her two chickens for Christmas, I plucked the feathers off in the shed. I can recall scrumping as fruit was a rarity. I could still see people doing the same today, Colin, if hunger set in like back then. Today we have food banks. I too used to play splits with a large pen knife in our back garden with our friends.

I am glad you can relate Morgana. It's a funny thing how it all felt so normal in them days, I wonder how many children today would react to some of the things and hardships we endured during the years after the war, bearing in mind we had it a lot better than the people who suffered in Coventry and across Europe. We should be thankful as due to the war we ended up with the best playground you could ever get, bombed out houses, old ordnance and old military vehicles. I remember playing in old military ambulance parked on the Radford pub car park, that's a point, I wonder if anyone remembers the ambulance that used to be parked there? Thanks again Morgana for the response. Colin

What I am going to relate as follows, I hope will give who reads it, a laugh, or may offend others, to those I apologise. I'm going back a bit with this tale as to what happened to me just after the war ended. Mum and Dad had been bombed out of their home and having been living in rooms, finally got one of the cottages, where I and my brother were raised. I was about seven or eight by then and we shared a toilet in a block, built some way from the cottage. There was no electric light in the block, so one used a candle at night, or light from the gap over the top of the door in the daytime. Being little as I was, I could not reach the bolt to secure the door, not that I can remember if there was one. Our sharing elderly couple was a Mr and Mrs Baker, and Mrs Baker was quite profoundly deaf. On this particular occasion, I was occupying the facility, seated, when the door opened and Mrs Baker entered. She had not got her light, I expecting to be making a brief visit. I called out "It's me Mrs Baker", again, "It's me Mrs Baker" with no response. Next thing that happened was I found her sitting on my lap, clothes disarrayed. With a scream she jumped up and was out of there like a rabbit down a hole. Dad took me along to explain to Mr and Mrs Baker, but they were not happy nor very forgiving. Not long after that we were moved to another cottage further up the block, so we had a new set of sharers. Dad fitted a lock whereby we had a doorknob for each family which we used to unlock the door and so stop any further thrills.

An old saying Dreamtime, look before you leap . Seems to be most apt in this instance, lol. Hope you are well. Oh to be in England now the rain is here. Colin.

Ha ha Freeman that did make me chuckle. Bet you were both flushed(pardon the pun)