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Publié par | Pneuma Springs Publishing |
Date de parution | 30 juillet 2010 |
Nombre de lectures | 0 |
EAN13 | 9781782282013 |
Langue | English |
Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0145€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.
Extrait
Chris R. Pownall
Copyright
First Published in 2010 by: Pneuma Springs Publishing
Funny How Things Work Out Copyright © 2010 Chris R. Pownall
Mobi eISBN 9781907728846 ePub eISBN 9781782282013 PDF eBook eISBN 9781782280682 Paperback ISBN: 9781905809974
Pneuma Springs Publishing E: admin@pneumasprings.co.uk W: www.pneumasprings.co.uk
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Published in the United Kingdom. All rights reserved under International Copyright Law. Contents and/or cover may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written consent of the publisher.
Acknowledgements
I wish to extend my grateful thanks to the following individuals who have kindly assisted in some of the research for this book:-
Mr Brian Thompson
Mr Gordon Marlow
Mr James Massey
Mrs Margaret Massey, nee Gibson
Mr Jerry Simms
Mr Jack Xiao
Mrs Patricia Pownall
Foreword
Following my retirement from work at the end of 2008, I decided to put together a record of some real life situations and stories that have amused me since my early childhood.
I have separated the book into five chapters, each capturing a stage of my life with stories and events appropriate to that time. I’ve done my best to string all these bits of information into a compilation that will keep interest levels high in anticipation of what might come next.
The first chapter covers my early school days and childhood in a Cheshire Village. Chapter two is about my Engineering Apprenticeship at Wood Treatment Ltd, and things that happened around that time. My brief spell in the Merchant Navy as an Assistant Engineering Officer is covered fairly extensively in chapter three.
Chapter four is about my long service with James Walker, starting as a Trainee Sales Representative and finishing as an Industry Marketing Director. The final chapter is a collection of amusing stories that Pat and I recall after forty years of marriage.
My occupation has played an important role in my life and I consider myself fortunate that I have always enjoyed my work and the majority of those with whom I have been associated, during a total of fifty years continual employment.
They say life is what you make it, and I believe there is some truth in this statement, however, some are more fortunate than others and I put myself into this category.
If I could change just one aspect of modern living, it would be the poor attitude towards work of many individuals. If you are not happy with what you are doing, and if it is feasible, I believe you should try something different. You can’t be laughing all the time, but if you have a positive mental attitude, plus a good sense of humour, then in my opinion, life can be more rewarding.
I have concealed some names where true identities might cause embarrassment, and the last thing I want is to face any litigation, following all the hard work searching my memory, plus the one finger typing that is now down to a fine art.
I do hope you enjoy some of these tales, and if by sharing things that have amused me, I can bring a smile or two to others, then I shall consider it, a good job, well done.
1 Growing up in a Cheshire village
I was born the son of Robert and Lucy Pownall on the 29 th December 1943. I have a sister named Cynthia who is eight years my senior.
My mother informed Cynthia that Dr Gillies had brought me in a black bag and I received a very tidy umbilical knot from nurse Nadine who attended the confinement.
I claim to have very good recall of my early years but there are sections where I struggle and I have a theory about this. Sadly my father died at fifty years of age, at which time I was aged nine and Cynthia was seventeen. I believe that young people block out such events, as they are too painful to bear, but having said this, I do have some memories of my father and they are all happy ones. I recall a situation when he and I were in the living room and there came a knock at the front door. Father answered and it was the local vicar doing his rounds. He was invited in and had just settled down in an easy chair when my mother Lucy who had been in the kitchen doing the weekly wash, opened the middle door and shouted “Hey up, the Parson’s about”. She hadn’t seen him sat there but by our facial expressions she knew something was adrift. Can you imagine her embarrassment when she stepped into the living room and who should be sat there than the parson himself. Poor dear Lucy.
We lived in a council property in the village of Bosley which is located midway between Macclesfield and Leek on the Cheshire, Staffordshire border.
I attended St Mary’s school Bosley from the age of five and I have good memories of fellow pupils and events, which took place. The head mistress was a very nice lady named Miss Roberts and there were a number of assistant teachers during my six years at the school, including Miss Wigglesworth who was also a very pleasant individual. I clearly remember in 1953, Miss Roberts taking groups of pupils into her house, attached to the school, to see live coverage of the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II.
In those days only the wealthy had television and it was a year or two later before we joined those who could boast to having a TV set. Our first television was a nine-inch model, which stood on the floor like a large cabinet. It had a magnifier in front of the screen to make the picture larger and this worked well as long as you sat directly in front of the set. If you were positioned someway left or right of straight ahead, the picture became distorted and images were elongated which made people look like thin tall giants.
I guess life was very simple in those days, children were innocent in many respects and school life was pleasurable. We didn’t do things like mathematics, they were called sums and we only had this subject in a morning as generally, the afternoons were taken up with things such as dancing, gardening in summer, and the occasional nature walk. If we had been extremely naughty then we might be punished with having to do some sums in the afternoon.
Before the end of each day, we had a short story read by Miss Roberts and this was always a nice way to wrap up proceedings for the day. Except on one occasion when someone made a hole in the seat of Miss Robert’s high chair and inserted a pin with the point sticking upwards. When she sat down, she yelled out as the pin penetrated her rear end.
Sadly not all the pupils are still alive and I know that David Mitchell, front row far right, and John Greenhill, front row third from the left, both died as relatively young men. More recently, I understand that John Heath, middle row, second from the left, died. Miss Roberts passed away many years ago as would be expected.
Although school life was very gentle, when things did go wrong, there was a different way of dealing with disciplinary matters to what is allowed in this day and age.
Behind the pupils in the photograph is the boy’s outdoor urinal and you can just see the entrance behind the girl with the white ribbon in her hair.
For a bit of amusement some of the big boys used to hold a competition as to who could pee the highest up the wall. On one occasion, we were lined up and spurting as high as possible when one chap out performed us all and cleared the top of the wall. Unfortunately for him, Miss Roberts was in the playground and she was caught in the firing line from the spray. She must have known who it was because without hesitation, she shot into the urinal and began smacking his legs furiously. That put paid to our bit of fun and I don’t recall this particular sporting event, ever being repeated.
The picture below shows Miss Roberts’s class in 1953 and that is me on the front row kneeling third from the right.
On another occasion someone wrote the big ‘F’ word in a lad’s new diary, which he had proudly brought to school to show to Miss Roberts. The word appeared on numerous pages and the lad reported the matter to Miss Roberts who immediately summoned all the big boys to the little classroom. She initially asked who was responsible for this and whilst we all knew the culprit, no one was going to tell. She kept repeating the word which she said she had never heard before and she was unaware of its meaning. Whether that was true or not, we shall never know, but needless to say we were all very embarrassed and pink cheeked.
The tall lad at the far right of the back row in the photograph is a farmer’s son, Raymond Goodfellow and it was he that spoiled my illusion of Father Christmas. I remember going home from school on one occasion and saying to my mother that Raymond Goodfellow reckons Father Christmas doesn’t exist. Sadly for me she confirmed that Raymond was right and I’ve hated him ever since!!!
The school dentist would visit about twice a year and this event put the fear of God into us all. The dentist and his nurse would occupy the small classroom and I can see the set up now. The drill was manually powered by a kind of pedal mechanism and the dentist would have the drill in one hand and whilst balancing on one leg, he would be pedaling away with the other. Such was my fear that I always managed to escape the school dentist and persuade my mother that we should stick to our family dentist in Macclesfield. He was no relation but his name was Harry Pownall and he had looked after our family’s teeth for years. Fortunately for me I required very little dental treatment as a child until about the age of eleven, when I went for a check up and he said that I needed to have some first teeth extracted because they should have fallen out by this time. We returned for my next appointment and I recall sitting there in this fearsome red upholstered chair. All the instruments were laid out on a tray in front of me, which was enough to scare anyone to death. They used to say the dentist wouldn’t