Bentley and Arksey as an Outsider - Part Six

Trolleybus on Bentley High Street

Mike's Memories

Presenting the sixth and final part of Mike Hoyland's wonderful account of growing up in the Bentley area in the 1950's and 1960's.

For part five go to Bentley and Arksey as an Outsider - Part Five.

For part one go to Bentley and Arksey as an Outsider - Part One.

Contents Of Part Six

• More Cornerstones
• Penny For The Guy
• Here We Come A Caroling
• New Yearing
• A Grand Day Out
• The Last Hurrah

More Cornerstones

Penny For The Guy 

Bonfire night was one of the annual events which was full of fun for the kids of Bentley and Arksey, but full of dread for others.

Kids would form gangs to scavenge the streets, woods, gardens and sheds for any timber whatsoever, including front gates! Anyone missing a gate near bonfire night would probably get it back because they usually knew which kids had it on their bonfire. It was the last kid they had reprimanded or withheld a ball from.

Parents would also take it as an opportunity to offload rubbish. Although in the 50’s people did not generally have as much “stuff” as we have today. Rubbish tended to be garden waste.

Fires were assembled in back gardens and places the council deemed “Out of Bounds” and zealously guarded to prevent competing gangs from sneaking in during the night and making off with the odd log or two. A big branch was worthy of guarding in shifts, such was the competition; with no prize other than bragging rights, some bonfires were sabotaged by being set alight before November 5th.

“Guys” were made by stuffing old clothing with newspapers, topped with an old flat cap and wellies as feet. Sat inside an old pram, he was pushed from door to door, including pubs and clubs, accompanied by the appeal: “Penny for the guy mister”. Of course outside the pubs there would always be one comedian who would pass on a penny and then run off into the distance with the guy, much to the amusement of his mates.

Bonfire in Millgate, about 1950.
Photo courtesy of Tony Smith

An alternative approach was to stick one of the lads in the pushchair with a balaclava on backwards, hope his disguise was convincing, and proceed to beg. Easy to see through but once more caused a lot of amusement and good natured jokes, and occasionally the odd coin or two.

Money was frantically accumulated to go toward the purchase of bangers. No other firework would do for young lads. The best cost 3d and were called “3-2-1 zero” or “Zeros” to reflect the time fuse. Fat little blighters they were with a good bang particularly in an enclosed space like an upturned tin bucket in your Mum's back yard!

This leads me to the second aspect of the buildup to bonfire night; mischievous activity, hence the dread of others. This was not the sophisticated October 31st Halloween, Trick or Treat, but a week or two of escalating misbehavior, climaxing on the eve of bonfire night with what was called Mischievous Night.

Most of the antics were on the level of knocking on doors or windows and running. Other kids were not so wholesome.

One of the funniest tricks I remember was straight out of the Beano. Using carefully unraveled clothes lines tied end-on-end, the handles of two doors of neighbouring houses or the back doors of opposite houses were tied together. Doors were then knocked simultaneously and loud, the kids retreating far enough away to get a good start. The resulting tug-of-war, raging and resultant laughter was the stuff of legend.

Bentley was such a small community, it soon got around what had happened and it soon got around who had done it. Parental retribution was usually short and swift but worth it.

The bonfires themselves were splendid affairs; many a back garden ablaze with a healthy bonfire supervised by parents, their friends and neighbours. Toffee apples, Parkin, roast potatoes from the embers of the bonfire with lashings of butter, all washed down with hot cocoa or tea. There were bangers, sky-rockets and one or two small fireworks which shot out a silvery rain, sparklers too where always good value for leaving images in your mind.

There were the usual non-spinning Catherine Wheels, fireworks which wouldn’t go off, and kids getting liberally clipped around the ear for pushing the boundaries of common sense and safety.

There were a few burns experienced across the village but never anything requiring an ambulance. After all in a coal-mining community we were used to dealing with fires.

Here We Come A Caroling

Another annual institution was carol-singing. Well rehearsed by school assemblies, we knew most of the words and would be able to get through most of the carols. We took it seriously and tried hard. After all, the better we sang the more money we might get for Christmas goodies.

On one dark cold night, three of us were knocking on the doors of the tall houses leading down to the pit gates. We were not having much luck when we heard the voice of an angel. One of our friends was carol-singing on his own and, unknown to him, was following us down the row. He had a lovely voice.

We re-formed into a quartet and proceeded to make a fortune, all down to this lad. We did the Whisper, Jet and the Comrades working men’s clubs, on a mid-week evening, and made a mint. The hat went around and all the drinkers joined in.

The lad with the voice said that he only had the confidence to do the pit-houses so he was glad to have joined up with us because together we had the confidence to go on stage. We were grateful to him for his lovely voice, without it we would have been “Paid Up”.

         

        New Yearing

A further money-making scheme was known as “New Yearing”.

At the stroke of midnight, on New Year’s Eve, a group of us would set forth with our faces blacked with coal-dust and carrying small bags of coal. Being young, we went around in groups, knocking on doors where the lights were on, especially if we could hear music. We would hammer on the door and yell through the letter-box: “Old Year out New Year in, open the door and let me in”.

The tradition of 'First-footing'

It was based on the superstition that if a tall dark handsome stranger was the first over your threshold on the New Year, then the year would be full of good luck. Hence the blacking of the faces, the tall and handsome took a bit of imagination.

If you were let in, a piece of coal for the fire was a tribute and hopefully you went away with a few bob.

Bear in mind most of the people were partying heavily and sometimes very generous.

There was a big party taking place at a house on Arksey Lane. We were allowed in but the coal was refused since they had a posh electric fire. A collection was made but was withheld until the youngest of the group, which was myself aged about nine, drank down-in-one a drink that was held forward by the man with the money. I found out later it was neat whiskey.

It was a big party and the hat was full of silver. Amidst cries from some of don’t be silly and a look of hesitation on the part of the chap holding the drink, I snatched it out of his hand and threw it straight down. The desire for money being strong!

What a shock, I thought my throat was on fire so I legged it through the door to the back of the house where I expected to find the kitchen. Oh yes I found the kitchen, complete with an Alsation dog (German Shepherd) behind the door. The adults and my mates came in and dealt with the dog whilst I drank copious amounts of water and retched into the sink.

Once everything had calmed down, and apologies made, a bit more was added to the collection. We were then supplemented with party food and bottles of pop and sent on our way.

We counted up under a street light, cheered mightily and called it a night. My street credibility in Bentley, amongst the older lads, went through the roof.

A Grand Day Out

Our Bentley years were punctuated with a number of events, none more wholesome, varied and enjoyable than the Annual Fete on the cricket ground. I can only remember those days being bathed in sunshine.

There were running races, dog shows, football matches on the Colliery Ground across the road. A budgie show, garden show, tea tents, fancy dress competitions and of course the Jet club in the corner serving most of the afternoon to people sat on the pavilion terraces, all having a grand day out.

Hundreds of people and kids would be milling around. It was a day for all to share in the prosperity of the 50’s and 60’s. Though some of us still found it necessary to get in over the fence, so we could use our pocket money on ice-cream.

When the evening came, and all the stalls had closed, we invented an excellent game of clambering onto the top of the canvas tents and sliding down the side and off the edge to see who could go the furthest without getting too many friction burns. The dogs joined in, beat us hands (paws) down and loved it.

It didn’t take long however for some of the committee from the Jet to send us on our way.

The Last Hurrah

Although my connections with Bentley and Arksey have weakened through time and distance, my family are still well-represented in the area, more so in Bentley and Scawthorpe. We are a close family so I usually get to know some snippets of life and get an occasional copy of the Free Press.

In the early 2000’s, my Uncle Mo’, referred to in an earlier section, a retired Blacksmith, apprenticed at The Pit, was commissioned to rebuild the Arksey Church gates. We think that the main gate had something to do with a gentleman called Peter Lee since there is a plaque in his memory on the gate. The maingate arch was commissioned by Mrs Ingesfield as a tribute to a granddaughter who passed away quite young, and the side gate by Mrs (Jenny) Hufton.

Arksey church main gate

Plaque for Peter Lee*

Arksey church side gate

The photographs (above) were taken on one of my infrequent visits to Arksey and then made up into cards for him.

As I write, I feel my words coming to a close. So I will try to give you a smile to say goodbye:

This tale should have been in an earlier edition but it has only just come to light. During the general strike of 1926, the Arksey Club became a very popular venue for the striking miners since Sam Smiths, the Brewery, had allowed miners an indefinite slate. My Grandad however, never believed in getting indebted so he used to mournfully watch as his mates headed down the cinder track from Bentley to Arksey to have a few brews and then come back full of joviality.

The irony was that at the end of the strike, Sam Smiths wrote-off all the slates. My Grandad was still shaking his head 40 years later.

This tale is also out of time but I hope it gives you a smile. It could be one of the many yarns I used to hear as a kid. I like to believe it is true.

One of the many Bridlington (Brid) trips, as described in an earlier edition, found a group of friends re-united with some local mates from way-back. Many glasses of foam passed their lips on the day and many a laugh was had. However, there were one or two casualties who had fallen victim to sleep on the beach front. They were however, carried back to the coaches, late afternoon, to make the return trip to Bentley.

On arriving in Bentley that evening, one of the sleepers was woken up by his mates in the bus. He looked out of window in shocked disbelief and said “Where am I? I’m meant to be in Brid with me missus this week!” You can guess the level of laughter.

Having scratched the surface of my earlier days, I feel this phase of writing coming to an end. I sincerely hope that I have managed to jog your memories and given you reason to smile or even laugh. Perhaps some of the readers might want to share their memories in a similar way so that the younger generations know that we too were young once.

The End

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Many thanks to the late Michael Hoyland who's words were recorded and shared with me in 2014.

Michael Hoyland

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Edited by Alison Vainlo 2014, updated 2020.