Pop goes Mansfield!

It’s seldom I take the short and direct fifteen-minute drive north of where I live to the Nottinghamshire town of Mansfield but today was to be an exception. I’d read recently in the local media about a free exhibition that was to be held at Mansfield Museum in the town’s Leeming Street, very close to The Palace Theatre where I experienced an extremely fun day in what seems almost like another life now.

Pop goes Mansfield! is an exhibition celebrating popular music over six decades with a particular interest in the way that the local area has made it’s own small yet distinctive stamp on the world of rock and roll It’s through one of Mansfield’s favourite sons, a man by the name of Bernard Jewry – better known to the public as Alvin Stardust and prior to that Shane Fenton, that the story is largely told. Alvin’s collection of memorabilia, from his jump suits right down to his improbably tall platform shoes, augments the large room which is crammed full with various interesting pop and rock artefacts.

An episode of the BBC’s Inside Out shows on a loop in the room, explaining Alvin’s story and upbringing in the North Nottinghamshire mining town. From his family home through the different phases of success that followed his career, he comes across as a sincere man with few airs and graces, one who has had a good and entertaining life and enjoyed every minute of the journey along the way.

The Marathon Diaries: Twenty-one up

Sometimes one just gets the bit between the teeth. Yesterday was just such a day. The day was not a particularly auspicious one as I toiled with the psychology report I am taxed to do. Administrative problems with the report were driving my blood pressure skyward and I really needed a complete change of pace and activity for the day.

I had promised myself a longer run, all being well, for the day as it had been a few short months since I’d ran more than 11-12 miles in one session. This had nagged at me mentally and in truth was carving chasms in my confidence regarding running a marathon. At one time of day I was mentally strong and assured enough to contemplate any distance placed in front of me – not so these days. For the day I desired 13 miles as a maximum and would have been comparatively happy with that achievement.

The beginning

So, head in something of a whirl with the frustrations of the day, I set off for my regular starting spot in nearby Woodborough and headed off down the lane pictured above at just after quarter past four. A pleasant afternoon was an encouragement as I hit the River, Trent side, at just after five miles and having passed through the pleasant villages of Lowdham and Caythorpe. Skipping through the cherry tree-lined path on the way to Gunthorpe I realised that I was doing pretty well today – feeling comfortable and about to settle into a long run. After six or seven miles I became fixated with the outlandish idea of running…yes, twenty miles.

Snow Day

Well here we are. In a much more traditional winter here in the UK, snow has finally hit Nottinghamshire which is something of a rarity in itself these days. More usually there is an annual smattering of the white stuff maybe one or two days a year and little more. Sometimes I imagine I must be dreaming of times  from the past when we experienced ‘real’ snow here in the East Midlands city, so rare have those occasions been for so long now.

As I write, the UK appears to have hit a state of pandemonium regarding this sudden winter ‘event’ as the TV weather people like to term it these days. There is certainly much excitement!

It’s easy for me to say of course, Nottingham still experiences much less snow than many other parts of the UK for some reason. Televised scenes from around the country bear that out of today too but to my mind the reaction to the snow is nothing short of hysterical. This may be because I’ve experienced quite a few Canadian winters with their bitter temperatures, blizzards and huge snow banks that gather through the colder months, and the way that Canadians just deal with it. I don’t think so though. I see a big difference in our reaction to it here in the UK than times when I was younger. There is little comparison. I note from today’s news that whilst around ten Nottinghamshire schools are reportedly closed today there are around 250 closures in the Leicestershire region alone. You know in my school days I remember many days of deep snow but never do I remember my school being closed because of it, nor even sent home early.

A near-deserted Old Market Square, in Nottingham today. Note the .0005mm of snow covering

During a live magazine programme on TV this morning one of the co-presenters actually couldn’t make it to the studio for broadcasting duties due to the weather. What followed was a live telephone call from him and his co-presenter  proceeding to continue with the show whilst cupping a hot drink to her face like she’d just been to the Arctic Circle, not merely across London with a few inches of snow on the ground. Similarly, another live TV programme at lunchtime actually had the panel of ‘celebrities’ applauding the audience for making it to the studio! Just ludicrous!

Have we all gone so soft nowadays that we can’t put up with a little winter weather? Is it the Health and Safety laws? I’m sure both have some contribution to make. Meanwhile the local authorities appear to place their heads firmly in the sand (or should that be snow?) and hope that the problem just won’t happen. A general inadequacy in clearing the snow is often tabled at the local councils, probably because they gamble on it not happening and don’t budget enough for when it does. Another question, why are many bus services not running? I never recall this from years ago when we had much more serious falls of snow.

I actually accept the snow as part of what a winter is all about. I’m prepared to get on with things and unlikely to let it stop me doing anything much that I normally would. I don’t think that’s such an unusual stance. I actually like to see the stuff, it makes something of a change from the boring, drab grey winters we normally experience here in England! At least it offers a topic of conversation I suppose…

What can you see?

This is an image sent to me by a visitor to The Tears of a Clown in regard to this article  about Bestwood Country Park and Colliery Village in Nottinghamshire in which she has an interest. The image is of the old boiler house which served The Bestwood Lodge, once a fine hunting lodge and now a popular hotel on the edge of the pretty woodlands of the country park. It’s kindly requested that if anyone recalls this building which was demolished around the turn of the 1980s’ and stood on the land where the Fire Station is now situated, would they mind sharing their memories or knowledge about it.

But that is not all.

 

 

The visitor who supplied the image for this article pointed out that there appears to be a little more to this fairly ordinary photograph than may at first meet the eye. I too immediately spotted it. For those that are partial to a good mystery, these premises were purported to be haunted. I’ll leave you to look at the image closely…

For the full-size image, click here

British Pubs: The Endgame?

One doesn’t have to be particularly observant to see great changes sweeping across the pub industry in the UK of late. For many years, particularly since the days of the inception of themed pubs during the 1970s’, there has always been change. What is apparent now though is something of a sad and ever-accelerating terminal decline.

Passing through many suburban areas, it is possible to see a selection of pubs now sadly having seen their best days. Boarded-up windows are rife, overgrown gardens and crumbling car parks frame semi-derelict buildings, many who’s eventual final fate will be demolition.

The former Town Arms/Aviary at Trent Bridge, Nottingham. A once-hugely busy pub, now fallen on hard times

Times change and it should be said that many of the above pubs have been the architect of their own downfall. Dismal run-down surroundings, expensive drinks and mediocre food interest few, and people have higher expectations than of yore.

The Hollinwell Incident

Hollinwell is an area in North Nottinghamshire in proximity to the ex-mining town Kirkby-in-Ashfield. Perhaps it’s main claim to fame is a fine golf club and course of some considerable repute – that and a famous mystery still unsolved to this day.

The ‘Hollinwell Incident’ as it became known happened in July 1980 and people have been trying to understand what happened ever since. It was a story that reached the national media and one still enshrouded in mystery.

The story concerns a Summer brass band and marching competition at a showground in the area. During the gala day approximately 300 children suddenly collapsed during the festivities. Observers likened it to ‘a battlefield’ and spoke of children ‘going down like ninepins’. At first children began to collapse in ones and twos but this quickly soon accelerated into dozens. Aghast spectators were bewildered at the dramatic scene, not comprehending what was unfolding in front of them. Children were scattered about the grass unconscious or vomiting and with noses and eyes streaming in a horrific scene.

Sir Garry Sobers: Celebration of a Great

It’s the 40th anniversary today of a very special achievement in the world of sport by one of the greatest sportsmen the world has ever witnessed. Sir Garfield ‘Garry’ Sobers was the great West Indies cricketer who at the time, playing for Nottinghamshire, battered the perfect six sixes from a single six-ball over off an unfortunate Glamorgan side. The venue was at the St. Helens cricket ground in Swansea, the hitherto unthinkable feat creating a huge impact in the media of the day.

The recipient of Sobers’ peak performance that day was a hapless Malcolm Nash, a slow left-arm finger-spinner who developed into a fine seam bowler despite the confidence-draining scalping from the great all-rounder in full flight.

Three Cheers for Golden Girl, Rebecca Adlington

The remarkable Rebecca Adlington was celebrated as an Olympic hero in her home town of Mansfield, Nottinghamshire, ten miles up the road from my home, this evening. Freestyle swimmer won Gold medalsat both 400M and 800M in Beijing to become the first swimmer in the games for around 100 years to perform such a feat.

The 19 year-old ‘girl next door’ from the North Nottinghamshire town witnessed 10,000 onlookers come out in the town to celebrate and commemorate her stunning success in China, lining the streets and filling the Market Place in a jubilee event. Rebecca arrived at the Civic Centre in a gold-coloured Rolls Royce to receive the pair of Jimmy Choo shoes which had been promised to her by the Mayor of Mansfield, Tony Eggington in the event of her striking gold in the games.

Enthusiastic crowds gathered with Union flags and banners plus huge gold medals in a time of celebration in the town to show their pleasure at the local girl’s medal haul and setting a new world record in the 800M event – a record that had stood since the year Rebecca was born back in 1989. Over 100 of Rebecca’s neighbours turned out in the street to laud her praises also.

The Beehive, Maplebeck, Notts.

Nestling quietly in the pretty North Nottinghamshire countryside, the attractively named Maplebeck is a community of approximately eighty people. It’s nearest conurbations are Southwell and it’s mighty Minster which is six miles to the south, and the historic market town of Newark-on-Trent to the east.

At first glance, Maplebeck, though undeniably pretty in it’s rural and unspoilt location, holds little of note more than many a similar village, that is apart from one building, the local pub known as The Beehive.

Some three decades or so back, The Beehive was extended marginally. Prior to that it had laid claim to being the smallest public house in England.

‘Goodbye’ seems to be the hardest word

‘Twas a strange day right enough. My working day began at home with some difficult transcribing, but no bother really. 2.30pm heralded a trip to pretty Brackenhurst College for a 3pm start. I drove into the car park and left my car under an avenue of gorgeous Spring time apple blossom. It’s difficult to explain but at that moment I felt very blessed to come along to work in this place – after travelling through all the attractive villages I know so well.

The lecturer, a particularly sweet and cheery young woman, handed around chocolates to her students (and I). Come the end of the class she began to well up a little – it was time to say goodbye to her students of the past three years and it showed.