December 1963

December 1963



Beatles in Concert at the Gaumont, Southampton. December 13th 1963, And the End of `The Beatles Autumn Tour'.

Are you sitting comfortably? then I'll begin... Ruffty the squirrel was happy to find his nuts, after a very cold night...  'What?...' 'Oh, you want one of my true life growing up in the Sixties stories? why didn't you say so?'
'I'm not a mind reader you know. That would be spooky wouldn't it...Ah Cheese on toast you want now?'

"But Dad!¬ We know nothing of how your life was growing up!" say the kids.
Well now you do kids...Growing up in the late 50's and 60's is now covered by my Scruffy Kid memories...
come with me now to 1963, wrap up warm as none of the places we go have central heating. You are now entering the world of The Scruffy Kid.

Ah yes December 1963, was still in the  full grip of Beatles fever,  'I want to hold your hand' would be played everywhere.

The family are sat in my Grans living room. We kids, the brothers three and tiny Sis, had to be on our best behaviour as this is the room only used for best. "Mind what you do with that cup of tea" "yes Gran" I would reply as I dunk one of her homemade short bread biscuits. Oh crumbs they are scrummy.
Father and my Uncle are laughing as each take turns wearing the black mop like shaggy Beatles Wig, and I laughed till tears filled my eyes as Grandad with a huge grin has the wig plonked on his head by his son, this was considered long hair back then and on my grandad  it looked Hilarious as he had grey and rather thinning hair, I'd never seen him with dark hair before it was strangely amusing, we would regard this Wig as short hair these days,  my Brothers and I however did have really short hair cuts, "short back and sides" my father always asked the barber for us boys every time we were due a cut, I never liked it much, I have to say as my dark blond hair would curl every time it rained and I liked it when it was wavy and natural,but with a short back and sides it just tickled.
when us kids were allowed in the living room alone I'd tune the Radio until I found something funny to listen too, Grandads radio had the fan like grill made of Bakelite. and the large dial would be lit up and you wound the pointer till you found some thing like this http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b007jv86 As yes the Goons this will give you belly laughs for sure and my belly enjoyed many a laugh with all the chuckles Milligan's Goons would conjure.
I'd end up imitating the voices of course and calling my dad "oohh you naughty man youuw."
 I'm wearing my now well worn  blue paisley jumper identical to my twins, unlike myself to my twin, my elder brother would be in his green reindeer adorned collared jumper. the only difference in trousers would be that his were long trousers even though I was almost as tall.
(Ah the shorter  twin brother syndrome) and ours would be short.


Other jolly japes on the radio would be, Around the horn,  Jimmy Cliverow, the Navy lark with Jon Pertwee, Ronnie Barker and Leslie Phillips to name but a few. http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b01nmgrk
                                                                                                    
Even Steptoe and Son, and Hancocks Half Hour were regulars on BBC's Radio.
I'm Sorry, I'll Read That Again maybe a show you know,  the pilot programme having been broadcast on 30 December 1963 under the title "Cambridge Circus" With Tim Brooke-Taylor (later became one of the three members ofThe Goodies). He has written humorous books on various subjects, including cricket and golf. He was a member of the cast of the television comedy series At Last the 1948 Show with John Cleese (as well as Graham Chapman and Marty Feldman), and later appeared in Marty Feldman's television comedy series Marty. Brooke-Taylor has acted in many other television sitcoms, as well as appearing in the 1970s BBC radio sketch show Hello, Cheeky! with John Junkin and Barry Cryer, a show which later translated to ITV.

I would very often find a new hole in my jumper and be told off for picking at it... I put it down to an over active moth or poor maintenance.
Now then, I do remember pulling on my charcoal grey duffel coat with it's red tartan lining and heading off to Town with the other family members, Gran and Grandad lived near the Town Centre so it was only a matter of a 20 minute walk to reach the Centre,  the winter sky would be dark allowing the best view of the coloured water spouts from the fountain opposite the Guildhall and it was beautiful, I would race round it with my brothers , and the water that was now our backdrop would change from red, green, yellow to blue, onlookers would only see the shadowed figures of us boys full of laughter between the coloured sequences. 20 years later this would be dismantled and moved to front the museum but the lights were never to shine again....I think a tree fairy died that day just from the sadness of such innocent beauty being put to death.
Well after our usual run round the fountain, which happened every time we passed it, we headed to Woolworth's because the rumour was Santa was in town... yes the Real Santa!, can you believe that?...  What did you say?.. Hum well anyway we were off to see the breaded one and we joined the long throng of kids all lined up for the same thing, "Mum I'm bored" my elder brother would say, "well you'll have to wait."   "Yea I want my present so shut up" that's me ever the diplomat.

Well wait we did and I swear this Jolly soul looked the real deal, no fake beard for this fella. oh no, and the suit was excellent, straight form some Hollywood Jobby I'd say. "Ah my boy and what would you like for Christmas?"  is this guy kidding me? I want a Bike obviously so I tell him, he just smiles with that "yea well I want a mansion" face, and passes me a wrapped parcel, OH Boy I love guessing the parcel, don't you? Hum ah yes well hum.... could be a book of some kind and something hard but squishy, blimey no idea what that is.
"WAIT!!  till your brother gets his," Blimey ok miss angry I'm just investigating the possibilities here, give a kid a break, I say in my head,  "Ok Mum" I really say, poking the lump in the centre of the parcel again.....na got nothing I'm thinking.
I must point out my sister is three at this stage and the light of her daddies eye who is now with Santa smiling like a Cheshire Cat with my sister in his arms, accepting the present on her behalf, the little tike rips into it straight away... well that's girls for ya.....
"Now you can open them" Mother says and she didn't have to say that twice so she didn't.
Rip!!........OH that's what it was, how cool a Huckleberry Hound bendy rubbery toy (I say bendy, but the toy clearly had a thick wire skeleton that would soon wear through the deteriorating rubber in time, a health and safety nightmare that would never happen now as the wire would also snap and protrude from the constant bending, very sharp broken ends and kids don't mix) but that was later this was now and this was a cool toy. 

My elder brother had Mr. Jinks. the cat and my twin had Yogi Bear, Now your wondering what about the books, I'm getting there, the books turned out the be colouring and puzzle books which was also cool as it would give us something to do while the adults did their stuff... Ok which of you asked in your head "What did your sister get?" how do I know she's like ......a girl and it was probably some doll with a stupid bow. happy now? yeeesh..

The walk back to Gran and Grandads never took  long and the fire lit in the grate was a cheery welcome to us Arctic explorers,just back from the north pole, it felt toasty warm after the cold night air. we were all now gathered in the dinning room in the middle of the lower floors of Gran’s and there was a salad spread which we had to help ourselves to, ohhhh Yum, ham cheese lettuce be friends haha.. Oh and grandad made the best pickled Onions EVER!! so we all dipped into those... But Wait! there in the middle was another jar with what looked like tiny ears, to this day I wish I just stayed curious it was none other then a jar of pickled whelks, "go on try some it will put hairs on your chest" this was one of my Grandads’ sayings he always used like a I dare ya.. I opened the jar and forked out a Whelk... I didn't like the look of this fella but I had to prove I'm a Man....ok tiny man, so I pop it in my mouth and my mouth said "NO we don't want it".... but I couldn't spit it out I'd be murdered where I stood, so I held my nose and swallowed EWWW it was like a bitter tasting rubber slug Eww... bluaaaa I didn't like it and from that day on I refused to eat anything that even hinted at putting hairs on my chest.

We Kids all made our beds on the floor of one of Gran's bed rooms to await Christmas day.....and I tell you there must have been some real sneaky sneaks going on that night, apart from almost being killed in my bed by my brothers whelky farts, there was a sack with Santa heading down the Chimney printed on it at the end of all our beds, Oh what a lovely surprise that was, I had a small model of a motorbike and sidecar a cowboy gun a holster sketch pads and pencils it was all fantastic. there was also Apples Orange and Bananas, you may think that strange but my parents grew up in the Second World War and to them this fruit was the greatest gift of all.
By the way just before Christmas a new show Called Doctor Who started that November with a grumpy old grandad in, I thought this very interesting.....Just imagine you could go anywhere in time, I could go see the Romans who Built the walls round Southampton and ask them when were they going to finish..
Except for the whelks I loved Christmas 1963 ..Yea yea yea yeaaaaa. as the Beatles would say.

A step back in time.

A step back in time.

This banksy looks exactly like me as a Kid



Well this will be a slice of the 60's taken from those little memory nuggets, stored in the back of my mind, where it sleeps, yes, till I wish to remember them.

"Oh yes, I can when I want to. And that's the point, really. I have to really want to, to bring them back in front of my eyes. The rest of the time they... they sleep in my mind and I forget. And so will you. Oh yes, you will. You'll find there's so much else to think about. To remember. Our lives are different to anybody Else's. That's the exciting thing, that nobody in the universe can do what we're doing."

: Patrick Troughton.

We of the Baby Boomer breed seem to have had more freedom to wander as children, and we could venture out  into the World alone.

My Elder brother had a Trike!..." "Really!" "Shh! he'll hear you!"

It was a Little Beauty, red, with yellow handles and seat, it taunted me to ride it....oh yes it did.

OK so I'm Three and a bit years old, and forbidden to ride the for mentioned trike.

But my brother is at school.... hmm, now this is my opportunity to make a break for the hills.

So tip toe little me... and unlock the garden gate, up the path to the second gate leading to the alley separating one row of four houses from another, then I am out! I'm on that bike and I'm peddling... The G forces on my face lifted at least two hairs on my head out of place, 'This is awesome!' The exit between the garden walls is rushing towards me at an incredible 1/18 a mile per hour... I hit the small step onto the concrete path heading for the asphalt path that circles the homes built in rectangles, turning left now I'm going down hill....... Brakes? Brakes!! not a clue, what's a brake ?...

The end of the row is coming up fast and I need to turn left, so I can take the path at the front of these council homes.

I make the turn...who knew three wheels could become two! But armed with pure ignorance I keep the bike on the path... 'Wow' this is fun isn't it? I say in my head, but no one answers, we're too busy having fun!... And then it happens!... 'what was that??' I feel it again, so I stop peddling, because something is tickling my face, 'hmm what is it..?' I touch my forehead and it's wet! 'what ?' Where did that come from?

As I run my hand over my face a bead of water runs down my hand... Crumbs this is awkward I seem to be malfunctioning in some way...

With a sense of urgency now I start peddling again passing the last of the four houses, I turn left again and head up hill...'Cor blimey!' this isn't easy...

I dismount and run with the trike the rest of the way untill I turn left yet again and head back into the alley... to gate one... gate two...

"MUM!! ...MUMMY!!" I bang my tiny fist on the back door... I'm better off shouting because no one but a dog sleeping against the door would hear that! "MUMMMMMMMMMMM!"

The door opens and this giant is now looking down on me, "What have you been up to now?.... have you been riding your brothers bike?" "ahhh humm," looking back at the bike, and I return my gaze to my mother's smiling face.. "Mum I've broken my head, it's leaking!"

"What?"

"I'm leaking! my head is leaking... look!"

I point to the water running down my face... and Mum starts chuckling, "You’re not leaking, you're sweating!!"

"Oh NO! is that more bad then leaking?" I ask, in me best child English init...

"No ( chuckle, chuckle) it means you’re hot! people sweat when they get hot!..."

"Really?" I ask...

"Yes..."

Well where did the water come from? it had to come from somewhere? I don't understand this sweating thing at ALL!...

OK so I'm not going to die through leakage so I fess up to riding the bike.

"That will teach you," Mother says... "Come in you better have some water."

Ahhh... very shrewd, this is a sneaky ways to replace my empty head tank... I'm thinking.

No one appeared to have money to waste, forget the bright and Fab! colours you see in films depicting the age.

Only the well off could afford to follow such trends, Oh no the main colours worn by the majority would be blue, brown, beige or grey, these clothes are also more likely to be hand me downs from a jumble sale (think boot sale indoors without the cars)

Because of this hardly anyone housed on a council estate owned a car... How great would that be today? you can barely park anywhere these days.

But back then, the roads surrounding our homes only had one car to be seen, and this belonged to Mr Bishop, he's in his late 50's to early 60's at this time and he was selling insurance, and as fate will have it, yesterday I came across a car not just the same make but the very same colour...



As the roads are so clear we often played tennis in the road using the curbs and the concrete joints to mark our court... This estate had generous green areas too, where if we wished we could play football, which nearly all the kids did play, you could end up with over 20 a side, sometimes even the adults wanted to join in these games, so we would have two kids for every adult... there was a clever and simple answer to every activity in those playful days...

The streets would be full of kids, playing all kinds of games... the only limit was your imagination... you could be the 300 Spartans out numbered but defiant! or Cowboys and Indians...and Soldiers from any war you could think of.

The woods were also a place of adventure, where you could clime trees, swing, or build your own den in the bushes by tying the branches together in a A frame, this made a comfy den where the entrance arched like a church, off cuts of Lino or carpet lined the floor... To a child it was the best play house ever!! and built by your own fair hands.

These skills are lost on the computer generation... unless there are still children out there looking for adventure that is, and not something that can only be satisfied by a hand held console.

I mentioned swings, and some of the braver lads hung these from the high branches of a tree... with a short branch tied at the other end as a seat,

These self made swings would be guarded by the older kids who made them, so to play on it you had to ask for permission or wait untill they had gone... You could use this swing by climbing with the swing, then swing out from the tree or hold the branch that was acting as a seat and run out in a circle till your feet left the ground, the faster you ran the further you swung out. This was the method I was using now aged between 5 and 6...

For some reason no one else was on the swing... so I played for hours, the main aim was to be off the ground for as long as possible, so you could make believe you're flying, when coming back towards the ground you'd tuck up your legs and place them down at the very last second.

Once I left it to late, so I hit the ground on my knees, but brushing myself down I set out again on the wide circular run...

I don't know how long it was before I noticed the tickling trickle on my right leg but looking down I saw my knee was bleeding, and the once white socks I wore, one was now a vibrant red! soaked in my blood.

We all wore shorts in those days too, my Parents would never think of buying long trousers for a child...

'Well I better head home then,' I thought, I don't recall any pain, only that tickle, by the time I reached for the front door I realised my Mother was going to go ballistic!...

I had ruined my socks!... So I tried to cry... not easy when you don't feel it, so it was more of a pathetic sob then a cry but thinking my Mother wouldn't hit me if I was upset I continued this subterfuge and knocked... The door opened, looking at me, Mum said "What have you done this time?.... get in quick."

She took me into the Kitchen which, in the 60's was the main living area anyway, the living room was for special occasions only and hardly used, this changed in the latter part of 63' following the purchase of the first record player I'd ever seen...

'She loves You' by the Beatles was played over and over... very high tech... but wait why are you reading this! While I'm sat bleeding in the kitchen? you really need to get your priorities straight...

So there I am sitting in the kitchen having my knee washed, Are you with me now?... Good we can move on.

"Oh this looks bad!" My mother informs me as she wipes away at the damage.. But by now I'm half sleepy... after running round for hours... I was in need of a nap, but this announcement from my Mother now had my full attention, believe you me...

"What Mum?"

"You have a really deep cut in your knee, I think we better go to the doctors."

'Woaaw' Wait a minute, this can't be! it didn't even hurt!... but with a handkerchief wrapped round the knee, purely for hygienic reasons as it had no bogie's, off we trot to the doctors...

Crumbs! could this day get any worse?... No one likes going to the doctors, they tend to use you for darts practise...

"I'm afraid your son will need stitches."

'WOAAH' My hands immediately wrap round my knee to protect it... "NO! it just needs a plaster," I plead... rather panicked.

This doctor is obviously a complete loony... "OK thank you Doc ... Mum can we go get a plaster now?"

"No young man, you will need stitches the wound is far to deep for plasters" the doctor insists .... isn't it funny how quick fake tears turn in to real ones.... "NO Mum!.....NO!"

Anyway a bus ride to the hospital later... (some emergency this is)

I'm waiting for a nurse to look at my knee... and on arrival she tricked me with the equivalent of someone shouting "look ...a cat!" to a dog... and as I look away, she puts a needle that looked the size of a bike pump, to my threatened mind, into my knee....... "Ahhhwwwa that bloody hurt!" I bellow.

I should point out at this stage that it was seen as very rude to say 'bloody' back then, and for a nearly six year old all eyes fell on a blushing Mother...

"The Things they learn at school" she proclaimed, trying to looked shocked, and I knew as soon as we got out I'd get a thick ear... (a term for a whack round the head..)

I never got a thick ear, but I did get an ear bashing.

"You never swear again is that clear! You really embarrassed me then."

"Sorry Mum" I mutter, still in pain from needle and stitches...

So here's me three stitches the heavier and it throbs like the red hot pokers of hell, as we walk to the nearest Bus Stop.

That journey home was a long and painful ride and tears of pain ran down my cheeks...

 I never slept a wink that night the pain was much to great for that... As a new day dawned I was too tired to care and spent the day in a daze...

At school, the next day,  I was a Hero, everyone wanted to see the stitches... which is probably the reason the wound was infected by the time the stitched were eventually removed, and this horrible green puss oozed out... and the wound was cleaned, using cotton buds soaked in what looked and smelt like diluted dettol, my leg was rebandaged and a tetanus jab was included for good measure, my days in hospital were done...

Well the price of freedom doesn't come cheap, going out unsupervised in the 60's could lead to a injury or three... But would I trade those days for safety? Not on your Nelly ......... NO WAY!