Shrewsbury Station Just After Six

Available now: Phil Gillam's new novel, Shrewsbury Station Just After Six. Check it out on amazon.

Sundays - When Pride Hill Was Silent

Back in the days before retail parks, before giant garden centres, in fact before Sundaytrading, the weekend had a very different feel.

The youngsters of today will doubtless have some trouble imagining a world (or a Shrewsbury at least) in which Sundays could be quite eerily quiet – and pretty much the only thing you could purchase on the Lord’s Day would have been an ice cream from the Sidoli’s van parked outside the gates of The Quarry.

Mind you, Sidoli’s ice cream was absolutely delicious!

My mates and I, when we were 12 or 13 or 14, would often, on a Sunday, wander aimlessly around Shrewsbury town centre, just to, as they say, kill time.

Not a single shop would be open. Pride Hill would be silent.

But we quite enjoyed the odd atmosphere of the almost empty shopping streets.

We just talked and walked, had a moan about school, dreamt of fanciful futures involving flying cars and holiday cruises to the moon. You know. All that sort of thing.

I suppose you might say: we were at a loose end.

Legendary comedian Tony Hancock once featured in a classic sketch about Sundays, perfectly expressing the boredom felt by many back then when there seemed so little to do.

Not only were all the shops closed, but in the late 1960s and early 1970s it wasn’t so easy to travel. This was an era before the motor car became the dominant form of transport.

Millions of citizens still relied on buses, coaches and trains, and they could be prohibitively expensive.

Certainly, our mum and dad didn’t have a car for great chunks of our childhood.

Well, there was a half-broken-down Hillman Minx, I recall, which – during its couple of years with the Gillam family – spent most of its time parked in West Street, round the corner from our house in North Street.

The reason it spent most of its time parked and idle, I imagine, was because (a) it was notoriously unreliable, and (b) we couldn’t afford the petrol.

So there were Sundays (and again this is possibly a measure of just how bored we were) when my little brother and I asked Dad for the keys to the Hillman Minx and then just went and sat in it for an hour or so, pretending to go on a trip to the seaside.

Blimey. How sad is that?

Other Sundays, my little brother and I would go for very long walks with our big sister, Jan. These very long walks (or was it just that, at that time, we had very short legs?) would give us an appreciation of our home town.

Not only would we get to understand the geography, but we would get a feel for its rich history too and its fine architecture.

So – looking back now – our Sundays were not all about Bob Monkhouse presenting the Golden Shot and the radio adding to our boredom with Sing Something Simple. What’s more, our Sundays would seem positively exciting when compared to the Sundays of Victorian times.

The world of the 1860s was far more austere.

I had to smile when I read in last week’s Shrewsbury Chronicle an item referring to a publican who had had the audacity to serve beer on a Sunday back in 1863.

Sundays then were clearly held in even higher regard by the authorities than a century later, in 1973, the period to which I was referring earlier.

Fans of the other regular column which appears each week on this page (Memory Corner, compiled by the charming Dave Jones) – and I count myself among its admirers – will recognise the following.

Just get a load of this:

Friday, July 10 1863

THE Case of Richard Rowlands, Bell Inn, Abbey Foregate – On Wednesday evening last, a meeting of persons friendly to and sympathising with the landlord of this hostelry, took place, when very strong dissatisfaction was expressed with the recent decision of our borough magistrates, who had inflicted a fine upon Mr. Rowlands under the belief that he had drawn and sold ale on Sunday during church hours. The amount of fine and costs was subscribed and presented to Mr. Rowlands, who acknowledged with gratitude the kindness of his friends.

You see what I mean?

At least you can go down the pub on a Sunday nowadays without the serving of beer being considered an offence!

A war poet, a town crier and a river goddess

A war poet, a town crier and a river goddess. No, I'm not talking about this year's finalists in Britain's Got Talent.

These are the three life-size two-dimensional statues (cut from sheet steel) now adorning a funny little area between Smithfield Road and the river.

The pavement widens for a few yards opposite the new Premier Inn and here we find representations of the brilliant World War I poet Wilfred Owen who lived in the Monkmoor area of the town before going off to the hell of the trenches; our current-day flamboyant town crier Martin Wood; and the mythical Sabrina, goddess of the River Severn.

You have to admit, they make a most peculiar trio. 

It's a bit like the BBC choosing three characters to represent the breadth of their broadcasting output and coming up with William Shakespeare, Bruce Forsyth and Robin Hood.

There we have it: a figure from history, a present-day joy-bringer and a character who almost certainly never existed.

So from that point of view, I suppose Wilfred, Martin and Sabrina represent Shrewsbury rather well.

I love Martin, by the way. He's an old pal of mine from childhood days. We used to go back to his house after school and play with his train set. And, no question about it, he is a magnificent ambassador for Shrewsbury.

Just an odd little trio, that's all I'm saying.

The background to all of this is that 15,000 votes were cast in an online poll with the public selecting Wilfred and Sabrina from a list of nine nominees. Then Martin, our town crier since 1986, was chosen by pupils at the town's primary schools.

All very democratic.

The 'Portrait Bench' - as it is being called - cost £5,000 and has been funded by the charity Sustrans. Formed in 1977 and with its HQ in Bristol, Sustrans' job is to promote sustainable transport, encouraging people to walk, cycle and use public transport.

Oh. And if you are still not sure where these new statues are, we're talking about that stretch of walkway between Severn Terrace and the boxing gym.

The area has been improved over the past few years as part of a Connect2 project. Connect2 is a scheme run by Sustrans to develop new walking and cycle routes in 79 communities around the UK.

The area now has wide, shared-use pavements and new crossings to the Raven Meadows bus station.

The idea is that members of the public will be able to sit and be photographed  around the famous figures.

Helen Ball, town clerk, said: “We are delighted to have been able to work with Cycle Shrewsbury on this project which will honour Shrewsbury's favourite local heroes.”

............

I really need to say something this week about the fabulous Shrewsbury Food Festival which was staged at the weekend.

It was another one of those events which brought new life to Shrewsbury with colourful morris dancers doing their thing at Mardol Head, loads of food-related stuff going on in the Market Hall, and a real buzz across the whole of the town centre.

Of course the main action was in the Quarry with a dizzying array of stalls, a fantastic atmosphere, countless temptations for the tastebuds, and live music.

Wondering around there on Saturday I noticed, by the way, that two fellow Shrewsbury Chronicle columnists were in attendance: cheeky Dave Burrows and our Shrewsbury-loving mayor Jon Tandy.

My wife and I enjoyed a lunch consisting of a falafel wrap from Vegetarian Heaven and a glass of cider from Ralphs Cider & Perry. All very nice.

As Dave Burrows wrote in this newspaper last week, Shrewsbury, these days,  really is ticking all the right boxes.

Shrewsbury Food Festival. Wonder if they do sauce on a plate.

No-one could ever have accused our dear old mum of being a great cook. Pretty much everything she produced in the kitchen came out of a tin or a packet.
We grew up on a diet of beans on toast, supermarket shepherd's pie, faggots in gravy, braised beef, chicken pies, and (still one of my favourites) egg and chips.
The likes of Jamie Oliver would not have been impressed, but, as they say, it never did us any harm.
When I tell folks that our six o'clock tea time would feature nothing more exotic than jam sandwiches, they either stare at me in disbelief or else declare in a Monty Pythonesque Lancashire accent: "Jam sandwiches! You were lucky! We used to dream of jam sandwiches!"
Well. We did occasionally have tinned sardines, but I was never very keen.
What I really did love, however, was sauce on a plate.
"What?" I hear you ask.
You heard. Sauce on a plate. Quite literally HP sauce on a plate which you would then mop up with bread and butter. And, for afters, mashed banana with milk and sugar. Yummy!
It is against this background that this week your humble columnist turns his attention to the forthcoming Shrewsbury Food Festival.
What on earth is a food philistine such as I to make of a glorious celebration of all that's excellent when it comes to tickling the taste buds?
Well. At this point perhaps I should confess to two things. Firstly, my tastes and indeed the food I have been enjoying in adulthood have both moved on in the 30 years or so since our mum's cooking was the only food on offer. Secondly, I have been vegetarian for the last three decades so I'm afraid any tasty morsels involving in their production cows, sheep, pigs and suchlike leave me cold.
Having set out my stall, let's have a look at this food festival, shall we?

It's taking place this coming weekend in our beautiful Quarry park and around the town. The brochure and the website look fabulous (check outwww.shrewsburyfoodfestival.co.uk) and you can even follow the festival on Twitter (look for @shrewsfoodfest).

Amongst more than 80 exhibitors will be: Appleby's Cheese, Barnabys Ice Cream, the Battlefield 1403 Farmshop, Miranda's Preserves Ltd, Monkhide Wines, Ludlow Vineyard, Foxgloves Liqueurs, Doodle Bakes with their hand-made iced biscuits and sweets, Coopers Sausage Rolls, Fish In A Box, The Peach Tree Restaurant, Vintage Thyme pop-up tea room, The Fresh Lemonade Company, Native Breeds (hand-made hotdogs served with local relishes in artisan rolls), Polly's Parlour and Severn Valley Roasts.

Also represented will by Shrewsbury Mini Donuts, Shropshire Chocolates by Toots Sweets, Gwatkin Cider, the Green Fields Farm Shop, French Flavour Ltd, the Ludlow Food Centre, and many, many more.

Oh, and have you heard about the Restaurant Safari?

"The idea of our Restaurant Safari is simple," explains the brochure. "We've joined forces with a number of the town's finest, many of which have created special menus - with dishes for as little as £3 so that you can taste their take on local produce without breaking the bank. And if you like what you taste, you can stick around and order the full-sized versions. For full details of what's on offer, visit the festival website."

The festival is also providing a feast of films - movies about food. Having teamed up with Shrewsbury Film Society, those clever festival people invite you to take in a tasty movie at The Hive in Belmont.

There's lots to enjoy! And - like the Shrewsbury Folk Festival and the Shrewsbury Steam Rally - this event will surely grow and develop into one of the town's major annual attractions.

Mmmmmmm. I wonder if they'll do sauce on a plate?

The Belle Vue Arts Festival

When sad and terrible events take place, locally, nationally, or on the world stage, it is easy to lose faith in human nature.

Perhaps every newspaper and news broadcast should carry a government health warning: ‘Be careful. The contents herein could seriously damage your belief that – overwhelmingly – people are essentially good and kind.’

The thing is, we need to keep reminding ourselves that plenty of wonderful things are going on as well.

There is generosity and joy and tremendous affection, and you really don't have to go very far to find all this.

Take the Belle Vue Arts Festival, for example, an annual blossoming of creativity and community spirit that warms the heart.

This one suburb of Shrewsbury is leading the way in this regard, but there's no reason why other parts of our lovely town couldn't organise similar events.

This year, between June 8 and June 23, people will come together – mums and dads, children, pensioners, everyone – to have fun, to reaffirm neighbourliness, to build bridges between groups and individuals and make new friends.

There's music, photography, knitting, painting, artwork of every kind, exhibitions, workshops, a film night, a garden trail, a plant and craft fair, walks, a family cycle ride in the Quarry, a quiz night, and – of course – scarecrows all over the place!

Festival chairman Tony Sharpe said: “This will be the tenth festival and we are always trying to encourage more and more people to take part.

“It's always really wonderful to see parents and children working together, making things. It's lovely.”

Meanwhile, it was a pleasure for me last week to meet up once again with John Francis who is also involved in the arts festival.

A committee member of the Talking Newspaper for the Blind, multi-talented John (singer, writer, historian) and his friend Sheila Middle (also multi-talented – ukelele, banjo, piano) were also singing the praises of the festival.

“It's really great for Belle Vue and the wider community,” said John.

“It really brings everyone together,” said Sheila.

As part of the festival, John leads a pub history walk (which this year takes place on June 19, beginning at the Seven Stars at 7pm).

Unfortunately there are only 25 places so you need to book early.

“We move off from the Seven Stars and I tell people about The Swan which has long since disappeared, and then we take a look at The Globe and The Castle and The Boar's Head. Then we walk down the alley to the Cross Foxes.”

As I listened to John, I thought this could be quite a pub crawl – even though some of these places no longer exist – but he then assured me that the party does not stop at each pub for a drink. Oh. Maybe not such a great pub crawl after all.

Of course this is to do with history and heritage, not consuming beer, although the party does get to refresh itself at a couple of places including the final pub on the trail.

On the walk, John will tell you about The Royal Oak, long since gone but now incorporated into what is now WRR Pugh in Coleham.

“Then there's The Crown, up to The Grove where we do actually stop for refreshment.

“Then back down the Belle Vue Road to the Belle Vue Tavern, the Masonic Arms and the Prince of Wales.”

If pubs aren't your thing, try the film night of award-winning short films from home-grown talent on June 13 at the Wakeman School, or the torn paper collage workshop on June 11 and 12 at the English Bridge Workshop – or pop along to the art exhibition (also at EBW) which opens on the 15th with jazz and cakes.

The crazy, colourful scarecrows of Belle Vue will be all over the suburb to brighten up your day (maps available from the Stop cafe and Get The Picture).

Belle Vue – with its mix of mansions and terraces, its mysterious half-hidden streets, its railway bridges and pubs – is a beautiful part of Shrewsbury.

Personally, I’ve loved the area ever since I was little and we used to catch a big Midland Red double decker bus from town to go and visit our nan in Links Road.

And it seems only fitting that those lucky people who live in Belle Vue should celebrate with a burst of creativity and community events.

So go on – get involved. Pick up a paintbrush. Grab a camera. Pop along to an exhibition. Soak up the atmosphere. Giggle at a scarecrow.

Come rain or shine, the Belle Vue Arts Festival is a winner.

It’ll make you feel better about the world.

Oh look. It’s brilliant. There's just so much going on.

Pick up a leaflet, telephone Tony on 236975, or visit the website for more information –www.bellevueartsfestival.co.uk

The Searchers and Silvine drawing books

The Searchers, who were once described by John Lennon as his favourite group, are coming to Shrewsbury’s Theatre Severn next week. And, yes, of course, they’re getting on a bit now and won’t quite be the band they were in their prime, but I can’t wait to see them.

I’m also going to see the mighty rock superstar Bruce Springsteen in June which I’m (needless to say) extremely excited about, but, in some ways, I’m equally as thrilled at the prospect of seeing The Searchers.

You see, they’ve been one of my favourite groups for as far back as I can remember.

Here’s a thing. When I was a little boy, growing up in North Street in Castlefields, I spent a lot of time drawing and crayoning. Most children of five or six years of age tended to draw houses or cars or aeroplanes. But I drew pop groups.

I can remember drawing men with guitars and, just in the background, another man sitting behind a drum kit.

This was the Merseybeat era.

The television would flicker into life to show black and white images of the groups of the day and, even at quite a tender age, I was enchanted by the sights and sounds of pop.

The groups would almost always display their name on the front of the drumkit and I would faithfully use this detail in my drawings. I’m almost certain that The Searchers were among those I drew in my pale green covered Silvine drawing book from the local post office.

Meanwhile, our big sister Jan would take myself and our little brother for walks (around the block) down North Street, along Queen Street, up Burton Street, and then West Street and back home. Coming out of the radios in the front rooms of the houses were the sounds of The Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Cilla Black, and the other big names who were bringing a new kind of pop music to the world.

Let me tell you a little about The Searchers.

They produced a string of shimmering hit singles and (like that of The Byrds who would come later) their sound was often shot through with glorious Rickenbacker guitar work.

One of the premier groups from the mid-60s Merseybeat explosion, they had taken their name from the 1956 John Ford western, The Searchers.

Just like The Beatles, they appeared in Hamburg, learning their craft among the seedy nightclubs, and, after sending a demo tape to A&R representative Tony Hatch, they were signed to Pye Records.

I well remember our older brother had a collection of singles around this time and I can still conjure up the distrinctive purple Pye record label.

The group’s debut was the catchy Sweets for My Sweet featuring strong harmonies. It got to number one, establishing The Searchers as serious rivals to Brian Epstein’s famous stable of Liverpool groups.

Tony Hatch (he of the Crossroads theme tune and many a hit for Petula Clark) came up with the group’s follow-up single, Sugar and Spice. This also did well.

And then their third single, Needles and Pins, was their breakthrough. This broke the group in America.

I have to say, Needles and Pins is not only my favourite Searchers record, but also one of my favourite records of all time.

That chiming guitar and lovely melody places it alongside such greats as Mr Tambourine Man by The Byrds, Look Through Any Window by The Hollies, and Ticket to Ride by The Beatles.

Don’t Throw Your Love Away and When You Walk In The Room were among their other hits, but before long the chart success died away as pop music changed.

Before long, The Searchers (like Gerry and the Pacemakers, Billy J Kramer and The Dakotas, Freddie and The Dreamers and a host of others) found they were suddenly seen as old-fashioned.

While The Beatles grew and developed to lead the way, many of the groups from the early sixties were left behind.

The cabaret circuit beckoned and The Searchers carved out a career for themselves there, but the glory days were over.

Over the years there have been serveral changes in personnel (some of these dramatic and painful as when Mike Pender departed to set up his own incarnation of The Searchers). And so the group appearing in Shrewsbury will boast only a couple of the orignal members.

But the same can be said now of The Hollies or The Who or any number of sixties bands.

The most important thing is that the spirit of the original band is upheld by the latest line-up. I was delighted to see, for instance, that this was the case with The Hollies who appeared at Theatre Severn last year.

History will remember The Searchers as one of the great groups of the Merseybeat period, and I have high hopes for next Thursday’s performance.

Why this bridge brings back all my yesterdays

Even though it was getting dark and objects were turning into dim and hazy
shapes, the light would remain switched off because "you wouldn't want to
waste electricity, would you?"
On the other hand, it was seemingly still plenty light enough to continue
with the ironing, the comforting smell of which filled the room, a balm
for troubled minds.
Not that we carefree children knew anything about troubled minds, but the
talk between the grown-ups could be agitated from time to time, betraying
the disappointments and frustrations of adult life.
This was our nan's house in Belle Vue in the 1960s, a house which had a
walk-in pantry which was like having your own personal little shop in the
corner of the kitchen.
Whenever the conversation between mum and nan dried up, all you could hear
in the stillness of the living room was the steady, dependable tick-tock,
tick-tock of the handsome highly-polished dark-wood clock up on the wall;
a clock crowned with a carved stallion up on its hind legs.
While they went on with their boring talk of husbands' wages, street
gossip and the cost of bus fares, we little ones - my brother and I -
would climb into the space under the piano, the space where the pianist's
legs would go, and turn it into our secret camp.
Occasionally, nan would use her wireless (which had a gorgeously deep
tone), but I only ever remember hearing 'The Archers' - a programme that
seemed to we children every bit as dull as the conversation between mum
and nan.
As we grew older, my brother and I were  - on these visits to nan's -
allowed to play outside. At first we would go only as far as the large
back garden with its rotting wooden bench which contrasted sharply with
the well-kept lawn and lovely flower beds.
But eventually we were given permission to go down the nearby footpath,
over stiles, and across the fields by the railway line.
Ah, the railway line - where real adventures could happen.
To this day, the old iron footbridge which crosses the Hereford line and
takes you into Kemp's Field is my favourite footbridge.
I was stood on it the other day, waiting for a train to pass underneath.
It's impossible for me to stand on this bridge without thinking about Nan
and Grandad who lived in Links Road.
The bridge has a builders' cast-iron plate on it which tells us it was
built in 1914 by E. Finch & Co Ltd, Engineers and Ironfounders of
Chepstow.
From an early age this set my imagination running. I would try to picture
what this scene might have looked like in 1914.
There would have been open countryside on the Kemp's Field side in those
days and only a smattering of Victorian housing on the Belle Vue side.
Links Road and Kemp's Eye Avenue would have come later.
Mighty steam locomotives would have hauled goods and passengers on those
lines below. What a magnificent sight they would have been!
And there was something else about the year 1914. This too played on my
mind as a youngster beginning to learn a little about the world.  It was
the year in which the First World War began, a conflict of the most
terrible carnage, and a conflict in which our Grandad was involved.
Connection
Holding on to the weather-beaten iron of this bridge gave me a connection
to all this. It was like being able to touch history.
Generations of children, generations of trainspotters, would have held on
to this iron bridge as trains rattled by below; generations of youngsters
stretching all the way back to the First World War.
This would make me think about why Grandad would go and sit on the stairs
in the darkness whenever there was a thunderstorm. Mum and d ad told us it
was a result of shellshock.
The footbridge looms large in my history.
To begin with it was a fantastic place for trainspotting, especially on
long summer afternoons.
And then, later, around, I think, 1969, there was the UFO incident.
My best friend Paul Rogers and I had founded an organisation - the
Unidentified Flying Objects Observation Corps - or UFOOC. A little later
we renamed it the APIU - Aerial Phenomena Investigation Unit - because we
thought this sounded much more professional.
We would write letters to Jodrell Bank Observatory and NASA, and (what was
more remarkable) we received replies as if these people were taking us
seriously.
One night (when it was really dark), Paul and I went off to the Kemp's
Field bridge to look out for flying saucers. It seemed like a really good
place to spot them.
We had a transistor radio with us and whenever there was an interruption
to the signal, we reckoned it was due to an alien spacecraft being nearby.
We also took torches, a notebook, and sandwiches. It was very well
organised.
Did we spot a flying saucer that night? Well, we're pretty sure we did.
Sadly, we have no evidence to back up our claims. But the old upright
piano from Nan's house was definitely real, and is still in the family to
this day, in the Kidderminster home of my younger brother. It's just that
nowadays we're a bit too big to climb underneath it.