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« on: Tuesday 28 December 10 02:31 GMT (UK) »
VeraH brought back some fine memories of Trentham. It was the Trentham I knew in the 30s and 40s. Trentham Gardens was paradise. So was the park. We didn't have much of anything. But compared to today's standards we had more. How can I forget Trentham Parochial School? There was a narrow pathway just below Wenger's driveway to the right, which we took. The main entrance was further down opposite an old rambling post office building-bars on the windows-and two entrances.
The school had three playgrounds. One for the girls on the left and the other two for boys. There was a lower playground, and a brick slope connecting it to the top playground. On the left of the upper playground Wenger's apple and pears were lodged behind a brick wall topped with some wire. It failed to keep us out. Wenger's apples were the best.
Between the rough and tumble of Trentham kids versus Hanford kids, we also faced canings by Miss Blakemore for crimes committed against humanity - snowballing, not learning poems, and, lateness. Usually, four slashes across the hand. A Mr. Mellor was the headmaster and dwelled in an abutting house in the girl's playground. Later, Mr Goldstone, who drove and maintained the Garden's trains, resided there with his family.
The school consisted of a kindergarten on the right of the Main Entrance, a single classroom on the left of a hallway, which led to the largest classroom boasting a concertina-style folding wall. At a school concert-Christmas, I believe- I recall one young singer bringing the house down with her rendition of a song - "...nice people with nice manners, but, got no money at all." I believe her name was Miss Darling.
The Mauseleum always scared us at night and it was a dare to walk by it. There was a cold stone house next to the upper playground fronting on Wenger's driveway once used by the schoolmaster. It was cold - like the Arctic. We briefly held the first Trentham Scout Troop meetings there.
One noon time, my sister and I took a bag of potatoe chips and sat at a table in the Monica Cafe crunching the chips between margerine sandwiches. Naturally, we were politely asked to leave, unless we wanted tea. We couldn't afford tea, so we left.
There were some beautiful historical black and white half-timbered houses lining the driveway into the school house. At the outset of the war, a company of Newfoundland Pioneers were billeted there. Later, a NAAFI quonset hut was erected next to the school to serve soldiers. With some pennies we were able to buy some of their biscuits.
A large partially submerged air raid shelter was dug in on an upper level overlooking the girl's playground. We were all treated to a few visits during fly overs by Goering's "finest." It was a dank, dark tube, the only light was emitted from a blue curtain at the end of the shelter which served as a lavatory. Fortunately, we spent little time there.
Soldiers dug in machine gun emplacements below the railings next to the mauseleum facing the park entrance. And, on the road to Stone on a hill belonging to the Trentham Golf Course a round white pillbox appeared one day - a standout target. Wenger's field abutting Longton Road and Stuart Avenue were dotted with long poles to thwart glider landings. Trentham Lake was festooned with booms just below the surface of the water, designed to wreck any seaplane landings.
Village kids used to race through a copse from Stone Road into Wenger's field next to Brook Road, fearful that someone was always chasing them. Little is left of the copse. The old chicken house was demolished.
POWs were seen in the village tightening barbed wire on barricades next to the Barlaston Old Road, where the signposts had been removed. We had an active CD and Home Guard presence - always on guard, always practicing.
Village constables marched in front of their Longton Road HQ in steel helmets and sloped arms during the opening days of the war.
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