It's 100 years ago and you live where you live right now...

Going back to where I was born in New Zealand. The house wasn’t there (parents built it after Round 2), but the land was.

As a former ASC Driver attached to the NZ Mounted Rifles, I could bid for the land from the State Advances and Repatriation Commission. Mum had saved all my allotments and gave it to me when I returned, and along with my gratuity, I was able to buy it cheaply. The land was formerly a British Army Commissary during the Land Wars in the 40s - 70s, and then a remount depot until recently. The land has loads of lava outcrops and my block might have been used as a dump. It has a small stream and a well (and during a storm a nag managed to get spooked and fall into it). Everywhere there bits of packing cases, old horseshoes, cap badges and buttons, even musket balls and Minié rounds. A large wrought iron gate is lying there and my grandson (whom I never meet) will climb on it when he was very young. It will take a long time to clear the land; I've planted some fruit trees including guava, pear, peach, plum and apples. But the fennel loves the red soil, and its a constant battle to keep the smelly weed down.

At the moment, we are living in a railway cottage near the Penrose railway workshops, where I work as a blacksmith. I met my wife in Tasmania in 1915 when our troopship stopped en route to Egypt. I met my darling Emma, at a Band of Hope temperance meeting. We wrote to each other throughout the war, mainly on field postcards or cheap photographic postcards of me in uniform. But I’m not the man I was when I met Emma. I don’t have the strength and I am in a lot of pain; I’m irritable and have a short temper, everyone saying this is because I’ve got red hair. I was useful with my fists before the war and took part in amateur boxing; not now, I just don’t have the concentration or stamina. I was in and out of hospital with Enteric fever and I was also buried on the Western Front after a mine went off; they say it was three days but I can't remember. It has given me kidney problems, and a lot of pain from time to time.

I was invalided out in late 1917 from the No 1 NZ General Hospital in Hornchurch and was back in New Zealand, having crossed the Atlantic, meeting my Fenian cousins in New York. I admit I liked Kathleen who is a few years younger than me, but she was so against the English and wanted the Bosch to win the war. Spooky to think that that same grandson would meet her as a very elderly lady in 1989, and that her grandchildren had the same views.

Emma joined me in 1919 after the 'flu passed through. She was sick but recovered; I seemed to miss it. Anyway, we married rather quickly in 1920 to avoid 'disgrace' and my little Freddie was born 7 months later, His name is Philip Robert, but our lodger calls him Freddie. I hope he grows up in a peaceful world. In between keeping house and looking after little Freddie, she gets pin money using a 'knitting machine' to knit socks and jerseys. She sent me some in Egypt, and she'd knitted the Imperial German eagle into the pattern!

I am still struggling to hold down work, but we're getting by. The Railways are good employers; we can travel for free and I'm working with a lot of mates. I receive a small War pension because of my injuries and illness, but I'm luckier than most. Emma gets cross with me when I bring home ex Servicemen I meet living in the railway yards or on the street, and give them a bed for the night and share a meal with them. She says they're a bit simple and walk in a jerky style. Shell shock, they call it.

The ANZAC reunion is in a couple of months; I might attend the morning church service in Queen Street but many of my mates will be drunk, which I don't like. I took the pledge and have seen so many lives ruined by the Demon drink. They re-tell increasingly tall stories and mock me for only being a driver. But I served as infantry in the Auckland Regiment when we took Samoa back from the Bosch in 1914 before I fell ill, and was discharged, only to volunteer for the ASC and rode with the Mounted Rifles Field Ambulance. I have seen more than enough action, and have kept their regimental flash and a cap badge. I've also kept my pistol, which drivers were issued. Years later, Emma would keep it in her bedside cabinet.

All in all, I'm lucky. I'm married, got a beautiful son, I have some land and a job. When on leave I visited cousins in Ireland. I have never seen such poverty, living in the same hovel as their animals. They seemed shocked when they tried to take me to Mass when I told them I was a Methodist, but hey ho, why do people get so upset about religion? It's the same God, isn't it?

Wonderful... tinged with pathos.
 
Going back to where I was born in New Zealand. The house wasn’t there (parents built it after Round 2), but the land was.

As a former ASC Driver attached to the NZ Mounted Rifles, I could bid for the land from the State Advances and Repatriation Commission. Mum had saved all my allotments and gave it to me when I returned, and along with my gratuity, I was able to buy it cheaply. The land was formerly a British Army Commissary during the Land Wars in the 40s - 70s, and then a remount depot until recently. The land has loads of lava outcrops and my block might have been used as a dump. It has a small stream and a well (and during a storm a nag managed to get spooked and fall into it). Everywhere there bits of packing cases, old horseshoes, cap badges and buttons, even musket balls and Minié rounds. A large wrought iron gate is lying there and my grandson (whom I never meet) will climb on it when he was very young. It will take a long time to clear the land; I've planted some fruit trees including guava, pear, peach, plum and apples. But the fennel loves the red soil, and its a constant battle to keep the smelly weed down.

At the moment, we are living in a railway cottage near the Penrose railway workshops, where I work as a blacksmith. I met my wife in Tasmania in 1915 when our troopship stopped en route to Egypt. I met my darling Emma, at a Band of Hope temperance meeting. We wrote to each other throughout the war, mainly on field postcards or cheap photographic postcards of me in uniform. But I’m not the man I was when I met Emma. I don’t have the strength and I am in a lot of pain; I’m irritable and have a short temper, everyone saying this is because I’ve got red hair. I was useful with my fists before the war and took part in amateur boxing; not now, I just don’t have the concentration or stamina. I was in and out of hospital with Enteric fever and I was also buried on the Western Front after a mine went off; they say it was three days but I can't remember. It has given me kidney problems, and a lot of pain from time to time.

I was invalided out in late 1917 from the No 1 NZ General Hospital in Hornchurch and was back in New Zealand, having crossed the Atlantic, meeting my Fenian cousins in New York. I admit I liked Kathleen who is a few years younger than me, but she was so against the English and wanted the Bosch to win the war. Spooky to think that that same grandson would meet her as a very elderly lady in 1989, and that her grandchildren had the same views.

Emma joined me in 1919 after the 'flu passed through. She was sick but recovered; I seemed to miss it. Anyway, we married rather quickly in 1920 to avoid 'disgrace' and my little Freddie was born 7 months later, His name is Philip Robert, but our lodger calls him Freddie. I hope he grows up in a peaceful world. In between keeping house and looking after little Freddie, she gets pin money using a 'knitting machine' to knit socks and jerseys. She sent me some in Egypt, and she'd knitted the Imperial German eagle into the pattern!

I am still struggling to hold down work, but we're getting by. The Railways are good employers; we can travel for free and I'm working with a lot of mates. I receive a small War pension because of my injuries and illness, but I'm luckier than most. Emma gets cross with me when I bring home ex Servicemen I meet living in the railway yards or on the street, and give them a bed for the night and share a meal with them. She says they're a bit simple and walk in a jerky style. Shell shock, they call it.

The ANZAC reunion is in a couple of months; I might attend the morning church service in Queen Street but many of my mates will be drunk, which I don't like. I took the pledge and have seen so many lives ruined by the Demon drink. They re-tell increasingly tall stories and mock me for only being a driver. But I served as infantry in the Auckland Regiment when we took Samoa back from the Bosch in 1914 before I fell ill, and was discharged, only to volunteer for the ASC and rode with the Mounted Rifles Field Ambulance. I have seen more than enough action, and have kept their regimental flash and a cap badge. I've also kept my pistol, which drivers were issued. Years later, Emma would keep it in her bedside cabinet.

All in all, I'm lucky. I'm married, got a beautiful son, I have some land and a job. When on leave I visited cousins in Ireland. I have never seen such poverty, living in the same hovel as their animals. They seemed shocked when they tried to take me to Mass when I told them I was a Methodist, but hey ho, why do people get so upset about religion? It's the same God, isn't it?
We have a similar story, I was from across the bridge in Mangere Bridge.
 
The nets were boiled in a strange concoction, to help protect them. Nylon nets didn't exist in 1919.
The nets, were boiled then stretched out over posts to dry and repair any broken rope lines in the net.
Just edited to add, just waiting for the Scottish Herring girls to work their way down the coast.

We have the yearly migration in town of the Scottish Hearing girls, come the 21C we will still have active Rangers & Celtic supporters clubs despite being in North Yorkshire.
 

Goatman

ADC
Book Reviewer
There was a “strip” along the back of my grandparents house. The neighbours agreed to surrender a cars width of their back garden to allow vehicle access. Odd, because none of them had cars in the twenties.

But the thread topic reminded me of covenants on houses, my house in Twickenham had a covenant on growing fruit. It was built on the site of a commercial apple orchard. The joke was that there were two apple trees in the garden.

I moved to Camberley. The covenant said I was not allowed to keep steam locomotives or traction engines. That was a right bastard as I had to sell all my steam traction engines.

I moved to Woking and was not allowed to keep chickens, other poultry or fowl. I killed all my swans.
Tchah...my late father ( an aviation buff for years) took great pleasure in showing me the Land Registry Deed to our house, which forbids the mooring of dirigibles.

The Zeppelin had to go.....

1549549482485.png


We have the yearly migration in town of the Scottish Hearing girls, come the 21C we will still have active Rangers & Celtic supporters clubs despite being in North Yorkshire.
A magnificent gesture on the part of our Scottish friends, to send specially trained Hearing Girls to help the puir deaf-as-a-post ex-soldiers down here in the benighted South.
I applied some time ago - when will she be here please?

Fiona, Morag or Caitlin will be fine. ;-)
 
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Bloody hell! Coming fae the toon, alang Springburn Road turn left at the fire station into Keppoch Hill Road(?) a bit up the road oan the left(?) Feck me sideways. That takes me back o'er sixtyfuckingyears!! That wis the last time I heard, and cried, "Easy the Peasy." Ya bastard yi!
that bit of Keppoch hill Road is now called Atlas Road and it's move slightly, You'd have turned onto Flemmington Street or Adamswell street to get to the gates, going past Springburn college which might still have belonged to the Railways then.
 

Goatman

ADC
Book Reviewer
This is how 29 year olds found themselves picking up a rifle:

 
The family house is empty without my girls. One fell in love with a US officer stationed nearby. He has returned home. She wanted to follow him and study the piano, so I relented on condition her sister went too as chaperone. They sailed to Boston. I hope things work out for them.

Two years down the line and my younger daughter has returned to France. It did not work out between herself and the officer. Her sister is still in Harvard. She met a young English Professor at an outdoor skating rink and married him. She will sail home to France in 1924 for the birth of her son, then return to Harvard.

My grandson will be studying at Cambridge, where his father is now a Professor, when WWII breaks out. He will serve as a young Captain in Burma. Our family house is taken over by the Germans, we are 30 minutes from Vichy. We bury the silver but sadly they plunder my wine cellar.

When the war ends my grandson wishes to marry his French fiancée but the authorities refuse him permission. He is a deserter, he did not fight in the French Army. They marry in London instead. She still lives in the family house. Once more it is empty, but her grandchildren regularly visit with their Scottish mother. The house is full of memories and has seen much conflict since it was built in the late 18th century. We hope there will be no more wars as so many of its previous inhabitants went off to fight or to join the resistance.
 
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The North British Locomotive company constructed the first MkVIII tank
NBL – home to steam locos and First World War tanks
I'm presuming that was at the end of Cowlairs Road, which was aff Springburn Road? Turn L aff Cowlairs Rd into Millarbank Street, which after a wee bit went uphill and curved rightish. On the L was the back door of the ABC picture house, on the R the "dunny." Used to sledge there, but heard a POSB(?) was built on that site, and has now had flats built in the POSBs place. Top of the dunny was the Orange Lodge. Main entrance to the pictures was in Gourlay Street, where I went every Saturday to the ABC Minors.

Feck me ts, big Dougie took me back far enough, you've taken me back even further, making me realise what an auld barsteward I am!! Apologies to Arrsers for posting this 25 years early. If I'm aboot in '43 and I'm not even mere doolally than I am now, I'll try to remember to refer to it again. Thanks for taking me back to my childhood guys .
 
The family house is empty without my girls. One fell in love with a US officer stationed nearby. He has returned home. She wanted to follow him and study the piano, so I relented on condition her sister went too as chaperone. They sailed to Boston. I hope things work out for them.

Two years down the line and my younger daughter has returned to France. It did not work out between herself and the officer. Her sister is still in Harvard. She met a young English Professor at an outdoor skating rink and married him. She will sail home to France in 1924 for the birth of her son, then return to Harvard.

Her son will be studying at Cambridge, where his father is now a Professor, when WWII breaks out. He will serve as a young Captain in Burma. Our family house is taken over by the Germans, we are 30 minutes from Vichy. We bury the silver but sadly they plunder my wine cellar.

When the war ends my grandson wishes to marry his French fiancée but the authorities refuse him permission. He is a deserter, he did not fight in the French Army. They marry in London instead. She still lives in the family house. Once more it is empty, but her grandchildren regularly visit with their Scottish mother. The house is full of memories and has seen much conflict since it was built in the late 18th century. We hope there will be no more wars as so many of its previous inhabitants went off to fight or to join the resistance.
Your English is very good
 
I doubt I would have gone to the Great War as I am still at sea working on a fishing boat, possibly would have been involved in counter mine and submarine operations. Thats if I survived either of these two events.

WWI: The ‘Gentlemanly Massacre’ Of Scarborough’s Fishing Fleet

The 'gentlemanly massacre' of Scarborough's fishing fleet

BBC - The bombardment of Scarborough 1914

The bombardment of Scarborough 1914

I would of lived around old town which was the usual 2 up 2 down with no sanitation and rather smelly due to humans and fish. The harbour would of been busy with commercial shipping and steamers stopping over night to and from the south, so maybe harbour work, but work involving the sea.
 
(In character as an amalgam of me and the guy living in my house in 1914)

I come back to Chester after four years on the Western Front, a signaller in RE after starting in the Cheshires and getting injured.

I was commissioned, due to being a professional man- electrical engineer- and came home gassed, wounded, with the MM.


My children, thank God, were too young for WW1 and will be too old for WW2. Most of my 1890s cohort find this- our slightly older colleagues and friends had the horror of serving themselves and then seeing their dear sons go to fight Hitler and their dear daughters spend their youth in factories, waiting for their loved men to be killed.

I'm a manager in the lead works, where for 200 years already we've been supplying the means to kill the enemy. Just lately it has been roof lead and fishermen's shot; for how much longer?
 
(In character as an amalgam of me and the guy living in my house in 1914)

I come back to Chester after four years on the Western Front, a signaller in RE after starting in the Cheshires and getting injured.

I was commissioned, due to being a professional man- electrical engineer- and came home gassed, wounded, with the MM.


My children, thank God, were too young for WW1 and will be too old for WW2. Most of my 1890s cohort find this- our slightly older colleagues and friends had the horror of serving themselves and then seeing their dear sons go to fight Hitler and their dear daughters spend their youth in factories, waiting for their loved men to be killed.

I'm a manager in the lead works, where for 200 years already we've been supplying the means to kill the enemy. Just lately it has been roof lead and fishermen's shot; for how much longer?
Are they royalty and having two plus birthdays a year?
 
I think the St Rollox works on the other side of Petershill also made stuff for tanks in The First World War, as well as Horsa gliders and bearings for Rolls Royce Merlin engines in the Second World War.

I'm presuming that was at the end of Cowlairs Road, which was aff Springburn Road? Turn L aff Cowlairs Rd into Millarbank Street, which after a wee bit went uphill and curved rightish. On the L was the back door of the ABC picture house, on the R the "dunny." Used to sledge there, but heard a POSB(?) was built on that site, and has now had flats built in the POSBs place. Top of the dunny was the Orange Lodge. Main entrance to the pictures was in Gourlay Street, where I went every Saturday to the ABC Minors.

Feck me ts, big Dougie took me back far enough, you've taken me back even further, making me realise what an auld barsteward I am!! Apologies to Arrsers for posting this 25 years early. If I'm aboot in '43 and I'm not even mere doolally than I am now, I'll try to remember to refer to it again. Thanks for taking me back to my childhood guys .
The Manufacture of Locomotives and Other Munitions of War, 1914-1919 – The North British Locomotive Co. Ltd., n.d. but ca. 1920. [ebook] Fully printable downloads of facsimile books, souvenirs and documents

First World War - Women in industry


I was in spring burn this afternoon for my usual scalping, it hasn't changed much since i went to sight hill nursery in the very early 80s
 

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