We used to go up to the Wellow Institute playing billiards or cards or whatever, the lads and myself, and I came down one night back with my bike, I must have been fifteen, and it was a dark night, just gone ten o’clock, just a little bit of light. I had my head down looking at the ground, and all of a sudden, there was this shape in front of me and ‘bang’. The front wheel went straight between Charlie Bryne’s legs, Ron Hillier was helping him home. Yes, they’d had a couple, or several, and I went over the top of Charlie Bryne – didn’t do the bike a lot of good, but it did me a lot more harm, it really hurt. Charlie got up, the air was somewhat blue. Apart from bruises up his back he had nothing wrong with him. I got home and put my bike away and I’d taken the top off one of my ankle bones.
And I thought: ‘I’ve hurt my head’. There was all blood and went to see Dad, who was listening to the radio and he come and had a look. He said, ‘Mother, I think you’d better come and have a look at this.’ So mum came out in the kitchen – ‘ Oh, I don’t like the look of that’.
Poor old Gran, who was staying with us at the time, she came out and she put it right. She got the scissors out and then cut my hair away and put a plaster on it. The damage to my ankle made me limp for a while. Charlie Bryne, he was fine.
Ron Wallis b 1935
Tag Archives: Wellow Institute
Mike Smith, Mary Henderson: Thorley, Squibb family 1950s
Elsie Squibb wasn’t always popular. When we used to sit on the bank writing down the number plates of the cars coming through – and there weren’t many, – she’d come out and complain, and say we were making too much noise; she needed some peace and quiet.
On one afternoon she had brought home a nice box of cakes from Wrays Bakery in Newport. Mike Henderson kicked a football and it knocked into the box, and the cakes weren’t improved…. Mike Smith b 1951
We all used to be so envious of Phyllis Squibb. She seemed to have all the things our parents couldn’t buy us. Years later, she said how she’d envied our freedom. Her Dad used to insist on meeting her and walking her home, even from Wellow Institute.
Poor Els., her bark was worse than her bite. If you were in real trouble, she’d be there to help. Mary Henderson b 1954