Thanks Nolic....I have seen a photo (singular...as you suggest there are others I'll have a look)....Miss Ogden is very much a part of my school-days recollections.....it was she who severely repremanded a lad (whose name I've unfortunately forgotten!) for singing a song with very rude words very loudly in the classroom.....we kids were all very shocked - he became something of a folk hero.....it went something like this:- "One, two, three allara - I saw my Aunty Sarah - sitting on her bum-dallara - eating (what sounded like) baby's chocolate" Boy was he in trouble!

Pete

Great reading Pete,  makes site more interesting, especially for ex pats.  We lived in Barlick from about 42 (Butts) then up on King st. next to the Legion, went to the Church school and then briefly to Skipton Grammar School.  Moved to Nelson in 1950, went to Nelson Grammar School, left for Canada in 1953.  Parents both worked at Rolls in Barlick and then in Montreal.

Before we left they bought a fish and chip shop in Blacko from Duckworth's in Barlick.

Family names still around Barlick would be Smith, Kendal, Houseman, Taylor(now Broughton).  Don't remember teachers from Church school except for a Mr. Marsden who then lived in Cltheroe, I think.  Others in my class were Ronnie Clough and Roger (deceased) whose family had a butcher shop in town and farm on the way to Victory Park.

Remember the night that word came of the end of the war, my mother grabbed me and we were off down town, me in pj's, lot's of noise.  We had many bonfire nights Nov.5 on a vacant lot just off King St., beside what I think was the Ivory Hall building?

Regards and let's hear more.

The war-time rationing of some items didn't end until the early 1950s. I remember taking my ration book up to the top of North Street, through the Ginnel (at the time I thought that that particular alleyway was named "The Ginnel" rather than ginnel being a term used to describe any narrow alley) across what was then a rough muddy area where we kids used to play marbles using any indentations in the ground as a target to get our 'Alleys' into. At the end of this area and perhaps somewhere near the 'Greyhound' was the sweet shop (they probably sold other less important stuff as well!).....I'm sure that the shopkeeper was a Mr Brown.... he'd cut the coupons from my book and I'd give him a penny or two.....I remember buying long, thin, pink, spearmint chewy bars, and when we moved away from Barlick I couldn't get them down South!

Very much childhood memories....but you don't tend to do much beer drinking at aged seven - and as a result I am not very familiar with Barlick boozers (Pubs that is....though I do know one or two lads that might be referred to as 'boozers'.....my cousin Glen Smith can knock 'em back!).

There was an occasion about thirty years ago when another relative that I was visiting took me to.....is it the Anchor at Salterforth?....and, as I was by this time considered to be a 'Southerner' and there's this fallacy that they're not used to drinking anything but very weak stuff, my companion advised me to stick to a particular brew and to "leave that one there well alone" pointing to one which apparently was only suitable for hardened northcountry folk. The following evening he was working a night shift and I returned to the Anchor alone. I daringly ventured to try a couple or so of pints of the 'heavy'....and lived to tell the tale...though, thinking about it, could it have been due to the fact that I was originally a Barlicker that I was conditioned and able to take the strong stuff? I can't remember what the beer was, but it was pretty good. As I recall I spent much of the evening in the company of the Polish landlord of this pub on the outskirts of my old home town of Barlick (the place which for me held quite a nostalgic appeal)... listening to him talking about a recent holiday he'd spent in Weymouth, the town I then lived in and had travelled to Barlick from...it was interesting but quite strange. That experience almost neutralised the sentimental feeling I had evoked that morning by taking a jam jar and net up New Road at 6am "for old occasions sake" to catch Sticklebacks in the canal....I really did....and me a grown man!

Pete

Herb, the "Roger" you talk about now deceased, may have been Roger Stansfield.  His parents Jack and Mary had a butchers shop on Albert Road but when I knew them they lived at Hilltop Farm on Manchester Road opposite Hey Farm.  There was Roger,a brother called Malcolm and a sister called Catherine.

Roger passed away about 2 years ago, leaving a son who lives in Clitheroe and a daughter who is a friend of mine and lives in Sidney.

Marg. That was the Roger I was thinking of.

True confession time Pete you wrote about sweet shop.....we used to go into shop just up small hill off middle of King St.  at that time we all had white mice and used to carry them around in pants pocket, in the store we would pull them out to show the shopkeeper (bless her dear old soul) and she would always run into the back, we would help ourselves to stick of gum or whatever..I'm sure she knew what was up.

Remember selling poppies for Legion and then great meal of meat and potato pie afterwards, and the Christmas pantomines, Christmas caroling door to door.

My uncle Heb was crippled in an accident, working for the town, his horse bolted and cart ran over his back, good people of town insisted on carrying him inside and laying him on couch rather than table..pop went the spinal cord...but good part for me when he finally got out of hospital was taking him to the Majestic a couple of nights every week.  Also remember going to the Palace (?) or Majestic on Saturdays for 6p.  Rols Royce Xmas parties were always a welcome time.

Couple of other thoughts while I'm in the mood.

Always enjoyed fairs down by butts, visits to town stables,painful trips to Dr.Pickard's office, once spent 13 weeks in isolation hospital in Keithly(?) with scarlet fever.  On my last visit to town cousin Rita (Broughton) intoduced me to chap who had bought their house, turned out he had lived right behind me in the suburbs of Montreal in Canada.  Same night they took us to Chinese take out (thought Barlick had finally come of age!) but they ordered fish and chips!

My Grandmother (Annie Kendal) who originally came from Ireland was so anti Catholic that I remember on Sunday nights she would close all the drapes on front of her house, she lived on street where Catholic Church and School was/is (maybe Gisburn St.) the Priest would go door to door to pick up collection from the sinners who missed mass, she did not even want to see "that man" on her street.  I was never to let her know that my best buddy then was a John Trelfall (?) and a Catholic.