Posts
Clever thieves« Thread Started on Aug 24, 2009, 1:54pm »
Dear AllI have been passed this story today. A woman visited the toilet in John Lewis at Blue water and hung her handbag on the back of the toilet door. As she carried on about her business, a hand suddenly appeared over the top of the stall and grabbed her bag clean off the hook!!!She immediately reported the incident to the head of security, who in turn informed the manager of the store. A couple of days later she had a call from the head of security to say her bag had been found without her purse. So she arranged a convenient time to go and meet the manager to collect her things.On arriving at the John Lewis store at the agreed time, the manager was not expecting her & neither was the head of security. No one from the store had actually called her as the bag had still not been found.When the lady got home, her house had been burgled with no sign of forced entry. The Police believe the robbers had used her Driving License for the address and her keys to let themselves in!This is real - it isn't just a scaremongering story. Many will be so shocked at how complex bag snatching crime has become.Please be extra vigilant ladies AND gents (with your man bags) there are a lot of desperate criminals out there!Violent and Organized Crime UnitPlumstead Police Station200 Plumstead High StreetSE18 1JYTelephone: 020 7161 8746 (Internal 788746)E-mail: Nicholas.Gilbey@met.pnnpolice.uk Message entered b John PMellor.OBE., QSM.,Ridder van den orde orange nassau
Wednesday, 13 January 2010
Letter to Editor of Express and Star« Thread Started on Sept 24, 2009, 3:46pm »
I read with interest the letter of John Higgins, about the new report of the British Heart Foundation. Firstly, the figure should be 38% not 34% not having cardiac rehabilitation. It is important that this was a national figure, not mentioning any specific area. Here in the area served by New Cross Heart and Lung Unit,, I have no knowledge that cardiac rehabilitation has been refused to anyone. Secondly, the rehabilitation has to be recommended by the specialist and accepted by the patient. It is not obligatory. The number of persons refusing the treatment is considerable.During the four years I was Chairman of the now defunct Patients Forum, no complaints over this issue were ever received The newly formed LINK organisation has received no complaints either.I defend no organisation or person, but as a individual, who has had three heart attacks, and two courses of cardiac rehabilitation, I wish to make it clear that our local Wolverhampton Hospital has refused no one cardiac rehabilitation, if it is recommended and accepted John Mellor. WV37BG 01290338904In the express and star on Wednesday 23rd Sept/2009, Mr John Higgins of Willenhall referred to a recent report of the British Heart Foundation, in which he stated that 34% of heart patients do not get cardiac rehabilitation. The figure quoted was s38%. No area specified. Wolverhampton for once was not guilty. I felt my letter was appropriate. John P Mellor., OBE., QSM.,President NPC Wolverhampton
I read with interest the letter of John Higgins, about the new report of the British Heart Foundation. Firstly, the figure should be 38% not 34% not having cardiac rehabilitation. It is important that this was a national figure, not mentioning any specific area. Here in the area served by New Cross Heart and Lung Unit,, I have no knowledge that cardiac rehabilitation has been refused to anyone. Secondly, the rehabilitation has to be recommended by the specialist and accepted by the patient. It is not obligatory. The number of persons refusing the treatment is considerable.During the four years I was Chairman of the now defunct Patients Forum, no complaints over this issue were ever received The newly formed LINK organisation has received no complaints either.I defend no organisation or person, but as a individual, who has had three heart attacks, and two courses of cardiac rehabilitation, I wish to make it clear that our local Wolverhampton Hospital has refused no one cardiac rehabilitation, if it is recommended and accepted John Mellor. WV37BG 01290338904In the express and star on Wednesday 23rd Sept/2009, Mr John Higgins of Willenhall referred to a recent report of the British Heart Foundation, in which he stated that 34% of heart patients do not get cardiac rehabilitation. The figure quoted was s38%. No area specified. Wolverhampton for once was not guilty. I felt my letter was appropriate. John P Mellor., OBE., QSM.,President NPC Wolverhampton
The BRITISH SOLDIER« Thread Started on Nov 2, 2009, 5:28pm »
They are doing their bit.....please do yours by reading this and forwarding it to someone else: The average British soldier is 19 years old.....he is a short haired, well built lad who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears and just old enough to buy a round of drinks but old enough to die for his country - and for you. He's not particularly keen on hard work but he'd rather be grafting in Afghanistan than unemployed in the UK . He recently left comprehensive school where he was probably an average student, played some form of sport, drove a ten year old rust bucket, and knew a girl that either broke up with him when he left, or swore to be waiting when he returns home. He moves easily to rock and roll or hip-hop or to the rattle of a 7.62mm machine gun. He is about a stone lighter than when he left home because he is working or fighting from dawn to dusk and well beyond. He has trouble spelling, so letter writing is a pain for him, but he can strip a rifle in 25 seconds and reassemble it in the dark. He can recite every detail of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either effectively if he has to. He digs trenches and latrines without the aid of machines and can apply first aid like a professional paramedic. He can march until he is told to stop, or stay dead still until he is told to move. He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation but he is not without a rebellious spirit or a sense of personal dignity. He is confidently self-sufficient. He has two sets of uniform with him: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his water bottle full and his feet dry. He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never forgets to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes and fix his own hurts. If you are thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food is your food. He'll even share his life-saving ammunition with you in the heat of a firefight if you run low. He has learned to use his hands like weapons and regards his weapon as an extension of his own hands. He can save your life or he can take it, because that is his job - it's what a soldier does. He often works twice as long and hard as a civilian, draw half the pay and have nowhere to spend it, and can still find black ironic humour in it all. There's an old saying in the British Army: 'If you can't take a joke, you shouldn't have joined!' He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime. He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and he is unashamed to show it or admit it. He feels every bugle note of the 'Last Post' or 'Sunset' vibrate through his body while standing rigidly to attention. He's not afraid to 'Bollock' anyone who shows disrespect when the Regimental Colours are on display or the National Anthem is played; yet in an odd twist, he would defend anyone's right to be an individual. Just as with generations of young people before him, he is paying the price for our freedom. Clean shaven and baby faced he may be, but be prepared to defend yourself if you treat him like a kid. He is the latest in a long thin line of British Fighting Men that have kept this country free for hundreds of years. He asks for nothing from us except our respect, friendship and understanding. We may not like what he does, but sometimes he doesn't like it either - he just has it to do.. Remember him always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood. And now we even have brave young women putting themselves in harm's way, doing their part in this tradition of going to war when our nation's politicians call on us to do so. When you receive this, please stop for a moment and if you are so inclined, feel free to say a prayer for our troops in the trouble spots of the world. John P Mellor OBE., QSM.,
They are doing their bit.....please do yours by reading this and forwarding it to someone else: The average British soldier is 19 years old.....he is a short haired, well built lad who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears and just old enough to buy a round of drinks but old enough to die for his country - and for you. He's not particularly keen on hard work but he'd rather be grafting in Afghanistan than unemployed in the UK . He recently left comprehensive school where he was probably an average student, played some form of sport, drove a ten year old rust bucket, and knew a girl that either broke up with him when he left, or swore to be waiting when he returns home. He moves easily to rock and roll or hip-hop or to the rattle of a 7.62mm machine gun. He is about a stone lighter than when he left home because he is working or fighting from dawn to dusk and well beyond. He has trouble spelling, so letter writing is a pain for him, but he can strip a rifle in 25 seconds and reassemble it in the dark. He can recite every detail of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either effectively if he has to. He digs trenches and latrines without the aid of machines and can apply first aid like a professional paramedic. He can march until he is told to stop, or stay dead still until he is told to move. He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation but he is not without a rebellious spirit or a sense of personal dignity. He is confidently self-sufficient. He has two sets of uniform with him: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his water bottle full and his feet dry. He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never forgets to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes and fix his own hurts. If you are thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food is your food. He'll even share his life-saving ammunition with you in the heat of a firefight if you run low. He has learned to use his hands like weapons and regards his weapon as an extension of his own hands. He can save your life or he can take it, because that is his job - it's what a soldier does. He often works twice as long and hard as a civilian, draw half the pay and have nowhere to spend it, and can still find black ironic humour in it all. There's an old saying in the British Army: 'If you can't take a joke, you shouldn't have joined!' He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime. He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and he is unashamed to show it or admit it. He feels every bugle note of the 'Last Post' or 'Sunset' vibrate through his body while standing rigidly to attention. He's not afraid to 'Bollock' anyone who shows disrespect when the Regimental Colours are on display or the National Anthem is played; yet in an odd twist, he would defend anyone's right to be an individual. Just as with generations of young people before him, he is paying the price for our freedom. Clean shaven and baby faced he may be, but be prepared to defend yourself if you treat him like a kid. He is the latest in a long thin line of British Fighting Men that have kept this country free for hundreds of years. He asks for nothing from us except our respect, friendship and understanding. We may not like what he does, but sometimes he doesn't like it either - he just has it to do.. Remember him always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood. And now we even have brave young women putting themselves in harm's way, doing their part in this tradition of going to war when our nation's politicians call on us to do so. When you receive this, please stop for a moment and if you are so inclined, feel free to say a prayer for our troops in the trouble spots of the world. John P Mellor OBE., QSM.,
Severn Trent Trust Help for persons in their area« Thread Started on Jun 26, 2009, 10:29am »
The Severn Trent Trust was set up in 1997 and since then has made grants of £27 millions to over 55000 households. People who are unable to meet the cost of their water charges and who live in the Severn Trent area can apply for helpThe trust is keen to find more beneficiaries. For further information or to make an application please contact the Trust DIRECT. Telephone 0121 3557766. email office@sttf.org.uk or www.sttf.org.uk.J Mellor. President National Pensioners Convention, City of Wolverhampton. WV37BG 01902338904
The Severn Trent Trust was set up in 1997 and since then has made grants of £27 millions to over 55000 households. People who are unable to meet the cost of their water charges and who live in the Severn Trent area can apply for helpThe trust is keen to find more beneficiaries. For further information or to make an application please contact the Trust DIRECT. Telephone 0121 3557766. email office@sttf.org.uk or www.sttf.org.uk.J Mellor. President National Pensioners Convention, City of Wolverhampton. WV37BG 01902338904
The Lion Man of Cradley Heath
The Lion man From Cradley Heath
The Lion man of Cradley Heath. Much has been written about Lewis Frank Foley, general known as Lew. A man of great physical strength, but with a massive work capacity, he was s successful business man, with a penchant for publicity. He was a likeable rogue. He would never ever use his great strength to hurt anyone, and his generosity was well known. Like most men of his type he has a few conviction, but never for violence.He lived at Fairview, Corn greaves road, Cradley Heath. With his family. In about July of 1975, I saw him in his vehicle, in High Street, outside the MEB. I passed his vehicle, and saw a young lion sitting on the back seat. There were no rule about Dangerous Animals then. Foley was the prime target of the legislation which followed.. I pointed out to Foley that the lion would grow, and he would have to cage it. He said, I am already erecting a cage for this one, and some others.” I also pointed out to him the dangers a lion could cause in a car. He promised to take the lion home. He did. I arranged a watching brief on the lion, which had now got a mate. Foley a construction engineer, has built massive cages at the rear of his home, and now employed a lion tamer, Leslie William Maiden. He did not have a clue about wild animals. Foley continued to show the animals, but we had no complaints. At 12.50pm Tuesday November 1975, it was reported that Foley had the lion in his vehicle, in Corn greaves Road.. Together with others I saw the lion. It was attached to the towing bar, by a steel hawser, and an a chain around its neck. One of the side windows was slightly open, and the lion put its paw outside and was affected by the passing traffic. The lion would be able to touch any person passing. Foley came to the vehicle and tried to start it. It would not start. I suggested he put the lion back into its cage. This was done. Foley indicated that he was going to take the lion to Birmingham to see the sights. I was aware he had alerted the press.At 2/40pm the same day, I returned to Corn greaves Road, and followed Foley and his lion trainer, through to Upper High Street. Where I stopped him. The lion was in the back seat. I asked him where he was going, he replied, “To Birmingham to see the sights”. I told Foley he was under arrest, so was the trainer .” I asked a police officer, who accompanied me, to return the vehicle, to the home of Foley. The lion was placed back in its cage. Foley and his trainer, were taken to Old Hill Police Station, where they were charged, with breach of the peace at Common Law. His trainer Maiden was jointly charged.. Foley and Maiden were bailed. They appeared before Smethwick Magistrates on 2nd December. 1975. They pleaded “Not Guilty”. They were found guilty, and bound over toe keep the peace in the sum of £500. There were severe court costs.Foley never took the lion’s out again. He was content to “show” them for a few pence. He appeared on television many times. The Lion Man of Cradley Heath has passed into history. A character, for which the Black Country was once famous John Mellor
The Dangerous Wild Animals act was passed in 1976. 7 months after the conviction of Foley and his trainers. In the House of Commons, details of this case, were given as an example of animals being kept under dangerous conditions. I was warned that my presence might be required it was not.
The Lion man of Cradley Heath. Much has been written about Lewis Frank Foley, general known as Lew. A man of great physical strength, but with a massive work capacity, he was s successful business man, with a penchant for publicity. He was a likeable rogue. He would never ever use his great strength to hurt anyone, and his generosity was well known. Like most men of his type he has a few conviction, but never for violence.He lived at Fairview, Corn greaves road, Cradley Heath. With his family. In about July of 1975, I saw him in his vehicle, in High Street, outside the MEB. I passed his vehicle, and saw a young lion sitting on the back seat. There were no rule about Dangerous Animals then. Foley was the prime target of the legislation which followed.. I pointed out to Foley that the lion would grow, and he would have to cage it. He said, I am already erecting a cage for this one, and some others.” I also pointed out to him the dangers a lion could cause in a car. He promised to take the lion home. He did. I arranged a watching brief on the lion, which had now got a mate. Foley a construction engineer, has built massive cages at the rear of his home, and now employed a lion tamer, Leslie William Maiden. He did not have a clue about wild animals. Foley continued to show the animals, but we had no complaints. At 12.50pm Tuesday November 1975, it was reported that Foley had the lion in his vehicle, in Corn greaves Road.. Together with others I saw the lion. It was attached to the towing bar, by a steel hawser, and an a chain around its neck. One of the side windows was slightly open, and the lion put its paw outside and was affected by the passing traffic. The lion would be able to touch any person passing. Foley came to the vehicle and tried to start it. It would not start. I suggested he put the lion back into its cage. This was done. Foley indicated that he was going to take the lion to Birmingham to see the sights. I was aware he had alerted the press.At 2/40pm the same day, I returned to Corn greaves Road, and followed Foley and his lion trainer, through to Upper High Street. Where I stopped him. The lion was in the back seat. I asked him where he was going, he replied, “To Birmingham to see the sights”. I told Foley he was under arrest, so was the trainer .” I asked a police officer, who accompanied me, to return the vehicle, to the home of Foley. The lion was placed back in its cage. Foley and his trainer, were taken to Old Hill Police Station, where they were charged, with breach of the peace at Common Law. His trainer Maiden was jointly charged.. Foley and Maiden were bailed. They appeared before Smethwick Magistrates on 2nd December. 1975. They pleaded “Not Guilty”. They were found guilty, and bound over toe keep the peace in the sum of £500. There were severe court costs.Foley never took the lion’s out again. He was content to “show” them for a few pence. He appeared on television many times. The Lion Man of Cradley Heath has passed into history. A character, for which the Black Country was once famous John Mellor
The Dangerous Wild Animals act was passed in 1976. 7 months after the conviction of Foley and his trainers. In the House of Commons, details of this case, were given as an example of animals being kept under dangerous conditions. I was warned that my presence might be required it was not.
The Tettenhal Wood Guardsman
The Tettenhall Wood Guardsman« Thread Started Yesterday at 5:46pm »
Albert, had been brought up "rough", his father, was a cruel man, his mother Gwendoline, a kind woman, had not had a good life, Albert had a sister, she had left for other areas, when I first became involved with Tettenhall Wood, as a Police officer.. Albert had spent 8 weeks in the Grenadier Guards, before being "discharged". His problem alcohol, and when not available Meths, the forerunner, of our drugs problem. Albert, had appeared before the magistrates that many times, that he and I had lost count. I go him two jobs he lost them both. With the death of his father. I thought things would improve, they did, for a short while.His mother, relieved of the drain of her husband, tried to bring Albert back. to normality It was not to be/I arrested him 7 more times, found him drunk on the Holloway at Compton, in a thunder storm. The rain, ran down the gutter, through Albert, and continued on its way. With the help of a bus conductor, and changing the route of the bus, I got Albert to Tettenhall Police Station. Then followed the usual routine, to Tettenhall Magistrates. Without prompting, Albert answered his name, stood to attention in the large ammunition boots , he always wore, and said, Guardsman Albert Edward N.... Sir. Invariably the sentence was the same. I months imprisonment. Then for 4 months, no sign of Albert at P Cottage, Mill Lane. No one had seen him, Mrs N.... was seen working and in good health. It was too good to be true. He has been in Birmingham with a friend. He returned. Three days later, I was riding my cycle in School Road, Tettenhall Wood, when I saw his opposite neighbour. "Officer, Mrs N... not seen for 2 days. No fires in he grate" I went to the Police Pillar in School Road, and reported the facts. Sergeant Wassell, said he would join me at P........ Cottage. I went there, and checked the doors, all locked, looked through the window, could see nothing. The Sergeant arrived. A decision was made to knock down the door. It proved to strong. A ladder was brought over from a neighbour. I climbed the ladder, and got into a bedroom, through the window. I went to the top of the stairs, they had no steps, they had been broken up for firewood. I lowered myself gingerly as far as I could and dropped. I could then see Mrs. N.... apparently dead on the floor, blood everywhere, and a blood stained bottle by her head. I opened the front door, and let the Sergeant in. The Sergeant, went to inform the Superintendent at Willenhall. He said, "See if you can find Alb ert." I had a good idea where he would be. In the disused huts in Dippons Lane, recently vacated. I searched them all, finding him, eating a cold bacon sandwich, with his large coat draped around him. He was 6ft 2 inches tall, and over 18 stones, a formidable adversary. I went to him and Said, "Albert Edward N.... I am arresting you for the murder of your mother, Gwendoline." I cautioned him, He said, "She was nagging me, so I hit her". I asked him to put out his hands. He did. I handcuffed him. I walked him back to the junction of Longlake Avenue and Dippons Lane. At that moment. I saw a large car, a Rolls Bentley approach. I knew it was the property of Miss, Daisy St Clair Mander, J. P., The Mount. I stopped the vehicle, and asked Miss. Mander if she would assist me to remove Neale. She immediately AGREED. She took me straight to Tettenhall Police Station. Only PC Keating was on durty. The Sergeant had returned to the scene, with the pathologist. I got Pc Keating to enter Albert in the Charge Book, charged him with wilful murder of his mother. Cautioned him Placed him in the cells.The Superintendent then arrived. Tore a strip off me, for charging Albert. It was the Superintendents job. He did not alter the entry however. Post Mortems witnessed. Initial court appearances, and commital to the Assize at Stafford. Then misfortune or otherwise. Professor Webster, Home Office Pathologist, stated that Mrs. N... had died of a heart attack, seconds before the blow to the head. Albert then pleaded guilty to unlawful wounding. Got 12 months imprisonment, later certified under the Mental Heal thAct.. I only saw Albert once more. Several years later, I was travelling through Stafford with my wife and child, walking from the Midland Red Depot, to Pitcher Bank, when I saw Albert complete with yellow trustee band, and 8 other men. I stopped, Albert was apparently pleased to see me. He said, "I am in charge of these loonies(his words)and I take them to the pub around the corner. They clean up the yard, while I have a drink.I feel Albert had found his niche in life. Strangeley the cottage was demolished several months later.The site is still there. Unused. I often wondered, how the property had been dealt with in that fashion
Albert, had been brought up "rough", his father, was a cruel man, his mother Gwendoline, a kind woman, had not had a good life, Albert had a sister, she had left for other areas, when I first became involved with Tettenhall Wood, as a Police officer.. Albert had spent 8 weeks in the Grenadier Guards, before being "discharged". His problem alcohol, and when not available Meths, the forerunner, of our drugs problem. Albert, had appeared before the magistrates that many times, that he and I had lost count. I go him two jobs he lost them both. With the death of his father. I thought things would improve, they did, for a short while.His mother, relieved of the drain of her husband, tried to bring Albert back. to normality It was not to be/I arrested him 7 more times, found him drunk on the Holloway at Compton, in a thunder storm. The rain, ran down the gutter, through Albert, and continued on its way. With the help of a bus conductor, and changing the route of the bus, I got Albert to Tettenhall Police Station. Then followed the usual routine, to Tettenhall Magistrates. Without prompting, Albert answered his name, stood to attention in the large ammunition boots , he always wore, and said, Guardsman Albert Edward N.... Sir. Invariably the sentence was the same. I months imprisonment. Then for 4 months, no sign of Albert at P Cottage, Mill Lane. No one had seen him, Mrs N.... was seen working and in good health. It was too good to be true. He has been in Birmingham with a friend. He returned. Three days later, I was riding my cycle in School Road, Tettenhall Wood, when I saw his opposite neighbour. "Officer, Mrs N... not seen for 2 days. No fires in he grate" I went to the Police Pillar in School Road, and reported the facts. Sergeant Wassell, said he would join me at P........ Cottage. I went there, and checked the doors, all locked, looked through the window, could see nothing. The Sergeant arrived. A decision was made to knock down the door. It proved to strong. A ladder was brought over from a neighbour. I climbed the ladder, and got into a bedroom, through the window. I went to the top of the stairs, they had no steps, they had been broken up for firewood. I lowered myself gingerly as far as I could and dropped. I could then see Mrs. N.... apparently dead on the floor, blood everywhere, and a blood stained bottle by her head. I opened the front door, and let the Sergeant in. The Sergeant, went to inform the Superintendent at Willenhall. He said, "See if you can find Alb ert." I had a good idea where he would be. In the disused huts in Dippons Lane, recently vacated. I searched them all, finding him, eating a cold bacon sandwich, with his large coat draped around him. He was 6ft 2 inches tall, and over 18 stones, a formidable adversary. I went to him and Said, "Albert Edward N.... I am arresting you for the murder of your mother, Gwendoline." I cautioned him, He said, "She was nagging me, so I hit her". I asked him to put out his hands. He did. I handcuffed him. I walked him back to the junction of Longlake Avenue and Dippons Lane. At that moment. I saw a large car, a Rolls Bentley approach. I knew it was the property of Miss, Daisy St Clair Mander, J. P., The Mount. I stopped the vehicle, and asked Miss. Mander if she would assist me to remove Neale. She immediately AGREED. She took me straight to Tettenhall Police Station. Only PC Keating was on durty. The Sergeant had returned to the scene, with the pathologist. I got Pc Keating to enter Albert in the Charge Book, charged him with wilful murder of his mother. Cautioned him Placed him in the cells.The Superintendent then arrived. Tore a strip off me, for charging Albert. It was the Superintendents job. He did not alter the entry however. Post Mortems witnessed. Initial court appearances, and commital to the Assize at Stafford. Then misfortune or otherwise. Professor Webster, Home Office Pathologist, stated that Mrs. N... had died of a heart attack, seconds before the blow to the head. Albert then pleaded guilty to unlawful wounding. Got 12 months imprisonment, later certified under the Mental Heal thAct.. I only saw Albert once more. Several years later, I was travelling through Stafford with my wife and child, walking from the Midland Red Depot, to Pitcher Bank, when I saw Albert complete with yellow trustee band, and 8 other men. I stopped, Albert was apparently pleased to see me. He said, "I am in charge of these loonies(his words)and I take them to the pub around the corner. They clean up the yard, while I have a drink.I feel Albert had found his niche in life. Strangeley the cottage was demolished several months later.The site is still there. Unused. I often wondered, how the property had been dealt with in that fashion
An Inspector at Bilston
An Inspector at Bilston« Thread Started on Aug 30, 2009, 11:03am »
Bilston in 1965, was a borough, with a proud history and an individual outlook, soon to be merged with BIG Brother Wolverhampton, in 1966. Full of characters. of all sorts, but distinctly different from other places. Memories, "Cissie" the flower seller, corner of High Street, and market entrance. She knew everyone and everything, without her a policeman would be severely handicapped/ One of my predecessors had. moved her on.Not realising that she was maintaining aged relatives and he own family. When she saw me, she said"Yo are the man with the stick(I always carried a cane)are ya going to move me" I replied, diplomatically "Not till I get a complaint". She then said, "where yo at Lower Penn a few years ago, I was astounded. "Yes . I replied. Cissie said "your missus always gave me, milk for the babby and water for my horse. I then realised she used to hawk. the Penn area of wolverhampton., with a horse and cart. Thus started a happy three years mutual confidence. Cissie only told you about acts of violence. Other crimes did not count. Stealing was a way of life. She was very helpful to me personally............................................................... The Market Tavern, opposite her pitch and where her husband had a drink was notorious for fist fights(bottles forbidden) I went in on Saturday afternoon, rather foolishly. alone, the fighting was nasty 20 or more, the first blow from a notorious villain, knocked me on the floor, I could see I would be seriously injured. The noise suddenly subsided, a loud voice, said, "leave him alone, he has helped us, there are 8 of us we will brain anybody who touches him" Cissie at majestic height, she was nearly 6ft. on a table, with a stool in her hand. The fighting stopped. Cissie said, You will have no trouble here, whilst you are in Bilston. I did not. She did my street credibility the world of good John P Mellor OBE., QSM.,
Bilston in 1965, was a borough, with a proud history and an individual outlook, soon to be merged with BIG Brother Wolverhampton, in 1966. Full of characters. of all sorts, but distinctly different from other places. Memories, "Cissie" the flower seller, corner of High Street, and market entrance. She knew everyone and everything, without her a policeman would be severely handicapped/ One of my predecessors had. moved her on.Not realising that she was maintaining aged relatives and he own family. When she saw me, she said"Yo are the man with the stick(I always carried a cane)are ya going to move me" I replied, diplomatically "Not till I get a complaint". She then said, "where yo at Lower Penn a few years ago, I was astounded. "Yes . I replied. Cissie said "your missus always gave me, milk for the babby and water for my horse. I then realised she used to hawk. the Penn area of wolverhampton., with a horse and cart. Thus started a happy three years mutual confidence. Cissie only told you about acts of violence. Other crimes did not count. Stealing was a way of life. She was very helpful to me personally............................................................... The Market Tavern, opposite her pitch and where her husband had a drink was notorious for fist fights(bottles forbidden) I went in on Saturday afternoon, rather foolishly. alone, the fighting was nasty 20 or more, the first blow from a notorious villain, knocked me on the floor, I could see I would be seriously injured. The noise suddenly subsided, a loud voice, said, "leave him alone, he has helped us, there are 8 of us we will brain anybody who touches him" Cissie at majestic height, she was nearly 6ft. on a table, with a stool in her hand. The fighting stopped. Cissie said, You will have no trouble here, whilst you are in Bilston. I did not. She did my street credibility the world of good John P Mellor OBE., QSM.,
PC 290 Staffordshire County PoliceTettenhall Sectional Station, 1950-1955The RAF Perton had a short active life then became, with Wrottesley, the headquarters of the Princes Irene Brigade, a crack Netherlands army unit. The brigade left in May 1947 and was followed at Perton by the Polish Resettlement Corps and European displaced persons. The runways were still in use and many people from Wolverhampton learnt to drive there.The cold war was at its height and the fears of the many nationalities living on or near Perton were of the Russians. They felt they had suffered enough under the Nazi yoke. Scares were frequent and, in 1951, the government ordered all eastern European aliens on the register - no missing asylum seekers in those days - to report at the nearest police station which, in the case of Perton, was Tettenhall. Anyone with poor documentation was referred to Willenhall Police Station for expert interrogation.During this time, two White Russian aliens reported that a twin engined plane had landed at Perton. No one believed the story; it was considered far fetched. The story was widely circulated amongst the eastern European community here. During September 1951 I was on duty, on cycle patrol, along Perton Lane, and entered the main entrance by the Stone Cottages. It was about 11.30 p.m. a clear night. To my utter amazement I saw a twin engined plane come from the direction of Compton and land. I clearly saw a man with a suitcase get into the plane, which was taxing slowly. I rode towards the plane and made a note of the number. The plane took off.I went to the police pillar in Wergs Road, at the junction with Keepers Lane, and reported what I had seen. On my arrival at Tettenhall Station at 1.45 a.m. to complete duty (6 p.m. – 2 a.m.) I was required by the Sergeant, who had been awakened by the Divisional Superintendent, to enter full details in the Occurrence Book. This I did and went home to Tettenhall Wood.At 9 a.m. I was asleep when my wife awakened me and told me I was to report to Tettenhall Police Station immediately. I did so. I was interviewed by the Detective Chief Superintendent CID and Special Branch officers. The registration number I had taken was a Russian civilian marking and, of course, confirmed the original reports by the White Russians.The sequel? There wasn't one. No press release was authorised and dire warnings were given to all Tettenhall Police Station staff about the provisions of the Official Secrets Act. Despite weary months of observations nothing further was seen. The matter was placed in the hands of the Special Branch in London. An interesting slice of a Dixon of Dock Green type police constable in the 1950"s. John P Mellor
The Log Gang, Uttoxeter
The Log Gang
Children love “gangs”, in modern times, they are sometimes a menace.
In the early war years, the boys at the top end of Park Avenue,Uttoxeter, were very much a close knit group. We all swam in the River Tean, March till October. We never got pneumonia. Our spots, were “The Basin” in a field, owned by my family. The Pipe, the last place, owned by my grandfather. The next place was “The Log”, owned by Amos Campbell. All the owners knew we were there.
We had strict rules, no litter, no fires, no bottles, and we cleaned up after each visit. We had decided to call ourselves the Log gang. Rules, simple, obey the farmers unwritten rules, never disturb animals, and sometimes have a crafty smoke, “Dart” cigarettes, 2pence a packet.
Our leader, Was Percy Archer, “Yapsi”a giant, his deputy was Sidney Williams, “Bache”, Percy(Guards) and Sid(Scottish Infantry), fought in the Second World War, Sid went onto Korea, and the battle of the River Imjen
We had Cyril Williams and Geogie(cudgel), with me, John Foster and Victor Statham (60 years in USA )as foot soldiers.
We called ourselves The Log Gang, because, it was a favourite swimming place.
We imagined, we were feared and dreaded, I don’t think anyone knew we existed.
Our most interesting time, was when Todd Williams, 15 years old, joined us, he worked, and I think tolerated us. He was giant in size, and in mind, a natural philosopher. I never met anyone, who knew him to be critical of him.
John Mellor. Now living in Wolverhampton
Children love “gangs”, in modern times, they are sometimes a menace.
In the early war years, the boys at the top end of Park Avenue,Uttoxeter, were very much a close knit group. We all swam in the River Tean, March till October. We never got pneumonia. Our spots, were “The Basin” in a field, owned by my family. The Pipe, the last place, owned by my grandfather. The next place was “The Log”, owned by Amos Campbell. All the owners knew we were there.
We had strict rules, no litter, no fires, no bottles, and we cleaned up after each visit. We had decided to call ourselves the Log gang. Rules, simple, obey the farmers unwritten rules, never disturb animals, and sometimes have a crafty smoke, “Dart” cigarettes, 2pence a packet.
Our leader, Was Percy Archer, “Yapsi”a giant, his deputy was Sidney Williams, “Bache”, Percy(Guards) and Sid(Scottish Infantry), fought in the Second World War, Sid went onto Korea, and the battle of the River Imjen
We had Cyril Williams and Geogie(cudgel), with me, John Foster and Victor Statham (60 years in USA )as foot soldiers.
We called ourselves The Log Gang, because, it was a favourite swimming place.
We imagined, we were feared and dreaded, I don’t think anyone knew we existed.
Our most interesting time, was when Todd Williams, 15 years old, joined us, he worked, and I think tolerated us. He was giant in size, and in mind, a natural philosopher. I never met anyone, who knew him to be critical of him.
John Mellor. Now living in Wolverhampton
Unsolved Wartime Murder.
Unsolved wartime murder
Ruth Schemler, an Austrian Jewish refugee, fleeing NAZI persecution, was found raped and murdered in a disused quarry at Counslow Pot, Freehay, Cheadle, Staffordshire in 1943
Wartime investigation was sparse. Lorry tracks in quarry showed that a WD Bedford lorry had been near to the body. This would seem to indicate service personnel. The whole investigation closed down in a few weeks. There are no records at Stafford Police HQ. A promise to contact central records in London not kept.
Despite the time element. someone knows something ... Where are you ?
A local connection, my late mother, Olive Ann Mellor, late of 57 Park Avenue, Uttoxeter, had five sisters. The eldest Ivy, married William Brandrick of Beamhurst, first living at Old Wood Farm, Hollington Lane, Stramshall, before moving to Broom Farm, Freehay. My mother, was close to her sister, and visited her regularly, she travelled to Counslow Pot, by bus via, Rocester, Alton, where she walked through the quarry, climbing a hill, to arrive by the front gate of her sisters field.
On this particular day, she entered the quarry, to find police officers all over the place. She was questioned as to where she was going, and permitted to carry on, these officers, were investigating this unsolved mystery.
My mother, until death, wondered why the murderer was never caught. A victim of the war in more ways than one.
John Mellor
Ruth Schemler, an Austrian Jewish refugee, fleeing NAZI persecution, was found raped and murdered in a disused quarry at Counslow Pot, Freehay, Cheadle, Staffordshire in 1943
Wartime investigation was sparse. Lorry tracks in quarry showed that a WD Bedford lorry had been near to the body. This would seem to indicate service personnel. The whole investigation closed down in a few weeks. There are no records at Stafford Police HQ. A promise to contact central records in London not kept.
Despite the time element. someone knows something ... Where are you ?
A local connection, my late mother, Olive Ann Mellor, late of 57 Park Avenue, Uttoxeter, had five sisters. The eldest Ivy, married William Brandrick of Beamhurst, first living at Old Wood Farm, Hollington Lane, Stramshall, before moving to Broom Farm, Freehay. My mother, was close to her sister, and visited her regularly, she travelled to Counslow Pot, by bus via, Rocester, Alton, where she walked through the quarry, climbing a hill, to arrive by the front gate of her sisters field.
On this particular day, she entered the quarry, to find police officers all over the place. She was questioned as to where she was going, and permitted to carry on, these officers, were investigating this unsolved mystery.
My mother, until death, wondered why the murderer was never caught. A victim of the war in more ways than one.
John Mellor
The Bull Ring, Park Avenue, Uttoxeter
The Bull Ring
Off Park Avenue, in Uttoxeter is a small cul de sac, which rejoices in the name of the BULL RING.
Long favoured years ago, by local children to play in. Helped in 1939 by the erection of a brick built air raid shelter. A playground, and a nuisance I am sure to elderly residents. It remained for ten years, before finally biting the dust.
I mention it, because in a book I have recently read, this is described as the old dockyard, of the Uttoxeter Canal. Not so, the dockyard in the early thirties was clearly visible between the homes of the Tansley and Lavin families, access by a lane, and two cottages, were I am sure, the Swinson family ( the only two I remember older than me, were Rita and Kitchener (Kitch) lived before moving into new properties. They were known as the Dockyard Cottages.
There was clear indication of two large bays, capable of taking barges. These were partially filled in with waste material. A piece of history which had survived then for over a hundred years, and destroyed in the name of progress .
I have not looked down that lane for over fifty years. I have no idea what developments if any, have taken place.
John Mellor
Off Park Avenue, in Uttoxeter is a small cul de sac, which rejoices in the name of the BULL RING.
Long favoured years ago, by local children to play in. Helped in 1939 by the erection of a brick built air raid shelter. A playground, and a nuisance I am sure to elderly residents. It remained for ten years, before finally biting the dust.
I mention it, because in a book I have recently read, this is described as the old dockyard, of the Uttoxeter Canal. Not so, the dockyard in the early thirties was clearly visible between the homes of the Tansley and Lavin families, access by a lane, and two cottages, were I am sure, the Swinson family ( the only two I remember older than me, were Rita and Kitchener (Kitch) lived before moving into new properties. They were known as the Dockyard Cottages.
There was clear indication of two large bays, capable of taking barges. These were partially filled in with waste material. A piece of history which had survived then for over a hundred years, and destroyed in the name of progress .
I have not looked down that lane for over fifty years. I have no idea what developments if any, have taken place.
John Mellor
Three relatives as publicans in the 1930"s
Three relations keeping Public Houses
In the mid-thirties, our family consisted of my father, John, my mother Olive, - times were tough.
No money for wasteful activities. We had one advantage, my fathers, eldest sister, Mary, had married, James Worth, a large arable farmer, in Cheshire. Uncle Jim had always wanted to be a publican, although he did not drink. He bought the Red Cow at Willslock, Nr Kingstone, and soon had a thriving business.
My father visited his sister, every Sunday night, usually with his brother Harry, always called “Dan”. Both my father and uncle, had farming experience and helped Uncle Jim with his small holding attached to the pub. We had a large tea, the men had 2 pints of beer each. Thus was a routine until 1938, when my Uncle and Aunt, sold the public house to the brewery.
With the arrival of war, and troops, including many Americans, the successive publicans made a fortune. Aunty Mary expressed her regret until she died.
I enjoyed going there on a Sunday, as my school friend Barbara Rowe, from Westland’s Road, attended with her parents, and we all walked back together, we children on our adults, backs. My Uncle and Aunt, lived at The Firs, New Road, Uttoxeter until death.
My mother, was a Redfern, originally from Cubley. Her father, John lived at Woodruffe Cottage, Marching ton Woodlands. She has two uncles, residing in Uttoxeter. Uncle Wilfred, he was the licensee of the Plough Inn, we usually visited there on Saturdays, once a month. Uncle Wilfred had large family, so we had many get-togethers.
My mother, had a Uncle Edmund, he lived at The Cock Inn, Beamhirst. His wife Aunty Florrie was a wonderful relation. Kind, but strict. She permitted no one under 18 in any room, except the sitting room. I first visited to play with her children, and her Manchester domiciled relations. Uncle Edmund had old tram at the back of his premises, it was there for 30 years. A child's delight. I played in there until I could “drive” no more.
My father, spent a lot of time at his family home Park Hill Farm, and in two instances when my mother was ill, we stayed there for several weeks. In the winter, the weather curtailed visits to the Red Cow or The Plough. It was then to the Cock, that we went.
When I was about 17 years, we were all around the piano, listening to Aunty Elsie and Aunty Mary playing, when the men, at 8pm prompt, put on their coats. I knew were they were going. My father indicated that I should put my coat on. I had arrived, I was a man. I was permitted to have two mild shandies. I felt 7foot tall. I still had to sit in the sitting room, till I was 18. How quaint !
John Mellor
_______________________________________________
In the mid-thirties, our family consisted of my father, John, my mother Olive, - times were tough.
No money for wasteful activities. We had one advantage, my fathers, eldest sister, Mary, had married, James Worth, a large arable farmer, in Cheshire. Uncle Jim had always wanted to be a publican, although he did not drink. He bought the Red Cow at Willslock, Nr Kingstone, and soon had a thriving business.
My father visited his sister, every Sunday night, usually with his brother Harry, always called “Dan”. Both my father and uncle, had farming experience and helped Uncle Jim with his small holding attached to the pub. We had a large tea, the men had 2 pints of beer each. Thus was a routine until 1938, when my Uncle and Aunt, sold the public house to the brewery.
With the arrival of war, and troops, including many Americans, the successive publicans made a fortune. Aunty Mary expressed her regret until she died.
I enjoyed going there on a Sunday, as my school friend Barbara Rowe, from Westland’s Road, attended with her parents, and we all walked back together, we children on our adults, backs. My Uncle and Aunt, lived at The Firs, New Road, Uttoxeter until death.
My mother, was a Redfern, originally from Cubley. Her father, John lived at Woodruffe Cottage, Marching ton Woodlands. She has two uncles, residing in Uttoxeter. Uncle Wilfred, he was the licensee of the Plough Inn, we usually visited there on Saturdays, once a month. Uncle Wilfred had large family, so we had many get-togethers.
My mother, had a Uncle Edmund, he lived at The Cock Inn, Beamhirst. His wife Aunty Florrie was a wonderful relation. Kind, but strict. She permitted no one under 18 in any room, except the sitting room. I first visited to play with her children, and her Manchester domiciled relations. Uncle Edmund had old tram at the back of his premises, it was there for 30 years. A child's delight. I played in there until I could “drive” no more.
My father, spent a lot of time at his family home Park Hill Farm, and in two instances when my mother was ill, we stayed there for several weeks. In the winter, the weather curtailed visits to the Red Cow or The Plough. It was then to the Cock, that we went.
When I was about 17 years, we were all around the piano, listening to Aunty Elsie and Aunty Mary playing, when the men, at 8pm prompt, put on their coats. I knew were they were going. My father indicated that I should put my coat on. I had arrived, I was a man. I was permitted to have two mild shandies. I felt 7foot tall. I still had to sit in the sitting room, till I was 18. How quaint !
John Mellor
_______________________________________________
When the searchlights came.
When the searchlights came
Uttoxeter, hardly knew that the war was on, although our young men and women, kept leaving, and rationing was severe. One change to us all on the Park side of the town, was the opening of the bypass in 1939. The war stopped operations, and of the dual carriageway (a source of wonder to me) only one lane was open, the nearside side, facing Stoke, the remaining lane, remained in its raw construction state, frequently filled with water ( not completed for 2 years after the war ).
We local children noticed the arrival of large army lorries, on a field abutting the unused lane of the bypass about 1940. Nissan huts went up, concrete roads laid, and to our amazement an assault course, with death slide over the River Tean was constructed. Various rumours circulated. It was to be a anti aircraft battery, then a barrage balloon site, then a prisoner of war camp, but we finally had the answer, four massive searchlights and battery vehicles. Sentries were posted, the usual notices under the defence regulations, "That loiters will be shot, if not answering the guard"
To everyone's amazement, there were no fences erected, only the bypass railings as a defence perimeter, five barred with posts. Although an Official Secret we all knew when the lights were to be tested. Hundreds of townspeople stood by and on the the railings. We watched with awe as the lights stabbed into the sky. Some old soldiers, asked "where were the guns" No official answers, but the soldiers talked of Coven, near Wolverhampton. Even I failed to understand the value of the lights picking up a plane, with nothing to shoot at it. Greater minds then mine, had chosen the site.
The lights remained in position for about 3 years, then suddenly, all disappeared. The exact spot was on field belonging to the Povey Family. I remember, an elderly lady called May Povey. There was an old mill on the farm, which abutted the River Tean. As air raid warnings waned, we lost interest in watching the lights, and few noticed, when they left. A short period, from the Second World War, now remembered by few.
John Mellor
Uttoxeter, hardly knew that the war was on, although our young men and women, kept leaving, and rationing was severe. One change to us all on the Park side of the town, was the opening of the bypass in 1939. The war stopped operations, and of the dual carriageway (a source of wonder to me) only one lane was open, the nearside side, facing Stoke, the remaining lane, remained in its raw construction state, frequently filled with water ( not completed for 2 years after the war ).
We local children noticed the arrival of large army lorries, on a field abutting the unused lane of the bypass about 1940. Nissan huts went up, concrete roads laid, and to our amazement an assault course, with death slide over the River Tean was constructed. Various rumours circulated. It was to be a anti aircraft battery, then a barrage balloon site, then a prisoner of war camp, but we finally had the answer, four massive searchlights and battery vehicles. Sentries were posted, the usual notices under the defence regulations, "That loiters will be shot, if not answering the guard"
To everyone's amazement, there were no fences erected, only the bypass railings as a defence perimeter, five barred with posts. Although an Official Secret we all knew when the lights were to be tested. Hundreds of townspeople stood by and on the the railings. We watched with awe as the lights stabbed into the sky. Some old soldiers, asked "where were the guns" No official answers, but the soldiers talked of Coven, near Wolverhampton. Even I failed to understand the value of the lights picking up a plane, with nothing to shoot at it. Greater minds then mine, had chosen the site.
The lights remained in position for about 3 years, then suddenly, all disappeared. The exact spot was on field belonging to the Povey Family. I remember, an elderly lady called May Povey. There was an old mill on the farm, which abutted the River Tean. As air raid warnings waned, we lost interest in watching the lights, and few noticed, when they left. A short period, from the Second World War, now remembered by few.
John Mellor
Bombs on Uttoxeter in second world war.
Uttoxeter did not suffer that much during the war. The first stick of bombs fell in a field at Loxley, and a further stick followed later. The only 'blitz' was on the Bailey and Mellor families, in New Road ( parish of Stramshall ) - exact date forgotten, 1941/2. I was at home at 57 Park Avenue. My father was on Home Guard duties (he was too old for military service) at Bamfords Ltd, ( not JCB ! ).
I usually got up early in the summer, and walked along the unfinished by-pass and down to Park Hill Farm, breakfasted with my uncles and cousins. Then to school, or I went off scouring the fields.
On this day, I met a neighbour, Tom Simpson, veteran of the First World War. He had a strange staccato speech. He said, "The Germans hit your grandma's". I told my mother and went to the farm. Some rescue and firemen were about, but no police. I saw a large crater in the front garden, some 30 feet across, and about 20 feet deep. It was filling with water (this was the site of the old canal).
Park Cottage or farm, our neighbour, had received a direct hit, and a bomb went down the well. The whole building had collapsed. I was told that Bill, Aunt Maud and Annie had taken ladders to get Mr and Mrs Bailey out. They stopped with us, until relatives collected them. No one in our farm noticed the crater, in the front garden, until the following morning. The only damage we sustained was a cracked pane in the kitchen window, the soft soil had absorbed the blast. Over the next hour, people were coming to gaze at the bomb craters. My cousin, Teddy and I, being entrepreneurial, charged sixpence to go and look at our crater, we had made three shillings each when PWR Arthur Mellor, my father's cousin, came and stopped anyone from entering; this was not his fault, the Superintendent had instructed him.
My cousin and I, with my Uncle Dan, then went to look at the other bombs. There was an oil bomb, not detonated, blue and white and metallic. No cordon, my uncle actually touched it. I dared not. It was by the basin, where we swam. There was a oil-like substance all around it.
There was an unexploded bomb about 150 yards from the oil bomb, on land belonging to Websters. The cordon remained for weeks. Everyone forgot it. I consider it is still there. Months later my uncle sawed off the fins of the oil bomb, which he gave to my father - it was at our home, until father died in 1981, and it then disappeared.
John Mellor (John P Mellor. OBE., QSM., Ridder van den orde orange nassau, Vierdienst Kreeuz mit bande. Commandatore Polonia Restotuta.Grosse goldene Ehrenzeichen )
I usually got up early in the summer, and walked along the unfinished by-pass and down to Park Hill Farm, breakfasted with my uncles and cousins. Then to school, or I went off scouring the fields.
On this day, I met a neighbour, Tom Simpson, veteran of the First World War. He had a strange staccato speech. He said, "The Germans hit your grandma's". I told my mother and went to the farm. Some rescue and firemen were about, but no police. I saw a large crater in the front garden, some 30 feet across, and about 20 feet deep. It was filling with water (this was the site of the old canal).
Park Cottage or farm, our neighbour, had received a direct hit, and a bomb went down the well. The whole building had collapsed. I was told that Bill, Aunt Maud and Annie had taken ladders to get Mr and Mrs Bailey out. They stopped with us, until relatives collected them. No one in our farm noticed the crater, in the front garden, until the following morning. The only damage we sustained was a cracked pane in the kitchen window, the soft soil had absorbed the blast. Over the next hour, people were coming to gaze at the bomb craters. My cousin, Teddy and I, being entrepreneurial, charged sixpence to go and look at our crater, we had made three shillings each when PWR Arthur Mellor, my father's cousin, came and stopped anyone from entering; this was not his fault, the Superintendent had instructed him.
My cousin and I, with my Uncle Dan, then went to look at the other bombs. There was an oil bomb, not detonated, blue and white and metallic. No cordon, my uncle actually touched it. I dared not. It was by the basin, where we swam. There was a oil-like substance all around it.
There was an unexploded bomb about 150 yards from the oil bomb, on land belonging to Websters. The cordon remained for weeks. Everyone forgot it. I consider it is still there. Months later my uncle sawed off the fins of the oil bomb, which he gave to my father - it was at our home, until father died in 1981, and it then disappeared.
John Mellor (John P Mellor. OBE., QSM., Ridder van den orde orange nassau, Vierdienst Kreeuz mit bande. Commandatore Polonia Restotuta.Grosse goldene Ehrenzeichen )
Bobbies with guns. Straamshall and Uttoxeter« Thread Started on Aug 14, 2009, 9:17pm »
Our Local Bobbies with guns. 1941/2 Our police officers, left after mobilisation and known to me, were PC Whale, Stramshall. Sergeants Anderson (Div Clerk), Sgt. Chamberlaind (Great War veteran) and PC Jack Blower, who was called the Black Abbot, I never knew why. All ARP activities were police controlled and during 1941/2 parachutes, clearly German, were found at Bramshall, Stramshall and Marchington. We were then treated to the rare sight of our police officers carrying sidearms, large revolvers from the Great War. Stop Points, I remember, were Three Tuns junction with Ashbourne Road, Hollow, Stramshall (outside my Great Uncle Tom's), Spath and Beamhurst. Sgt. Chamberlain was always on duty outside the Three Tuns. As a Great War veteran he would have no trouble using his revolver. After a few months, the police realised that the parachutes were dropped to upset and alarm the population. It did not work. The police took off their revolvers and Stop Points were abandoned. John Mellor (John P Mellor., OBE., QSM., Ridder van den orde Orange-Nassau, Vier Dienst Kreuz mit bande, now living in Wolverhampton.)
Our Local Bobbies with guns. 1941/2 Our police officers, left after mobilisation and known to me, were PC Whale, Stramshall. Sergeants Anderson (Div Clerk), Sgt. Chamberlaind (Great War veteran) and PC Jack Blower, who was called the Black Abbot, I never knew why. All ARP activities were police controlled and during 1941/2 parachutes, clearly German, were found at Bramshall, Stramshall and Marchington. We were then treated to the rare sight of our police officers carrying sidearms, large revolvers from the Great War. Stop Points, I remember, were Three Tuns junction with Ashbourne Road, Hollow, Stramshall (outside my Great Uncle Tom's), Spath and Beamhurst. Sgt. Chamberlain was always on duty outside the Three Tuns. As a Great War veteran he would have no trouble using his revolver. After a few months, the police realised that the parachutes were dropped to upset and alarm the population. It did not work. The police took off their revolvers and Stop Points were abandoned. John Mellor (John P Mellor., OBE., QSM., Ridder van den orde Orange-Nassau, Vier Dienst Kreuz mit bande, now living in Wolverhampton.)
Park Hill Farm, Uttoxeter
My grandfather and grandmother built Park Hill Farm together, with hired labour for the roofing. My grandfather was a farmer, wheelwright and a skilled carpenter, his elder brother, Thomas, who lived at the original Mellor family home (called variously Hill Top Farm, Hill Top Cottages) near the bridle path which leads to the River Tean, was a master at most building trades. He was a valued help to his brother. The house was constructed about 1896. My grandfather had owned the Dowry Farm, Kingstone (he was 17 years old), then moved to Bottom House Public House and Farm, Leek, before making his final home at Park Hill. He had a multitude of children. The survivors, Mary, Maude, Muriel, Annie, Thomas, John James (my father), Harry (always called Dan) and several who did not survive childbirth. The acreage was about 100, later added to by extending to Bakers, The Hollow, Stramshall. It remained a working farm entirely under the control of my family until 1972, when it was sold. It continued for several more years until enveloped by the new Derby to Stoke arterial road. Documents regarding the construction, bills of despatch and laden were kept until some ten years ago in a large bureau. It passed to a non-Mellor relative. I believe the contents were destroyed. At the rear of the farm was a workshop, called simply The Shop, complete with forge, wheelwright tools, and coffins. The Mellor family always made coffins for its own family and most of Stramshall. Great Uncle Tom was the expert. The last cart made by my grandfather and his brother was in July 1938, a heavy draught, one horse, stone cart. Tom made up the body, my grandfather made the wheel. I witnessed the last 'hooping' (I have an oil painting of the scene). Preparation started several days before, wood was fetched from the river, trees were cut down, and a massive bonfire, was built in the lane leading to the canal banks. A sigh that will never be seen again. At a signal from my grandather, all his sons and nephews, all big men, dragged the cart body and placed it on trestles. Then my grandfather and his brother, with male and female 'hooping dog' tools, placed the iron tyres on the bonfire. The fire was started, and a lot of moving the tyres about transpired, the language was ripe, as was always the case. Finally when the iron tyres were white hot, the heat was intense, my grandfather and his brother, helped by the others, brought out the white hot tyres, and took them to the cart. Only minutes later, they had been fitted, and hammered into position and doused with water. My father controlled a carthorse, already saddled,(he was called Jack), he was brought to the front of the cart, and at a signal the cart and its new tyres were going into the River Tean, where the cart and tyres stayed 2 days. Then the operation ended. My grandather was 69 years old, and his brother 71 years. They never built or shod another cartwheel. We had two near neighbours, firstly The Parks, a fine residence, occupied by Cyril Bamford, and his wife who spoke fluent Spanish, Portuguese and French. I think her name was Dolores, she was always immaculately dressed, kind and not afraid to walk 150 yards for the milk, when the maids had a day off. Her sons I remember, Joseph (founder of JCB), Rupert, David (Tim). I am sure they had a daughter, but I cannot remember her name. Cyril Bamford was a brilliant engineer. The Mellors and the Allens, permitted(to their advantage) the various machines of Bamfords Ltd, Leighton Ironworks, to be tested on their fields. Secondly, Tollgate Farm was some 150 yards away on the Uttoxeter side of the farm. Mr and Mrs Bailey, semi retired farmer, good family. Their tenure ended with a German bomb, down their well. I have written about that. Our nearest farmer friends and neighbours, were the Allens, a straight, hard working family. I remember Grandfather Allen, his sister (whose name escapes me), and two sons, I knew them both. Walter, the farmer, father of my life-long friend Fred Allen and his wife. The other son was a police officer in West Bromwich. His son was also a police officer, known universally as 'Brummie', the hardest boxer to beat, an athlete and a good police officer. I met him in Willenhall, and went and got up to tricks, which might provide a further article. His decision to leave the police force saddened me. His father, I recall, may have been called Arthur. He returned to Uttoxeter on retirement, worked at Bamford's and I think bought property at Kiddlestitch.
Shared on 29 November 2009 by John Mellor.
Shared on 29 November 2009 by John Mellor.
A walk with grandfather« Thread Started on Jun 12, 2009, 2:03pm »
A Walk with Grandfather.I was about 11 years old, one summers day, when I noticed my grandfather, who lived at Park Hill Farm, New Road, Uttoxeter(Parish of Stramshall)was preparing to go out. He had his walking stick, that meant no horse and trap. His name was Percival Jackson Mellor, and he lived with his family, and my paternal grandmother, Mary Ellen(nee Leedham)He said, to me, “Come for a Walk”. We walked across the fields, to Campbell’s, and the m to Titleys Mill. We gained the Ashbourne-Uttoxeter Road, turned left over the River Tean bridge, and then into Leasons Farm. My grandfather, went and spoke to Mr.Leason, senior, we then departed, turning left. Until we reached Stevenson Bus Depot, the Yellow Bus service.We then got onto the footpath immediately opposite the Depot. Grandfather then explained that the large grass mounds, were the remnants of the Spath Quay, laughingly called Spath Ocean, by residents, who had not studied their local history. The size of four football pitches, Grandfather explained that this had been an inland port, with large barges moving loads across the country. These mounds, then became clear canal banks, and we walked on the left hand side, the field on the left being ours. The right hand side, was a public footpath, little used, by anyone. We then took a left bend in the banks, until we reached the River Tean. I asked my grandfather, what the large stones where in the river. He said, It had held an iron aqueduct, which used to cross the river.. He explained that in 1914, to assist the war effort, he had detonated explosives, and blew the aqueduct up. The scrap iron was purchased by Mr. Cyril Bamford, from The Parks opposite us. This was taken to Leighton Iron works. We then entered the rear gates of the farm. The canal banks were levelled out in 1973.Whilst at the River, Grandfather pointed out on the left side of the canal, the remains of a house. He said, Your great Uncle, John(Jack) had lived there with his wife, Dolly. An amusing character called Dolly Duck egg for her love of the fruit of ducks. . It was an isolated spot, and Great Aunt Dolly, did not like it. She moved to Stone ROAD, Uttoxeter, living in a row of cottages which she owned.. Into the front of the Farm, which was built on the canal sit, the ground had been levelled. Until the By pass was started in 1936, it was possible to walk along the old canal banks, till you reached Beesons slaughterhouse(later Keelings Yard) until you reached Ashboutne Road. Park Avenue, Slade Fields, was built on the site of the canal.John P Mellor, then living at 57 Park Avenue, Uttoxeter.
A Walk with Grandfather.I was about 11 years old, one summers day, when I noticed my grandfather, who lived at Park Hill Farm, New Road, Uttoxeter(Parish of Stramshall)was preparing to go out. He had his walking stick, that meant no horse and trap. His name was Percival Jackson Mellor, and he lived with his family, and my paternal grandmother, Mary Ellen(nee Leedham)He said, to me, “Come for a Walk”. We walked across the fields, to Campbell’s, and the m to Titleys Mill. We gained the Ashbourne-Uttoxeter Road, turned left over the River Tean bridge, and then into Leasons Farm. My grandfather, went and spoke to Mr.Leason, senior, we then departed, turning left. Until we reached Stevenson Bus Depot, the Yellow Bus service.We then got onto the footpath immediately opposite the Depot. Grandfather then explained that the large grass mounds, were the remnants of the Spath Quay, laughingly called Spath Ocean, by residents, who had not studied their local history. The size of four football pitches, Grandfather explained that this had been an inland port, with large barges moving loads across the country. These mounds, then became clear canal banks, and we walked on the left hand side, the field on the left being ours. The right hand side, was a public footpath, little used, by anyone. We then took a left bend in the banks, until we reached the River Tean. I asked my grandfather, what the large stones where in the river. He said, It had held an iron aqueduct, which used to cross the river.. He explained that in 1914, to assist the war effort, he had detonated explosives, and blew the aqueduct up. The scrap iron was purchased by Mr. Cyril Bamford, from The Parks opposite us. This was taken to Leighton Iron works. We then entered the rear gates of the farm. The canal banks were levelled out in 1973.Whilst at the River, Grandfather pointed out on the left side of the canal, the remains of a house. He said, Your great Uncle, John(Jack) had lived there with his wife, Dolly. An amusing character called Dolly Duck egg for her love of the fruit of ducks. . It was an isolated spot, and Great Aunt Dolly, did not like it. She moved to Stone ROAD, Uttoxeter, living in a row of cottages which she owned.. Into the front of the Farm, which was built on the canal sit, the ground had been levelled. Until the By pass was started in 1936, it was possible to walk along the old canal banks, till you reached Beesons slaughterhouse(later Keelings Yard) until you reached Ashboutne Road. Park Avenue, Slade Fields, was built on the site of the canal.John P Mellor, then living at 57 Park Avenue, Uttoxeter.
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