Title: Producer gas unit
Scran ID: 000-000-704-406-C
Resource Rights Holder: Scottish Motor Museum Trust
Monday, February 9, 2009
Producer Gas Trailer
Title: Producer gas unit
Scran ID: 000-000-704-406-C
Resource Rights Holder: Scottish Motor Museum Trust
War Time School Days
The house where I live throughout the war years was at one end of Burniston, and the school I attended was at the other end, near Cloughton. I started school when I was 5, and because it was wartime, had to carry a gas mask with me. Even at 5 years old I often walked the 1.5 miles to school and back. My mother put me in Clogs, which had wooden soles but leather uppers. Clogs were popular at the time.
I stayed for school dinners, which meant that we all had another mile walk to the Wesleyan Chapel opposite the war memorial, where dinner was cooked and served. We had to walk in single file with a teacher, Miss Richardson, keeping us in line. I think the headmaster was Mr Caton. I am not sure whether I have remembered the teachers names or spellings correctly. My only memory of the dinners was when Miss Richardson thumped me in the back, to try to make me eat the raw unpickled slices of beet-root.
One day walking to school after a night of air-raids, I reached the post office, and saw that a bomb had hit the house opposite. It was the house where farmer Ken Hurd lived. The end of the house was open, and the upper floor was sagging with a bed still there, but now in the open air. There was even a pair of trousers still hanging on the bed post. I never did know if anyone was injured in that raid.
There were times when I caught the bus to school. The buses were unusual because of the shortage of fuel, they towed a small coke-fired trailer. Built on the trailer was a coke burning unit which manufactured producer gas when air was drawn through the coke fire. The producer gas was piped to the bus and was used to run the bus. Of course the fumes were bad. At the bus stop in North Street, Scalby, where I went to get my hair cut by Mr Brooks, the leaves on the roadside trees turned brown from the fumes of the gas producing trailers.
I stayed for school dinners, which meant that we all had another mile walk to the Wesleyan Chapel opposite the war memorial, where dinner was cooked and served. We had to walk in single file with a teacher, Miss Richardson, keeping us in line. I think the headmaster was Mr Caton. I am not sure whether I have remembered the teachers names or spellings correctly. My only memory of the dinners was when Miss Richardson thumped me in the back, to try to make me eat the raw unpickled slices of beet-root.
One day walking to school after a night of air-raids, I reached the post office, and saw that a bomb had hit the house opposite. It was the house where farmer Ken Hurd lived. The end of the house was open, and the upper floor was sagging with a bed still there, but now in the open air. There was even a pair of trousers still hanging on the bed post. I never did know if anyone was injured in that raid.
There were times when I caught the bus to school. The buses were unusual because of the shortage of fuel, they towed a small coke-fired trailer. Built on the trailer was a coke burning unit which manufactured producer gas when air was drawn through the coke fire. The producer gas was piped to the bus and was used to run the bus. Of course the fumes were bad. At the bus stop in North Street, Scalby, where I went to get my hair cut by Mr Brooks, the leaves on the roadside trees turned brown from the fumes of the gas producing trailers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
