Hello – thought I would show some pics of my new hobby. Very expensive one. Up and running now and got to wait 4 more weeks for water to settle before introducing fish. Am going to get some shoals of Tetras which I hope will look stunning. Will take some more pics when I have the fish.
by Heidi from Westgate.
At Southcoast Wagenwerks, St. Nicholas-at-Wade
![579786_355684717800092_192776400757592_866235_80559985_n[1]](http://www.aboutyourworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/579786_355684717800092_192776400757592_866235_80559985_n1-150x150.jpg "579786_355684717800092_192776400757592_866235_80559985_n[1]")
This gallery contains 10 photos.
Photographs from the May whitsun bank holiday weekend in Margate 1964. To see video footage of this event see my previous post mods & rockers – margate 1964 Also with reference to a book I used to have in previous … Continue reading
In one of my previous posts, the sign writer I told you about working for a local firm in the 80′s called Glass Canterbury. Although I worked in the warehouse, sometimes, some of us got to go out in the lorries every now and again.
On one such occasion, we were sent out to assist the glaziers on a job. A new plate glass window had to be put in on a shop front in Folkestone, Kent. These things are heavy and you need to be mob handed when installing them.
Thus it was, that labourers Ron, Vernon and myself were chosen to transport the plate glass sheet to it’s destination on one of the trucks and then assist two glaziers and their mates put the thing in.
As we gaily set off on our merry way, (it was a treat to get out the warehouse for a day) we were in high spirits and full of banter with Ron driving, me in the middle and Vern next to the passenger side window.
On the A2 from Canterbury to Folkestone, despite the truck being a bit of a lumbering beast, especially with the weight of the plate glass sheet on the side, we found ourselves picking up some speed as we reached a down hill section of the carriageway and realised to our sheer delight, we were about to overtake one of the glaziers vans.
The glazier had his drivers window open as it was a nice sunny day and as we passed, some friendly swear words were exchanged, then Vernon who had a bottle of water on him threw some of it through the van’s window over the glazier and his mate. As we pulled in front of the van chuckling our heads off, we reached an up slope and the lorry started slowing.
The glaziers van started gaining on us and overtaking. As the van levelled with us, we could see the glaziers mate, a guy called Ian hurriedly pouring coffee from his flask into a cup intent on revenge.
As Ron frantically tried in vain to wind the antiquated drivers window up, Ian was nodding and smiling at us to say “yeah, you’re gonna get it now”. He then launched the coffee in our direction.
Unfortunately, the plonker had forgotten to wind his own window down. Result? Splashback over himself and the glazier. Through tears of laughter we could see the glazier roaring expletives at his mate and our lorry veered wildly left and right as Ron tried to control the steering wheel in his mirth.
Control it he did, and him, Vern and me spent the rest of the journey to Folkestone with our sides splitting from giggling fits.
One of several jobs I had in the 1980′s, was as a cleaner for a few months at K&C hospital, Canterbury.
It wasn’t the most glamorous job in the world and the pay was poor. It was a bit of a stop-gap until I could find something new.
I mainly cleaned the long corridors and the public toilets and on the Wednesday afternoon, I’d clean the floors in the hospital mortuary. Pretty gruesome you’d think?
Not really. Once you’d got used to the sights in there, it didn’t bother you. The mortuary floor I had to mop and buff didn’t take long, and the crypt which I had to vacuum was a ten minute job. You could be done within an hour, yet the whole afternoon was allocated for this task.
What’s more, one of my supervisors, a big fat clucking hen of a woman with the arse the size of a bus didn’t like me much. She seemed to have it in for me for some reason. She was always on my case. Whatever I did was never good enough. I think she was just one of life’s natural bullies.
However, on a Wednesday afternoon, she’d leave me alone, because she was too frightened to step foot in the mortuary. So these days were bliss.
One of my best friends from school, Larry, also worked at K&C as a porter. It is whilst I was cleaning the mortuary one Wednesday afternoon, that he popped in to see me to ask for my help in something him and a few of the other porters were cooking up.
A new porter had started who had only just turned 17. He’d never seen a dead body before, and due to the nature of his first ever job, it was something he’d have to get used to pretty quick. Larry had organised with me, that him and his colleagues would bring the new lad into the mortuary in about half hours time, so we could show him a body.
Sure enough, about thirty minutes later, several porters accompanying the new lad for support entered the mortuary. This kid was understandably nervous as he was led to the table where a body under a white sheet had been prepared.
“Are you ready?” Larry asked the new kid. “Y-y-yes” new kid replied stammering slightly. With this, Larry whipped the sheet off of the corpse who gave out a blood curdling “YAARGH” as it sat bolt upright with arms reaching out for new kid.
New kid almost took the swing doors off of their hinges as he broke a new 100 metre world record in his panic to get out of the mortuary and probably also soiled his pants in the process.
Through roaring laughter, Larry and the other porters congratulated the corpse on his performance. The corpse, me, was also enjoying the moment. A strong mug of tea and a couple of cigarettes later, new kid was okay and saw the funny side.
Looking back, I realise what a childish cruel prank it was to play, and my main regret is ‘if only it had been the big fat clucking hen we’d done it to!’
Follow this handy guide to find out how you can create the most inspired, artistic Easter bonnets. » Crafts
See more of my work at www.facebook.com/southcoast.wagenwerks
Back in the 80′s, one of the many places I worked at was a company called Glass Canterbury, where I started in the main warehouse as a general labourer.
My job included unloading sheets of glass by hand from incoming deliveries, loading orders onto our own lorries for distribution, and carrying cut sizes of glass into the other departments for double-glazing and conservatory manufacturing.
One day, whilst me and my fellow labourers were going about our daily business, one of our lorries was parked up in the warehouse. Our lorries were bottle green in colour with ‘Glass Canterbury Ltd’ written in yellow on the sides.
This one was in having it’s signage re-painted as it was starting to look a bit tired. Standing on a couple of boards between two scaffold platforms, was a sign writer refreshing the yellow writing on the truck.
In this guy’s hand was a long thin tipped paint brush, and attached to this was another long thin baton with a ball on the end which was pressed against the side of the vehicle which helped keep his hand steady. He worked slowly and surely and was doing a great job.
As we scurried around like worker ants carrying glass to and frow, we’d pause and marvel at the sign writer’s skills. He was nearly finished and was on the last letter of ‘Ltd’.
As we turned away to go and fetch more glass after stopping to admire his work yet again, we heard a “doooof” emit from the sign writer’s voice box.
As we turned to look, the sign writer was sitting on the deck holding his ribs. A long yellow line stretching from the final letter ‘d’ to the floor was visible on the truck. The poor sod had been so focused on his work, that he hadn’t noticed he was getting precariously close to the edge of the scaffold boards until it was too late!
Unfortunately for him, there was no rushing to his aid as we were all doubled up in hysterics! A golden comedy moment that still makes me chuckle even now!
It was 1979. Punk rock was over. The film ‘Quadrophenia’ had been released, and like most other impressionable teenagers of the time who were looking for their next fix, at nearly 16, I’d been caught up in the romance of the regeneration of the mods & rockers movement.
My prized possession up to that point had been a book I’d bought with my part-time Saturday job Bowkett’s bakery earnings which was a photographic collection of the original mods & rockers culture of the early 60′s.
Although the pictures in the book were mostly black and white, I was mesmerized by the fashion, the shiny scooters with abundance of side mirrors and the Triumph and BSA motorcycles, and the seaside clashes between the two rival groups.
One of the things that struck a chord with me was the numerous pictures of mods in white straight legged jeans and how cool they looked, and so it was, I found myself one Saturday afternoon after work, standing in a jeans shop in Canterbury high street choosing a pair with the help of my older sister, who’d been part of the original 60′s scene.
However, after buying them, it then took a bit of persuading before I’d finally actually wear them out anywhere. I’d noticed nobody else wearing white jeans as yet, and was now having second thoughts about them.
I finally plucked up enough courage to wear them two weeks later during the school’s half-term break when I accompanied my sister and our mum to Canterbury market on the Wednesday.
As opposed to where the market is situated now, in the high street, back then it was in Market Way, and our flat was opposite this road, so, at least I didn’t have far to walk and/or run home again if necessary.
Wearing a brown leather look bomber jacket and my new jeans, (I hadn’t quite mastered the mod look as yet), I felt like a matchstick as I awkwardly tried to look cool whilst following mum and sis round the stalls.
It wasn’t working, despite their encouragement that I looked okay, and I kept looking down at my jeans which were so white, they might as well of had neon signs attached to them that said “everyone look here”.
It was whilst lumbering around staring self-consciously at my jeans, that I lifted my head suddenly after realising I was about to bump into somebody. The potential collision was avoided as my forehead butted some poor older woman in the cheek and sent her careering off course.
Horrified, as I watched her draw sharp pained breath and stagger away in a zig-zag formation as she was now partially concussed, I meekly apologised after her, (I doubt if she heard as there were probably little dickie birds flying around her head at this point, chirping loudly) and looked around in panic to see who had witnessed the event.
My mum and sister had both turned to me at the point of impact and were now wetting themselves with laughter. My mother was so much in hysterics, she was bent double and falling onto a market stall, knocking neatly displayed trinkets all over the place.
Realising that there was no escape from what had just happened, my embarrassment then also turned to uncontrollable giggling as I saw the funny side. I imagine the poor old cow I head-butted didn’t quite see things the same way, in fact, she probably didn’t see properly for about a week, sporting a shiner like a pirate’s patch I should imagine!
Needless to say, after that, the white jeans spent the rest of the duration under my ownership in the wardrobe.
by John Cloughley photography
The Pantomime Villains are a young up and coming Kent based indie band. My daughter told me about them and also has a dancing part in this video of their new single ‘Hook, Line & Sinker’ which was partly filmed in the ‘Bracket’ pub, Margate.
A small company repairing volkeswagens. Welding, fabrication and mechanical, M.O.T. work and M.O.T.’s, very competetive rates.
The Black Barn, Netherhale Farm Road, St. Nicholas-at-Wade, Kent
www.facebook.com/southcoast.wagenwerks
Well Nick asked me to post some pictures of my house in the USA.
I live in Central Illinois about 120 miles South of Chicago in a small town called Paxton, it has 4200 inhabitants and is primarily a farming town. The next biggest town is Champaign which is 30 miles further South, it has all the big stores and is home to the University of Illinois where I work. I moved over here in 2007 when I retired from the Kent Fire & Rescue Service and married my American girlfriend Shalyn.
I don’t get the mentality of Thanet district council. My local football team is Margate FC. Back in 2001 they gained promotion to the highest level of non league english football; the Conference. They were doing okay and holding their own and at one stage were looking good for promotion to the football league proper.
However, there were problems with ground development which was needed to enable their small stadium to meet conference league standards and they were forced to move away from Hartsdown Park and ground share with other local teams. It seemed that the local council blocked every plan that the football club put forward to keep their status and eventually they were expelled from the conference and relegated to the Isthmian league.
Three years later, they managed to return to Hartsdown Park and submitted impressive plans to turn their stadium into a ground worthy of football league status with training pitches and a hotel included. It was obvious that this was Margate FC’s ambition, to become a football league club. Yet again, they were met with opposition from the council and development has been slow.
Back in the 80′s, Margate was a thriving seaside town and was famous for Dreamland, a popular amusement park. Sadly, Dreamland became a former shadow of itself with most of the ground it once occupied turned into a large car park.
With the development of nearby Westwood Cross shopping centre, a lot of shops in Margate high street ended up going out of business and becoming boarded up. The place turned into a ghost town.
Thanet council approved the building of the Turner Contemporary art gallery in Margate in an attempt to regenerate the town and this opened in 2011. Whilst the gallery appears to have been successful, there’s not a lot more for people to do in the town once they’ve visited the Turner, and I question whether a town renowned for sticks of rock, saucy postcards and ‘kiss me quick’ hats needs a gallery as much as they need Dreamland back? Surely, if the theme park was restored to it’s former glory, this would bring the punters back to the town who would spend money in the shops, pubs and guest houses and make Margate a thriving holiday resort again?
Also, if the football club were allowed to develop their ground unhindered, they could then concentrate on promotion to the conference and then the football league proper, which would attract bigger crowds, many coming in via the train station, many looking for local accommodation if they’ve travelled a long way, who again, would spend money in the town.
Fortunately, there is talk of making Dreamland great again. Unfortunately, the latest news from the football club is that the council have rejected the latest plans regarding the stadium hotel which have caused Travelodge, the potential investors, to pull out of negotiations. Don’t Thanet council want to see Margate prosper again? or have they got grander plans up their sleeve like a national opera house in it’s place once they’ve turfed the football club out of Hartsdown?!?
The massive chimneys of Richborough power station which have dominated the east Kent coast skyline near Sandwich for over fifty years were demolished yesterday as thousands watched.
Although the power station shut down in 1996, it was used for the location of Channel 4′s ‘Full Metal Challenge’ in 2003/04, the pre-cursor of ‘Scrapheap Challenge’. They plan to build an energy retail park in it’s place.
Many saw the towers as iconic, many more as an eyesore. What do you think?
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