By on January 7, 2011
I lived in Jennings Street next door to Marjory Adams (who is also in the school picture I sent information about) from 1950 to about 1958. I do have another class picture but I am not sure if I can get it scanned in. I will see.
My parents and I moved from South Wales to Swindon. My father, William Arthur Pembridge, had been a coal minor, but was invalided out of the pits and after some time of unemployment, found work at the Swindon railway works as a labourer. His brother already lived in another part of Swindon. We left Swindon when I was 15 to go back to Wales, where my father was employed as a forestry worker.
My father always loved the outdoors and had an allotment in Rodbourne near the recreation grounds. He also kept chickens at the end of our garden!
Occasionally my mother, Beryl Pembridge, used to work in a grocery store owned by the Wise family that was located at the end of Jennings street on Rodbourne Road. She also did some cleaning for Mrs. Wise and one of her daughters, ” Mrs Porter”, who also lived in Rodbourne.
My family attended the Baptist Chapel- Calvaria(?) that was around the corner, and under the bridge from Even Swindon Primary School. I remember harvest festivals at the Chapel when my Father would take wheel barrow loads of his garden produce as a donation to the event.
My father’s mother, Margaret (Maggie) Ann Pembridge, lived with us. She was bilingual- Welsh and English speaking.
I still have relatives (my Uncle’s children/grand children) in the Swindon area and my mother is still alive – in Bridgend, South Wales.
I went to Tonyrefail Grammar School in the Rhondda after Headlands and then Barry Teacher’s Training College. I taught in London and Singapore, before I married my husband, another teacher, and we emigrated to Canada in 1969. I went to University in Canada, and held a number of positions in the not- for profit sector, including acting as a Policy Analyst for the Red Cross, and an Executive Director of a Home Care agency. I am now retired and live by Lake Erie in Ontario. I have two daughters and three grand daughters.
By Joe Wild on January 1, 2011
The following poems were written by Joe Wild who’s nickname was “Wishbone”and who lived in Hawkins Street. Those of you with a few grey hairs may remember a 1960’s TV series called “Rawhide” featuring a young Clint Eastwood as Rowdy Yates the Ramrod and a cantankerous old cook called Wishbone played by Paul Brinegar who drove the chuck wagon. Click on Rawhide to get the opening and closing credits. We think Joe Wild got his nickname as he had a food wagon on the M4 motorway when it was being constructed.
Rodbourne
Rodbourne is a lovely place, just outside Swindon Town.
It’s full of friendly people, full of life and never a frown.
You can walk into the Co-Op, other shops, and yes the pub.
And you are served with much politeness, not a strange look or snub.
The tradesmen in the village, some come from near and far, will stop and have a friendly chat, and ask how you are.
There’s Glyn, now he’s the Butcher the one most people use and Stewart in the Dolphin who serves you up your booze.
There’s John who runs the Post Office, along with all his staff, you can go and draw your pension and be certain of a laugh.
The Chemist is just further down from where you get your bread, and then the Chinese take-away or there’s fish and chip instead.
A laundrette and café, the Barber who’s quite good, the DIY to get your nails and paint and bits of wood.
Of course we’ve got the Railway works, the mainstay of the town.
We only hope and pray someday that it will not close down.
The people aren’t all local some foreigners you’ll find, but people here don’t bother for inside they’re good and kind.
There’s Mr Wicks the Newsagent, a man of high esteem who pops the papers through your letterbox while you lay in bed and dream.
The weather may be sunny or cold with mist and rain but he jumps upon his bicycle, and delivers just the same.
We’ve got Ron’s the local handy stores who sells you anything you need, there’s pet food, wood and nails and most of your garden seed.
The Greengrocer just down the road grows most of it himself. Tomatoes, cabbages and such are all upon the shelf.
We haven’t got a Lock-Up, so that experience is saved. The people here in Rodbourne are very well behaved.
The Clubs we have are homely and also very clean; you can play a game of Bingo or go to the fruit machine.
On Saturday nights they hold a dance or Disco if you please, and as you’re gliding round the floor it puts your mind at ease.
I think I’ve wrote just what I think about Rodbourne, and still there’s some that’s never satisfied.
Well you know what they can do , get the hell out of here.
All in the Game
I am known as the motorway cowboy, and my name is Greaser Joe.
I’ve travelled many highways, from Lands End to Scapa Flow.
Instead of punching cattle in and out of deep ravines, I go around with oil and grease and take care of big machines.
I started work for Blackwell, twas early in the Spring, without a dime, nowhere to sleep, a smoke or anything.
The agents name was Bruno, and words he said to me, “Joe, do your work and play the game and you’ll get along with me”.
From that day on I got stuck in and worked the clock around, then one day he said to me, “Wishbone I think you’re sound”.
“I’ve watched you oil and grease them up without you even knowing. Now the winters coming on, I’ll be sad to see you going.
Well never mind you’ve done your job, no moans or anything. So cheerio old Wishbone, I hope to see you back in Spring.
Just a Thought
Friends are very hard to find, especially when you’re old.
You’ve time to think about the past, memories you enfold.
There’s some that’s good and some that’s bad, and some are happy while others are sad.
You think of life that’s past you by, and you think of the land, the sea and the sky.
You think of the things you never thought, and those simple things you never sought.
The kids like birds, have grown their wings, and flown away to better things.
Those photographs you put aside, with your letters and the rest, are brought back out with tears and pride from your old treasure chest.
Then you start to think of things you did, when youth was on your side, of those antics played when just a kid, and those smiles you couldn’t hide.
While you are young, be rich or poor, these things please do remember. When you get old and lonely, life is just a dying ember.
Bare Headed Facts
I was invited to a party by W.C. French & Kier.
I had a rake of whiskey, cigars, fags and beer.
But late on in the evening as time went merrily on, I put my hand upon my head and found my trilby gone.
Now one of the boys among the crowd took a fancy to my hat. Now that boy didn’t return it, and old Wishbone dont like that.
It’s not an ordinary titfer for it means a lot to me, for I had it brought me special from across the Irish Sea.
Now I hope the bloke that took it, be a workman or a toff, when he puts it on his head again his f………. ears drop off.
Now I told my friend who got it for I thought he’d like to know, and he said the lousy b……..d is only a latchico.
(latchico is Irish slang. I’m not going to tell you the definition, you’ll have to look it up)
By Raymond Hinton on August 29, 2010
I was born in the front bedroom of 68 Redcliffe Street in 1956,My father was in the rail works and was a big player in the local skittles scene, he had an allotment down barnfield, and he loved to go fishing on a Sunday with the golden carp !
My gran, (dads mum ) lived at 17 Drew Street until her death, and my uncle continued living there until his death, thus ending the Hinton chain there !
My memories of Rodbourne are of community, and everyone working together,all dominated by the rail works.
We used to go to Martins farm, where I spent many hours with Mr Martin sat on meal sacks and helping with the cows.
My auntie worked in WD & HO Wills in Colbourne st, she now lives down Rodbourne Rd, I have very fond memories of Rodbourne and the fun we had as kids, we couldnt do anything wrong as everyone knew who we were !
I do hope Rodbourne has not lost its sense of community.
By Mr Kim Herron on July 1, 2010
We have been given this memory of Rodbourne by Mr Kim Herron.
“In 1948 my father bought a small holding at 30, Stone Lane, Lydiard Millicent. It was a bit primative having horse drawn impliments and a cart.
One of his vegetable delivery rounds was Rodbourne on Fridays. On this particular one at the end of the round Dad stopped off at a newsagents to buy my Eagle, Beano and Dandy comics (I was only 11), he was running late and left Mum on the cart. Polly, the horse, decided that it was the time to go home so started off. Dad just managed to clamber aboard before the vehicle reached full speed.
All along Rodbourne Road just as the GWR emptied, under the Rodbourne Road bridge potatoes, cabbages, onions etc. shooting off everywhere. Pedestrians had to get out of the way of this charging horse and cart. Then around the island opposite the Co-op into Westcott Place where some weights flew off nearly killing a cyclist. Then past Westcott Rec. , under the two railway bridges into the Shaw Road where Polly slowed down, gather she was made to keep up the fast pace till home.
After that they upgraded to a lorry and “Fergie” tractor (Ferguson was the manufacturer) – but no horse.”
Great story Kim. Can anyone do better?
By pjmills on May 5, 2010
Len Loveday, remembers the shop at 133 Redcliffe st,a sweet shop,( plus acumalaters were charged there for the radios) run by a ‘Jumbo’Brown & his sister Molly, he had fame in having made a television set in the garden shed, this was in the mid thirties, does anyone have memories of being invited to view?
By Val Cullum on April 21, 2010
I still remember the Jennings Street school song or some of it, anyway. It went
40 years on and afar and asunder
parted are those who are singing today
When we look back and forgetfully wonder
what we were like in our work and our play
To be honest it was the most depressing song I had ever heard, and still is especially as the 40 years are well past. It did and still does fill me with a profound sense of gloom. Dreary isn’t the word for it.
By Anne Clement on April 14, 2010
Hello
I was born in Swindon in 1941 , but now live in Surrey.
I am eager to learn if anyone has heard of (or even remembers!) my grandfather’s shop J.G.Bailey, family butcher, circa 1933 . I believe the address was 1A Rodbourne Road .
I have 3 photos which I am in the process of scanning for submission to the Swindon Collection at the Central Libary. HOpefully, they will appear on the Flickr website soon.
Any information from your group would be welcome. Thank you.
Anne Clement
