Central Estate had everything close at hand

I HAVE just read the article regarding the old Central Estate re-union, held at Rovers Club.

I lived on the Central from 1935 until moving to the Headland in 1992.

I have many fond memories of my time on that estate.

I am sure this poem will bring back many memories for the ex Central estaters who spent many happy years there:

A town on its own was the old Central Estate,

With shops selling everything, it was ever so great.

I’ll tell you a few if my memory serves well,

For on the old Central they all did well.

From Mr Newton I got my first pay,

For taking out papers day by day.

Three and six was the princely sum,

I thought I was king, I did, by gum.

He also cut hair, but there were others too,

Sid Newbury and Bilham were others I knew.

There also were milkmen, three come to mind,

Chambers and Greenwell were two you will find.

Butchers’ shops too were close to hand,

Davison, Holden and the Co-op were grand.

Thompson’s Red Stamp Store and a plumber too,

Arkley his name, he was there for you.

Garvey the chemist was on Hart Road,

Prescriptions he made up by the load.

Snooker and billiards could be played

At Jack Snowdon’s - I was always slayed.

For fish and chips you couldn’t go wrong,

Two shops could be found. It didn’t take long.

For newspapers you could take your pick,

But you had to pay, you couldn’t have tick.

Cockburn’s, and Newton and Boast as well,

The Mail at night they would always sell.

Hart Road and St Mary’s were the schools we used,

Loads of books for us all to peruse.

To write our name and add two and two,

The learning was there for me and you.

House shops were plenty in nigh every street,

That sold about everything that you’d want to eat.

Peas pudding and duck, and toffee apples too,

And even things that weren’t good for you.

The Wool Shop catered for ladies that knit,

Fair Isle jumpers and socks that fit.

Scarves and mittens when winter set in,

Those needles were clacking, they made such a din.

Mr Slade was the postman you know,

He had a shop at the end of the row.

In Cleveland Road that man did dwell,

Stamps and postal orders he would sell.

The Workmen’s Club, the Klondyke and Clyde,

Were all close by - you didn’t need a ride.

A good night out could be had by all,

But don’t drink too much, you’ll have a fall.

If this should happen and you hit the ground,

The doctors’ surgeries were all around.

Gibbs, Hall and Nolan were all close by,

They’d be tending your needs before you could cry.

There was industry too in this small world of ours,

Creosote and Cement Works made sweat run from pores.

The rope works and prop fields and timber yards too,

Plenty of work to be done by you.

And when you came to the end of your life,

And left our estate and all of your strife.

The undertaker was the man to call,

Mr Metcalfe was known to one and all.

We come now to the end of our tale,

And all your memories return without fail.

I can hear you say ‘I remember that name

‘From the old Central Estate’ - our claim to fame.

Ken Bowe,

Hartfield Manor,