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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 15:08:29 GMT
The Press Ticket below is when I had a duty at St Andrews (Home of Birmingham City Football Club) December 20th 1960 it�s a bit faded now I was based in a commentary box taking written messages to a mobile transmitting van across the ground, nice number Walter Vickers
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 15:07:42 GMT
Originally posted by Ray Broadfield
we were most definitely called "moppers" in south london and surrounding areas when motorcycles were still being ridden, nothing to do with the introduction of mopeds,in our office new lads were called "chisel" until the next new lad came along,and while on cycle duties and untill you went on to motor cycle duties you were called a "pusher",but we were all still called moppers. ray broadfield KT 421 ex - kingston-on-thames mopper
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 15:07:13 GMT
Originally posted by TomF
_________________
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 15:06:41 GMT
Telegram messenger boy (mer-ger)
1943 at kilburn NW6 London
Attended Golden Lane school London 1 day a week,
1944 BSA c10 250cc at belsize pk NW3
1946 plenty of V1 & V2\'s
Tom Andrews
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 15:06:11 GMT
We had in Trowbridge Wilts in 1952 trial bikes Royal Enfield 125cc but they did not last very long (fell to bits) hand changed gears , So they returned back to B.S.A.Bantams A name that springs to mind who worked with me was Ken Yates If any former ex-messenger boys around the 1950's onwards who knew me I would appreciate catching up on old times and would love to get in contact with you so leave me a message so I can get back to you Below is a snap shot of myself in 1952 Godfrey (Sam) Pearce Godfrey (Sam) Pearce on a Royal Enfield Bike 125cc on Trial in 1952 Trowbridge Wilts
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 15:05:22 GMT
Originally posted by Ben Bentley
Hi Roger You wrote to us at the Shropshire Star earlier this month and I am really keen to do a feature about the messenger boys - just need one or two people from our neck of the woods to hang it on - some lovely stories on the site. We also cover mid Wales. Best Ben Bentley Shropshire Star 01952 242424 ext 533
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 15:04:55 GMT
We have now set up a web site for former Telegram Messenger Boys to keep in touch with each other
It is free to register, and open to all messenger boys from any location throughout Great Britain and beyond!
We would like you to record your past memories of your time as messenger boys (wags) or you can e-mail me or post the stories to the address at the bottom and I will put them on the site for you
If you have any old photograghs of your time with the G.P.O. / Royal Mail please feel free to send them to me and I shall put them on our photo gallery for all to see
Also you could leave a message on the message board for anyone to reunite with past work colleagues.
We hope that former Telegram Messenger Boys will enjoy the site and that they register on here with us, and that they do contribute stories / articles, and any old photographs
Photograghs can be sent by e-mail file attachment to me which I will then put to be viewed on this site.
We also accept any correspondence through the post, and will return all items after they have been scanned onto the website so please put a return address in with the items.
Roger Green S.H.C. ROYAL MAIL BIRMINGHAM MAIL CENTRE ST STEPHENS STREET ASTON BIRMINGHAM B6 4AA
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 15:04:10 GMT
Whats in a Name
I was christened Thomas Cyril, Thomas after my dad, which seemed to be the normal and popular attitude for families in those Days, Cyril was my Dads Brothers name, and it seems that Uncle Cyril was the perfect brother in law. Mam always held him in great esteem, she was always happy to sing his praises, there was no doubt she thought very highly of him. It appears he was a very caring person. Well mannered, and above all very considerate to others. Sadly he died when I was only 12 months old, so I never knew him much to my regret. I suppose when I was born, it was a natural choice that my Mams first born son should carry his name.
I personally never liked the name, Tom me it sounded a trifle effeminate and a little silly. Especially as we lived in the city centre of Manchester where such names were rare, to my parents and my brothers and sisters I was always called Cyril, and even today I am known by that name. To my pals on the street and at school, I was always Cyd.
Whenever anyone asked what my name was, I insisted that they called me Cyd. It sounded much better, and blended in with the Freds, Georges, Harry�s. Names that didn�t give cause for raised eyebrows.
Having my pals calling me Cyd. It was natural that on occasions I would be called Sydney. This to me was worse than being called Cyril, but of course there was little I could do about it . I was reaping what I had sown in the past.
As I grew older I was required to attend job interviews, hospital appointments, plus other agencies, and of course they all called me by my first name which was Thomas. So you can imagine the confusion this caused. My pals would be calling me Cyd, my family calling me Cyril, and all my new acquaintances calling me Tom.
My name has caused me all kinds of difficulties throughout my adult life, having to explain my three Christian names, but realise I have only myself to blame. I�m sorry now I didn�t stick to Cyril in the first place. I find in adult life that Cyril is quite acceptable, and sounds OK. So for all who read this explanation , Thomas , Tom, Cyril, or Cyd, will do very nicely thank you , Sydney will be met by a blank stare.
Cyril Farrel (or Thomas )
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 15:03:50 GMT
I started my service as a Telegram Messenger Boy in December 1941, at Spring Gardens, Head Post Office Manchester
I remember well that first morning, myself and three other new entrants, Bill Stansfield, Jimmy Hamman, and Dudly Spencely
We were given a rule book each, and instructed to read and assimilate the contents by the Inspector of Messengers. We spent all day and the following day reading them and trying to memorise all the information the points we thought would be of the most importance to us in the coming weeks.
For the next few weeks we were allowed out on the streets of Central Manchester with some of the senior messengers. I remember being given the low down on all the little dodges, and short cuts which were unknown to the majority of it�s citizens. It was stressed on me to be careful when on duty, there was always the chance of an Inspector keeping a watchful eye on us in the most unlikely places, if caught you would be landed with a form P18B (A Sin)in P.O. parlance.
The thing which all the new lads were waiting for was the new uniform, once you had that you were considered a real life Telegram Messenger Boys . I stayed at the head office for about six months, then I was transferred to a sub P.O. at a place called Northenden situated on the outskirts of Manchester near to where I lived in Wythenshawe . I was there for about six months. Then I got myself shipped back to Head Office for giving cheek to the Postmistress, (fully deserved) it taught me a lesson.
Discipline was strict in those days, and you were Inspected each morning to make sure you were properly dressed before you were allowed on to the streets of Manchester. I remember being sent home one winters morning for my overcoat, I was officially not dressed correctly, I was told in no uncertain terms that October to April was officially winter. I had to go home collect my overcoat and report back, it was a round journey of about sixteen miles at my own expense, another lesson learned.
One time on a Sunday duty I was given just six telegrams to deliver, but they were spread over a twenty mile radius, starting in Manchester, delivering a single telegram at six different districts, which included the limit of the Manchester area. It took me the whole of my duty to complete the tasks. It was a blistering hot day, and riding that big red bike just about finished me, by the time I arrived back at the office I was a physical wreck, much to the enjoyment of the lads who had managed to complete their Sunday duty a great deal easier than I did.
I volunteered for the Army in January while still only seventeen, on Demob, in 1948 I returned to the Post Office as a postman driver in 1949 I transferred to the engineering department.
One of the lads that started with me on that December morning Dudley Spensley finished up as assistant Area Engineer on the engineering side. I have never met him since, but a messenger who I knew when we were together at Spring Gardens told me.
I took early retirement in 1984 after Forty three years service
Thomas Farrell ( known as Cyd )
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 15:03:21 GMT
Originally posted by Ben Bently
What a terrific posting - really enjoyed reading this. I work as a features writer for the Shropshire Star newspaper and I'm doing a piece on memories of being a messenger boy. Do you have any links to any part of Shropshire or mid Wales. I ask because you mention parts of Wales and Hereford is only just off our patch - we circulate as far as Powys and Leominster as well as Shropshire. . .
Please let me know Ben Bentley Shropshire Star
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 15:02:54 GMT
The Second World War was at its fiercest faze following the D Day landings inMay1944 when in July of that year I applied to join the Post Office as a telegram boy. Late July I was called for interview and written test with 5 or 6 other 14 year olds. How is it that I still recollect the blank map of the UK handed out to hopeful youngsters together with a list of towns/cities with instructions to indicate their whereabouts on the blank map.I was the lucky one to be offered the job and started a long career at the tender age of 14 years and 28 days. At 9.0am on Saturday 2nd September 1944 I entered the office of the Inspector situated in the main Post Office yard. There I was met by Mr Arthur Williams Asst Inspector who set about introducing me to Post Office procedures and oversee my signing of various papers including the Official Secrets Act. I was then measured for my uniform which included standing on tip toes on the height measure in order to achieve the minimum height of 5 feet. So began a career which was to span the next 44 years with a starting pay of 11/6p plus 6/9p war bonus and 1 shilling for cycle cleaning, making a grand total of 19/3p a week in old money. Thank goodness for tips received when delivering good news. Speaking of tips I remember delivering a telegram to a local dance band leader in the Lakefield area informing him that he had won several hundred pounds and my reward was a crisp white �5 note. My feet did not touch the bicycle pedals for many a day. In the years of the war the sight of a telegram boy sent shivers into the heart of those numerous women who had family members serving in the Armed Forces. It was part of the job to deliver telegrams notifying next of kin that a loved one had either gone missing in action or had been killed on active service. I remember well the delivery of two telegrams, one to James Street and the other to Holme Terrace (later renamed Regalia Terrace) but I will refrain from disclosing house numbers .The telegrams stated that loved ones had died, one in Europe and the other in the far East. There was very little in the way of street lighting during the war and ,such as there was, it did not include the area outside built up areas. In Furnace for example lighting ceased at the Square and Cwmbach Road was in complete darkness. Bicycles, as with cars had the upper part of their main front light(s) covered during this period, so late afternoon or evening travelling was quite scary to a young lad of some 14 years of age. I still recollect one late afternoon being sent to a farmhouse some distance up the steep country road leading from the Farriers Arms Inn .There was I a young lad of 14 pushing my bicycle which was almost as big as me, up this hill in complete darkness except for my cycle half lamp. Looking back, such an experience was quite frightening and even after traversing the downhill to the Farriers as if the devil himself was behind me; there was still a long haul in utter darkness, along Cwmbach Road to Furnace Square. Please bear in mind the old Post Office cycle only had a one speed gear and it was some years later that the 3 speed gear was introduced. When the war ended in Europe (VE Day) the rejoicing in the area fronting the Post Office and into the nearby gardens by hundreds of people, young and old, reflected personified happiness. In my excitement ,I lit a large firecracker whilst standing in the Post Office yard and threw it high in the air.(the cracker was courtesy of our American friends stationed in Peaples Park).To my horror the missile arced in the air and sailed through an open window at first floor level into the ladies toilet. The loud scream of a female member of staff is one that can still be heard by myself some sixty plus years later. Poor Betty Hopkins, as she was then, suffered burns to her neck, scorching of hair to her head and a ruined blouse. That evening a tearful young lad of 14 visited Betty Hopkins at her home in Cedric Street to apologise profusely for my stupid action and thankfully before leaving I had been forgiven. Alas the story did not end there, because on my next day in work I was called to the office of Mr D J Thomas. Had it not been for the fact that my father was a serving soldier still stationed abroad and a postman in Llanelli pre-war, my time in the Post Office would have ended the day after VEDay. What a tragic loss to the Post Office that would have been!!!!??. Some time later Betty married a Greek sailor and became Mrs Tuchella ( spelling is doubtful) .The docks, and in particular the North dock was extremely busy with ships carrying coal and timber before, during and after the Second World War. This dock in particular was a popular swimming spot for large numbers of youngsters with a swim starting point at the small beach near the main gates and ending at the pilings at the opposite end with a rest, if necessary, at the buoy in the dock centre.Afavourite diving fete was off the pilings or dock side but one young lad named Collin James, also a telegram boy during his early years ,would climb to the top of one of the crane jibs some 30 feet or more higher than the dock water and in he would dive, hitting that water with a small splash. I am not aware of any other such diving from this height at the docks. The winter of 1946/47 was one of extreme weather conditions including sub zero temperatures and deep snow drifts throughout the district.We were 7 or 8 telegram boys at this time and although the use of cycles was out of the question during the dreadful weather, the delivery of telegrams in the town area continued .How times have changed between then and today. The snow at the earlier date was several feet deep but I still managed to travel from my Dafen home to the Head Office in John Street as , from their homes, did my fellow telegram boys. On the day I commenced to type this part of my story approximately 2 inches of snow fell in Llanelli and caused serious disruption and resulted in the closure of several schools - lucky pupils or teachers.?. So on and on until November 1947 I pedalled my bicycle, often to Bwlch y Gwynt and Machynis, an easy ride over the flat terrain, before hanging up my cycle clips, I progressed to the strange redundant rank of Sorting Clerk and Telegraphist in the Llanelli sorting office as a young man of 5ft9ins. - A lot taller and perhaps a wiser young man than that of September 1944. So began a long and successful career spanning the next 40 years. From the days of a young 14 year old to retirement as Head Postmaster Hereford in 1988 completing a full circle by returning to Llanelli with my late wife Doris. Gerald Barton
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 15:02:03 GMT
Hi Guys
I agree, it was a great time, Summer time was the best, driving through the lane's in the old grey light weight suites and then the winter with my white PVC jacket and black leggings which leaked around the knees. The water proofs in them days were second hand , but we still raced to counter when the buzzer went off to get out on the road and deliver.
Also once a week the Postmaster would come and find us for a chat, as we played an important put in the service, but also in the community, as we were a vital link with the ferry's in the old days around Folkestone and Dover. When the weather changed in the channel and the boat was running late, all members of the crew where notified by telegram, offend making us late and run over, but we still enjoyed.
regards
Pat
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 15:01:33 GMT
was a mopper from 59-62 at leicester square wc2 I went on to be a postman and retired after 40 years, we had to walk everywhere as bikes were considered to risky. we delivered to st james palace and the whole of theatre land, our pouches were carried as if we were gunslingers, I loved every minute and have so many tales to tell it would take forever.
maxie bacon
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 15:00:01 GMT
Originally posted by Ben Bentley
Hi Ben Bentley here from the Shropshire Star evening newspaper. I would love to hear from anyone in Shropshire or used to live in Shropshire who worked as a messenger boy as part of an editorial feature. . . It would be great to hear your recollections. My email address is benbentley@shropshirestar.co.uk or drop a line on the message board here.
Kindest regards Ben Bentley Shropshire Star
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 14:59:17 GMT
Hi
If anyone remembers working in either of Fordrough Lane / 95 Newhall Street / Granville House / south east Telegram Office Sparkhill / Richmond House / Telephone House or one of the units on Broad Street Please give your accounts & stories on here
Did any one go into the bunkers in 95 Newhall Street
Roger Green
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