Recollections of Whiston
I idled away many summers of my youth fishing in Whiston Brook or the River Rother where it flows through Whiston Meadows. It's quite posh in Whiston these days with some very nice property but it was a bit rough when I were a kid. Rotherham Council used to house some of the worst families in the run down cottages by the stream and the Whiston Gang had a terrible reputation for mayhem and thuggery.
On writing these pages I dredged up memories of bike rides down to Garlands' Chippy to fetch the family supper - the trouble is that I can't remember where it was. I remember Clay's Farm - Mrs Clay was the milkwoman who also brought eggs (we always had a competition to see who got the double-yokers). My elder brother played cricket at Whiston Cricket Club, football for one of the soccer clubs (can't remember which) and for a while he ran the Youth Club in the village. Some of my favourite street names are down there - Cow Rakes Lane and Worry Goose Lane. I think its been a fair few years now since a cow raked you or a goose worried you down there but it gives you a nice rural feel from the days before housing estates. And there's Sitwell Park Golf Course which I understand is rather posh. We used to pick bluebells in the adjoining woods - I wonder if they are still there?
These recollections are from from Ray Email raydunfordathotmail.co.uk (remember to change at to @) 28 Oct 2005.
"I remember as a lad walking every sunday out with my father round Whiston and walking on the wall on the left hand side of Pleasley road on the way down into the village up at the cross roads it was about two foot high and as it got to the Chequers pub it was about six foot my father said every week I won't lift you down and it took a long time before I pluck up the courage to jump the gateway that leads up to the garden of the pub and then have to turn round because when we got to the pub it was to high to jump down and he would just say see what I mean.
Then off we would go up to Upper Whiston and round Morthen as we headed back home we always called in the Golden Ball inn owned by Ossy Scales where he got the beer out of the barrels with a large jug and brought it to the bar after he had a beer or two and me a lemonade we made our way home for dinner -dinner was always on the table for him getting in by 2.30 tired out from the walk. Good old day's."