Bath Night in front of the fire

Bath Night in front of the fire

A picture of life in the late thirties.

A bath in front of a living room fire on a Saturday night. The tin bath carried in to the living room brought in to use form its hanging place of a nail on the wall outside or in the coal house.
Bathrooms had been introduced into confines of the main house. These houses built in the early thirties started to give the comfort so desired of the working class. But alas no added luxury of central heating those times. bathrooms were more like being in an ice house than a sauna. In wintertime it was pure luxury of the added pleasure of warm coal fire blazing in the back ground.

On tin Bath Night

The simple addition of more boiling water to prolong the ecstasy. A fire made up with small coal from the river Ebbw. washed down from the valley mining washeries. Which was made up into small round balls. Which hissed when placed on the fire. But What a fire it made. One would listen to the radio. “In Town tonight” The famous catch words of the playing radio program. Once again we stop London’s Traffic to be in Town Tonight.

Myeloma a Terrible Disease

Myeloma A Terrible Disease.

Please Support this Charity.

If this brave lady can raise money by her efforts to walk over a bridge.

Whats in your wallet

Many In Caerleon and South Wales area have been struck down with this cancer. Please help I witnessed my own wife who died recently with this affliction of which can be only described on nailed on the bloody cross.

Brave woman fights this disease

The Nit Nurse Inspection

The nit Nurse at Work
The inspection for NITS

When the local shop sold the fine toothed debugging combs. Arranged in tidy rows on card held on by an elastic cord. In colours black or grey. Black being the preferred colour for you could pick out the wriggling creature. The added excitement of cracking the varmint between the thumbnail and the comb. The task of combing over the laid out old Argus newspaper often fell to the father. Probably having not had a lot out of life and the sound of the crack. When the crawling quarry was caught could be compared with that excitement of a day at the races. Or the local fox hunt.

Parents combed their children’s golden locks. To seek out and destroy any nits or crawling foreign crab like creatures.Comments were often you caught them from sitting next to some one in that school. Or stay away from so and so they got nits. And one would hear the saying if one had a nap hand oh! I caught it off a lavatory seat. All in all anything changes witches were burnt once.
Some one must be blamed. Poverty bad living conditions you take your choice.

Man does like hunting.

Go to visit the any zoo look at the way the chimp enjoys hunting on one another for nits. The nit nurse. When in her sudden appearance nurse paid a visit to the school? To seek out and render those children. With any signs of infestation of nits. Searching fingers through ones hair her hands clad in rubber gloves. The terrifying fears of a note to parents or segregation wait in the corner.

Made for a hasty retreat when given the all clear.

Pure relief.

John Frost Chartist

This painting is acrylic on canvas 76cm x 100cm. Exhibited Newport Art Gallery.Times past. In Artist collection.

Composed on information and imagination on reading material of this Riot. The Chartists movement attempted uprising. I have tried to give both sides of this tragedy of the turmoil of British historical times past. In 1839 people struggling against the poor law of 1832 and corrupt politicians and placating the middle class at the expense of the poor. With no vote unless a freeholder. Poor had little or no chance to change their way of life.

A Comment by John Frost the Chartist – A one time mayor of Newport.

Does any man expect that members put into the House of Commons by bribery and perjury, violence, drunkenness? Will ever make laws favourable to the people? A bad system cannot produce good men. We do not look for Figs from Thistles. The time is fast approaching when there must be no neutrals. The question will be who is for good and cheap Government and who is against It.

The people’s Charter.

These men by the struggle and sacrifice. We now enjoy five of the six demands of the peoples Charter covenants in our constitution. I do hope one day the last will be included where by we can at least get rid of a third of the House of Commons every year, by vote. John Frost found guilty and was sentenced to be hung drawn and quartered. The then Queen Victoria and home Secretary frightened of some impending French style Revolution back-lash. Advised to calm things down, also a plea by the trial Judge Tindle. The sentence was changed to one of transportation for life.

John Frost was pardoned and returned home.

The faithful wife Mary waiting for his return home to Britain( Touched me with sadness). After serving fourteen years of hard Labour. But sadly no happy ending she passed away a year after John returned from exile from Tasmanian 1856. FROST DIED 27TH JULY 1877. In his ninety-third year. Buried at Horfield Parish Church Bristol. Moved to Stapleton Bristol on return from Tasmania.

Newport gave its honour to this knight of old. We have John Frost square and also a commemorative sculpture by Chris Kelly outside the Newport West Gate Hotel. Also a big tiled mural on the wall in the walk way though to John Frost Square. By artist Kenneth Budd. The Museum at Newport is also a hive of informative material. Also the Civic Centre Foyer Newport has a mural worth study.
Further update is the new art Centre on the riverfront opening October 2004. also one day it will house the Newport Ship. Discovered under its cloak of river mud on this site. Discovered when the foundation for the art centre was being excavated. One can debate whether the White House clad thing is an abortion or built in the right place or not. Lottery money helped build it and intentions are well meant. Standing down wind from the Wave Sculpture depicting in my mind a birth control Dutch cap installer. Now are both Wave and Centre are in place. Make the best of its use you good old Newport City and all folk yet to be born. Probably it will be standing for the next hundred years. Making its history. But be watchful of crossing the road to gain access to its doors. A dual carriageway of some times fast moving cars could make one believe the song lyric “I believe I can fly?”And many do in ideas with rate payed money spent on murals of art then maybe destroyed by lack of thought influenced by developers that care less of a beautiful Victorian grid based town that once was.

The Hanging Man

The Hanging Man

A feeling of Community Charge.We have way’s to make you pay. Based on Working class sayings. What do you want Blood?. On the other hand You have me over a barrel! Alternatively,Some finer points of painting Too many Big Chiefs and free loaders all on the bandwagon.One worker pulling the knackers off another another. Some times the public sector on the backs of private sector. Public sector not all bad but sometime ruined by the creation of jobs for the favourites and over manning by union activists of distinct animal dinosaurs related to the now bird Crow. This is not meant to be of offence to you. Try to understand based on a feeling of so called desperation. The Representatives we elect pile on the bills after gaining their secure position. When the elected Parliamentary MP or local councilor. Ensure their pension is safe and well protected – while the chancellor raids the private paid in pension of our workers pension investment. You might not be at that level where you have to watch every penny. Spare a thought for those who gave their all for this country and are aged in the over seventy-six to eighty and over bracket with little income and in the winter of their life

Feelings of desperation of having no control over those whom have that power to make these decisions. Those smooth talkers and the chattering classes of this world. Against the working masses with no voice other than a cross at election times or maybe on a Hot Cross Bun. All you get is fifteen crosses and one up the cemetery. Your thoughts are you do have a vote. Yes! But do we have any say as to how and where and what you have to pay. Everyone at local elections when they vote a voting form able to tick a box in agreement with or against.On the big capital spending projects. One Example the Dome and Assemblies which has created so much animosity. Vote For it and you pay extra on your Poll tax you want it you pay for it. Set normal standing Community charges that are fixed by Central Government. Also base charges on the total income earned in that house. Lesson the burden on people below that income and not the get out form filling scam. That every elected official quotes to pass the buck when pursued on this question. Extra spending you want on these projects you pay the extra contribution.

You and not your neighbour. This in itself will encourage voters to turn out and vote. Enabling being taken to the cleaners by the Mafia laundering system of some Unconcerned Councils. Increasing the Council tax every time one has a rise in one pension. That helps cancel any increase one has in the ones pension. End the free holiday treat on a so-called fact find trip excuses. Holiday for elected personnel to some remote and non-relevant country. Given them extra family holidays with pay from our taxes. One final point I would wish to see the people whom rent our council stock be given the chance when entering the house to be given a chance to state if they would wish to buy with the rent they will have to pay for many years to come.

If they wish not wish to buy at that point they could be given an assurance that at the age of sixty five or a set age have the house free of any encumbrances of any rent to pay until death do us part. Rules would be worked that only the tenant etc so that no racket could be introduced. Many have paid for the value of their house over and over again and do not own a brick.

The Ugly Bugs Ball

Friday Night when the lights go down low.

The Stow Hill Hop

At the old labour hall you were my dancing Queen. Many attractive young princesses of Newport and beyond came to the local hop. While the lads supped ale and danced with courage each and everyone enjoying the local friendly dance or maybe and little flirt. With ones bit of skirt. Ugly bugs by name is a relative term, Beautiful women once graced this hall of delight on a Friday night. Lovely gliding dancing queens dancing the night away on this spring wooden floor. Now all these halls of up the Memo and of village and labour clubs are long gone into a memory of our past. Vanished the many dance venue’s of this by gone age of ball room Dancing. Closed clubs and changing fashions and empty chairs and tables and no sweet smell of scented bodies or sound of gliding feet. Sounds Linger no more. Or the chatter have you told her you have a car.

Can I see you home.

Or how about going picking daffodils down the light house Road. The lines of age have now etched its marks on the pack hunters that stood at bar waiting and watching to join the hunt. Supping beer in abandonment of Dutch courage to join the Dancing swirling pack. Gone for ever those happy days and memories.Days and nights that will never return.