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Tony Ilett joined Stow Hill School having moved down from Nottingham. He lived in Kensington Place with his mother and elder brother Malcolm. We used to get up to all sorts of things, he had acquired a book on Jiu-jitsu, and we started to practice the moves in his front room. Then he got a later version which told us that the name had now changed to Judo. We learned a few bits from that and the funny names that go with the various moves. These were of course Japanese names describing the postures and the throws. Words like 'Oh soto gari' and many more. We were both into the same sort of music, Buddy Holly and so on, and Tony's mum bought him a tape recorder made by Philips the Model number was an EL3541D/01G. It was a rather large machine by today's standards, as it was a reel to reel outfit. It had the facility to superimpose and we spent many happy hours recording our voices over those of Buddy Holly, among others. We experimented with stereo, and we had a mutual friend, a lad of Polish extraction, Wolfgang Pzszola, (I promise that this is not a made up name).

Wolfie was a bit of a boffin with electronics. His bedroom was like a workshop cum studio. He was trying to record video on a domestic tape recorder. This was no longer a normal domestic machine. It's make originally was probably a Grundig, which was another very popular machine in those days, but the insides were certainly nothing like the manufacturers had intended, or would certainly find hard to recognise. The machine was originally a three speed device, but he had increased the speed of the drives to increase the recording capability, and overcome the problems of bandwidth. As spinning heads were not yet available in the late 50's early 60's, the tape was driven very fast to try to achieve the same effect. The 'camera' was a photo-diode and the scanning was achieved by using a television cathode ray tube. The synchronisation was ingenious too. He had hooked up to another TV that was receiving an 'off-air' signal from either Wenvoe or St. Hillary, and the 'sync' signal was hooked up to this lot. A photographic transparency (slide) was fixed between the CRT and the diode, and everything was switched on. Wolfie was fiddling about in the back of the third TV which was used to, hopefully, display the resultant picture. He tweaked the recorder, and the fourth TV that was used to display the hoped for signal from the crude camera before recording, was also switched on. I dreaded to think what their electricity bill was like. The tubes flickered and a fuzzy image was seen on the 'monitor' it was just about discernable as a copy of the slide. Wolfie then turned on the tape recorder, it was a frightening sight, like something out of Dr Who. The machine was spinning at an incredible speed. A moment or so later the long tape had been used up and it nearly took off once the end was reached. Wolfie then rewound the tape, threaded it and switched it into play. It again roared off as before, and we could barely make out an image - or could we? To this day I can't swear to the fact that a blobby sort of image was or wasn't a reproduced image. But Wolfie was undaunted. He was very excited telling us that that had been the best yet. This experience was to shape my future, and our mutual interest in electronics and music led to both Tony and I going into the TV and Radio repair trade later on.

Tony told me that there was a Haunted House up the road from him. Well, one night we went there, yep, you guessed it, at midnight, and armed with our torches went into the place.  We were joined by another lad, Micky Shutt I think he was called (Tony knew him better than me). There we were, three lads about 13 or 14 years old I seem to recall, entering this dread place, and as the inside was derelict we had to pick our way through the debris in the cellar.  It was a very spooky place I will admit, and noises of birds and the inevitable owl, set the scene.  Rats had been the main occupants for a long time, and they were heard scurrying around.  OK this bit will sound somewhat corny, but there was even a bat or two flying about.  We were scared something short of sh*tless when a bit of masonry took upon itself to fall in some corner of the building, we ran out of there as fast as our legs could carry us.  Never to return again, although Tony, my friend at the time, jokingly suggested a revisit.

Around the end of October, Tony told me about some of the pranks they got up to in Nottingham. On Hallow'een the local kids would go around the neighbourhood and lift gates off their hinges, and knock on doors asking for sweets or removal of the occupants gates was a certainty. Of course this was not something that would catch on in Newport back then anyway. This was the first I had heard of 'trick or treat'. We considered it but never took the risk. Tony's list of girlfriends after a short while in Newport was legend. Girls seemed attracted to him like flies round a heap of...... no, like bees around a honeypot. I was never tempted, as I was still focussed on 'her'. Tony met her a few times, but he respected the old code of conduct, that mates leave other mates girlfriends alone. Not that it would have mattered, she would never have 'gone off' with him anyway.

Tony eventually met Margaret, his wife, got married and later moved to Canada. I last spoke to him and her around 1984, but have since lost touch again. His brother Malcolm, who also married a Margaret, has told me that it was always difficult to know where Tony was, as he was always moving around.

Colin Morris was living in the old Morris Street before the George Street bridge was built. His was one of the houses demolished to make way for the bridge. He was an excellent musician, and he had realised a dream that I had a few years previously. He played the accordion, and he played it well. He was always a 'turn' on the school Christmas show. He could, seemingly, play anything. Unlike another performer who 'played' the guitar at the same events, but the applause being limited to his group of friends, and some polite applause from teachers and one or two individuals intimidated into doing so by teachers stares. The reason was that this lad only seemed to know one tune, 'When' and about four chords was all he could muster. At this precise moment I can't bring his full name to mind, but perhaps that's just as well really to spare his blushes. All I remember right now is that it was Phil. I went to Colin's house a few times, and they had a two-way, 'tannoy-like' system in every room. No shouting up the stairs "Colin, your dinner's on the table". The sound system would announce this event with very little effort. My first encounter with a typewriter was there, and I was amazed at how people could remember the positions of all the letters. As I type this, it all seems so long ago. But then it was, it was the 1950's, post war Britain and hope was in everyone's heart.

The '60's promised a new and brighter time, and the fashions were starting to reflect this upsurge in optimism. The George Street bridge eventually arrived, and there was a big row after it's completion in 1963. The row centred on it's name. A lot of people wanted it to be called President John F. Kennedy bridge, and countless variations on that theme following his assassination in November of that year. Eventually it was decided that it should be called George Street bridge as the road on the western bank of the Usk was at one end. The original Severn Bridge was being built around this time, and was completed in 1964. The M4 was carried across the Severn then, but that stretch has now been renamed the M48, the new Severn Bridge now being the M4 carrier.

To be continued...............

©Len Jones 2004