So this is my first blog, which is quite surprising seeing as many, many people have been saying that I should have started one many years ago. So what has prompted to actually write one, simple answer is I don't know. Maybe to see my name in print, (very good for the ego). Or to think, maybe wrongly, that other people want to read me in print, (again very good for the ego). So in very simple terms, based on what I have just written I would say that this is an ego booster, plus I enjoy writing, so here goes.
Who the hell is Don Kirkham, A.K.A. coachkirkham? Amazed as I am that you have never heard of me, it seems obvious that you do not live in Flin Flon , Manitoba
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| Don Kirkham (coachkirkham) |
I was born in Burnley, Lancashire , England on the 3rd of April 1953, in the misery that was Burnley at the time, smoke filled air, cotton mills, cloth capped men and scruffy kids, I must have been the only ray of sunshine shining on Burnley on that momentous day. Clouded only by the small fact that I was a twin, my early fame was eclipsed and shared by my elder brother, (by twenty minutes), Denis, who popped out before me. I think he kicked me in the head to get out first, and for that I have never forgiven him and kick him back in the head at every possible chance. We were born at home, as most kids were at the time, something that now seems to be the 'new' way of giving birth, but I have no memory of the house I was born in, other than seeing it on the outside when I was older. Found in the centre of a row of terraced houses called Scotts Terrace, it was very small, facing a stone wall that kept the populous from the main railway tracks that ran from Yorkshire to Lancashire . There were trains throughout my early childhood on that track, day and night, but my parents, and my other three older brothers all say that they never heard them, I heard them from two hundred yards away, so how they never heard them is a mystery to me. The "I never heard them" changed to " we got used to them" in later years.
Sometime in my very early childhood we moved to 134 Accrington Road. When I say 'we' moved, there was my eldest Brother Trevor, middle brother Gordon, and the youngest brother Kevin, somehow or other Denis and I were always referred to as 'the twins', never as the brothers of Trevor, Gordon or Kevin. Accrington road as its name suggests was the main road between Burnley and Accrington . It was a very busy road, with big trucks (lorries in the UK Burnley , nor does it slow down, it just keeps moving. we had to time our crossing so perfectly to make sure that we got through two lanes of cars travelling at thirty miles an hour safely.
134 Accrington Road was a typical two up two down terraced house, which as its name suggests had two room downstairs, and originally two bedrooms upstairs, the back bedroom being divided into two separate rooms by a wooden partition wall. A central staircase connected the two floors from the 'hall', which ran from the front door to the living room. The front facing room was called the front room, for obvious reasons, and was for the most part out of bounds. We had what mum called a scullery on the back of the house. Previous owners had built a kitchen extension into the backyard, this must have been many years and many owners before us because like the house itself it was built of stone and had a slate roof.
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| 134 Accrington Road, (2nd window from the far end) |
Each room had a fireplace, and the scullery or kitchen had a big white stone sink in the far right corner. This sink was not only our washing dishes sink, but also our washing people sink. As was normal in the early sixties, at least in our area of Burnley , we had no inside bathroom, we had an outside toilet at the bottom of the backyard. Which I may add was better than our neighbours Mr and Mrs Barnes, who still had a long drop toilet. A hole with a raised top at sitting level, and toilet seat on it that seemed to drop to impenetrable darkness. Into this hole people would relieve themselves and a tippler, which took water form the kitchen sink washed the deposit into the sewer. At least we had a 'proper toilet' as mum would proudly declare to anyone who would listen. "one that flushes". However we had no bath, it may seem ridiculous and even inconceivable now, but we really did have a tin bath that we used in front of the fire in the living room. I was the youngest, and was the last, somehow lowering myself into dirty water did not bother me, after all I always had, get in, wash, get out dry off. Once a week normally on a Sunday. Incidentally I cannot remember either of my parents having a bath, or talking about having a bath, I am not sure if they did, but I suppose they must have.
And so we moved in, and my early life began. We were, in the words Denis, (who has a memory that beats mine anytime) the scruffy kids on the street. Looking back I now know that he is right. As twins in the late fifties and early sixties we were dressed in identical clothing. Not that being identical was bad enough, but being dressed the same was worse. We were always on show, being paraded around like poodles to anyone who uttered the words we grew to hate, "ooh look they must be twins, ahhhh". To this day if I see twins dressed alike I feel like grabbing their parents and telling them what I think of them, but I don't! We were dressed in clean clothes every Monday, and they lasted for a week, 'top' clothes and underwear, one set, one week, but seeing as we knew no different we were happy. So that's it, the next episode of this blog will be starting school, as twins, and trying to be individuals, (plus a few other things)
Don Kirkham
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