I was having a chat with Vivian Longstaff in the Bottom House the other day and was explaining to her how I could do with a few people writing a piece or two for the ‘blog’. Viv said she would love to oblige and, true to her word, has written the following blog.

Ghostly Relations; by Vivian Longstaff.

Chatting with Mandy, Dolly, Bernice (she of the nuked pasties fame) and Terry in the Middle House the other Sunday night, the conversation turned to Mandy’s resident ghost, who it seemed was none other than my grandfather Albert Leonard.

Apparently he has been seen on occasion and has also caused mischief, by turning things on and off etc., as ghosts do.

The chat turned to what the Middle House looked like years ago and I explained to Mandy how it was in the 1960’s when I was a child, when it had a bar, a parlour and a snug, as well as my gran’s kitchen, which was the area where we were actually sitting that night and how on a Sunday I was allowed to have a bitter lemon from the bar and bag of Tudor crisps while watching Roger Moore in The Saint.

That set me thinking about my Grandad, Albert who as well as being landlord of the Kings Head (to give it its Sunday name) for 43 years he was also the original ‘superstar’ darts player, way back in the 1930’s & 1940’s, Performing at exhibitions all over the North East of England, in pubs and clubs. As well as the usual skills associated with darts, he would carry out what were considered quite daring and dangerous feats at that time, which included knocking a silver threepenny bit from the tongue and between strands of hair of his partner Hughie Roberts with a single dart, who must have had nerves of steel. I have photographs of my Grandad and Hughie from that time, as well as posters of his exhibitions and best of all I still have one or two of the silver threepenny bits with dents and holes in them.

When Albert & Linda (my Gran) retired in 1968. The Northern Echo came out and wrote an article and took photographs, which I still have today. I was very young at the time, 8 in fact, but I do remember it being quite exciting. (We lived such simple lives then, The Northern Echo being like the Sky News of its day to us).

Grandad Albert died in December 1972.

I hope that some readers might find my reminiscences interesting and some may even remember those days.

Footnote… That’s the SPIRIT Viv! A Cockfield mug will be winging its way to you by way of a thank you.

Got a Cockfield story? nigeldowson@yahoo.co.uk