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- Apr 25, 2016
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My first thought too!The photo of the Lyndurst Gate reminds me of the absolutely vile toilets just to the left in the picture. You could smell them as soon as you entered throgh the turnstiles. It was even worse on the way out as they would have been used at halftime.
Prefabs, with what looks like surplus Anderson shelters as garden sheds. There was another group in Central Park alongside Alma Road. A lot of people who lost their houses in the Blitz were grateful for those places even if they were a bit basic.
Lasted into the 60s, We were visiting one of two sets of relatives living in them in November '63 when my uncle opened the door and greeted us with "Kennedy's been shot"Prefabs, with what looks like surplus Anderson shelters as garden sheds. There was another group in Central Park alongside Alma Road. A lot of people who lost their houses in the Blitz were grateful for those places even if they were a bit basic.
Central Park prefabs...I was born in one in 1956 ! Monroe Gardens. Newish houses there now...named the same.Prefabs, with what looks like surplus Anderson shelters as garden sheds. There was another group in Central Park alongside Alma Road. A lot of people who lost their houses in the Blitz were grateful for those places even if they were a bit basic.
That sewage works to the left of the raised dual carriageway: I worked there planting trees for Plymouth Parks and Gardens in 1974. It wasn't finished at the time, and we were often knee-deep (above welly level) in mud and raw sewage as our complete crook of a foreman briefly parted the sludge with a mechanical digger while we were made to drop a large sapling into the filth with no prep whatsoever - dozens of them, being the ones he hadn't already nicked and sold. He used to enjoy trying to whack us with the digger bucket, too. Lovely chap.Marsh Mills around 1980/81
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I had happier, though ethically dodgy, memories of a Plymouth City Council holiday job. Our daily task was to collect garden refuse and take it to the tip, going round the city in a large truck with me squashed into the front seat. Lunch times would often find us in a pub or local club (they were all or mostly men only in those days) for a leisurely couple of pints. Then back onto the truck with the HGV driver sober as a judge. Miraculously, our friendly man at the tip consistently managed to record a few more dumping trips than we actually made, so we were sweet with management.That sewage works to the left of the raised dual carriageway: I worked there planting trees for Plymouth Parks and Gardens in 1974. It wasn't finished at the time, and we were often knee-deep (above welly level) in mud and raw sewage as our complete crook of a foreman briefly parted the sludge with a mechanical digger while we were made to drop a large sapling into the filth with no prep whatsoever - dozens of them, being the ones he hadn't already nicked and sold. He used to enjoy trying to whack us with the digger bucket, too. Lovely chap.
I drove past a few months later and, surprise, every last sapling was dead. Ah, the carefree days of youth - how I miss 'em!