Kilo a Dogs Tale

Riding home from work at the Battle Hill Colliery in Wallsend a young lad hears what he thinks is a woman in distress- He parks his bike and runs down an an embankment where he discovers it is not a woman but a sack that has been thrown into a sewer. upon opening the bag he discovers that it is in fact a little staffordshire bull terrier pup. He places the pup into his bait bag and takes it home to his mother where they live in a miner's cottage in Cullercoats. If you love animals you will love this story.

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2. Kilo Chapter 2

It was very quiet in the Reamer household for many months after Tom’s death. Gone was the sparkle in Nelly’s eyes, it was if her life blood was draining from her. She paid little attention to her appearance. Her hair began to show signs of silver where once there were dark curls. Even Nelly’s eyes seemed to wrinkle almost over night. The stress of bringing up a child on her own over the last five years was enormous. She took in washing to help with the household bills. Jack was earning just three pounds ten shillings a week which he gave to his mother who managed to put a few shilling away each week in a tin on the shelf near the fire. This was in case jack wanted to go out with his friends but he never did he chose to work as hard as he could to keep his mother.

After eating the bacon sandwich jack got his bicycle from the back yard. He checked the tyres on the Raleigh A’ framed push bike before lifting the dynamo and placing it into position. He waved to his mother as he strapped the bait box and tea canister onto his massive shoulders then peddled away down the street.
The beam of light from his head light shone on the ground as he passed the other rows of houses in Tynemouth. It was a good five miles to the pit but jack did it each morning in less than half an hour. Traffic was very light with the odd horse and cart delivering milk, the news agents were just opening as well as the local bakery which he loved the smell of the steak mince pies and freshly baked bread.

By the time Jack was on the coal face it was seven o’clock the work was hard and the hours long. Working with a pick and shovel all day long was taxing on the muscles.
But someone would start up a song and everyone joined in. There was many a good chanter down the pit I can tell you.
During the break the lads brewed the tea they ate whatever their wives or mothers had made. Usually it was a huge pasty with meat and potato at one end and apple at the other. Sometimes there would be a fruit scone too.
When the shift was done the hooter would sound and the men made their way to the mini rail way where they were taken to the lift then raised to the surface via a winch ten men at a time. There was a little wash room but by the time you waited to get in there you could have been home.
Jack knew that his mother would be boiling large pans of water on the fire ready to scrub the coal dust from his hair as well as his body.
They still used the tin bath that his father had used before him so he knew the drill.
He picked up his bike from the bike shed, checked the tyres took the dynamo off the wheel as it was still light before cycling home. As he passed Willington Quay there was an overturned dray cart in the middle of the road. Apparently one of the horses had reared up then died. The local Bobby was directing traffic down by Haggies Ropes and Fabrics. Jack signalled a right turn with his arm trying to take in the scene as he slowly turned the corner.


 

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