See You on the Brushes. Here we are, 10.15 pm. on Sunday night, I looked at my mate, "what a night Baz." We had been to nearly every pub and club in the village, and downed a pint in them all. The concert party in the Soldiers was about as good as Friday night down pit, and that group in Carter Lane, well, they sounded just like Billy Morgan when he got his shovel fast in the box-end last week. He squealed like a little porky, god what a racket. Mind he was lucky, he only ended up with severe bruising because the conveyor belt stopped before he was dragged in. "Come on Baz, we'll try the Gate." Baz nodded his agreement and off we went. The room was so packed you'd think they were giving ale away. A little push here and a nudge there and eventually I reached the bar. "Two pints of Mansfield bitter Jenny," that's for me, I thought, Baz was just behind me. "I expect Baz wants the same Jenny it's nearly closing time." I reached into my pocket and pulled out my money, "bloody hell Baz I've not spent that much, we'll just get our own this time, ok, we'll soon need a mortgage to go for a night out." Baz nodded in agreement and looked around the room. "Let's nip round to the tap room we'll get a seat in there," with a nod of agreement I was off. There were a couple of seats in the corner, which we grabbed, we were glad of a rest after our arduous night. We looked around and took in the atmosphere, the old colliers were sitting there one or two with little scarves around their necks and their cloth caps on the seat beside them. It was great to see them enjoying a night out with their mates, they deserved some pleasure after all the heart aching times they'd endured over the years. Whenever they got together the talk eventually turned to the amount of coal they had filled, or how much coal they'd cut. More coal was turned in the tap room than there was in the pits. Little Geordie had his singing head on. "I'm a celebrated working-man, from work I never shirk, I can hew more coals than any man from Glasgow down to York; And if you like to see my style then call around on me, When I've had several beers in the bar-room, In the bar-room, In the bar-room, That's where we congregate, To drill the holes and fill the coals, And shovel back the slate, And for to do a job of work O I am never late, That's providing that we do it in the bar-room." "Better get some dust suppression on over there" I shouted to old Joe "Aye not to worry George, this'll kill it off" as he lifted his glass to his lips, took a long drink and emptied the glass. "Best be off now," he said, "on days in morning, soon be 5 o'clock." How right he was, my first pint was gone by now of course, but I was struggling with the second, greedy sod I thought, should've only bought one pint, I'll never learn. The closing bell had long gone now and it was time to drink up. Not wanting to show myself up, or being subject to taunts of "he can't take his beer," I took a deep breath and gulped it down. Yes, old Joe was right it would soon be 5 o'clock and Baz and me were on days as well. Baz lived up the Model Village and I lived down Ashbourne Street so we went different ways. "See you on the brushes" Baz said as he turned to walk away, "see you on the brushes Baz, take care now," I replied as I hurried to the nearest piece of waste land to deposit that last pint. "Now George," I said to myself, "you've got 2 minutes to pull yourself together before you get home and face the Wife," If I looked too drunk the inquisition would begin, and to be fair if she started she could put the "Gestapo" to shame. As I approached the back door I gave myself a bit of a shake, stood upright and walked inside. The frying pan was on and my fry-up supper was nearly ready, "you're late tonight aren't you? You're on days in the morning remember." "Yes dear, I got talking to the lads, didn't realise the time, you know how it is," Sue gave me a disbelieving look as she filled the teapot. "Not too much supper for me" I said, "my stomachs a bit off tonight, only managed three pints all night, don't know what's caused it." I was lying through my teeth but she must have been in a good mood because she didn't argue the point. "I'll just nip to the loo first," I was almost there before I got the words out, even though the toilet was outside in the yard. Good job the seat was up. Whoosh, out it came, gushing just like the eternal fountain. After a while, what with the fresh air and all, I was feeling well enough to face that supper and the wicked witch of the north. Or was it south, I never could remember which witch was which. The rest of the night went off fairly smoothly, and off to bed we went. "Don't forget to set the alarm" Sue told me, "Already set," I said, as enthusiastically as I could manage, "good night" I muttered as I rolled over and drifted off to sleep. I think Sue was saying something but I was asleep in a flash. After what seemed like only minutes I heard the horrible, unearthly sound of the alarm ringing, louder and louder in my left ear. It was like something from hell. Visions of Quasimodo swinging from the bell tower came to mind. My head was thumping and all I wanted was to turn over and go back to sleep. I looked across to Sue and she was fast on, with a bit luck the alarm would stop before she heard it and I could claim to have overslept. Well, if she didn't hear the alarm then I could say I didn't hear it. I was just dozing off looking forward to a really good lie in; when an almighty blow struck my ribs. Rocket elbow Sue was awake. "Alarms gone off," she said " you'd better get up, it's bull week you know." Her who must be obeyed was right; we'd need all the money we could get for the holidays. I dragged myself out of bed and in a daze got dressed and went downstairs. I threw a couple of handfuls of cold water in my face to wake myself up, made a cup of tea, which I quickly drank along with two headache tablets. The tea worked its way through my system almost immediately and the loo beckoned once more. After a wash, I combed my hair, threw my coat on and shoved my snap in my pocket. I picked up my clean pit clothes that Sue had rolled up inside a clean towel as usual, shoved it under my right arm, and off I went to meet Baz on the Brushes. My journey along the black pad took me past the recreation field that led to a tunnel under the railway sidings and out into the pit yard. The 10-minute walk succeeded in freshening me up and I was feeling much better as I walked into the deployment centre to turn my mottie over. "Morning George" the overman bellowed, as I began walking out towards the pit baths, "machines at tail gate end." "Right Zach, see you later" I replied. Zach was a good lad, Polish by birth; he came to live in England after the war and like many other 'Pols' went into the coal mines. They were all good lads really, but they had such awful names, awful I mean to pronounce, we couldn't seem to get our tongues around them. I didn't know anybody who could say their names, except other Pols of course, most miners tried for a while then gave it up as a bad job. I think Zach's name was Zdanowicz or something like that. But hey, Zach was happy enough with his adopted name and we respected him as a good and fair gaffer. Off into the baths, through the bottom door, and up towards my clean locker, acknowledging each man I met with a little nod of the head or a virtually undecipherable "morning." There were rows and rows of lockers and my row was right opposite the bath attendant's office, sixth locker along, on the top row. The bath attendant, Jim, popped his head out of the office door just as I was stepping up onto the ledge to put my key in the lock. Before I knew what was happening my foot was sliding from under me. What a clatter there was as I grabbed the handrail with both hands as fast as I could to stop myself falling. I banged my shin, my shoulder, and my head on various parts of the lockers before eventually saving myself from serious harm. "You Ok" shouted Jim, "Ok" I blathered, "some pillock's left water all over this ledge, I nearly set me bloody neck the stupid B******." "Anyway, when are you going to get me a bottom locker? Before I end up killing myself I hope?" "Now George, tha knows bottom lockers are for old and disabled men, but I'll put tha on list, best not hold tha breath, tha's quite a while afore tha'll reach top of the list." With that Jim was off back into his office. The thought did pass my mind that some of Jim's drinking mates seemed to qualify for a bottom locker long before reaching any of the qualifications he'd just mentioned. But I decided to say no more on the subject. Eventually I reached in to my locker, pulled out my slippers and soap dish, unrolled my towel, undressed, put my home clothes in the locker and locked it. Then I put my clean pit cloths on, except for the pit socks that I left off until I reached my dirty locker. The reason for this was that my slippers had a piece of rubber at the front which fitted between the big toe and the other toes, I often forgot and put a sock on, only to be forced to remove it again. All this hassle is too much first thing in the morning, I thought. Over to the dirty lockers, same routine, well, almost, without the water episode, stand on the ledge, opened my dirty locker and took out my pit boots, kneepads, belt, helmet and water bottle. In went my towel soap dish and eventually my slippers, but only after spending a good five minutes trying to put my pit boots on. They were rock hard and were turned up at the toe end. This was due to the intense heat in the locker over the weekend. Only one cure for this problem, I knew of and I started banging them on the floor about half a dozen times each boot with as much power as I could muster. After this bit of careful maintenance I managed to force my feet into the boots, although they were still tight and uncomfortable. After locking my locker and grabbing my bits and bobs, I managed to hobble outside and filled my water bottle at the row of taps situated there. I would need plenty of water today after all the booze I had last night. Some days I was that thirsty I felt as though I could drink the sea dry. My next destination was the grease pots; I picked the grease brush up and my saw my hand was now covered in grease. Some prat had chucked the brush into the pot, handle first, before replacing it correctly. Innocent me had to be next in line to pick it up. I smothered my boots with grease then chucked the brush back into the pot in disgust. I stamped my feet three or four times, this seemed to ease the pressure slightly, I knew that after a while the grease would penetrate the leather, and my feet would feel better. I stood up from the grease pots, stood back, then wiped my grease laden hand on the bottom of my clean pit trousers, as I turned around there was Baz laughing his head off at my antics, no sympathy here I thought. But Baz, true to his word, was waiting for me by the brushes. He was having his last cigarette before we went to pick our checks and lamps up. He looked great; you'd never think he'd had a belly full of ale the night before, no headaches or anything. I looked Baz in the eyes and I was only half joking when I said, "Blokes like you make me sick why can't you suffer like the rest of us?" I asked. He smiled at me, "when I was born George, God took one look at me and decided I would need all the help he could give me, 3Ibs was all I weighed, so he blessed me there and then with this ability to survive the severest rigors of life." I shook my head in amazement, were on earth did he get that one from? "Come on mate lets get going." Baz threw his cigarette end away and off we went. After drawing our checks we went over to the lamp cabin. "Forgetting something aren't we George?" Baz tugged my arm and directed me toward the powder magazine, "we won't do much without powder will we?" "Not unless we rag it off with a pick like they used to years ago Baz, what with your special blessing it wouldn't take you more than month or two," I was laughing as I said it, but I thought 1 - 0 to me. Little Tommy was in the lamp cabin doing the contraband search; he felt the outside of our pockets. "Right lads just sign the book please." Contraband consisted of items such as, cigars, cigarettes, a pipe or any other apparatus for smoking, plus any match or mechanical lighter. There was no way Tommy could have discovered if we had contraband by searching the way he did but it kept everyone happy. In any case nobody was daft enough to risk taking matches or cigs into the pit, for one thing the dangers from gas explosion was too great, and two, it was instant dismissal if anyone did it. Miners liked to sort out their own disagreements down the pit, but if a man had been daft enough to deliberately take contraband underground, he would have been reported to the deputy, in double quick time. There are enough dangers down there without creating more. We were all aware of the terrible explosions, which had plagued our industry since the inception of coal mining. One of the most horrendous occurred in 1934, at Gresford Colliery in North Wales, 266 miners were killed, to add to the tragedy their bodies were never recovered due to the dangers from, fire, further explosions, and noxious gases. Rescue workers and families were distraught but the decision was made to seal the shaft off. Safety played a big role in mining and there were some things that were taboo, contraband being one. With our lamps and self-rescuers securely on our belts we marched off towards the shaft side carrying a powder bag each. The passage way leading towards the shaft side was full of reluctant miners, who were chatting away, some about their weekend exploits, others talking about football and what a load of rubbish they'd been watching, a few, just a few mind you, were actually discussing what the situation was on their coal faces. Our face was 18's, the machine driver, Alf Partridge or "Chirpy," as he was better known, could be heard over everyone else, "We've got a good start this morning, the machines shoved over and in cut ready for the off, we'll be at the loader gate in no time. Did you hear that you two?" he looked over at Baz and me. "You take care of your own job Chirpy, we'll worry about ours, if it's not ready you'll have to wait" I replied. Baz had to have his two pence worth as well, "Try not to tire yourself out turning that handle over, anyway the way you drive you'll bring the top in again and the team will be timbering up for the next three hours." "Don't start him off Baz you know he's got to have the last word, chirp bloody chirp all day long," but it was too late. "You know what you can do if you think you can do better, I'll soon swap you for a week or two, drive a shearer, you couldn't drive a super market trolley, on second thoughts you better stay where you are a shovel's about all you can manage." By this time we were at the shaft side and men were lined up, some heading for the bottom deck, others preferred the top deck. Chirpy had an audience and he had them all laughing. Baz was just getting ready to bite back when the cage arrived, Chirpy stepped on first, there was twenty five men separating us from Chirpy, "If I get hold of you I'll rip your head off, you great long streak of misery," declared Baz. I was slightly in front of Baz and was just about to step onto the cage when the onsetter's arm came across me. "Full up" he shouted. So we had to wait for the next draw. As the cage dropped into the shaft Chirpy's voice could be heard shouting "Don't be late Baz, see you soon darling." The laughter that rang out faded as the cage dropped deeper and deeper, down towards the Deep Soft coal seam. "I'll swing for him one day, George, I will." Baz looked at me and smiled. We all knew it was only a bit of banter, no real harm was intended by anyone, and this was normal practice in coal mining. The cage arrived for the next draw and we were soon travelling the shaft, we seemed to be going faster than usual, does that winder realise he's winding men, I was thinking, when all of a sudden we stopped extremely quickly. We all went down on our knees as the cage bounced up and down a few times before it stopped. We had experienced this before when the power on the winding engine tripped on overrun. It was not pleasant but we were soon laughing, this was due more to the feeling of relief that we were all safe more than anything else. We were only stranded in the shaft for five minutes but it seemed much longer. Then the cage began dropping once more. As we neared the Deep Soft seam we could feel a change in the temperature, the air, which had been around us as we descended the shaft, became considerably warmer. This was quite normal; the deep soft pit bottom had a very warm environment at all times. We reached the pit bottom without any further mishaps. Danny was onsetting; he dropped the hydraulically operated platform then lifted the cage gate to allow us to leave the cage. There were several exchanges of greetings between Danny and the men as they alighted the cage. Danny was a popular man, a friendly person who always had a smile on his face. Danny was not born into mining he was drafted into the pits during World War 11 to help the war effort, he was known as a 'Bevin Boy'. Bevin Boys were men between the ages of 18 and 25, who were chosen by a ballot system to serve in the coal mines. Bevin Boys were named after Ernest Bevin who was the Minister of Labour during World War 11. Roughly 48,000 conscripts served in the mining industry instead of serving in the armed forces. Even when the war was over numerous Bevin Boys were not released from their work for several years. I suppose Danny loved us all so much that he remained in the pits and made a career out of mining. He sometimes said he deserved a chest full of medals for putting up with us, he was always smiling when he said it, but I think he should have been rewarded in some way for his sacrifices during those dark war years. As we travelled inbye I relayed my thoughts about Danny to Baz. He was in complete agreement, "Bevin Boys deserved medals, after all they were serving their country, I know our Dad's worked in the pits during the war but they were there before the war started. You know George, I was reading about miners who left the pits and joined up, then the government put a block on miners joining up, but some miners were so desperate to contribute and become more involved that they joined the merchant navy. Did you know George that over 30,000 merchant seamen were killed between 1939 and 1945, hardly a day went by without the loss of a merchant ship and their crews. Some of those killed were ex-miners and nobody seemed to give a toss, during or after the war. Neither the Bevin Boys or those lads in the Merchant Navy were given the credit they deserved." By this time we had walked up 1's A level, which was the main intake roadway and reached 18's main gate. Usually our discussions had put the world to rights long before now. But Baz was going strong, I was thinking, how can he remember all this information yet when we get to the stage loader he'll not remember where he buried his pick and shovel. "The forgotten services, that's them, both of them, did you read about that civil servant the other day, he got a Knighthood just for doing his job, it was a well paid job as well, I expect he faced all sorts of unexpected dangers in that job, bombarded by tea, coffee and biscuits, viciously attacked by memo's, almost decapitated by the occasional elastic band flying off his finger tips. My god the whole world's upside down, Danny deserved a knighthood long before any civil servant, what does he get? A great big nowt." We finally reached the stage loader and Baz had just about resolved every injustice associated with WW11. We had a bit of a dew on after walking all the way from the shaft side to our work place without stopping for a rest or for breath in Baz's case. Stripping down to our vest and shorts was our normal routine and today was no different, we were warm and were going to get much warmer as the shift progressed. We put our kneepads on and started looking for our tools, picks, shovels and a bag full of drilling bits, which Baz had hidden on our last shift the previous Friday. I was right, he couldn't remember were they were. We looked for a while in the area he went to, but they weren't there. "I know I buried them five bays down from the conveyor box end George," he was saying sheepishly. Then it dawned on me, "Hold on a minute Baz, the belts been extended since Friday, our tools will be down there somewhere," I turned my head to shine my cap lamp outbye pointing down the gate at the same time. "I would have thought with your God given gift you would have noticed that." I was sniggering as I said it. "Alright, alright, we all have the occasional off day" Baz muttered, "they've no right altering things without informing us first, we're all cogs in this great mining machine, what would happen if we had no tools? The job would come to a standstill, the shearer can't cut coal without us preparing the face ends, well it could I suppose but the AFC would be shaped like a banana due to not shoving over at the ends." I walked down the gate leaving Baz to continue his argument alone, I jumped over the belt onto the tight side 10 yards away, scaped around and right enough our gear was there. As I was throwing it over the belt Baz came towards me. "You've found it then." He was stating the obvious, so I nodded and threw him the drilling bits. "You start drilling Baz, I'll bring everything else." Baz grabbed the bits and set off to the stable end; by the time I arrived he had pulled the bulls head and the drilling cable into the stable hole and was attaching a bit to the 6 ft. drill rod. I noticed that the stage loader cover plate was missing from the tail end of the stage loader; my first thought was to inform John-boy, the fitter so he could refit it. It was laying on the tight side and would only take five minutes to fit if new bolts were available. My second thought was how could we take advantage of this situation? "Hey Baz," I shouted so I could be heard above the noise of the motors and clanging of the face and stage loader chains, "how about blasting over there first, back of the stage loader where the cover plate is missing, we can pull the stage loader in, then when we bore the rest of holes we can flank them towards the advanced stage loader. With a bit of luck most of the coal will be blown onto it and taken away by the chain, we could save ourselves quite a bit of shovel work." Baz was soon nodding his approval, in no time he was drilling the first of eight holes, three on each side of the loader, one short relieving hole, what we called a sumper which was pointing down and just hitting the stone floor, the last hole was above the sumper, this also pointed downwards but only at a slight angle. Long before Baz finished drilling the holes I was on the Tannoy system shouting for Cracker the shot-firer, he soon popped his head under the ripping lip, he was carrying his favourite tool, a methanometer, almost before he was under the lip he was pumping the bulb drawing a sample from the roof to see if any methane gas was present before he fired any shots. He was still checking all around as he spoke, "Ready are we George, how many shots we got? We'll soon crack them off." That's where he got his nickname from, always talking about cracking them off. "We've got eight to start with Cracker, a one, a two, two three's and four fours." The numbers I was telling Cracker referred to the delay detonators that we used to obtain the best results when firing. We removed all the drilling equipment from the stable hole and dragged it into the main gate; on our way back we brought our powder bags, a sack full of clay stemming, and a stemming stick into the stable hole. Cracker opened his det bag took out a det and inserted it into a packet of powder then passed it to me, "number one." I in turn passed them to Baz, repeating Crackers words as I did so. "Number one," Baz placed this in the sump hole and shoved it to the back of the hole using the stemming stick; this was followed by three more packets of powder then the stemming. This process continued until all eight holes were filled with dets, powder and stemming. "Right, who's going to be sentry?" Cracker asked as he coupled the det wires together. "I'll go," said Baz. I was only too pleased to let Baz carry out sentry duty, the ventilation was blowing from the main gate down the coal face, all the fumes and dust would be heading in his direction, Cracker and myself would be going down the main gate to the shot-firing shield and we were in relatively good conditions. Cracker gave Baz his instructions "Baz when you get to number 12 chock wave your light to let me know everyone is clear. I've got these shots hung on now and no-one passes you, not even if it's the Pope." Baz loved this feeling of power, on one occasion the Coal Mines Inspector was on the district and the undermanager wanted Baz to allow them all though before shot-firing took place. "Give Cracker a shout and tell him to hang fire until we reach the loader gate" he told Baz. Baz shook his head and refused to budge on the issue. It was one of them days when Cracker shouted fire, turned the key, pressed the button, and nothing to happened, no bang, and no explosion. Cracker waited the required time then went to investigate the problem; everything seemed to be in order, so off Cracker went again to fire the shots. The same thing happened two more times before Cracker found a little nick in his shot-firing cable and successfully fired the shots. During all this time Baz kept the undermanager and the HMI waiting until Cracker gave him the green light to vacate his position. Apparently every time Cracker's light appeared in the stable hole the undermanager started ranting and raving about having time to reach the loader gate before firing, asking Baz to shout to Cracker to wait. Every time Baz refused and told them to be patient. When the shots eventually went off the clouds of dust and the fumes were horrendous and no one could escape it. Baz loved it, thinking, if I have to swallow this muck, then so should they. Later on in the loader gate the inspector congratulated Baz for the way he carried out his duties. It was months before Baz let that story drop. On this occasion there no problems, when the button was pressed the shots went off; we could always tell if the result was good by the sound of the blast, this one sounded perfect. When we returned to the stable hole all looked well, apart from the back end of the stage loader, which was slightly raised, when I say slightly raised I mean it had been lifted by the shots about 12 inches. It wasn't a real problem and the stage loader ran all right when the attendant pulled the start button out. Time for the next part of the plan; I went back out into the main gate to set up the two hydraulic rams which pulled the stage loader towards the face, one ram was on the tight side of the gate, with the other ram on the walking side of the gate. One end of each ram was attached to the stage loader, the other end pulled on chains that were fastened to long girders that were set at an angle and staked into the roof of the roadway. When the rams pulled in and the chains tightened the stage loader moved inbye towards the face. I operated the rams by a control valve; Baz was at the back end of the loader, when he waved his cap lamp up and down I started pulling the stage-loaded inbye. I had to watch for his light all the time because Baz was setting wood props on the back end of the stage loader, up to the roof. As the stage loader advanced the props became tight and this forced the back end down to the correct floor level position. A couple of times during this operation Baz waved his light from side to side for me to stop pulling. This allowed him to adjust the props when necessary. It was not long before the whole operation was complete and the stage loader was in the advanced position, another advantage was that as the stage loader was going back the coal we had blasted was loading itself onto the chain, which was running throughout this procedure. If the tension end cover plate had been fitted we would not have been able to use this method. We were smiling and rubbing our hands with glee, now for the final part of our plan, I bored the rest of the holes while Baz advanced two sets of props and bars to keep the roof safe. When we had finished we shouted for Cracker, we followed the same method as before, Cracker primed the powder with detonators, passed them to me and I passed them to Baz, we were stemmed up and ready to fire the shots in no time at all. Baz again went off down the face to act as sentry, while Cracker cleared everyone away from the stable hole down to the shot firing point. "Lets crack them off then George" Cracker said as he coupled the shot-firing cable to his battery. He told the stage loader attendant to stop the stage loader and after one last look around to make sure everyone was in a safe position, he bent down, shouted "fire" turned the key and pressed the button. Boom, boom, boom went the shots in quick succession, they sounded great, all our plans were working to perfection. Cracker went off to inspect the stable hole. "George, George, get your body up here double quick" Cracker was shouting as loud as he possibly could, "you and your bright ideas, you'll get me hung, if the jobs stood for too long I'll be for it." I ran as fast as I could, nearly setting my neck as I stumbled on debris, which was scattered all over, I dropped to my knees and pulled myself under the ripping lip. What a sight it was, each and every hydraulic prop and bar had been blown out by the blast and were now resting on the AFC and the stage loader chains. Luckily the roof was intact except for a small hole over the stage loader. I started pulling the props and bars clear of the chain conveyors, Baz soon joined me, "that's made a good job hasn't it? There's not that much room in the Plaza ballroom, we could have a right good session in here now." Cracker gave Baz the look of death, he didn't have to say anything, and everyone knew it was time to stop acting the goat if Cracker gave them the evil eye. He was pretty easy going most of the time but if anyone crossed him they'd better look out. We worked as fast as we could, within ten minutes the props and bars were clear of the AFC and stage loader chains and they could be started up. During the time we had prevented coal turning the phones and tannoys were red-hot, everyone and his mother wanted to know what the hold up was. Fortunately we had a wily old fox as stage loader attendant and he told them all that we were having trouble with the belt conveyor turning over in the box end due to water on the belt. "I've sent for the beltmen to sort it out" he explained, "they're on their way up from the bottom of the loader gate but were trying to centralise the belt ourselves, we'll probably be up and running before they get here." Dickie, the stage loader man had taken the pressure off us, bless him, that's a pint we owe him. In the meantime Baz, Cracker and myself were sorting the stable hole out and setting the props and bars to make the place safe. Even though part of our plan had come unstuck, the rest of it was a success, nearly all the coal was blown onto the stage loader chain and there was very little shovel work left for us to do. The face shearer was still sixty pans away but we were ready and waiting for them. "Just time for a bite to eat George" said Baz, "I'll just shout on the tannoy's and ask Chirpy if we've time to visit the canteen and be back before he manages to reach the loader gate with his machine, I wonder if he wants a bacon butty brought back? We almost have time for a three-couse meal; shall we phone up and reserve a table for two? " Before I had a chance to stop him Baz was relaying this message over the tannoys for all to hear. Big Jack the tail-gate ripper was first to reply, although the message was aimed at Chirpy the rest of the face team were always ready to join in. Big Jack had a deep voice which boomed out across the tannoy's, "two bacon butty's for me Baz, Chirpy won't want anything he's been eating coal and stone dust all shift, and if he continues to cut the stone roof instead of coal, I'll shove his machine where the sun doesn't shine, I don't mind him eating stone dust but we don't want it at this end." Normally Chirpy would have been adding his tuppence worth, but Big Jack's comments kept him quiet. Taking everything into consideration and it being Monday, it hadn't been a bad shift really. © W.H.Riley.