Latest news with #Grandad
Daily Mirror
27-05-2025
- Sport
- Daily Mirror
Incredible story of Chelsea's first ballboy - War hero, POW & 120-year-old photo
Amazing find as historians identify Chelsea's first ever ball boy from 1905. His grandaughter says he will be cheering them on in the European Conference final "in heaven" As Chelsea prepare for their big European cup final against Real Betis historians have astonishingly tracked down the identity of their first ever ball boy photographed back in 1905. James Ridley was pictured standing behind the team line-up as a young 13-year-old schoolboy. Now James's family have finally been tracked down and they described his lifelong love for Chelsea. And they even revealed how he went onto become a World War One hero and held as a Prisoner of War. His grand-daughter Sylvia Jensen is now living in Canada and said James died back in 1975 but always had an extraordinary passion for Chelsea. Mirror Sport spoke to Sylvia about her grandad who she recalled with great affection. Sylvia said: "Grandad was actually given the Chelsea 1905 team photo by the Club after they had it taken, as a memento for being their very first ball boy. You can see him standing on the right behind the player called Moran. He kept this photo safe all through his life in his special keepsake box. "These first Chelsea football players became his heroes and they treated him very well. I have very vivid memories of my grandparents, having adored them as a child." She added: "My Grandad Jim would be overjoyed if he knew the Daily Mirror was writing a story about him so many years later. You can bet he is cheering on Chelsea this week from his seat in heaven." Sylvia went on to reveal the extraordinary bravery of her Grandad in World War One. He ended up being held as a German Prisoner of War. She said: "When WW1 broke out he saw a poster and wasted no time in acting upon it He loved his team so much, that once the call out for recruiting men to fight in World War One came. "Grandad saw the poster displayed on the fencing at Stamford Bridge. It was blue, in Chelsea colours, and asked the fans: 'Do You Want To Be A Chelsea Die-Hard?' If so, join the 17th Battalion Middlesex Regt. and follow the lead given by your favourite football players" "I have a copy of that poster that I made into a picture that hangs on my wall in my home above Grandad's army photos and his 1905 Chelsea Eleven photo I had enlarged and framed. Grandad knew his team had a 'Pals Battalion, 1st Footballers', and wanted to join them and fight alongside his heroes. "Grandad said that he played football with some of the best football players in the country whilst he served alongside them over in France, on their rest periods. He absolutely enjoyed that experience and treasured those memories, often telling his sons his stories. "He was wounded by gunshot in July 1916 and sent back home to recover, heal, and then retrain for battle conditions. During this time he met my Nannie Annie. He was a bit naughty whilst courting her as his military records show he got disciplined and fined three times for being late back to camp, but he was totally in love." James was later awarded these medals: 1914-15 Star, received 22 March 1921, British War Medal 14-18, received 4 October 1921. Victory Medal, received 4 October, 1921. He was demobilised and discharged on 21 March 1919. After he returned from War he continued his support of Chelsea. Sylvia said: "Grandad often said that, once home from the war, the games kept him going, helping with his morale and the horrible memories he carried. "In those days post traumatic stress was not recognised like it is today, and it was his love of his team, going to see them play when at home, and playing piano for them, that greatly helped him get through and carry on." Sylvia added: "My Dad was born in 1931 and Grandad would take him over to Eel Brook Common to play a bit of football together. As a boy, he would sneak into see Chelsea play at home by getting through at the Shed End. He and his friends did this as they didn't have any money to pay to get in. My Dad was a Chelsea fan all his life, too." Historian and Chelsea fan Andrew Rowley said: "A few years ago a WW1 historical website ran an article on Chelsea's involvement with the 17th Football Battalion of the Middlesex. "Not only had our amateur captain, Vivian Woodward joined, it also mentioned James Ridley as well. He was a 13-year-old living opposite Stamford Bridge he had volunteered as a ball-boy, back in 1905 and sneaked into the first Chelsea team photograph so he could be seen with his idols. "I was reminded of this recently by Andy Jackson - who is one of our followers at Chelsea Graves Society. I decided to see if he had any living relatives. Incredibly I managed to find Sylvia and she was so delighted her grandad was still being remembered after all this time. "It's lovely that on the eve of this final against Real Betis that someone who was photographed in our very first photo has been identified and the story of his real love of Chelsea told in full." Nathan Whitehouse of the Chelsea Graves Society said: 'It was great work by the team - especially Andrew Rowley. It's fantastic that these great Chelsea characters are remembered properly.'
Otago Daily Times
26-05-2025
- Politics
- Otago Daily Times
The right place, time and way for use of four-letter words
Let's look at four-letter words. "Word" is one of them, as indeed are "blob", "slob" and "knob" but I have a couple of others in mind, neither of which I use, save in the context of telling a story. Here are two of the stories. Years ago, in Timaru, there was a Dunedin-born barber called Ernest Firkin who plied his trade for almost 40 years from about 1905. An entertainer and raconteur, he became something of a haircutting legend in his shop near the Excelsior Hotel. He sold the business in 1935 to my grandfather who was not a barber and kept Ernest on as the real heart of the place. Grandad held the shop for only four years and then set up a transport business and the new barber shop owner, Syd Burns, also retained the services of Ernest Firkin. When Grandad talked, always among male-only company, of his days owning a hairdressing/tobacconist shop my young years would be flapping as he described how any Timaruvian whose hair was offensively long was told to, "Go and get a Firkin haircut". "Ah," I thought, "that simply means patronising Mr Firkin when you needed a bit off the top and short back and sides." In later times, having been introduced to crude language at secondary school, I realised that Grandad's tale was a great piece of punning and let out a much-delayed guffaw. It still makes me chuckle. Even more enjoyable was the story from Australian politics. You need to know that Australia's National Party began in the 1920s as the Australian Country Party which became the National Country Party in 1975 until the present name was adopted in 1982. It seems that before 1975, during a time when the Country Party was in power, the Labour Opposition under Gough Whitlam were launching yet another spirited attack on the government and its policies. An incensed government MP Winston Turnbull broke through the clamour by proudly proclaiming, "I'm a Country member!" Whitlam interjected with, "I remember". That superb and subtle play on words was lost on Turnbull and years later Gough Whitlam recalled, "Turnbull could not understand why, for the first time in all the years he had been speaking in the House, there was instant and loud applause from both sides." What I enjoy about those two stories is that the naughty four-letter words have been introduced with great effect without ever using them. A feat of subtlety and wit obviously beyond the ability of today's politicians and rabble-rousers. Of course, during my time in army training and public bar drinking I've heard those words used to saturation point, usually by people who are actually unaware that they are saying them. Harmless, really, in such environments, but in places like Parliament or a mixed-sex gathering they simply mark the speaker as ignorant, oafish and to be avoided. Parliament has long had its naughty four-letter words and MPs are instantly ejected from the House when they use them. "Lied", "liar" and "lies" are absolutely forbidden when applied to another member but the fact that members do not always tell the truth can be indicated with "unfactual", "out of touch with reality" and "economical with the truth" and other euphemisms. Happily, I'm able to avoid the kind of people who descended to using the four-letter word which had the House reeling in shock recently but, less happily, there's another four-letter word which assaults my ears at every turn. I'll even spell it out. L.I.K.E. It seems that no-one under 40 is able to open their mouth without dribbling a flood of "likes". "It was like pretty tough up front," the rugby player tells the media. "They were, like, screwing the scrum half the time and we were, like, struggling a bit." This saturation of speech with "like" offends me more than the odd bit of crudity. Where will it end? Are we yet to witness a man of the cloth sermonising with the wedding feast at Cana as his theme? He will have swotted up his Bible, especially John 2:1-12, and be ready to tell the tale in a way his audience will appreciate. "And so, dear brethren, like, on the third day there was, like, a wedding at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus was also, like, invited. Then, like, the wine ran out and the mother of Jesus said to him, like, 'They have no wine.' Jesus was able, like, to change water into wine and it was, like, a miracle." In fact, it was a miracle, like it or not. It will also take a miracle, it seems, to rid us of that constant use of "like" as nothing more than a prop to assist the slow working of dull minds. — Jim Sullivan is a Patearoa writer.
Daily Mail
16-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
Emmerdale's Bradley Riches breaks down in tears as he opens up about his late granddad and his link to the ITV soap
Emmerdale 's Bradley Riches broke down in tears as he opened up about his late granddad and his link to the ITV soap on Friday's installment of Lorraine. The 23-year-old, who has recently taken on the role of Lewis Barton on the show, spoke to step-in host Christine Lampard, 46, about his time in The Dales. While many know Bradley for his stint on Heartstopper, he also took part in Celebrity Big Brother last year and became a huge hit. Shortly after leaving the iconic house, Bradley revealed that his grandfather died while he was on the show as he shared a heartbreaking tribute post in March 2024. While on Lorraine, Christine pointed out that Emmerdale was his grandad's favourite soap and he got very emotional when they started talking about him. Fighting back the tears, Bradley said: 'he passed away while I was going on Big Brother. 'A whole year. I didn't get a full goodbye, maybe this is him saying I'm doing great.' Bradley wrote on Instagram at the time of his grandad's death: 'I just heard the sad news of my Grandad passing while in the BB house. 'He was strong, kind and funny. I love you so much x.' Back in March it was revealed that Bradley had joined Emmerdale in a 'beyond exciting' soap shake-up. At the time of the announcement, Bradley has said of his new role: 'I'm beyond excited to be joining Emmerdale! 'It's a real bucket list moment for me, especially since it was my grandad's favourite soap, I just know he'd be over the moon. 'Everyone has been so lovely and welcoming, and the village is even more amazing in real life. 'I absolutely love my character (though I can't spill too much just yet!), and I'm just so grateful for this opportunity. 'I can't wait for everyone to see what's in store.' He later confirmed the news on Instagram with a playful post alongside Mike Parr – who played Ross. Emmerdale took to social media with a promotion shot and penned: 'Admired actor, Bradley Riches, has joined the cast of Emmerdale as a new regular character! 'Known for his role in Heartstopper and for appearing in the last series of Celebrity Big Brother, Bradley who started filming in the Dales this week, will arrive onscreen in May.' Bradley showed his face for the first time on Emmerdale on Thursday night. Celebrating the huge milestone, he wrote on Instagram: 'FIRST EP AIRED! Directed by the incredible @ashgadhvi. 'What did we all think of Lewis? What's next for him? Will him and Ross see eye to eye? 'Wow what an exciting journey! Thank you to Laura, Faye and the team for allowing me to play Lewis. Also thank you to the wonderful cast and crew who have been so welcoming. Special mention to my onscreen half brother @mikeparr226 who is just the best! Dream come true x.' Since shooting to fame in 2016, Bradley has landed himself some roles in some incredible stage shows, programmes and films. He played a soldier in 1917 back in 2019, which was followed by his most well-known role of James McEwvan in Heartstopper. The actor also played Freddie in Wreck last year. He's also starred in a number of stage shows such as Diaster! Goodnight Mister Tom, A Christmas Story: The Musical and Babies.
Yahoo
15-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Liam Gallagher breaks silence on becoming a grandad after daughter Molly announces pregnancy
Liam Gallagher has broken his silence on becoming a grandad after his daughter Molly announced she was pregnant. Earlier this week, Molly Moorish-Gallagher, 27, announced she is expecting her first child with her boyfriend, the Liverpool football player Nathaniel Phillips, 28. And her dad, Liam, 52, has just addressed the happy news on social media. Taking to X on Thursday morning, he simply posted a YouTube clip of the late Clive Dunn's 1970 single Grandad. The chorus to the song goes: 'Grandad, grandad you're lovely. That's what we all think of you. Grandad, grandad you're lovely. That's what we all think of you.' Molly confirmed the pregnancy with a series of sweet pictures and videos on Instagram - in the first video, she can be seen cradling her bump alongside her partner. And already preparing for the tot's arrival, she also shared baby outfits, and a t-shirt which said 'cool mums have cool kids'. Lisa Moorish, Molly's mum, commented:"Waaaaaaah! Can't wait to be [grandma emoji]." Molly was born in 1998, following Liam's affair during his marriage to Patsy Kensit - and Liam and Molly met for the first time since she was a toddler in 2018. The happy news comes just after Liam appeared to hit out at the manager of Oasis's claims that the band will not release new music in the future. Alec McKinlay, the co-director of management company Ignition who have managed Oasis since 1993, ruled out any chance of the group dropping new tracks or going on another tour further down the line. 'This is very much the last time around, as Noel's made clear in the press,' he told Music Week on Tuesday on the topic of Oasis's global reunion tour later this summer. 'It's a chance for fans who haven't seen the band to see them, or at least for some of them to.' McKinlay, who is also the director of Oasis's label Big Brother Recordings, added: 'No, there's no plan for any new music.' Gallagher, 52, shared his disapproval at McKinlay's claims about the 'future' of Oasis in a post on X on Wednesday morning. A fan said to him on the social media platform: 'Liam I don't know who the manager of Oasis is, but his attitude of telling us that after this tour there will be nothing more was not very biblical.' The rocker replied: 'Neither do I and the only people that will be making any kind of decisions on the future of OASIS will be ME n RKID so let's just take it 1 day at a time.'
Otago Daily Times
06-05-2025
- General
- Otago Daily Times
Ordinary lives and extraordinary events
On the eve of the 80th anniversary of VE Day, Philip Temple looks back at childhoods on both sides of the conflict. I ran into the back yard as the roaring grew louder and louder. Bombers! They seemed to be just above the chimney tops of Castleford coal town and one flew right over us. ''I saw the man at the back!'' I shouted. Grandad was not sure about that but, ''I did, I did! 'E waved.'' I was a 5-year-old jumping with excitement. ''Where they going?'' Grandad thought about it for a minute and said, ''They've gone to bomb the Jerries. The army's just invaded France.'' ''Does that mean the war's over?' He smiled. ''Nay lad but it won't be long now.'' It was D Day, June 6, 1944. Four years later I got to know my stepfather, John. He did not want to talk about it at first but I knew he had been in the RAF and every small boy wanted to fly Spitfires. It was a bit disappointing when I found he had not been a fighter pilot, only a rear gunner, one of those at the back, in a Halifax bomber, which wasn't a patch on the Lancaster either. But he had been shot down over a place called Mannheim on Christmas Eve 1944 and parachuted out and then was a prisoner of war. It took me years to get the full story out of him. To exit the Halifax's rear turret, he had to rotate it by hand until his back was facing out, then put on his parachute, then tumble backwards into space, at 15,000 feet with the plane on fire, his pilot trying to keep it stable while the crew escaped. He did not make it. John had to count for at least 10 seconds after falling, to be sure of being clear of the burning bomber, before pulling the ripcord. He landed safely in a ploughed field, glad that he had managed to avoid a nearby pine plantation, but as he gathered in the parachute he heard shots being fired. Local vigilantes were shooting at the Terrorflieger, terror flyers, as they parachuted down. A farmer ran towards John holding a pitchfork and he raised his hands but the farmer came on and pulled him into a ditch, hiding him from the shooters. When the firing was over, he handed John over to the local authorities and a lone corporal escorted him and other prisoners on a tram to holding barracks in Mannheim. The other passengers were not amused. John spent the last five months of the war as a prisoner, shunted by train to a camp in Poland and then back to Germany. On one journey, a young guard asked if any of the prisoners could sing and when some put their hands up, he led them in a succession of Christmas carols. He had been a choirmaster before the war. In 2016, my wife Diane and I travelled to Heidelberg to take part in the autumn festival of this companion Unesco City of Literature. It was one of the few German cities to avoid destruction by bombing, not by negligence but because the US High Command made an early decision to turn this historic hill town on the Neckar River into a pleasantly intact postwar base. We visited the castle and walked the Philosophers Way, which was frequented less by university students than by youngsters in the latest craze of Pokemon. One afternoon, our host Marion took us to the home of artist Pieter Sohl in the forested hills above the city. It was an event to launch her biography of the artist and, from the garden decorated with his sculptures, there was a view over Heidelberg to the Upper Rhine plains and Mannheim where Pieter had been born. I told Marion that I had published a novel about the suffering, and deaths, of a group of Berlin artists under the Nazis and bombing of World War 2. After the speeches, she said Pieter would like to talk about this and we sat beside a window looking on to the garden and exchanged histories. During the war Pieter had lived with his grandparents on a farm near Mannheim. At age 11, six years older than me, he would go out daily in the vicious winter of 1944-45 to collect what firewood he could find in nearby plantations. One day he heard noises above him and saw a Terrorflieger hanging by his parachute from high branches. Pieter was agile enough to climb up and help the Canadian airman down and take him home, where his grandparents fed him before handing him over to the authorities. I told him about my stepfather and wondered if he and the Canadian had journeyed together to the same camp for British and Commonwealth airmen. We nodded and smiled and remembered them in our serendipitous encounter, looking out to those killing fields of 70 years before. ★★★ In May 1945 the war was over. They set a line of trestle tables in the lane between the rows of terrace houses in Lock Lane, Castleford, and there was a victory party for all the kids, and some of the grownups, too. I had never eaten, or even seen, so many sweet puddings and jellies and I stuffed so much down so fast I was violently sick. ''Serve you right, you greedy little bugger,'' my grandad said. A year later I was in London, after joining my mother, and she took me down to the Thames Embankment, close to Parliament, to see the big fireworks event marking the anniversary of VE Day. But I couldn't see because of all the men and women in front of me and, when he saw my predicament, an American GI picked me up and perched me on his shoulders. There had never been such a fireworks display. Everyone was laughing and smiling in the exhilaration of triumph and wonder. We had won and here was the glorious proof. In the mid-1980s, I met Gunter Bennung near where I lived on Banks Peninsula. He travelled around schools, performing as Shiven the Clown, delighting kids up and down the South Island. We were the same age and one winter we sat beside a roaring fire and talked about our families and our childhood. He was born in Potsdam just before the war and could not remember much about his father, who was soon involved in the fighting and had been killed in Yugoslavia during an RAF bombing raid. The salient, distressing thing that Gunter knew about his father was that he had been in an officer in an SS regiment. Had he or had he not been involved in war criminal actions? Later I was to see a family album in which photos of his father had the insignia scratched from his uniform. Not long before I was vomiting jelly at the Castleford street party, Gunter was with his mother, a nurse at a hospital on the island of Rugen, off Germany's Baltic coast. The Soviet army arrived and began to take over. Gunter told me that his mother heard the words gulag and Siber in discussions about what to do with the staff. With the excuse of taking Gunter to the toilet, she escaped with him across country. When they reached the only bridge connecting the island to the town of Stralsund, it was on fire. Gunter remembered somehow getting across, balancing on single girders as his mother urged him on. With the war coming to an end, tens of thousands of refugees headed west, away from the oncoming Soviet army. Gunter and his mother somehow made it on a train to Berlin and then on the S-Bahn towards their home in Potsdam. Amid the surging crowds at Wannsee station, he panicked as he was carried away from his mother, but was able to find her later on the banks of the lake. Reaching home was not the haven they expected. The house was taken over by Soviet troops, some of whom treated the bath as a lavatory. They were relegated to the garage from which Gunter's mother was treated as the household's servant. More may have been expected of her. Gunter was not, at least, among the hordes of homeless children roaming the bombed-out streets of Berlin. Gunter's story and mine revealed that there are always two sides to the coin when nations go to war. As a boy, I felt secure and proud that my country had won the war and that the other side, the Germans, were evil and deserved to be beaten. My stepfather and others of his generation were all heroes. Gunter had only experienced terror and defeat, amid national humiliation and blame. It was an arduous journey towards the light with the burden of his father's role. No wonder he became a clown to bring joy to children, and preached a philosophy of peace and love. His story stirred the idea of my novel that would look at the lives of those ordinary Germans, on the other side of the coin, who had suffered during that horrific war. It also led to my conviction that there should be no coins with sides based on demonisation of the other, creating only the damaging currencies of conflict that continue to savage our world. • Philip Temple is a Dunedin author who has been publishing fiction and non-fiction for over 60 years.
