Mary Hetherington and the Sedgley Family
Mary Hetherington, known by most as Minnie, was born on the 15th of October, 1920 in Newcastle. The oldest child of George and Catherine Sedgley. It is the voice of her son – David who can be heard in the following poem ‘My Mam, My Family’ and then the poems he penned himself – ‘King by Name’, ‘The Sedgleys, The Hetheringtons’ and ‘To Be Accepted?’
Mary Hetherington and the Sedgley Family
Mary Hetherington, known by most as Minnie, was born on the 15th of October, 1920 in Newcastle. The oldest child of George and Catherine Sedgley. It is the voice of her son – David who can be heard in the following poem ‘My Mam, My Family’ and then the poems he penned himself – ‘King by Name’, ‘The Sedgleys, The Hetheringtons’ and ‘To Be Accepted?’
My Mam, My Family
by Donald Jenkins
At home – I was just a one-off, a total one-off.
Hated disappointment when unwrapping presents,
finding mam had bought me another board game for two
but no one to play with.
She was usually busy reading the paper
but mostly working night shift.
Looking at instructions, assuring myself I knew the rules
but got absolutely hammered by cousins
when they occasionally paid a visit.
Board and dice hoyed off the table,
ending my go with a shower of Monopoly money –
I’m not playing anymore!!
Often tired from pulling pints at the racetrack,
Mam’s infrequent playtime with me was mainly just
spinning jukebox singles I picked up for cheap;
making rare connections along 7-inch grooves,
mixing her new with old – The Beatles, Glenn Miller.
I would slip on the odd Black Sabbath or Deep Purple,
loved it when she didn’t stop dancing.
Down there, we were a family – a proper big family –
summer holiday getaways to sunny Hartlepool,
stopping at great aunt’s daughters, granny’s brother’s sons,
uncles who’d give me half a crown to spend on the bandits.
Second cousins, we’d run about, working wor selves till dark.
From a distance, mam kept an eye, while playing bingo.
King By Name
by David Hetherington
One of my earliest memories of music
was lying in bed being sung to by my cousins.
A song with my name in it – Davey Crocket.
This was followed by me being excited to tell my mam
I had learnt a Christmas carol with my name in it –
’Once in Royal David’s City’.
I was only young and put to bed
with the words of ‘King of the Wild frontier’
echoing in my mind as I dropped off.
At school, they rammed the carols at you
but I was proud to tell them I had a city named after me.
I grew up interested in the Alamo , Davey Crockett
and how he had three ears- right, left and the front ear.
People always called me Crocket
when I was an infant at school.
I must have been the only David.
It was so catchy, that my grandmother got in on the action
by making me a Davey Crocket hat
out of the sleeve of an old fur coat.
It was a sad time when I found out he was dead
but John Wayne played him well.
I liked Davey Crocket being sung by relatives
all out of tune with the smell of beer and tabs
reeking off some of them.
Then because my birthday is near Christmas,
a chorus about my city,
still waiting for my crown,
but in later years, I grew up with a sense of humour
and progressed into proper music.
The Sedgleys, The Hetherington
by David Hetherington
I can remember my dad when I was very young
taking me to the boxing and wrestling at Saint James Hall.
After my parents broke up,
my mam and me lived with my grandparents for a while
where I made some good friends
who unfortunately I’ve lost contact with over the years.
I grew up on Westmorland Road
via Clumber Street and Bristol Terrace.
My school was about a hundred yards from my house,
but I slept in most mornings.
My teacher lived over the road
and took me along after I’d fed my cat.
I used to like the taste of chewing gum
in the packets of cards-
‘Mars Attacks’, ‘The Man from Uncle’.
I’d torment my granny
to empty her PG Tips box to get the cards.
Watching the 1966 World Cup final with my family,
I picked up lots of new words.
In 1969, my grandparents had their Golden Wedding
on Xmas Eve, another big party.
They all brought turkeys, whiskey and beer,
all the family were there,
all good memories, parties and weddings.
Now sadly, there’s more funerals than anything.
To Be Accepted?
by David Hetherington
Early sixties,
off Westmorland Road,
opposite Elswick Park, The Savoy Cinema,
in between a few streets –
Choppington, Brunel and Clumber,
where the ramp to Cruddas Park flats is now,
there was a chip shop.
Next to it was a place that claimed to be
the first mosque in Newcastle.
We had to pass by most days
to get to the chip shop in the backlane.
Being young, we used to stare at it-
a bright green building
which stood out against the drabness surrounding it.
The priest at St Michaels
welcomed the new arrivals to the area,
we still didn’t know what Muslims were
but didn’t care as long as they played football.