Endon village police station set to close

“I'm sorry, that link didn't quite work. Try this one:

http://tinyurl.com/br6ctbf

James.”

“Endon Police Station would have been in a different place in 1944. There's a photo of the old Endon Police Station at http://tinyurl.com/btv49sv That building is now 177 Leek Road.

And the policeman? I reckon that would have been my grandfather, PC Jack Harris.

James.”

“Great story Backdoored. Kids today don't know how great it was to live back then. Good hidings n all. Blocking steams to make boating lakes and getting chased off by the farmer... lol and best of all policemen who walked the beat and knowing who all the ne'er do wells were.”

“PIGS OUT!!!!”

“Re: Inspector Clare Riley's comment: "The Endon Police Post was not very accessible to the public", the station is actually at the centre of the three 'legs' of the village - how much more accessible could it be?”

“Nice to be nice. This closure is no big deal all round. Take it easy. Nostalgia is all.”

“Its nothing to do with wanting to see officers in the community. In fact you will probably see less of rt hem as they will spend more time travelling to and from Leek Station.
This is simply cost cutting as a result of government cuts and mismanagement of police resources by senior civilians within the force.”

“"What I don't want is to have my officers sat in posts or police stations where the public can't reach them.",,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,Er, yeah, right! Truly, you couldn't make it up!!!!!!!!!”

“The Policeman did follow up his threat -And a day or to later knocked on our doors to report the incident officially to our parent/s.
He said, the Police didn't want to make anything of it -and agreed that it was not 'entirely malicious'... Arson.
But it was the Farmer who was leaning on them -he wanted compensating or 'something' -I can vaguely remember some of the interview with my mother -as I stood anxiously by her side. I do remember the Policeman comforting my worried mother that being under the age of seven, there was nothing the Police or the Farmer could do as far as I was concerned.

I do distinctly understanding that -and the sense of relief that went with it.

That's all I remember now -Whether any money 'changed hands' I don't know -Can't see me ever knowing now anyway.. I wonder if it's on a dusty file somewhere... or perhaps a few lines are to be found buried deep in the pages of the Evening Sentinel...? Certainly stuck with me anyway. Endon.... and 'that' Police Station.”

“I have a certain nostalgia for this Police Station, when a wartime adventure went wrong.

I was aged about six on that hot summer day of 1944 -and as usual on a Sunday, invariably 'followed the gang' -trailing last as 'they' took off mid-morning for any point of the compass which took the fancy of the 'gang-leader' -a lad of about nine.... and usually getting home tired, hungry and thirsty at around tea-time -sometimes a bit later -7pm even -on occasion -then the mothers would all be out in force on the street corner 'grouped' and ready to 'lay hands' on us.

This particular day we headed for all points East -walking of course -never had any money on us -or very little -which we hung on to for emergencies. Eventually we landed up in the disused quarry behind Moss Hill -at Stockton Brook.. Heather Hill.
Some parts, some instances of that fateful day are still very vivid -'etched forever in my memory. Being very frightened, when halfway up the quarry face -unable to go up -or climb back down..... that was one. You have to remember that we were pretty lawless when out of school; all our fathers away in the war. None of us took much notice of threats from our mothers.
Anyway, we got tired of the quarry and the next thing I remember was being in the middle of nowhere... in a field, playing in a wooden 'hut'. This field must have been further on at the back of the quarry close to Tipster Wood. There were only four of us... I was the youngest, then the youngest of two brothers,a little older than me by a few month, the other 8, and the oldest lad was nine.
We were going through a typical childhood fantasy and called this 'hut' our den; and the eldest of us decided we should have a fire in it.... I don't know why, it was a boiling hot day. But the next thing we knew -it had caught the hut -and at first we thought it was nothing serious and could be quickly put out with water from a nearby stream. I remember of of us had found and old enamel tin bowl with which bring the water.
But it had taken hold and try as we may -it got out of control and went up like Bonfire Day.. thick black smoke billowing up into the sky on a hot summer calm day -not a breath of air.

I remember after this how relaxed we were about the incident -not giving it a second thought once the initial excitement had passed, and can recall just as clearly, setting up tin cans on a crumbling stone wall in the wood -as target practice for who was the best shot with a brick or stone.
Anyway, it must have been getting late in the afternoon by then so the next thing I remember was standing at the bus stop by Stockton Brook Railway Station, waiting for a bus. (so we were, as a group, not entirely disorganized). Suddenly, out of nowhere, there appeared a cop -right there standing in front of us.
The questioning went something like this -Policeman: 'Have you set a cote on fire?' 'Coat'? -on fire...? We all knew what we'd done -but that was a hut.... not a COAT. So we all found ourselves denying we were the ones who'd set this 'coat' on fire.... supporting each other vigourously... feeling 'in the clear'.
I certainly had no idea of such things as 'Hen-Cotes'... whether the any of the older boys had I don't know -looking back all those years. Then the cop looked at us really sternly and asked, 'The why are all your eyebrows singed?' -Which they were. Before any of us could answer that 'bombshell' -he said, 'I think you'd all better come with me'.
And that's where we finished up -in Endon Police Station -None of us had a 'phone at home of course -unheard of in those days unless you were really posh. So they couldn't get in touch with our mothers. But the cop did manage to get our addresses off us -and with that told us to 'Get off home -And you'll be hearing from me'.
I don't know why but we finished up walking all the way back home to Cobridge, and not arriving 'til nearly 10pm. Our mothers were absolutely bonkers...And I did get a right good hiding.”