I was a choirboy once...

Written by Piers Cawley on

I remember, from about the age of 9, setting out from our tall Georgian terraced house with the green door and the brass lion knocker to walk the mile or so to choir practice. Through the park in the middle of the square, past the Gaumont Cinema (the last of its chain to bear the name – it became the Odeon only when the headed paper ran out) and on down Hall Gate past Barker & Wigfall with its bewildering window display of bicycles, televisions and furniture.

I remember, from about the age of 9, setting out from our tall Georgian terraced house with the green door and the brass lion knocker to walk the mile or so to choir practice. Through the park in the middle of the square, past the Gaumont Cinema (the last of its chain to bear the name – it became the Odeon only when the headed paper ran out) and on down Hall Gate past Barker & Wigfall with its bewildering window display of bicycles, televisions and furniture. Past the godawful concrete arcade that still contained the Pilgrim Bookshop, Doncaster’s only specialist bookshop. Past the Odeon arcade and right into Silver Street passing the High Class Butchers and Dad’s tailor, then through Bowers Fold, the little pedestrianized snicket that leads through to the market place with a little toy shop in the middle.

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