IT'S Bonfire Night, and memories of this day long ago have been rekindled by Mr Stanley Covell, who writes: "As early as July, my brother and I, and our gang, would go round knocking at doors, asking for old newspapers, cardboard boxes, old tyres and anything else that would burn."

Mr Covell, of Moorfield Grove, Bolton, continues: "We also collected planks of wood, orange boxes, tea chests, old chairs, and chopped down trees and branches. The bonfire material was stacked up in alley yards, on top of outside toilets, anywhere where members of the gang could store it.

"If November 5 fell on a school day, the headmaster of our junior school at Chalfont Street would give us a half day off so that we could build the bonfire.

"Mother would queue up for hours to buy 5s (25p) worth of fireworks; they were rationed, like everything else, and you could buy only so many (unless you had the money to buy from under the counter!).

"Mother would also make treacle toffee and Parkin, roast potatoes and potatoes to incinerate on the fire.

"Father would light the fire as soon as it got dark; all the children would gather round and cheer. Father would light all the fireworks, leaving the Sky Rocket until last.

"Soon the night was over, we were taken indoors, inspected for any unlit fireworks we might have in our pockets, then made to have a wash before being sent to bed.

"In the morning, on the way to school, we would go up the back streets and look at the burned out tyres, trying to re-start the smouldering embers where possible.

"Bonfire time was just one of the periods we would look forward to when we were children -- for myself more than 50 years ago. Happy days."

Mr Covell also recalls other times. "In the late Forties, I was barely six years old, but that didn't stop me from making a trolley - a plank of wood with wheels, a small boy's dream of a racing car; it would go as fast as you could push it.

"Finding the wheels was the most difficult part; I looked round the local tips for an old pram, then put the wheels on the plank of wood about an inch thick, two feet wide and four feet in length. The wheels were attached by bending nails over the axle.

A further piece of wood would carry the front wheels, attached to the main plank by nut and bolt, and a piece of rope steered the front wheels. A piece of old carpet would serve as a kneeling pad.

"With the trolley made, you would kneel with one knee on the carpet and the other leg to propel you forward. You used your foot as a brake, dragging it on the floor behind you, and on a downward slope you could get up a good speed, providing that you didn't fall off! We would race round the streets at what we thought was a tremendous speed, about five miles an hour".

"The larger the wheels the faster you could move, hoping that you didn't break any bones in the process. Trolleys were great fun, especially if you made them yourself from odds and ends."

Mr Covell also tells me that in 1953 he started his first term at his secondary school, Castle Hill, Tonge Moor.

"The headmaster, Mr Milner, loved music. I soon found out that the school had a choir, and shortly after I started Mr Milner said that he was looking for new boys for the choir.

"He had chosen the hymn 'Morning Has Broken' for us to sing -- I knew it well from primary school -- and he said that he was coming down from the stage, listening to all the voices. If he touched us on the shoulder, we should remain after assembly.

"Mr Milner walked among all the first year boys, and as he passed me he gave me a strange look. When he got back to the stage, he told the school that he wanted them to carry on singing. Then with a very loud shout he told them to stop.

"Jumping down from the stage he made his way straight to me and asked my name. Then he said 'Covell, I want you to sing'. The school went silent as I started to sing alone. When I had finished the headmaster shouted out loud 'That was good. We should all applaud him for his effort.'

"Then he told all the boys he had touched on the shoulder to remain, and told me to stay as well. 'The boys I have chosen will now be tested by the school choir,' he announced.

"After school that day, I told my mother that I had been chosen for the choir. She looked at me in disbelief: 'You sing? Pull the other one.'

"However, after a little convincing, she accepted the fact that I had a soprano voice."

"While I was in the choir we were taken to the Victoria Hall to sing to a live audience, under the baton of Sir John Barbirolli, and in December of that year, myself and another boy from Castle Hill, accompanied by several other boys from the Lads' Club, sang at Townleys Hospital. We sang in every ward, and when we got back to the Lads' Club we were each given three small bars of chocolate as a reward."