My First SLR Camera - The Zenit B

This article was originally published with just two photos in July 2009. I've refreshed and enlarged the images somewhat and found another two to join them.

I've laid off the negatives for a while and have dug out some old slides to scan.

These are from 1969 and go back to the first SLR (single lens reflex) camera I ever had. I paid a princely £20 for it...and it was brand new too! It was a Zenith B camera made in Russia and I bought it from Dixons who badged it as a Prinzflex - their own brand, gluing a plastic Prinzflex badge over the front of the camera where the word Zenit (the Russians didn't use the 'h') was etched in the metal body. This shot is of a rose stem with the sun coming from behind it. I only noticed later that the thing was covered in greenfly - that'll be my mum not spraying it then... ha ha!

The second shot is of some of the berries that grew in abundance on the trees at the back of our house. We lived in Milnrow, a village between Rochdale and Shaw in what was to become Greater Manchester, but was still part of Lancashire at the time. I remember a young lad who lived a few doors down from us, eating them. I was only fourteen and had a worrying moment when he refused to spit them out. I had to insert a finger to flick them out of his mouth. He was ok, but I bet he had a bad tummy ache that night!

A close-up look at the inside of a flower. Despite once working at an agricultural college for a while during my career, I have never got beyond this simple way of identifying plants: Coloured things on top - a flower; no coloured things - either a bush or it's winter; very tall brown "pole" holding it up - a tree; very low down, green and pointed ends - a mowed lawn... Works every time!

Personal Memories Index

Rochdale and Area in the 1960s

Almost as soon as I got my first instamatic camera (a Kodak Instamatic 50) in the 1960s I started experimenting with black and white film which could be developed and printed at home by taking over the bathroom and blacking it out with either sheets of thick plastic or by shovin drawing pins into the window frames through a few layers of blankets... This alsi meant that the family had to wait sometimes for quite a while before they could use the loo... but sacrifices have to be made. Not by me though - I was already in there!

Hollingworth Lake in Littleborough was Rochdale's main go-to place for relaxation. It was really a reservoir, covering a village so the rumours went. Of course there was another that said you could hear the church bells on stormy nights... Must be a ghostly one then because there are no buildings left apart from very low walls and foundations some of which showed themselves during the droughts earlier this year.

The lake used to be a hive of activity in summer, yachting, motor boats for hire, the odd brave person (or the brave odd person) swimming... and fishing. I was never a dedicated fisherman, but went several times with a mate, Barry, fishing on the canal and once at the lake where we persuaded someone in a boat to take our lines right out from the shore. On reeling back with a spinner lure I felt a bit of weight and eventually had a 2lb pike on the line. Perhaps not on the hook through as it dropped back into the water on being lifted out. Drat!

There was a tiny fair and a few one-armed bandits at the Lake, but every year a travelling fair would set up and we would go to enjoy the atmosphere and grab a few photos.

There was a scrap yard somewhere, possibly around the end of Albert Royds Street (now Rochdale Bypass) but round the back of Halifax Road, and I used to go taking photos of the wrecked cars there, with a mate. The chap who worked there soon got to know us and apart from a warning not to go climbing up the stacked cars, was happy to let us in to wander.

This was a Hillman Minx, a tank of a car, one of which was to be my own first four-wheeled car after a brief dalliance with Reliant three-wheelers at the age of 16. I would only be 13 at the time of these outings.

It's fascinating looking at these now - not so much for the girls - who let's face it are a bit young for me now ha ha - but this is Yorkshire Street, Rochdale in the swinging 1960s. As far as I remember it was 1967, the Summer of Love. You know, I always wondered... Where was all that free love that we heard so much about, going on? This must have been one of the first black and white films I ever developed myself. Full of drying marks too... But just look how busy Yorkshire Street is...

Snapped walking across a zebra crossing. The girls were walking the opposite way, towards us and I got a smile from one of them.

Rochdale Index Page

Stock Cars at Rochdale Hornets Ground

These photos were taken oon a 126 Kodak instamatic camera, and I guess they date from 1969.

At that time, Rochdale Hornets rugby ground had a dirt track running around it that was used for BRISCA Formula 1 stock car racing. Races used to take place on Sunday afternoons and we quickly became avid followers.

Cars that had been written off were resurected from scrap yards and furnished with huge engines - 7 litres were the most highly prized cars. It was part of the fun to look at the backs of the cars to try and recgnise what they were originally when they were just ordinary road cars.

At the tail end of the 1960s we were looking at the tail ends of cars originally sold during the later 1950s. That bit of bodywork, though, was almost the only surviving component. Apart from the supercharged engines, roll bars and cages were the norm and brakes that could stop a car without the need to open a door and drag your foot on the floor...

This was a contact sport. nudging or "nerfing" another car either to try to pass or to spin it off the track was encouraged and a well-practiced manouvre. Very occasionally it would result in a more spectacular result with a car riding up the outer barrier or rolling over (hence the standard fitting of roll cages!) Whilst injuries were a risk they were very few and far between.

Coloured lights were used to warn drivers of a serious pile-up ahead causing an obstruction and in cases where an injury or high risk, such as someone trapped in a car where it was likely to be hit, the red lights used at the end of each heat to stop the cars were lit.

Rochdale Index Page

Rochdale Index Page

A series of articles covering our original home town of Rochdale. It was mentioned in the Domesday Book, started out in Lancashire and somehow found itself in Greater Manchester.

I've had to be selective a little bit as some other articles set in the town can be reached from the Personal Memories or Family Memories index pages, though the articles featured here are mostly about the town itself rather than what I or my ancestors got up to in it...

Clicking or tapping the photos below will take you to each of the articles. A link on each page will bring you back here.

Rochdale Town Centre, 1981

Some of my own photos of Rochdale this time, as opposed to those of my late Uncle Geoff.

During the 1980s and 90s whilst Miss Franny's parents were still alive we used to make regular trips over to Rochdale to see them. Every now and then I'd go out with the camera, sometimes with Bob if he didn't fancy whatever sporting event was on the telly. This is Rochdale's main town centre road, grandly called The Esplanade.

Designed by William Crossland who won a competition for the honour of doing so, the town hall was opened in 1871. Its clock tower, topped by a spire and a gilded statue of St George and the Dragon was destroyed in a fire in 1883. The preent clock tower is 190 feet tall (58m), some 50 feet shorter than its predecessor and was designed and completed within four years.

Rochdale's parish church is dedicated to St Chad and sits behind and above the town hall, accessed from below by a flight of 124 steps dating from some 400 years ago. It has roots in Anglo Saxon England and a tale that fairies or spirits repeatedly moved stones intended for building from a riverside spot to the top of the hill where it now stands.

A fountain near the site was known as the Packer Spout and in Victorian times the whole are was full of slum housing, many used for prostitution and the area known as the Gank.

The churchyard has kept its old set of stocks although the wooden bits have had to be replaced - more than once I'd guess. Sadly they are not still in used...

Looking further down the town centre, the new council office block was not particularly well-loved by the populace and became known derisively as the Black Box. Given that that unofficial term had become so well-used, it seemed somewhat inappropriate that the Council decided to name it Nelson Mandela House...

The complex included a new bus exchange that no one liked using at night due to its isolated location and its exposure to the elements.

The ABC Cinema, ex-Regal Cinema and shortly after this photo was taken, inevitably, a Bingo Hall. It was showing the Bond film For Your Eyes Only, The Time Bandits and the (ahem) artistic classic Flesh Gordon...

On the very edge of the town centre the River Roche emerged from the widest bridge in the world and flowed past the garages of Yelloway coaches with their familiar yellow and orange livery.

Moving back to opposite the Town Hall, the building to the left of the photograph was the town's main Post Office. A couple of bright red K6 telephone kiosks can be seen just to the left of the buildings front elevation.

The Central Library and Art Gallery seen from the slopes of Broadfield Park. Some of Rochdale's more modern buildings for the backdrop.

Rochdale Index Page

Valletta to Barcelona on Oceania Sirena, 2026

Join us for a ten-day cruise on the Oceania Sirena cruise ship, sailing from Valletta in Malta and ending at Barcelona, after splashing our way around the Western Mediterranean Sea. And it's another chance for us to catch up with entertainer friends Tomas and Maris!

Each day is shown on its own separate entry, reached by clicking/tapping the seven photos below. A link on each page will bring you back here.

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Mallorca, Majorca, Let's Call The Whole Thing Off

Tuesday 29 September 2026. We are close to the end of our cruise. This really is our last day, as tomorrow we will be in Barcelona but will be getting off the ship early morning to go to the airport to come home.

But today we are in Majorca or Mallorca to give it its local name. We have boarded and disembarked from ships so many times here, but today we are moored quite a way from the marina. Nevertheless we decide it's our last day so we are going to get off the ship and walk along the coastal path.

I'm not fast at walking these days, but I reckon we've walked for a good hour without the scenery changing very much at all. We did reach the marina and the King of Spain's yacht is moored in its usual spot, but we are never going to reach the basilica at this rate and already we are facing another hour's walk back to the ship.

By the time we are close to the ship we are both in sore need of a drink. Luckily there were a few benches where I allowed myself a few minutes rest but now we spy a cafe-cum-gift-shop across the road. It's a crew cafe but they don't turn custom away and we sink gratefully into a seat that isn't bare metal and treat the old tonsils to a gush of ice cold liquid...

Hang on... I know that voice... We are sitting behind a potted hedge plant but vaguely I can see Tomas in the shop. We wait for him to come out but he escapes from a different doorway and we miss him!

Back on the ship at the door knob wall, as we have dubbed it. Miss Franny keeps joking she wants one as a souvenir and in places it does look as though someone has had a go at detaching one or two with varying degrees of success. I manage to dissuade her though...

The afternoon is spent throwing clothes into suitcases and making sure we haven't missed anything (though what happened to that shoe horn I've no idea...)

We head for the dining room for one last time and I took this one later as we crossed for the last time from the rear of the ship (the round end) to the Horizons Bar at the front (the pointy end). The island of Majorca is receding in the distance and we are now heading for our final port of call, Barcelona.

A lot of hugs and a few tears as we say farewell to Tom and Maris until another cruise brings us out to their ship. This has been a fabulous cruise with great people. So many passengers willing to chat, a fabulous crew too, for whom nothing was too much trouble

Cases have to be outside the cabins by 02:00am at the latest. We remembered to leave ourselves some clothes to wear tomorrow... Hey - it happens!

Morning. As we leave the customs house in Barcelona we are called. It's an American couple we met on our first day. We haven't seen them since but they remember us and made a big thing about first day/last day meetings which was quite fun.

Also outside the customs house was a demonstration. I'm not sure what it was about but the participants were mostly student age and all of a sudden we jumped as some sort of large firework or small explosive went off with a huge bang and cloud of smoke followed a couple of minutes after by sirens and the arrival of police cars... We got on our coach for the airport and left them to get on with it.

Oceania Sirena Cruise Index

Port Vendres, France

Monday, 28 September 2026. We continue our cruise with a visit to Port Vendres, France. It's a new port for us but a bit of a dull day as yet!

We pass through customs and turn towards the town, finding ourselves walking along the inevitable marina. It's still a couple of hours off lunchtime but the place seems eerily deserted.

The only people about are our fellow passengers and the quiet of the place seems even to have affected them. One or two greet us in subdued voices. You would think it a Sunday rather than a weekday.

There's a row of parked cars along the dockside. Presumably somebody has been up early and gone out for a day's fishing.

The map we were given shows that there is still quite a way to go in front of us to round the corner where there is a park at the end of the bay and a church on the opposite bank.

The dockside path runs out and we have a choice of walking back and retracing our steps but on the higher level where the road and shps are, or climbing the staircase against the tall wall that supports the town and stops it falling into the bay.

I take a deep breath and we take the steps up the wall. "Oh, well done!" says Miss Franny as I reach the top. I don't answer... I'm too busy dealing with screaming back muscles and the invisible men who keep plunging needles into me... We take a moment.

We are now around the corner and the church is visible and thw trees on the left are the edge of the park. It contains a few statues and memorials to President Charles de Gaulle.

The park was as far as we walked. We came back along the row of shops on the upper level but failed to find an open cafe. Then by the time we arrived back near the customs house, the sun had decided to come out at last and altered the mood of the place.

After some lunch we made our way to Baristas again and I started this, cursing myself several times that I would start something so complicated and it would be the following day before I managed to finsh it!

Oceania Sirena Cruise Index