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New Era For Mapperley
Newspaper Cutting October 1969

(Kindly donated by Margaret Cooke)

Local historians, and others, please note! Mapperley Village is not dying—she is not even poorly; in fact, she has never been more alive and well than she is today.

Nobody would deny that she did receive a body blow in 1966 when the local colliery closed down, for it was there that most of the manpower in the village was employed. And, when the cage surfaced for the last time, marking the end of an era, apprehension and fears for the future, gripped the villagers more tightly than many observers realised.

But the spirit of Mapperley was not so easily broken, and, as the men were transferred to other collieries in the area, or to different work, so began a new era as its people adjusted themselves to the inevitable change.

In the meantime, young couples, products of modern education and different environments, have come to live in the village. These are affectionately known as "the brains," and have integrated quickly and happily with those well-established, tightly bound, members of the existing community, nurtured on hard work and common sense, self-styled ''the brawn."

All are keenly interested in the long and thrilling history of Mapperley. Nevertheless, during its mining heyday, their lives were never over-enriched by the huge profits made from coal. Their lot was to mine the product, often under terrible and perilous working conditions, their reward for such labour being barely sufficient to keep the family going. When possible, wives worked outside, or at home, to augment the family exchequer, and all the time one ear was poised towards the pit and its bell which rang out frequent warnings of accidents underground, which might involve their menfolk.

SOMETHING FOR ALL

Today conditions are improved beyond recognition, and every resident enjoys a better standard of living than ever before. In addition to this, there are ample means for relaxation within the perimeter of the village. For those who like a drink, there is The Black Horse, or the Royal Oak (Candlestick), a football field for player or spectator, and a children's playground.

For the angler there is the beautiful pond, tree-lined, arid peaceful, where fish of all kinds can provide plenty of sport. Others may prefer to take one of the numerous walks amid its superb scenery. A modern church, the village school, and two shops, complete a very self-contained village, with an adequate bus service for good measure.

Prom the windows of many houses in the village, it is possible to see the swans gliding -majestically across the pond, or nearer home, to watch and study the bird life in the gardens. Only this year the martins have been busier than within living memory, building in all kinds of unlikely places.

The older inhabitants who remember the late Squire Mundy, are for ever grateful to him for all the lovely trees, daffodils, snowdrops and other legacies of beauty he planted and left for their enjoyment. And, outcropping may have damaged or killed many of the oak trees yet here and there young saplings self-set and flourishing, seem to be keeping with the new life of Mapperley.

COLOURFUL

Its gardens have been delightful this year, colourful and prolific, and, apart from the usual flowers, cabbages, lettuce, and the basics in the vegetable field, its enthusiastic gardeners produce sweet corn on the cob, outdoor grapes, walnuts, and pumpkin even, to prove their versatility.

Newcomers to the village have modernised the older properties, and at present one young man and his family are converting some derelict stabling into a first-class home.

One of the greatest natural attributes of the Mapperleians is their complete friendliness. Among them, Love Thy Neighbour is not just a corny old text hanging on the spare bedroom wall. Nobody is ever lonely for very long, and when illness or other adverse circumstances arise, there is always at least one pair of hands, and a bunch of flowers, to help in time of need.

Yet Mapperley is not smug in its attitude to the world outside. Its people are well aware of a world in turmoil, of strikers and students in revolt at home, and of larger scale tumult in practically every corner of the earth.

The people of Mapperley would not presume to hold themselves up as paragons of perfection, but they are contented with their lot, appear to have all, or almost all, they need, and are grateful for the natural surroundings which contribute towards their obvious happiness. And newcomers, be they millionaires or modest working men, receive the same friendly, yet never inquisitive, approach.

Yes, Mapperley is indeed, a good place to live, but if one thing makes its people see red, it is when those from outside persistently diagnose its imminent demise.

Mapperley’s heart is in the right place—its pulse was never stronger—and it intends to remain on the map until doomsday!

Wynne Broughton