Dr. Albert Petterson

The Histroy Group recently received an email from Michael Petterson, the youngest son of Dr. Albert Petterson, who for many tears was a fondly remembered General Practitioner here in Coxhoe and the local villages.

In the near future we can look forward to Michael writing his memories of his fathers life from his early upbringing to his memories of his life in and around tghe villages in which we reside.

Here is the transcript of Michaels email to the group.

Dear Coxhoe History Group

I hope this gets you well and happy.

My name is Michael Petterson.  

I am a son of Albert Petterson who was a GP in Coxhoe from the 1950s until his death in 1987.  

He himself was from poverty in Hebburn, and lived a life very true to the average Coxhoe man in spite of being a Doctor, which of course created separation of sorts.  His great love when not was dominoes at the Kicking Cuddy, putting a bet on the horses and dogs, and enjoying social time in the Cuddy and the Black Horse in particular…one now a housing estate, the other foolishly changed the name.

My father, Albert,  was the sort of Doctor you would rarely see these days.  He was part of the young NHS, dedicated to public service and community, worked all hours, attended to the sick and dying on a pretty much 24/7 basis.  His work was his life and his love, fully supported by a dedicated wife: Margaret Elizabeth, or mostly known as  ‘Betty’, who came from Byker. 

Coxhoe elders celebrated the dedication of my father by naming one estate that still bears his name: Pettersondale. 

I left Coxhoe many years ago.  I became a geologist and a Professor and have worked and lived across the world.  I am married to a Sri Lankan and now live in her country…been here one year now.  I took her to Coxhoe and to the burial ground where mother and father now abide. 

I’m now almost 67 and retired.  I am an amateur guitarist and enjoy penning lyrics, poems and  songs.  My voice as you will hear isn’t great, but occasionally is in tune.

I attach words below and a song as a celebration of the life I witnessed between 1959 and the early 80s in particular, continuing to the death of my mother in 2004. She always stayed in the Wylam Terrace house, Park Hill side of Coxhoe.

If the words and song are to your liking I’d be delighted and honoured to see them added somewhere in your website, if you feel they are appropriate and of any interest to anyone…I tried, within a few words and a few minutes of song to capture the Coxhoe and the Durham mining village culture I remember so fondly and am so appreciative of: a gift that has helped me in so many ways in my life, nurturing qualities that helped me through the many difficult and happy times of life. 

If you could be interested I am most willing to write an article around the life of my father, who is, I believe, is fondly remembered, at least by some, in Coxhoe and surrounding villages, especially, Kelloe, Cornforth, and Bowburn, but extending to Mainsforth and Quarrington Hill areas. I don’t have many photos of these times ….unlike today photos were rare in those days and my parents were not interested in photos. 

I could also write something around the geology, landscape, mining and quarrying history of the Coxhoe area and surrounding pits, which you may (or may not) enjoy.

As a teenager I went to some of the Coxhoe historical talks..loved them, and was spellbound by the subjects discussed and the detailed knowledge of many people. 

One day I could give a talk myself if you feel people would welcome a talk around my father and how the geology and landscape shaped the culture and history of the Coxhoe area. I would of course have to carefully plan this, flying over from Sri Lanka. 

Yours

Michael Petterson

A Stare down the road before it’s too old: A Coxhoe Christmas Song

The dark black rock
That burned so bright
Towers of wheels and steel
Turned in the night

In Cornforth, Coxhoe, Bowburn, and Kelloe
Men walked
In tunnels out of sight
Whilst in the gardens
And the greenhouses
Leeks grew
Closer to the light

The Christmas cheer
The Durham beer
A stare down the road
Before its too old
Cold dark days
Dimly lit
No light ever in shafts
Where men barely fit

Mountains of shale
Streams of gas
Dust in the air
And in the face
Of a young lass

Old men walk
In streets
Up and down
Faces grimace
In the cold wind
A noble frown

The Christmas cheer
The Durham beer
A stare down the road
Before its too old

Pubs are full
Much beer to drink
Wives at home
At the kitchen sink
A turkey in the oven
Cooking slow and full
Awaiting its guests
Stomachs less full

Greyhounds and races
Coal blackened faces
The draw at the club
Men paying their subs
Camaraderie in the crowd
Voices full and loud
Slapping of backs
In jackets and slacks

The Christmas cheer
The Durham beer
A stare down the road
Before its too old