How many of you remember "Blundells" amusements arcade in Bow Street at the corner of Graham Gardens, alone with my pal I used to spend too much time in there on the slot machines. Then they also had a couple of seasons in the old Smithfield market place on Dublin Rd where they had the dodgem cars, roundabout swings etc.one week I spent all my wages on the "Dodgems" which got me into a lot of trouble at home when I came in with empty pockets.??? I can still hear the music blaring out???. They also had an amusement arcade just outside Great Victoria Street Railway Station in Belfast and again the slots were the big attraction where sometimes instead of going to night school I used to spend hours and again this got me into trouble as a letter was sent to my Grandparents who I lived with informing them of the number of school nights I had missed, needless to say after they found out I didn't miss any more.?? Mauri

Mauri,

I remember Blundells in the Markets, especially the music "I'm looking over a 4-leafed clover that I overlooked before...."

A great place for meeting boyfriends & strolling round the many stalls winning prizes or not. I used to marvel at the man (Think he was called Jim McConville) swinging through the fast moving big roundabout collecting money.

Lisburn was a small town then, simple pleasures..

Pat

yes you are right jim (******)mcconville, he and gee'o lavery knocked about together,it was,in later years i worked with him on the power station in Belfast,Peter McGrath was general foreman on the job he was married to one of the O'hagan girls from miora road area,Mauri I have been a gambler all my life and would have never played the slot machines at any time

I remember the amusements around the Smithfield area. Didn't know they had a name. I remember meeting the late Ann Sherry coming home from the amusements. She told me she had won a pouffee and she was, indeed, carrying it. I didn't even know what a pouffee was in those days.

Barney, As someone once said, "To each his own". Mauri

I remember going to the shooing range one afternoon. I was back home from England at the ripe old age of nineteen, and a first class marksman. I paid for one go, and entered a score that got me into the evening final - can't recall what prize was offered.
I returned that evening after a few 'jars' with my mate Shaun, who told anybody within earshot what a fine shot I was. Maybe it was the fault of the airgun, or maybe the Guinness was too strong, but I was useless.
Never forgotten.

Now, I can't even SPELL shooting.

Dabbler, blame the Guinness. As our old dancing teacher used to say, "When you have a drink you think you're a great dancer" (true). Actually, you're not. Same with everything I suppose.