THE delicious aroma of newly-baked bread still wafts across the memory of a veteran reader who recalls a time when what is now the site of St Helens College was a network of lively side-streets.

J. A. of Clock Face (he prefers anonymity) claims to be an avid fan of this page but feels that the town-centre locality where he grew up has been somewhat starved of mention.

"It was at least as unique and interesting as any of the places so far recorded", claims J. A. who was born and lived in the same house in Water Street for 26 years. That terraced locality was bulldozed to make way for the college and it lay in the shadow of Beechams..."long before that grand building was marred by a glut of modern additions".

Silver Street, standing opposite, was well named, for many a sixpence and shilling changed hands along its length. It included the backyard of a jewellers and pawnbrokers, facing on to busy Westfield Street. "The yard was really the pawnbroking side of the business and it did very brisk trade".

At one point, a row of cottages jutted out, reducing the carriageway by half and culminating in a well-known bakery. This conjures up special boyhood memories for our Clock Face chum.

"One of my regular chores was to take a batch of dough -- kneaded at home by my mother and enclosed in a pillow-slip -- to be made into loaves at the bakery.

"There was a small fee. But I can tell you something, no matter how much money you might hand over, you couldn't buy bread of that quality today!"

Those fabulous loaves had an almost separate crusty top. "And", recalls J. A., "my reward for the errand was to tear off and eat one of these tops while still warm".

Silver Street square was an ideal play area, with the houses sharing an open communal backyard providing plenty of hiding places and space to play traditional games such as bung-off, gable-end cricket, and handball tennis.

It was the scene of J. A.'s first brush with the law. "Four of us were struggling for possession of a ball made from a bundle of newspapers tied up with string. Then a big copper grabbed us. I was only twelve at the time, but was later hauled up before the beaks and ordered to pay five shillings cost".

It didn't please the headmaster when he read of this 'crime' in the local newspaper. For J. A. had reported sick on the day that the long arm of the law grabbed him.

MORE town-centre memories from J. A. soon...