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Black Diamond

Black Diamond by Little Devils from the album Diamonds & Poison (WHEATLEY / GRANGE) GRAEME WHEATLEY'S STORY BEHIND THE SONG My Grandad, Tom Noble, should have been killed at about 05.00am on 29 May 1951. He wasn’t, but his brother, Bob, was and so were 82 more people on that grim morning. At 4.45am on 29 May 1951, the night shift at Easington Colliery, County Durham, were at the end of their shift and the fore shift men were just coming down to start theirs. A spark at the coalface ignited a pocket of gas and the blast lifted coal dust which fuelled an explosion creating a fire ball which smashed and scorched its way through 16,000 yards of underground workings killing everyone down there. I grew up surrounded by the story of the Easington Colliery pit disaster. When I was a kid it was something that affected everyone in Easington. I was the generation born after the disaster and people were always determined to remember the lives lost – if you visit Easington now – the memorial is spotless – no one would dream of disrespecting the memory of the heroes that died. I grew up with the disaster very much alive. Everyone was affected. The twist for me was my Grandad was very much alive. He was due to go down the pit on the early morning shift but he had been out for a couple of beers the night before and he was feeling unwell. His brother, Bob, came and called him to “go by”, Grandad told him he was sick and he couldn’t go - but his brother did and died in the explosion. I used to be taken as a child to the memorial and look at all the names and point out my Granddad’s brother. The pit was closed in the 80s - and the village is a bit of ghost town now - but these memories remain. Last time I was there, I went to see my Grandad in his miners cottage – just walked in through the back door – no need to knock - the door had never been locked since the day the house was built. We had a chat while he smoked his Woodbines and interrogated me about my life in London and if I was behaving myself (I was about 30 but old habits die hard!). After awhile, he seemed satisfied that I was not squandering my life away, and he allowed me to give him a lift up the road to his local (the same pub he had a few beers in on the night of 28 May 1951). I took him up and dropped him off for his few pints. The pub was still there, pretty much un-changed. A lump of coal hanging outside in place of a sign. And the proud name above - “The Black Diamond”. My Grandad disappeared inside, content I was doing ok. I looked at the name of the pub and gazed around and thought it was maybe best I wrote this story down. My Grandad never got to hear the song. It’s a shame, because when he had had a few beers he fancied himself as Bing Crosby – I am sure he would have sung along. Still, I have my memories of him taking me hunting bears (I never actually saw one, he saw lots) him showing me how to tickle trout, searching for pirate’s treasure on the black beaches and camping and climbing mountains in the lake district. And also of him sitting in the tin bath in front of the fire having a good scrub on Friday nights before nipping off to the Diamond for a few beers. If he hadn’t had a few beers on 28 May 1951, I would have had a much poorer childhood. Graeme Wheatley Grandson of Tommy Noble, miner.