Ancoats, at the beginning of the twentieth century, had remained unchanged for well over a hundred years.  'Old Ancoats', as it was often referred to, had sprung up at the beginning of the industrial revolution and families who lived in Ancoats at the beginning of the 1900s were considered by the authorities to be not far removed from actual want. Most families were in real distress, it was said, and very few skilled workers were to be found in the district. Sixty-nine houses in the area had no water supply, and shared five taps between them.

The house in Whalley Street, where Edna Day was born in 1916, was basic, ancient and small. The downstairs accommodation consisted of a living room and back kitchen, and upstairs, a front and back bedroom. On dark winter evenings the living room was lit by the glow of the fire and an oil lamp placed on a table in the middle of the room. Washing was done in a brown, ceramic cracked sink, and stone flagged floors ran through the downstairs from the front door to the back. Young Edna slept in a small recess in the back bedroom and over her bed was a shelf where she could put her candle each night before going to sleep. The coal bunker was in a cupboard under the stairs, and Edna well remembered the times when she and the rest of the family would settle down in the evenings around the fire and watch mice scuttling around the skirting boards of the living room.

The houses were infested from top to bottom with vermin of all varieties and children would awake in the mornings literally covered in bug bites and flea bites. In the summer months, when the heat was unbearably hot, families didn't even bother going to bed at night as their beds would be overrun with bugs and fleas.  Parents and children would sit outside on the pavement until the early hours of the morning chatting to neighbours, and as daylight slowly started to break over the tired old rooftops, families would start to drift back into their bug-ridden homes, where they would mercifully get some much needed sleep.

Edna reflected on those long gone day's of summer when elder brother Alf, a slightly built lad, used to push her up and down the cobbled streets of old Ancoats in a rickety, home made pushcart.  And on Saturday mornings, amidst the 1920s hurly burly of rattling trams and horse drawn lurry's, Alf would push her all the way up Union street to Smithfield Market where the two of them would pick up all the faded fruit that had been discarded from the market trader's barrows.  At the end of the day, with their cart now full of precious bounty, Alf pushed little Edna towards home, buried deep beneath piles of rotted apples, bananas, oranges, plums and pears. The fruit they'd picked off the floor may have been unsellable, but it was most certainly not uneatable, at least,  not after the bad bits had been scoured out.

Because there were so few cars on the roads in those days, children could play safely in most side streets with marbles, spinning tops and hoops. Edna remembers watching street vendors and entertainers from the window or the doorstep of her home in Whalley street: the knife-grinder, whose big revolving wheel made showers of sparks; the muffin man with his tray of muffins and his warning bell; the tinker with his soldering iron who mended leaking kettles and saucepans; the lamplighter with his long pole with a flame at the top which he pushed into lampposts; and sometimes there would be a Brass band making the Ancoats air throb with its stirring music. And another familiar sight in the streets of Ancoats of course was the ice cream man. At around the turn of the century there was an invasion of Ancoats by Italians who had found how to make cheap ice cream, and on hot summer days they’d push their gaily-painted barrows around the tatty old cobbled streets.  

There were also many old shops in and around Ancoats in those days and one shop in particular, which was known locally as ‘Dirty Mary’s’, sold lamp oil, gas mantles and bundles of firewood, but the old lady who owned and ran the shop never washed herself, and would-be customers couldn't stand the smell long enough to wait for whatever it was they'd ordered.

Another shop Edna used to frequent was an ice cream parlour in New Cross, where, as well as selling ice cream the proprietor served cupful's of black peas in a little room at the back of the shop. Edna's and her two friends, Edna Brown and Ethel Garner would spend many happy evening's in that little room, and though they had only a penny each, they would make their cup of black peas last all night, simply because there was nowhere else to go.

There was also a biscuit factory near to where Edna lived, and as a child she would often sit on the factory wall along with her friends, Ethel Garner and Edna Brown. Just the smell of the biscuits being made was enough to send them home happy - happy, but even hungrier than when they'd arrived. One day however, as the three of them sat on the wall taking in the aroma of newly baked biscuits drifting towards them, the temptation to more than smell them became a bit too much to bear.  The biscuits, once baked, were stored in the factory yard in large bags that were tied and stacked together side by side. Edna, and her two partners in crime, crept stealthily through the gates of the factory and within seconds one of the tied bags was tied no longer. The three of them took it in turn to relieve the bag of some of its weight, and after pilfering as much as they could carry, they silently, but quickly crept out again.  The two Edna's and Ethel then skipped merrily down the street, each with a 'pinnie full' of newly-baked biscuits.

Day trips to the much used Philips Park where, along with her pals from Whalley street, eight-year-old Edna would set out on a bright summer morning ready to spend the entire day in the confines of the park. She had no money to purchase her dinner; so a little bag would be carried, the contents of which were a bottle of water from the kitchen tap and a few rounds of bread and margarine. The park in those days was the central attraction for the kids of Ancoats and Bradford etc., as a day spent in Philips Park was as much enjoyed as a trip to the seaside.

The park not only attracted the kids, but entire families. Many parents arrived with their children, as well as auntie's, uncles, cousins, grandparents - in fact relatives of all stations within their family structure. The long summer day was spent together and enjoyed as a family outing. The various families would pick their spot on the grassy slopes of the rapidly filling park, and once the settlement areas of each family had been established and secured, it was then time to relax.

Edna spent most of her day in the park's paddling pond with the rest of the kids. The morning passed quickly and by dinnertime, the warm sunshine that had greeted the day had increased by many degrees and now the day was hot and sticky. After one or two more paddling bouts, it was time for dinner. Young Edna and her friend's would settle down on a patch of grass and feverishly open their little bags, ravenous with hunger. The bottle of water was very welcome of course, but unfortunately it didn't last very long; it was so hot they wished they'd brought two bottles. They would sit in a little group and thoroughly enjoy their margarine butties, which were devoured in seconds. And this band of happy, carefree kids was scattered only by the occasional visit of a scavenging wasp or buzzing bumblebee that hovered over their sparse but adequate butties supply. 

After dinner was eaten and the contents of her bottle had been thoroughly drained, it was back to the paddling pool for the rest of the hot summer day. As the day drew to a close, families started to uproot themselves from their well-chosen areas of occupied territory and it was time for Edna to make her way home. By the time she got to Whalley Street, dusk was rapidly overtaking the earlier day's sunshine, and Edna would wearily climb the stairs to her tiny back bedroom as happy and contented as any little girl could possibly be. She would climb into bed, and with her memories of the day gone-by still fresh in her head, she would soon be fast asleep.

During school holidays, Edna's Monday mornings were spoken for. It was her job to pay the weekly visit to the pawnshop, and for this she had to get up early. Every family in the area would make a beeline for the pawnshops on a Monday morning; the services rendered by these establishments being a necessary and greatly appreciated part of their lives. Young Edna was always first in the queue as she made a point of getting there early, the alternative being a long wait in a long queue. The old lady who always arrived second on the doorstep was a Mrs. Knight, a lady who young Edna regularly chatted to as they waited patiently for the doors of the pawnshop to open. 

On the stroke of 9 a.m., the doors would be flung open; ready to start another busy week of trading in this financially depressed area.  First in the shop, of course, was young Edna, followed by Mrs. Knight. And every Monday morning the grinning pawnbroker would come out with the same old joke..."Ah, here comes Day followed by Knight," a joke only he seemed to enjoy. The long Monday morning queue would finally dwindle away to a straggle and all the father's of the area would be 'suit-less' until the following Friday when the old man's suit would be borrowed back in time for his weekend's boozing session.

It was a different world in the Ancoats of Edna's youth, but as she was quick to point out; though times were rough, there were also lots of good times to be had. Neighbours in those days were neighbours and not just people living next door to each other.  Every family in the street was regarded as a next-door neighbour and young Edna could, for instance, visit a different house every night for a fortnight and be made welcome by each family in turn.  An invite was never needed, and front doors were always open to anyone who cared to enter.  In those days they had nothing yet shared everything. They were in and out of each other's homes so much; you would have had trouble in guessing just who lived where.

Edna's memories of Christmas Day as a child were much the same from one year to the next. Young Edna would awake on Xmas morning, and once downstairs the picture was just the same as any other morning; not a present in sight, not even a rag doll or a bag of toffee. In fact nothing to make her think that this day was special and exciting.  For her, it was just another day.

The one thing she did look forward to however, was her visit to the Mill Street Institute where the poorer kids of the area received a mince pie and a cup of tea. There would be no Xmas dinner waiting on the table at home. The solitary mince pie and weak cup of tea was their Christmas Day , over and done with.  But Edna’s memory's of her childhood days as an 'Ancoats kid' remain as happy memories, as rough and as hard as it was.

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Edna Day left St. Judes School on October 30th, 1930, at the age of 14yrs 2mnths, and her next move was to find a job. It wasn't long before she got fixed up however, entering into her first term of employment as a packer at Kidd's Glasshouse on Kirby Street, Ancoats. Here, her job entailed packing glasses in cardboard boxes, and one morning, as Edna was busy performing her duties, a vision of her mother's face suddenly appeared before her, completely covered in blood. When Edna arrived home that dinnertime, she was shocked to see her vision had come true. Frances, her mother, was sitting in a chair with her face covered in bandages. Earlier that morning, Frances had been brutally attacked by one of her neighbours, who had accused her of spreading stories about her. The neighbour had beaten Edna's mother so viciously, Frances had to be taken to Ancoats Hospital where she was treated for facial injuries.   A strange tale.....but true.

Other sources of employment during the early years of Edna’s working life were various and numerous. Various, because jobs then were ten a penny, and numerous, because she kept getting sacked. When Edna left Kidd's Glasshouse, of her own accord on this occasion, her next stop was at McConnell's Mill in Ancoats, where she was employed in the spinning room. From there, it was to Stevenson's Box Works on Pollard street, but unfortunately she wasn't to stay there very long as she got sacked. Edna's job at Stevenson's entailed gluing boxes together, which after a time became quite boring so, to liven things up a bit, Edna decided one day to glue a workmate’s hair together, strand by strand. Edna thought this was hilarious, but the girl in question didn't seem to get the joke at all and complained to the management. The outcome of this complaint resulted in Edna getting her cards.

Edna's next job was at a firm on Gt. Ancoats street where they made eiderdowns. Her job with this company was in the feather department, where she was employed to weigh feathers on a set of scales and the room in which she worked was covered from floor to ceiling in nothing but feathers. These feathers got in her eyes, up her nose, in her ears, in her hair and in her mouth and by the end of the day she was literally spitting feathers and was covered from head to foot. Edna soon got fed up with this job and asked for her cards. She says she was so full of feathers at the end of each day; she could have flown round the room.

Another place of employment for Edna Day was at a busy restaurant on Deansgate, where, amidst the hustle and bustle of city centre life in the early 1930s, Edna managed to obtain a job as a shouter-downer? Apparently, as the waitresses took the orders for meals, they would pass the orders on to young Edna and it was then her job to shout the orders down a speaking tube to the kitchens below.  As the kitchen staff took the orders, the meals were placed into a small hand worked hoist, which was then pulled up to the restaurant by use of a pulley rope. After hauling up the meals, it was then Edna's job to hand the meals to the waitress’s, who then served the awaiting tables.

Unfortunately, one day, after Edna had hauled the meals up from the kitchen's below,  she proceeded to hand the hotplates to the waitress’s but for some reason, the hotplates were hotter than ever and poor Edna dropped the lot all over the restaurant floor. She remembers the waitresses and customers sliding about all over the place on mushy peas, carrots, cabbage, mashed potatoes, meat, sprouts and gravy etc., etc.  Instead of showing some kind of remorse, Edna was in tears laughing at all the commotion she'd created. One old man - a customer - got up from the floor four times only to fall down again, which had Edna in fits. She was still laughing as she walked down Deansgate with her cards in her pocket.

In 1933, Edna's mother, Frances, received a dividend from the Co-op, which was sufficient to enable her to purchase her own house. So, the Day family finally moved from the slums of Ancoats into their very own home; the new address being 10 Browning Avenue, Droylsden. This house was a 'brand-new' semi-detached, and it must have seemed like a new world after living in 'old Ancoats' all those years. At the time of the move, Edna was working in the winding room at Bennett's Mill on Beswick Street, Ancoats. The supervisor, who was over young Edna, had received a much better offer from a rival mill in Chadderton, and, having accepted the offer, she handed in her notice. But before she left Bennett's, she approached four of her 'best workers' in the winding room and gave them the opportunity to go with her. The four girls concerned readily agreed, for, apart from the improved wages, it would be a change from dreary, old Ancoats.

Edna Day was, of course, one of the four girls approached. Her only concern was the seven-mile walk from their home in Droylsden to her new place of employment in Chadderton. However, she soon got used to the long walk, and would set out from Browning Avenue at the unearthly hour of four o'clock in the morning. She made her way to Chadderton via Oldham Road, and when her day's work was done, she would face the long, boring walk home again. Transport was available, of course, but money was hard earned in the early thirties; too hard earned to spend on the likes of transport. People in those days walked everywhere, unless they were going to the pub. Then, understandably, they would gallop at variable speeds according to age and fitness. Either way, young Edna stuck at the job in Chadderton until the day her mother decided to sell the house in Droylsden and move to a new address.

The new address was in Clayton, at 6 Lowstead Road, and it was at this address that Edna recalls that one day her dad was earnestly trying to light a fire in the living-room grate. Joe had been out in the back garden for a shovel full of coal which, on his return, he set down on the hearth. After piling newspaper and bits of wood into the fireplace, he proceeded to carefully place each piece of coal into its rightful position as though he was going to enter it into a competition of some sort. Frances, Edna's mother, was sitting right next to the fireplace waiting for the fire to be lit as she was freezing. Joe, however, was struggling. Every time he put a match to the paper, it started to smoulder and then went out again. Joe realised that either the wood or the paper must be damp. So, in his infinite wisdom, Joe decided that a drop of lamp oil would help to get the fire going nicely.

Frances, by this time, was getting impatient and had moved even closer to the unlit fire waiting for Joe to get on with it. After pouring lamp oil over the coal etc., Joe took one step back from the fireplace, and from where he stood he threw a lit match directly at the grate. As the match hit the spot there was a tremendous bang, followed by a massive fall of soot, and Frances, who by this time was huddled over the grate, got the full blast. She was completely covered in soot and the loud bang had caused her hair to stand upright. Joe, in the meantime, had vanished, and was last seen running down Ashton New Road towards the Church Inn.

Edna's next job was on Ashton Old Road, Lower Openshaw, where she was employed as a cleaner. This particular establishment was a clothes shop and was owned by a Jewish family. Edna's duties included cleaning and polishing the shop and the living quarters above the shop where the owner lived with his family, but after a while, Edna was on the move again. The owner of the shop had a sister who lived in Cheetham Hill who was urgently in need of a cleaner herself. The Jewish gentleman recommended young Edna, and so the road to Cheetham Hill was next to be trodden on a daily basis by young Edna.

Elizabeth Street, Cheetham Hill, was the address at which Edna was to further her career as a cleaner. And it was also at this address that she was to come into contact with George Siddall, but apparently, not for the first time. Whilst working at Kidd's Glasshouse, Edna had noticed him as just one of the employees from a different department. And though she never spoke to him, Edna was to remember his face the next time they met.

In between her cleaning duties, young Edna would often sit out on the front wall of the house for a break. It was often a much-needed break as this particular Jewish family fully intended getting their money's-worth out of anybody they employed. The grandmother was an old so-and-so, and would follow Edna around the house making sure she didn't miss anything whatsoever, and sometimes making her re-polish and clean things that had already been polished and cleaned. The old lady didn't like to see Edna idle for one minute of the day, and would find jobs of any description just to keep her busy.

Edna, however, did get the occasional breather, and these were the odd times she would sit out on the wall for her break. It was during one of these 'breathers' that Edna was to meet and talk for the first time to George Siddall. George, by this time, was 22yrs old, and had acquired his own fruit round. He sold his wares from a barrow and travelled the streets shouting, "Onions, Cauliflower’s, Best Tomatoes, Apples, Massive Big Oranges, Even Bigger Plums." etc, etc. Of course his cries - like most street traders of the day - were as unintelligible as a Doctors prescription, but the object was to make oneself heard. If somebody was bawling their head off in the street, people would come out to see what was going on, and once outside, these people were then prospective customers. Amongst all the areas and streets George covered, Cheetham Hill was one of his favourites as he always did good business in that area, and it was during one of his rounds in Cheetham Hill that George stopped one day for a rest. He placed his heavy barrow down on the cobbles outside the very same house in Elizabeth Street, where Edna Day was shortly to emerge for one of her little breaks.....  

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Website published December 2002

Contact Dave Siddall at:

siddy7@ntlworld.com