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Pre-school and school years
I was born in 1922 in Faulkenhurst Street, Chadderton, a suburb of the Lancashire mill town Oldham, in the latter stages of the post-war boom years. My parents, Albert a Moulder at Platt Brothers textile iron works, and Annie Maria who had been a cotton mill worker before caring for her children, were both born in 1879, had 9 children of whom I was the youngest. The oldest Robert was twenty-two years older than I, married and with a daughter born only five weeks after me. So, at the tender age of five weeks I was already ‘Uncle Eric’. My brothers and sisters were born in the following sequence, Robert in 1900 followed by Ethel, Edith, Annie, Albert who died in early infancy, then another Albert, Ernest in 1914, Bertha in 1918 who died on her first birthday, and myself in 1922.
Understandably I suppose, I do not remember very much of what happened to me during the very early years of my life, but one thing made a very big impression, ‘Picking’. This was the practice of collecting partially burnt coke, discarded from the boiler fires of cotton mills, to be used at home. I would probably have been about three or four when taken by other children to take part in this salvaging and succeeded in badly burning my hands by ‘picking’ coke that had not cooled. My memory is not the pain but having both hands in bandages. Other recollections were of mother’s working week. Although often very poorly from the Asthma she suffered, which was most probably caused from her cotton mill days, she had a very busy housework programme. Monday and Tuesday were taken up with washing, mangling and ironing. Wednesday house cleaning and visiting her sister, Aunt Lizzie, who was crippled with Rheumatism and in the ‘Workhouse’. 80 years later and I still remember the smell of that place, I did not know what the smell was then but I think back now, in the light of my experiences with ‘sheltered housing’ and realise it was probably due to the incontinence of these old ladies. A long room with the old ladies sat in two lines, backs to the walls, all with long black skirts and black and white striped blouses. Auntie always had to kiss me and I could feel the whiskers on her cheeks when she did. The next thing was to give me a sweet, which she produced from somewhere under that long black skirt. She had formerly lived with us but had eventually got too much for mother to cope with. I understand that mother had also looked after her brother for some time as well as bringing up her own brood. I never did know his name or what became of him. The house we lived in had a living room, a kitchen and a front room down stairs, upstairs one large, one medium, one tiny bedroom. The front room contained a three-piece suite but was only ever used when we had visitors. Before I was born there were at times at least nine, possibly ten, people living there. During my time I only recall six of us but Edith did bring a boy friend to lodge for a time, making seven. This lodger must have caused a problem because when he left sister Edith went with him and I clearly remember father standing at the front door saying to her “if you go now, you will never be allowed to come back through this door again” and she didn’t. Unfortunately when they went the three-piece suite from the front room went as well, so we had no furniture in that room. A very sad follow up was that my daughter Marie met Edith in the 1960’s at Sandra’s (Robert’s youngest daughter’s wedding) and heard her asking, “when did my mother die?” On other Wednesday afternoons mother and I went to Salvation Army meetings. Thursday was more house cleaning, jobs like sand-stoning the front door step and lintel, emptying the flock fillings of mattresses and pillows on to the bedroom floor and treating them with ammonia, another horrible smell that has remained to this day. Friday was baking day, which commenced with Ernest and I going to the shop, before he went to school, for the flour and balm (yeast). Every week mother baked 15 loaves and a load of muffins but the best part was the pint pot of hot sweet tea which she had when resting after all the work had been done. The bread was baked in an oven at the side of the fire in the living room. The fireplace consisted of the grate with the fire in the middle, on the right of the fire was the oven and on the left, was the boiler which provided the hot water for all purposes including weekly baths. These were had in a galvanised metal bath in front of the fire. The bath was hung outside on the wall for the rest of the week. The fireplace made of iron was ‘blackleaded’ and brought up to a very shiny polish by one or other of my sisters as a weekly chore. I suppose the modern equivalent of this fireplace would be the Aga but of course the old one was not plumbed in to central heating nor did it provide hot water to the kitchen sink. On Saturdays we went ‘up town’ to the Tommy field Market and if I was lucky I got a ‘Duck and Muffin’, this was a faggot in a muffin with gravy and cost one penny. Sometimes I only got a halfpenny one, this being a half muffin with a spoonful of gravy. Sunday was a day of rest for mother as father always cooked the meals. Full Lancashire Breakfast (egg, bacon, fried bread, bubble and squeak, black pudding). Dinner would be a full roast including Yorkshire pudding and followed with Rice Pudding and Apple Pie. High Tea was his speciality vinegar salad. We were often joined by Salvation Army Officers for Sunday lunch and had to kneel round the table and pray before being allowed to tuck in. During the winter weekday evenings, we would often hear calls from the street “ all ‘ot---all ‘ot “ and this would be the man selling hot black peas from a charcoal heated tin which he carried round, either on his shoulder or, as one man did, on a trolley. This would be a treat and we would dash out with a little basin for either a pennyworth or halfpennyworth. Another treat would be a penny worth of chips or if very lucky a ‘tuppenny mixture’ which was chips with peas, from the fish and chip shop. Close to the chip shop was the bakers/confectioners from which could be purchased ‘pie and mash’ including gravy if desired, for three pence. Many of the mill workers virtually lived on the diet provided by these two shops. At the bottom of the street was a chapel and from the age of about five years I was allowed to go there to Sunday school. This was a temperance movement and I clearly remember joining the Band of Hope and signing the Pledge. This pledge was a promise that I would never, ever, drink alcohol, sadly? I broke that commitment in my early teens. Last year, at the age of 82, I was reminded of this by a relative of the same age, who also had signed up and kept his promise. I must say I admire his principles but I think I had more fun in my life. At the little chapel I became friendly with the caretakers son who used to ‘pump the organ’ for the Sunday Services and one day I was allowed to join him while he did this. We sat behind a screen at the side of the organ, not visible to the congregation but we could see them through little holes in the screen. There was a lever to push up and down that filled the bellows with air to work the organ and a string with an indicator to show when to pump and when to stop. After some time my friend allowed me to have a go and I was very proud to do so. Unfortunately, through the holes in the screen I could see some of the congregation leaving the hall while others were walking to the front and receiving a biscuit and a drink from the parson. This intrigued me and took my mind off the indicator, the organ stopped and an irate lady organist’s head appeared round the edge of the organ. I don’t remember undertaking that duty any more, in fact I don’t remember keeping up my friendship with the caretaker’s son. Father and Ernest, although neither were ever technically inclined, got their first wireless set or radio about this time it consisted of a flat board with valves and bits of wire. I only remember listening to it once and had to put on headphones while Ernest fiddled about with what he called a cat’s whisker on a crystal. Soon afterwards they got a proper one in a case, powered by a dry battery and a wet battery. The wet battery was called an accumulator, it contained acid and had to be taken for recharging at frequent intervals. As there was no electricity in this house we were not able to have the luxury of a mains powered set. We had a ‘magic lantern’ to show slides, which was the forerunner of to-days overhead projector. Father would suspend a white tablecloth on the wall and pictures would appear on this from the lantern. As the light in this lantern was from an ordinary candle the gas light of the room had to be turned off and of course we could only have a show at night time as the paper roller blind at the window was not thick enough to exclude daylight.
Copyright Eric Fitton © 2008 page last updated 30/09/2008 16:06 |
