They have long since disappeared. Next to the Round House was a big field, one had to climb a stile to get to it, and I remember the big dog grandmother had leaping over this stile. In their latter years they lived a little distance from this mill in the Miners Homes. Grandfather paid frequent visits to the Mill Inn, where he was well known and well treated. His legs were failing him and when he left the pit at night he would stand and shout “Janey, Janey” at the top of his voice and Janey would come and take him home.
He had to promise he would not cross the road without her. He died when he was 83 and grandmother soon followed him at 81. Their family did not reach anything like these ages. My father was only 53. He never touched spirits in his life, yet my grandfather has been known to drink several bottles in a week. He used to say it preserved him and that was the last thing he asked for before he died. Grandmother’s house was very clean but very poor as was normal in those days. I remember Grandfathers big arm chair with the spittoon beside it.
He was not allowed to spit into the fire place. She had a square table, a dresser and some odd chairs. I also remember a stool made out of a butchers block. It was very, very heavy, but it stood solid on four legs and could not be tippled. Grandmother seemed so opposite to Grandfather. She neither smoked nor drank, nor swore. She had little to say, whereas Grandfather never stopped talking. After rambling on he would look at her for some comment and all she ever said was “aye so Betty was saying”, or “aots man” yet she could rule him and he loved her.
As I said before Father had his pigeons. Uncle Bob (he was father’s brother in law) lived up the street and he was a great pal. He had a very loud voice, which was always heard above all others, and when he laughed it could be heard all over the Cottages. He laughed all the hours that he was awake mostly at himself, which my father used to say, showed the quality of the man. I remember when Uncle Bob built his first pigeon ducat. He built it in the attic room of his house, and then found he could not get it through the door. He had everybody in the Cottages up looking at this beautiful ducat he had made before he would take it to pieces again. It caused peels of laughter, the loudest from Bob himself.
Talk of smoking. Even the old women smoked pipes. Ganny Race would sit at her back door enjoying her pipe. I can picture her so vividly. She was a tiny little woman with a very wrinkled face. She always called bananas ‘fananas’. Her husband was just as tiny. He had an accident at the pit which caused brain damage.
He became like a little child, I remember he used to run out of the house as soon as her back was turned. One day I and some other children were playing at the bottom when we saw the old man running towards us. He was just in his shirt, no pyjamas in those days, so we ran for Ganny. Of course, before she caught him he was half way across the cows’ field. We were highly amused when we saw her bringing him back. She was holding up his shirt tail and slapping his bottom as he ran, just like you would treat a naughty child. “Run away wad ye, I’ll larn ye”, she was saying. I am saying old Ganny Race, but you know she would not be sixty, because she did not die until nearly twenty years later. But people looked and dressed old when they were comparatively young. Grandma bonnets and capes, with long trailing skirts made them look very old. Mother never wore those, they were going out of fashion.
Mother had to go down into Seaham Harbour every Saturday night to do her shopping. Shops were open then until near midnight. She would see all the work done and the young ones bathed and in bed before she went out. Two older ones were left in charge. As my oldest sister went into service I was left with my sister older than me to keep charge. My sister was always up to some tricks. Once she varnished all the furniture. My mother was really mad when she returned and we couldn’t sit on a chair or touch the furniture for days.
There was no quick drying in those days. Another time she had a fancy to make welsh rarebit, but as the frying pan would smell of cheese and give the game away she fried it on the dust pan. The greasy mark left behind gave the show away. Another time she would make some pancakes. But instead of a few tablespoons of flour, she used a very big dish full, mixed it with water and poured a good pan full out. It would not set so we had to get rid of the lot. Where and how, that was the point, so we each took a cup and threw a cup full into every midden in the street, thereby spreading the load. It was years afterwards when we told mother.
For once we fooled her.
Then my father began to stay with us instead of going out. He would make a pan of toffee and would tell us not to tell mother or he would get into trouble for wasting the stuff. This was just a joke because he knew what would happen. When mother returned we would stare at her until she asked what was wrong and childlike we would say “father hasn’t been making toffee”. Sometimes when the little ones were off to bed, he would make a big pan of hot pot. He knew my brother and Jack Blake would be hungry when they returned.
Mother had already made some flat yeasty cakes ready for tea. This was always our Saturday tea with a big jar of strawberry jam. A treat from the rhubarb. Many a chunk has Mother given to the beggars. There were many of these in those days both men and women and especially cripples. Some would sing some would play mouth organs and some would dance. Especially popular were the Scots in full regalia with bagpipes and swords. They would do the sword dance and many of the women in our street would join in a highland fling. They would give these men the very last of their coppers. I remember one beggar who came regularly and was often served by mother. She must have been very short this day but had not the heart to face the man. So she told me to say “she is not in today”. He said, “well I’ll not be back tomorrow”.
Out popped mother and told him “never” would be soon enough and he could save himself the bother of ever calling again. That was the last we saw of him. There were several men who lived in the caves on the ‘Blast Sands’. One was known as Loppy Dick. He hung in absolute rags and never washed, but he didn’t beg and no matter how he was teased he never spoke a word. He lived there for many years but was never in any trouble for he molested no one.
We had our weirdoes even in those days. We were severely warned against them and would scatter quickly when we saw them. They molested little girls and the funny thing was they belonged to very good families.
I remember the women who came round at Christmas time with a dolly in a box, supposed to be the Christ child. It was always on the Christmas Eve, after mother had hung up the mistletoe. These were the rims of apple barrels, two inside of each other and decorated with coloured tissue paper. Mother was a good hand at these.