Now times have changed. Nothing seems to be the same. Have you ever noticed how few well-known characters visit in a village now? Ours was a remote village with four rows of houses, a school, and nothing else. No real shops, no post office, no pubs or clubs, but plenty of fields. Yet we had characters who supplied us with our fun. A young man whose laughter was like that record of the laughing policeman. When he laughed the whole village laughed. There were men who got too drunk and threw their wives out of their homes, then smashed everything they could lay their hands on. Oh yes! These amused us. There was the old woman who was known as ‘List tha knaas’ because she prefaced everything she said with this phrase. There was a poacher, and two queers. There were holy Joes and ‘theats’ these were young folks who fancied the stage as a career and there were chapel, protestant and catholic families all living in peace together. Scots, Welsh, Irish and English were all represented and they were all pitmen.
Looking back we had more pleasures than the young have today. Now I know you won’t believe that, but our pleasures were not expensive and that is the great difference. But our year was divided up so that there was always something to look forward to and what is more, parents and whole families took part. To begin with, Christmas was a long period of anticipation for the children and hard work for the parents. All houses were cleaned and new mats made in readiness. That was how we spent winter nights, going from one neighbour to another to help with the mats. We were in warm houses and when there are a few of you together there is always much fun. We saved up all our guessing stories and tales to entertain each other. Then came the New Year which was always a great time for celebration. Oh the ginger wine we consumed was nobody’s business. Then came Pancake Tuesday and Ash Wednesday. We had holidays always for this, and the holiday in itself was a great thing. Then the pancakes – flour and water and salt mixed together and fried in the frying pan. The secret was to put a very thin layer in each pan, but my sister and I did not know this secret when we surreptitiously made some pancakes one Saturday night. We filled the pan at the first go and the thing never cooked. As it was nearing time for Mother to return from shopping we had to dispose of the lot by throwing a cupful into each midden up the street. If we had put it all into our own mother would have seen it next day when emptying the ashes.
Then came Easter which was a whole week from school. Easter Sunday saw the distribution of dyed eggs amongst neighbours and the dancing and skipping in ‘the Dene’ on Easter Monday. This was for all the family and while mothers and children returned home tired and happy, fathers finished off in the pubs. Incidentally, Easter Monday was the only day off that my father had in the year. No wonder he died young, broken down and ill.
Next came Whit which was a shorter holiday but spent in the same way as Easter Monday. Then came the long summer holidays for the children and in August the Big Flower Show held in the Hall grounds. What a time we had. When the Hall grounds were closed at the end of the week the shows moved to the Bottle House Field, and so the jollification continued.
Next came the Volunteer Parade from the Drill Hall up to the field where the Grammar School now stands. Of course there was no Princess Road or any houses there then. After the Parade there was a big ball held in the Drill Hall. Only the ‘elite’ attended, the ladies in velvet, silks and satins and dripping with jewelry, and the men resplendent in their scarlet or navy blue uniforms. We hung around the doors content to watch and hope that some day we would take part. But alas –
I forgot to mention the cycle parade held on the Whit Monday.
After the Parade came Gunpowder Plot when all the rubbish was burned. The big boys had saved up to buy Catherine Wheels, crackers, Jumping Jacks etc. but we young ones were content with boxes of London Lights. No doubt our parents would be glad when it was all over, especially after a little child was burned to death in its push chair, which I witnessed and shall never forget. And so we came to Christmas again. In all of this money was never abundant, and our family like the majority, enjoyed it all at no expense at all. The bottle house people seemed to be the ones with most money although even they were very limited. Oh those happy peaceful days. Money was scarce but our wants were few, and we always had plenty of food although of little variety. But we were used to it. If we had no tea there was plenty of water free, and if we had no meat we could make gravy with gravy salt. We grew our own vegetables and we ate margarine. I have never tasted some of the foods my grandchildren love and which are so expensive, but here I am turned eighty and still going strong.
Some boys have just passed my window, eating ice cream. Do you know I was in my teens before I tasted ice cream, and it was years after that when I tasted coffee. But we survived on our plain wholesome food because our mothers gave thought and preparation to all our meals. We were lucky for we wanted nothing that was not essential.
And we were extra lucky being families of miners. Our homes were free, we had a sufficient allowance of coal to keep us warm and although wages dropped drastically in the winter when pits were forced to be idle, our wise efficient parents provided for this eventuality. What people they were! I feel very small and incompetent when I compare myself with my mother yet she was no scholar at all but she had abundant wisdom. We also had large gardens and a man could order a load of manure any time as long as he awaited his turn and paid for the leading. These gardens were all important for our vegetables. No neglected gardens then, because if a man was ill his neighbours would help out if necessary. How’s that for socialism? Nobody knows the true meaning of the word these days, and we had never heard of it, but it was practiced.
Oh! For the sound of the rag man, the pot man, the pikelet man, the cooper, the oil and vinegar man. “What do you feed your donkey on – paraffin, vinegar?” The boys got a great kick out of this. Then we had the prop wife, the yeast man in his little trap, the duck egg man from Kinley Hill, the peg woman, a gypsy if ever you saw one, with her red handkerchief round her head and her very large hoped ear rings; the second-hand wife with her basket on her head, besides all the beggars and tradesmen, not forgetting the hurdy gurdy man with his little scabby bottomed monkey. The streets were always alive, but without cars and lorries dashing around.
Then came the New Year. Christmas was for the children but New Year was for adults. Mother had to plan well ahead because after midnight on New Year’s Eve she refused to do anything until the parties were over. There were about eight couples who used to celebrate together. Mother’s party started things off and lasted all New Year’s Day, but some just provided drinks and cake so they would visit a few houses in one day. I said mother had to plan. Well she would bake bread, tea cakes, common spice, and she would boil a pig’s head, press it and make a big dish of potted meat with it. She would boil a shank and a piece of beef. This provided plenty for sandwiches and my eldest sister was in charge. Then with the stock from all this mother would make broth in the big furnace pot. Father had washed and chopped all the vegetables in readiness, all grown in his own garden. The broth was put into a big dish and put into the oven to heat as required, so that no one would be scalded using pans on the fire. And so mother was free to enjoy a few days on her own.
There is a terrible frost this morning. 1980 seems to be coming in with a vengeance. I remember when I was a little girl and the place was hard with frost we used to put old woolen socks over our boots to avoid slipping. It’s amazing how effective this could be. Mind you, they were pure woolen socks. The feet had been renewed countless times, then when the sock was beyond renewal the feet were removed, the slit stitched and we had overshoes or mittens whichever were needed. Oh there was no waste in those days. The wages sound now so inadequate, but people managed and we still had fun.
First footing! Now there was fun for you. I have been my own first foot for years now. I could not wait for someone to come. But I can sit and recall the first foot of yesteryears. It had to be a dark man, carrying a piece of coal. He was given cake and wine and his hand was crossed with silver. Some men went from one neighbour to another, and were provided with money enough to see them comfortably over the holidays. It was the same with the women who came round Christmas Eve with a little doll in a shoe box and sang “God bless the master of this house”. They would make quite a few coppers from this to help them over the holidays. Then we had the guysers. These were masked men in fancy dress, who came in small gangs, knocked on the door and said “Let the guysers in Mrs”. It was considered unlucky to turn them away. They would dance and sing and crack jokes perhaps for fifteen minutes, then they would get a few coppers and be on their way. They would be content with just a penny, but often got more.
Melodeons were the musical instruments in those days and we must not forget the tin whistle and the mouth organ. Men would get together in twos or threes, and play cards in the streets. Father would say they didn’t play for their supper they played for a set in (that meant in the pubs). Nowadays the enjoyment is confined to discos and dinners in pubs. Personally I would go back to those days because there was more humanity and peace than there is today, but I know you will not agree although I have experienced both kinds of living.
The luxurious living of the young people now astounds me. I do not begrudge them anything they have. All parents are pleased to see their children prosper, but the change is so enormous one wonders if it can continue. You will laugh when I tell you of one of our greatest luxuries when I was very young. It was to sit on the toilet after mother had emptied the hot ashes. It was delicious to sit and feel the warmth for believe me the closets were the coldest, draughty places you could imagine. What a luxury! Believe me we fought in queues to be the first to go. Just to recall these things makes me very happy, and I often have a jolly good laugh all by myself.
There was a special ritual getting ready for bed. Hair was combed and plaited and shoes cleaned. All this was done in the back yard. Then we undressed and folded our clothes and put them in our special place, had a jolly good wash and were ready for our last slice of bread and a drink of water. Our stockings had to be looped inside of our garters and hung on the drawer knobs. It was a great mishap to lose a garter or a collar stud in those far-off days.
These were the little things that worried us in those days.