Memoirs of “Nan” Phyllis Pearson (née Walker). She was born in 1907 in Leeds, UK to Joseph Walker and Edith Ann (née Hepper). She married Ralph Pearson and they had three children (Trevor, Dennis, and Carol). Ralph and Phyllis retired to New Zealand in 1972 and lived near their daughter Carol Watson and her family. Phyllis was affectionately known as “Nan” by her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
Pearson / Walker photos – https://alliswatsonancestors.wordpress.com/category/photos/pearson-walker/
Nan’s Speech at “Toastmistress”
My husband and I moved from Yorkshire to a small market town called Leominster, in the heart of Herefordshire, with a population of 7,000. Everyone knew each other; it was a very close-knit community. We were considered foreigners for quite a long time.
Leominster is a very old town, even today, with narrow streets, alleyways and black and white buildings. It goes far back in history to when there was only a handful of cottages and a Priory Church dating back to 600.
The Kings and Queens of England passed through Leominster on their way to Ludlow Castle, for the hunting in the surrounding forests. Our hotel, the “Golden Lion” was situated on the outskirts of the town it was an old coaching Inn, with accommodation for horses in the large stables behind the building.
We had 12 acres of Meadowland with a river running through it, a large kitchen, garden and an Orchard. The Royal Cavalcade would pass by on this road, which was a narrow cart track then.
In the cobble-stoned market place every Boxing Day, the local Gentry would meet for the hunt. It was a marvellous sight, the men in bright red coats and the ladies in their smart riding habits, with quite a lot of children in their Jodhpurs, sitting so proudly on their ponies, the stewards running backwards and forwards with hot snacks and the stirrup cup.
At 11am the Master of fox hounds would blow his horn and the meet would move, horses snorting, hounds trotting round, the breaths rising like steam in the cold crisp morning air, and a lot of the residents following on foot – all after one little fox. Sometimes he got away.
I wonder if any of you have ever seen this type of thing before?
This is a Ducking Stool. It was used for nagging wives and shrews that had misbehaved. The women were strapped onto the chair, then ducked in the pond until they promised to be good. The last time the stool was used on a person, was on a woman called Mary Ellen Hughes in the year 1900. The original chair stands today in the Priory Church as a grim reminder.
In the year 1600 when Queen Elizabeth the 1st and Mary, Queen of Scots were having their religious wars, a local parson by the name of John Cadwalader was found guilty of being a Heretic, and was hung, drawn and quartered, at the Cross roads in the centre of the Town; after which the locals placed an Iron Cross on the spot where the dreadful deed had taken place. Even today it is still known as the Iron Cross.
We had two bars in our hotel, the Lounge bar, and the Public bar where farmers and locals came in for drinks and to play cards, dominoes and darts, and tell yarns of days gone by which were very interesting. After a while we were accepted – it was like having a large family coming in every night. Each year on 12th night, I would buy and cook a Baron of Beef, and at 9 pm I would ask one of the men to carry in the huge piece of hot beef. I would slice the meat, and every customer received two pieces of crusty bread and a slice of beef. There were lots of pickles and cheese for afters. It was a great Old English night, and a good time was had by all.
The winter of 1965 was a very hard one. Snow began falling early Jan, and continued until the middle of March. It snowed and froze for weeks on end. The roads and paths were up to three feet deep, and our meadow looked really beautiful. The trees were covered with thick snow, and looked like cotton wool on the branches. The river was frozen over, and both adults and children enjoyed the skating and sledging. Personally, I would rather see it on a postcard.
After a while, it just became a way of life. The farmers still came round in the evenings to tell us how many lambs they had lost, and how many sheep had frozen to death. It was very sad, but as time went on to March, the weather turned slightly warmer. The ice began to melt and great pools of water appeared on roads and pasture. Talk in the bar turned to floods, and how many there had been over the years; although we didn’t take a lot of notice and carried on as usual – although we were advised to keep our Wellington boots handy, just in case they were needed (in NZ are they are called gumboots?) – I even began to feel a bit of excitement at the thought.
Leominster is only nine miles from the border of Wales, amidst the Welsh mountains. The huge Caewen Dam was built in 1956 and was opened by the Queen to supply the whole of Birmingham with water. When, at various times, the Dam was too full, the Sluice gates were opened to relieve the pressure, and millions of gallons of water poured down into the valleys. The river overflowed, and the backwash flooded Leominster and surrounding districts.
We all know what a common commodity water is. But it can also be cruel and take lives.
On the 18th of March, we went to bed as usual, after clearing up and seeing the customers off the premises. In the early hours of the morning we were wakened by a furious knocking on the back door, and a voice calling, “Get up Mister, the floods be up!” Still half asleep, we scrambled into our clothes and started down the stairs. My husband was down first. On reaching the bottom, he stepped into icy cold water, and called out to me to get our boots. On opening the back door, we found that our farmer friend had trudged quite a long way to warn us. On going into the cellar, which was on the ground floor, I saw our boots, which were full of water. After emptying them out, and drying them as best we could, they were still wet and cold. The farmer then told us to go open the front door. We literally gaped at him, and said, “Open the front door? Why??”
“To let the water out, of course,” said he. We sloshed our way through the Lounge bar, and saw the sense of it, as water was building up and had already covered the fire place, and was swirling round the piano. My lovely Axminster carpet was buried under a pool of water. When we opened the double doors there was a river outside, instead of a road. All kinds of debris were floating down the main street – chairs, bar stools, dead chickens, a lamb or two – it was horrible.
Two men were rowing down the middle. They had a lantern and were calling out to the residents to hand their children into the boat, to be taken to the Church Hall. By 8 am, most of the families had been rescued.
I was fortunate in having a gas cooker- I could make cups of tea and do a little cooking; but it was a nightmare, and I had to pinch myself to see if it was really happening.
Strangely enough, business didn’t suffer at all. It became quite the thing to come down to the “Lion” by boat. We put boards on top of boxes, for customers to stand on, so they wouldn’t get their feet wet. We did a roaring trade – the local council had stacked sandbags all round the back door. They didn’t keep the water out, but they did filter it a bit because there were fish and frogs and all kinds of little animals that had been washed up. This dreadful state of affairs continued for three days, and I didn’t think it was exciting anymore. The water began to go down, and left a thick layer of mud everywhere. It took us weeks to clear it away and get things dried out. We had to decorate to cover the watermarks on the walls, and the cold and damp stayed with us for ages, in spite of huge fires.
We had three floods in two years, but none as bad as that first one. The local government improved the situation by widening the river and digging it out. That was the end of floods in our part of the world.
Nan’s Story: Originally written in her beautiful handwriting – later typed up by her family after she passed away aged 90 years old:
The Family History:
Phyllis Walker, 226 Staningly Rd, Bramley, Leeds 13.
The family history as far back as I can recall – also recollections of my mother reflected to me when I was a child.
This is approximate; I am only going to write on what my Mother told me when I was seven or eight.
Mothers Grandparents named Sarah and Sam Smith married about 1820. They had three children; Sam, Polly and Ann. I’m not quite sure of dates. Ann married John Edward Hepper in about 1845 and had two daughters, Edith Ann, my Mother, born on the 12th February 1878 in Tong Rd, Wortley, Leeds 12, and her sister Violet born in 1890. I never knew my Grandparents, Anne and Edward Hepper. They had a tailor’s shop in Tong Rd and had a good business. They had one or two men helping to make suit’s etc. My Grandmother was also a sewer. She finished off garments and made buttonholes – things that were always done by hand in those days.
My Grandfather, I was told, was very smart. He always wore a frock coat, tall hat and striped trousers, and always hired a hansom cab when going into Leeds to buy bolts of cloth and cottons and linings. His picture shows a stern looking man with full black beard and moustache. In the same photo my Grandmother is sat looking anything but happy, with Aunty Violet on her knee. My mother sat alongside, holding a little basket – she would have been about three years old at the time.
All went well until two years later, when mother was five. She was playing in the street with some other children at Ring o’ Roses, when a horse took fright and bolted. It knocked over my mother and trampled her face. All the other children ran to safety, but my mother was taken to Leeds Infirmary. She was blind for six months.
The doctors said they would operate on her face when she had fully recovered, but my Grandparents refused to have her operated on. They said it was God’s will. He had seen fit to restore her sight, but her face was left all scarred on the right side. The left side was really pretty – it was very sad because the accident affected her for the rest of her life. She was always conscious of her defect, although we never noticed anything wrong with her because we got used to seeing her.
About this time my Grandfather became ill, and after only a few months, died of consumption in 1884 at the age of 45. He left my poor Grandmother a widow at 26, with two little girls to bring up. She had to come out of the shop, because men would not work for a woman in those days. She moved into a tiny cottage in Lower Wortley, and took in sewing to make a meagre living. This was in about 1886, when work was very scarce.
She struggled on for four years, until she had a marriage offer from a man named George Dodgson. He was a foreman at the Farnley Brick Works. In the end Grandmother accepted him – she must have been really sick of trying to make ends meet. He became Mother’s stepfather. Then, of course, more children began arriving. Poor Ann had five babies in less than ten years. Of course mother had to help bring them up, and there was still not enough money for a decent living. The other children were named Harry, Orlando (Lander), John Edward, William and one girl called Sarah Emma, who is the last one alive at this date (1981). She is about 80.
Harry married and had a boy and a girl. John Edward never married; he was a correspondent during World War I. William was killed in 1914, just 18 years old. Lander married and had five children – four boys and one girl (I’ve lost touch with them) and Sarah Emma married late in her life and had no family. Mother had to help bring up her brothers and sisters because Grandmother was sick most of the time. Consequently, Mother didn’t receive much schooling – it was a penny a week in those days, which meant two pennies a week because Aunty Violet also went to school. In any event, Aunty Violet wasn’t very bright and didn’t want to learn. After a while she stayed at home, but she would never help, and sulked most of the time. She was always very difficult even in later years. She never married, although she had a child – a boy she called Edward.
Anyway, at just turned 40 years of age, Grandmother died. She was worn out with bearing children and trying to manage. Mother then got a job in a factory in the City of Leeds, at about 14 years of age. She walked to work in the morning and back again every night – about three miles each way (5 km).
Grandfather Dodgson was a very hard man. He ruled the family of seven children with a rod of iron. Mother led a very miserable life, helping to feed and clothe them all, not receiving any thanks. Aunty Violet was no help at all, and seemed to get away with anything she wanted – it evidently paid to be dumb. She was the same throughout her life. Her son, my cousin Edward, looked after his mother very well and was exceptionally good to her until she died in 1958.
Nan’s Parents:
Mother met my Father in Chapel where they were both in the Choir, and against her stepfathers wishes they were married at the Bull Ring Methodist Chapel in Lower Wortley. So after making her own wedding dress, and Father’s wedding suit, she was a fully experienced tailoress and they were married on the 1st of October 1901. They rented a very nice little house in Coldon, in the new Blackpool part of the village of Wortley.
Father worked in the railway and got 15 shillings per week, so Mother looked after her nice little house and did outside work for the same family – that is, she brought home dozens of suits and overcoats to sew at home, so she could be at home to look after Dad as well, as he was on shift-work – a cleaner of engines at that time. After being married for two years my brother Leslie was born, on the 16th of February 1903.
About this time, Mother began to get restless. She felt she wasn’t getting anywhere and she didn’t just want to be a housewife all her life. She was ambitious and very intelligent. In fact, she worked and saved as much as she could, and even bought a brand new piano; which caused quite a stir amongst their friends. They were big Chapelgoer’s – both Mother and Dad sang in the Choir.
Eventually a small shop became empty in Wortley village proper near the Tram Terminus (by this time they were power driven). So Mother, Dad and Leslie moved into this old house and shop. Everyone told Mother it was a wrong move; but she wanted a business of her own.
She opened her little shop at Whitsuntide, Saturday 1905, with ribbons and lace and cottons, needles and pins. She made pretty baby dresses and petticoats, long gowns and Christening robes; as in Whitsuntide all parents tried to dress up their children in new frocks and clothes and pretty ribbons for the Whit Sunday walk (or Pentecost Sunday – the seventh Sunday after Easter). This was when all the children would set off from the Chapel, the Methodist’s, hundreds of them; and walk up to Western Flatts Park. There, the Choir and a band played Whitsuntide hymns that they had been learning for weeks. On Whitsuntide Sunday everyone met in a big meadow by the river and there were sports and stalls. All the ladies brought cakes, buns, sandwiches and fruit.
It was a great day, and everyone joined in with races: sack races, egg and spoon races and tug-of-war for the men. That is all gone now – the Government saw fit to do away with Whitsuntide completely and have altered the date to call it spring holidays now.
Anyway, Mother took 25 shillings in her little shop on that Whit Sunday, and she was so proud and pleased. She got a Joiner to come and put up lots of shelves and a new shop window – a large one as the other was only a house window, and not very big.
Then she sewed and sewed day and night. She made everything she sold in the shop – from men’s suits’ and overcoats to ladies dresses and costumes, to sheets and pillowcases.
Everything one could think of, she made on an old Singer jumbo Treadle machine – a great big ugly thing, it was part of all our lives. Oh I hated it, from the time I was old enough to understand what it was all about. It just dominated everything, but Mother was established and everyone called her little Mrs. Walker. She wasn’t very tall, and she was only comfortable sewing and looking after her shop, owing to her disfigured face.
Nan’s Childhood:
In 1907 I was born, and Christened Phyllis Walker. It was on Christmas day – a cold and snowy day, and the Chapel Choir had come round to sing Christmas Carols outside the house. They were invited in for cake and ginger wine, but Mother was in the throes of labour and Dad had to ask them all to go away. I arrived about 3pm. Of course everyone was delighted I was a girl.
About his time also, my poor Auntie Violet found herself pregnant, and her little boy was born on the 5th of November 1904. She never did say who the father was – a fact which upset my mother dreadfully, as poor Violet was definitely taken advantage of; although, in later years it turned out a good thing as he took care of her until she died. He was then 32, and not till then did he marry – he was a very good lad, and worked hard in the building trade, eventually becoming a master builder.
My earliest recollections were when I attended kindergarten school – I must have been only three, because I remember being given a coronation mug by our teacher on the occasion of George the Fifth’s accession to the throne in 1910.
I also remember having chicken pox when I was about five years old. It was as my Father was going to work, he kissed my Mother goodbye and I ran to him for a kiss also, but he said, “I can’t kiss you – I don’t want any spots”. I was quite upset, and don’t remember his ever kissing me again.
She would be cutting out some garment or other on the table, and humming a I was about seven or eight when my mother used to tell me little bits about my Grandparents and other members of the family tune to herself. She was always very happy when she was sewing or making something, and the tune was a popular music hall ditty – “Two Little Girls In Blue”. I would stand there watching and I had only to ask a question regarding the family and she was away talking – more to herself than to me, but it was all very interesting.
One story was about how, when she was a small girl, any man who wouldn’t work or was a wife basher would be caught – the men in the village would lie in wait, and grab him. Then they’d tar and feather him, and wheel him in a wheelbarrow all round the village, while the people pelted him with rotten fruit and other things. It cured the chap of wife beating at least – it’s a pity it isn’t done today. In lots of cases the victim used to go into the Army to take the Kings shillings.
In 1911, four years after me, my twin brothers were born – Stanley and Cyril. They were both very sickly babies and didn’t thrive as well as Leslie and I. They were two years old before they could even walk. I had to wheel them out in the pram – a high boat-shaped thing with large wheels, which took quite a bit of steering. Of course I upset it, and both babies ended up on the pavement. Some one flew to tell my Mother. Fortunately they must have been quite tough – they were all right, but I got a good belting. Needless to say I wasn’t trusted with them anymore.
About this time I suppose Mother realized she couldn’t manage to look after the business, sew, cook, and look after two babies besides Leslie and me, so she employed a Maid; Mary Stockell. She was a good-natured person of about 30 I should say, and things were a bit easier; but Mother still sewed and journeyed to Leeds every Tuesday afternoon to the warehouses to buy bolts of cloth, linen, flannelette, cotton, yards of lace and ribbons for trimmings. It used to be very exciting opening all the parcels. Every piece of brown paper and string had to be saved so they could be used again in the shop.
When I was 10 my mother taught me how to bake. She used to put a stone of flour in a big earthenware crock, with yeast and lard. I had to knead and knead until it was nice dough – just the right consistency. I really loved the baking days. It smelled so lovely; Newly baked bread done in a big old-fashioned range. There were six 2-pound loaves and three flat oven cakes, which Mother used to wrap in a tea towel and put on the doorstep to cool by the time we came home from school. I can tell you, nothing was ever so marvellous as the taste of that fresh oven cake spread with nice butter and golden syrup.
I haven’t said much about my Father’s parents. They lived quite a long way from us, so we didn’t see them very often. My father was one of five boys and three girls. Dad’s mother died at an early age, and Grandfather remarried. She wasn’t thought much of by my Father and Mother, so I suppose that’s why we didn’t visit.
Father’s brothers were very nice though. They all worked on the railway and all became drivers. There weren’t many other types of work in our village, except the Pit, which employed a lot of the men although it was poorly paid and dangerous, or to go into the spinning or weaving sheds at the Mill.
I used to lie in bed and hear the women clattering past our house at six in the morning, calling out to each other. They all wore big, black, heavy shawls to keep out the cold, and wooden clogs. We would snuggle back under the bed-cloths until it was time to go to school. The women would trudge back again at six in the evening, too tired to talk. It was a very hard life – there didn’t seem to be much joy for them, what with having children and slaving in the Mill. It was called Nussey Mill.
Everyone came to Mother for clothes and household linens. She used to have clubs where the customers paid as much as they could each week – some as low as sixpence – but they were very honest, even the poor, and Mother was always very fair. She often gave them little gifts if they paid without missing.
Father had risen from cleaner foreman to driver by this time, and got two pounds a week; but there was always trouble on the Railways over the wages. In fact, in every type of work – the coal miners were giving a lot of trouble, for which I don’t blame them; they had to work in such appalling conditions. Even the men who used to go round and knock up the workers who were on shift work. They used to go round to all the houses and tap with a long stick on the bedroom windows to wake up the one who was on early shift – they shouted to my Father, “Come on Joe!” it would be two-o-clock and fine, or pouring as the day may be, and Dad got up quietly without a grumble. But we liked him to get up in the early morning because he always had a lovely fire burning for us to come down to, and the kettle boiling on the hob. That was a real treat. On other mornings we would come down shivering until Mary had got things moving.
Dad worked on the railway, as did his three brothers. The youngest one died at 18. Altogether there were five boys and one girl. Their father died and their mother remarried, having a further three children. They lived quite a way off so we didn’t see much of them.
The brothers all seemed to have large families – in fact one of them, Arthur and his wife Violet had 14 children, all still alive. He was a lovely man, small but very funny, always laughing and full of jokes. He had a wonderful sense of humour – I guess he would have, with 14 kids. He was very much like Stanley, our Cyril’s twin, who was just the same in his younger days.
All four of us went to Lower Wortley Board School. Leslie took piano lessons, but I didn’t do much – either at piano, or at school. I couldn’t take it in, and I hated Arithmetic. I liked History and Geography and Reading. Mother taught me to sew – another thing I hated, but had to do. I sewed all the straight seams on sheets and pillowcases, and side seams on men’s shirts.
How I loathed that machine! The only time it was covered was on Sunday when we all went to Chapel, and on lovely warm days in the Summer when we would go for walks across the fields to Farnley, or to Bramley to a cousin of Mother’s, cousin Clara. She was a singer and sang in the musicals at such Chapel’s like the Brunswick in Leeds. Mother always looked so smart on the occasions, wearing a nice dress and a huge hat that covered her face, and a feather boa slung round her neck.
I loved to dress up in her hat and boa – I fancied myself – but if I was caught I was in trouble. In fact I was always in trouble, I must have been quite a trial I think.
I always wanted to go out and play, or wanted to read. But Mother didn’t believe in idling about, and Leslie and I had to clean all the brasses – the brass fender, tongs, shovel, poker and brass dogs. We were very pleased when they were sold as they became old-fashioned, when nickel silver was all the rage.
When the twins were seven, Cyril caught double pneumonia, and was very ill. For weeks he was near death, and Mother stayed up every night poulticing him. The doctor had given up on him days ago, when Mother decided to use an old remedy given to her by an old wife; it was to heat up goose grease in the oven. She made a chest protection of flannel and soaked it in the goose grease and placed one on his chest and one on his back. Eventually Cyril started to breathe again. This whole house reeked of this fat, it was awful but Mother saved his life. The doctor was amazed when he came again; he fully expected to find a dead boy. It was two years before Cyril could walk properly – we used to have to wheel him around in a pushchair. One lung was gone, and he walked with one shoulder down for a long time.
Anyway, Mother took us all on holiday to Brighton. Father would get three free passes a year with working on the railway, so we generally had a holiday once a year. We went to Great Yarmouth, Bridlington, St Leonard’s, and Brighten, but mostly we went to Bridlington; and once we went to Blackpool where I got lost and was taken to the Police Station. When Mother and Father came to collect me I was eating a slice of bread and jam, and telling them I lived near Granny Lane. Evidently, the Police were highly amused, but I was only very young. After that I always had a tag pinned to my dress to say where I lived.
Sometimes we went on picnics Sunday afternoon. We used to go to Lockersdale Woods – a beauty spot near us. One Sunday, mother decided it would be nice to take a little train ride to a lovely little village called Arthington. It was a lovely train ride and of course we were all delighted to set off for the Station, but some how Dad got mixed up with the trains, and we arrived at Seacroft, another little village, but nowhere near Arthington. Poor Dad, he was never allowed to forget it – that he worked on the railway and couldn’t find his way to Arthington. Mother was very strong-willed and took the lead in everything. Maybe it was a good thing she did, as Father always took the easy way out.
The Start of the First World War (when she was seven years old)
When I was seven, the First World War started. Up till then my life had been very ordinary, with school on weekdays and Chapel on Sundays. Those four war years were horrid, and after a while news kept coming in of various families who had lost husbands, sons and sweethearts. My Uncle William, who was only 18 years old and the youngest of Mothers stepbrothers children, lost his life. He was gassed when the Germans first used the poison gas. Also, Uncle John Edward was called up. He was a correspondent for Newspapers. He served overseas for three years and never got a scratch, but in later years he was mentally affected. He never married and lived a very lonely life, writing, and doing chess problems for the Newspapers. He died in 1940.
All these people were born in Lower Wortley in a Suburb of Leeds. It was a rather big village, surrounded by fields and hills with a river running through, where Cyril, Stanley and I used to paddle and play. We would go on Picnics up to Lockersdale woods and gather bluebells. We always used to eat our sandwiches and drink our Spanish water before we got to the woods. It was quite a long way really.
The rationing was the worst. We had to queue for all groceries. I remember standing for an hour many a morning before going to school, because a consignment of flour had arrived at our shop, Farnley Co-op it was called. The queue would, many a time, be quarter of a mile long (0.4 km), and two or three deep. We were allowed one stone of flour and ¼ pound of lard per week if we were lucky. We had 1 pound (1/2 kg) of butter for six people, so Mother would skim the cream off the milk, and I would beat it until it was solid enough to mix with margarine, which we would then spread onto our bread. We also had 1 pound of jam and a 2-pound tin of syrup. Coal was also in short supply, so Leslie and I used to take a bag each and go to the slag heaps which were near the pit, and scratch away to find pieces of coal. We were not the only ones either – dozens of men and women and children all dug away – some of them couldn’t even afford the coal that was rationed.
Mother still kept on sewing, and her little business was doing well. People who were working on munitions were getting fairly good wages, especially the women, and they spent at Mothers shop quite freely. By this time she had stopped making suits and overcoats – she didn’t have the time to spend on the finishing work. It was easier to make dresses, shirts, blouses and kiddies things.
As time went on she began to complain bitterly about the taxes the Government put on all money earned. Because of this, she always did her own book keeping and had two sets of books – one for the taxman, and one for Edith. She would say she was afraid to take the weekly takings to the local bank, as the manager was always saying she must have a gold mine, so she had to think of some way to save her money and keep it safe.
As I said earlier on, Mother always bought rolls of material. One day I was watching her unroll a huge bolt of flannelette, right back to the board it was wound on. To my amazement she began to rewind the bolt, but after a few turns she would place a packet of 1 pound notes – sometimes as many as fifty at a time, then roll a bit more cloth and another packet of notes – but only halfway. Then she would start on another bolt. She went for quite a long time – a year or so I would think – with all the spare cash. We were all sworn to secrecy. Eventually though, it began to be too much of a worry, so she decided to go to the Halifax Building Society. She realized I suppose, that it was better to pay a bit of tax, and be safe, rather then have all that money stashed in the shop. She also took out a big insurance – 10 pounds per week for 30 years – that was big money in those days. In 1925 Mother bought four nice houses in Bridlington and rented them out.
Leaving school (aged 13 years old)
I left school at 13 years of age, and of course wanted to go work in the Mill, weaving, but Mother was horrified because it was considered common. So I had to make up my mind whether to stay at home and help in the house and shop, or go work in a factory at sewing. I hated both, but went out to sew at John Barrows Factory. I hadn’t been there very long when Mother began to be poorly, and I had to stay home and help. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it must have been the menopause. Anyway she didn’t get any better so she decided to sell the business and retire. She bought a house in Great Yarmouth, where Mother and us four children went to live, Dad stayed in Leeds. Unfortunately it didn’t suit either Mother or Leslie, but I was in Seventh Heaven. I really thrived in the warm climate and got a job in a Café on the seafront, selling cigarettes and chocolates. We knew quite a few people there, as we had spent many holidays there in summer. I was 14 years old and the twins were 10. Leslie who was then about 19+ couldn’t find any work. After six months, Mother was still unwell, and I could only get seasonal work in a shop. Because of this, Mother sold the house and we moved back up to Yorkshire.
Mother bought a nice house in Bramley, Leeds, and I got myself a job in Betty’s printing firm, not far from our house. I laid gold on book spines, which I really enjoyed. We joined the Ebenezer Chapel, and Leslie and I were in the choir, where we made quite a lot of friends; one of which was Ralph Pemberton Pearson
Meeting Ralph Pearson (when she was 15 years old)
I was 15 when I met Ralph. It was on a Saturday afternoon, and I was walking down Scarborough Crescent in Bramley, calling on my friend, Ethel Naylor. We went to the same Chapel, Ebenezer, and were both in the Choir. On my way I saw Ralph, who was cleaning his bike – one of the latest models with three speed drop handlebars painted red and white. I liked the look of this handsome lad with dark hair and green eyes. He introduced himself, and asked me my name. I asked if I could help, but as I was dressed up in a white silk dress, white shoes and stocking, he said I’d better not; and after talking a while longer, he promised to go to Chapel next day to see me. I fell hook, line and sinker for him – he was very handsome and a snappy dresser.
My brother Leslie, four years older than me, and my twin brothers, four years younger than me, all went to Ebenezer. Leslie formed a cycle club – the Bramley Wheelers. There would be about 10 of us, and we would go on long rides to Knaresborough, Adel Crag, and Ilkley. My bike was an old back pedal. Ralph cleaned and oiled it, and got it in good order. We all used to go for bike rides into the country, but I could only see Ralph if our Leslie went also, never alone. We went together for three years. We would all go on long cycle rides on a Saturday afternoon.
I worked at Betty’s printing works in Bramley. A nice clean job, laying gold on bookbinding’s. Ralph worked at Scales and Sons shoe factory at Pudsey. His Mother also worked there.
After a few weeks he took me to meet his mother, father Jim, brother Bill and sister Molly. She was about nine years old. I didn’t care for his father, but his Mother was lovely – very sweet and placid – nothing seemed to upset her; even when Jim Pearson staggered home drunk every week.
Ralph’s father, Jim, used to buy and sell horses and dogs, and kept them on his allotment through the ginnels. He would go down to Leeds Market where he would meet his contacts. If he had made a good deal, he would give Ralph ½ a Crown (that was when he was much younger).
Ralph’s grandfather had had a coach and horses trade in Stanningly for many years, but had gambled the business away, so I was told, so James Pearson and his four brothers were left without money. One, called Ralph, went to America. The other three went into the Army during the First World War. Two were killed in action, and George came back. No one seemed to know what happened to him.
I took Ralph home to our house to meet my Mother and Father. It wasn’t a success. They didn’t like him, and said I was too young.
Anyway, we still met and went for bike rides and Chapel, and I was always made welcome at Ralph’s home. Nearly every Saturday afternoon, Mrs. Pearson, Molly and I went into Leeds and had afternoon tea in a little café, with lovely cream cakes, whilst Ralph played Rugby for Pudsey Old Boys.
Ralph’s greatest friend was George Kemp. He was older by four or five years. The Kemps were friends and Neighbours of the Pearson’s when they all lived at Farnley, and for years they would meet every other Sunday night at one house or the other, for a singsong round the piano. The Kemps had six children – three boys, three girls.
George never married. I don’t think he ever had a girl, but he was the kindest and gentlest man I ever knew. In fact, I was surprised that he palled up with Ralph – the two were as different as chalk and cheese. They used to go to Billiards and Snooker halls in Leeds. They were both professionals, but no drinks ever! We three would go around together – Cinema’s and bike rides and long walks. I never minded, as they were such fun – not like my brothers who never played any sports.
Mother then sold the house in Bramley, and bought a lovely old house in Carcroft, Armley. I always wondered if it was to get away from Ralph and his family, but it didn’t make any difference – it was just a mile or two further away (1 ½ – 3 km).
By this time I was 17 years old, and had dropped out of Chapel. We did not see so much of George Kemp. We would meet on Sunday afternoons and walk round Armley Park, and listen to the band. It was lovely then, on the tram to Ralph. Mum would always have a special tea, with salmon, salad and rich fruit loaf. Ralph was never invited to my home for tea in Armley.
I got a job in Leeds, at Barrons, the Clothing Factory, sewing. It was awful and poorly paid. I had to complete a dozen boys shorts, fully lined pockets, and all the buttons and buttonholes for 11 pence and ½ penny. If I made any mistakes I had to unpick them and start again. I think I only ever received 15 pence a week, and of that I received two shillings pocket money, for Tram fare. Tram fare cost two-pence a journey. I did not stay very long, as the women were very rough and the language was worse. I got myself another sewing job at a much smaller factory in Armley and didn’t have to pay Tram fare.
Saturday evenings I would meet Ralph after tea, and after he had played rugby we would go to the Branch Road Cinema and have a quarter of nice chocolates and an ice cream. I just lived for those weekends. The others were just like days in-between that passed. I had a lot of snide remarks from Mother, Dad and Leslie. They said he was jumped-up and dressed too well, and that his family weren’t good enough. But I got more love and affection from the Pearson family than I ever did from my own parents.
Ralph’s mum was quite ill at times – she had a very bad heart, from which she died of two years after we were married. Even so, she worked full time at the same shoe factory as Ralph, and would go on the tram to Pudsey everyday.
Getting Married (18 years old)
By this time I was 18, and was madly in love. Inevitably, we got married, and after dreadful rows with my family Mother saw that I wouldn’t change my mind. She put on quite a show, and paid for everything. Mother also arranged the service at Leeds Parish Church, and nice tea at Lyons Café, in the Arcade. George Kemp was best man, and I had a friend in Armley, called Hilda May – she as my bridesmaid.
I was dressed up in mauve – a two-piece suit, and a very pretty bonnet. I had a posy of primroses and violets. Ralph had a very smart navy blue suit and white shirt and spatts – very fashionable.
Needless to say, the only members of my family to turn up were my twin brothers Stanley and Cyril. They were supposed to be groomsmen. It didn’t mean much to them, as they were only 14. None of Ralph’s family attended either, but we didn’t care. We had each other, and that was all that we cared about.
After the tea at Lyons, we boarded a train at Leeds Station for a weeks honeymoon in Bridlington, West Street, staying with a friend of Mothers, Which was paid for by Mother.
My gold wedding ring was given to me by my Uncle, John Edward Fradley. He was a first cousin of my Father, and had married a first cousin of Mothers, called Annie. They all went to the same Chapel. Unfortunately Aunt Annie died on the birth of their first child, and ever afterwards when Uncle J. E. came to our house, he was like one of the family. His mother and sisters brought up the baby boy, named Ernest.
Well, Uncle J. E. decided to give me Aunt Annie’s ring, so on the Saturday before our wedding (on Monday 19th April), we thought I had better try to see if it fitted. I don’t know why we waited so long. Anyway, I got the ring on – it was a lovely broad band – but I couldn’t get it off. The more we tried, the more my finger swelled. It was very painful. Mother thought it would be a good idea to rest it overnight, so that when the swelling had gone down the ring could easily come off. No way – my finger was blown up like a sausage, in fact my whole hand was swollen on Monday Morning, 19th of April. I was due at Leeds Parish Church for the Ceremony at 12 Noon, so off we went in the taxi. I had on a pair of white silk gloves to cover my hands.
When the Vicar arrived and we stood at the Altar, I had to explain what happened. He looked at my hand, which was quite blue by this time, and was very understanding. He said Ralph would just have to pretend to slip on the ring. All this time the Best man and Bridesmaid were wondering what all the whispering was about. It wasn’t until afterwards that we said anything, and we all joked about it. It took about a week for the swelling to go down.
We had a wonderful honeymoon. We went for long walks as I hadn’t any money, and Ralph had only about 30 shillings.
We had a lovely week and fine weather. Bridlington was a very quiet little town in those days. We walked along the beaches and the two piers, and watched the fishing boats come in, and found a little café for a cup of tea and biscuits.
When we arrived home to Carr Crofts, Mother had furnished the breakfast room. The house was quite large, and there had been servant’s quarters at one time. There was a very big kitchen, too – it was beautifully furnished with a three-piece suite, sideboard, oak table with four chairs, and a nice carpet. The kitchen was fitted up with pots and pans, and cutlery and tea sets – everything anyone could want. It seemed Mother had splashed up on fixing up a home for us, instead of a fancy wedding. Our bedroom, the attic, was fitted out too. We were very lucky really. I didn’t realize how good Mother had been. I must have been a great disappointment to her and Father.
In the meantime, Ralph had a promotion and was made relief manager of the shoe shops in surrounding districts (Sheffield, Derby, and Rotherham). He would be away for a couple of weeks at each place through the summer. That didn’t suit me at all, so I decided I would go to Rotherham to be with him. Unfortunately, it was 1926, the year after the great strike, when everything shut down. It took me about eight hours to get to Rotherham. Ralph’s face was a picture when I turned up at the shop with my suitcase. I don’t think he was very pleased at first. When we arrived at his Landladies house, she also looked a bit put out. She was called Mrs. Godlove. I didn’t care for her. She was too bossy, and she charged us double the money Ralph was paying and I had to help her with the housework too. We were there for six weeks. By then no trams were running, and buses were being driven by students. It was a dreadful time, everyone out of work, and people wondering about the streets looking strained and pale. Men stood about on street corners in groups. The pits were closed too.
Eventually the Government came to terms with the Unions, and the strike ended after 26 weeks.
Mother had bought a brand new car – an Austen. Leslie learned to drive and he fetched Ralph and me back to Leeds. Mother had decided she would like to go live in Bridlington, and we were looking for a little place of our own – houses were very hard to get in those days. Very few people owned their own houses and were considered very well off if they did.
Eventually we found a tiny cottage, in New Farnley, but the Landlady was a sourpuss and wanted 20 pounds key money. Supposedly furnished, all it contained was a three-piece suite and a moth-eaten carpet. It needed decorating. It had a large living room with one bedroom and a tiny garden, and cost 10 shillings a week. We decided to take it. The landlady said no children or pets, and she was quite upset when she found out I was pregnant. She hoped I wasn’t going to have anymore.
Well, George Kemp came to our rescue again, and he painted and papered the house. It looked quite nice and very quaint. Mother said she wouldn’t sell the house until after the baby was born, but the most wonderful thing happened to us. Ralph was given the management of a small shop in Knaresborough, on the high street. Scales and Sons were very fond of Ralph, as he had risen from the Factory and gone right through the business of shoe making.
By this time Mother was trying to find someone to take on the house in New Farnley. A poor women came to see us about it, but had three children – one, a baby in arms. She was quite willing to pay 20 pounds to Mother, and went to see the Landlady with only the baby, never mentioning the other two little ones. We never knew how things worked out – the poor soul was desperate for somewhere to live.
Dennis born in 1926:
Dennis was born on the 7th of October 1926, whilst Ralph was managing a shop in Derby. When he came home a week later, he brought me three of the hugest Chrysanthemums. They were lovely and I was the envy of the other mothers in the ward. I was home within two weeks, back to Cromer Terrace.
One day I decided to take the tram to show the baby off to Ralph’s mum, and the neighbours in the street. The day after my outing I must have caught a chill, as I was taken seriously ill, and was rushed to Leeds Infirmary – something to do with my kidneys. I was put in a sort of casing that was full of electric lights, with only my head showing. The lights were very hot, and the doctor said it was to sweat whatever it was out of me, to get my kidneys to function again. I never did find out what my illness was. Doctors never told patients what was wrong with them in those days. I was so ill that Mother sat up with me every night for two weeks. Everyone thought I wasn’t going to recover, so Ralph’s Mother took the baby to live with them, and I did not see Dennis again for three months.
An incident happened whilst I was in the Infirmary – I didn’t talk about it, as I am not quite sure whether I was hallucinating or if it was real. I only know I was desperately ill, and didn’t know if I would get better. One night – all the lights were out, so it must have been late – a lady came down the long ward. She was blonde and had flowers in her hair. She was dressed all in white and in a sort of shimmering silk. She came up to my bed and laid her hand on my forehead. She whispered, “You are all right, my dear”, than she turned away and walked back down the ward not stopping at anyone else’s bed.
When I was able to come home from the hospital, I was sent to a convalescent home in Southport. After I had been there a month and seemed to be getting better, Ralph sent me a telegram to say that his mum had had a severe heart attack and I was to come home immediately to look after the baby.
I went to Ralph’s house, and lived there a while as by this time Mother had sold Cromer Terrace house and gone to live in Bridlington.
I learned how to look after the baby and helped in the house until Mary, Ralph’s mother, felt able to go back to work.
I still did not feel really fit, and got terrible backache. Ralph had taken over the management of the shop in Knaresborough, but was lodging through the week and only came home for Sunday for a few hours.
I was very miserable as I was making meals for Ralph’s Dad, and his siblings Bill and Molly. They never lifted a hand. I was really thrown in at the deep end.
I decided it was time we had our own home, so we went and had a look at the house and shop. It was a decapitated and seemed huge. There was a cellar kitchen with a horrible iron fireplace. The window was ½ below the outside pavement – we could see people’s feet as they went by. The toilet was outside, also underneath, with a stone sink in one corner and a cold tap. Everything was filthy and had not been used for years. There was no way I was going to live in that dark hole.
I went up three flights of stairs, to a lovely big sitting room with a bay window and a fireplace at one end. Another door at the top of the stairs opened into a small room, which I thought would make a nice kitchen.
Up two more flights of stairs, a large bedroom and a smaller one, up one more flight of steps to a large attic with dormer windows. Every room needed decorating. We decided we would live above the shop, even though we had no water upstairs and the only Electricity was in the sitting room and kitchen. The rest didn’t even have gas, so Ralph and I had to use candles in our bedroom.
We moved our furniture, which fitted in good, and I stared to decorate. It was a good thing Dennis was such a placid baby, and he thrived. I put a tea chest in one corner of the kitchen and had a large bowl, which served as a baby bath. . For washing up etc. there was two buckets of baby clothes all white with long petticoats (not like today’s clothes – stretch and grow, and overalls). We had to fetch up every drop of water, and take the dirty water back down again to empty it in the cellar. There were no cooking facilities either, so Ralph had the gas people put pipes in, and points, so I could at last boil potatoes and fry sausages. After making do with a gas ring Ralph realized he had to have a gas oven. I was delighted and could make proper meals.
Then we had another blow. I fell pregnant again when Dennis was only eight months old. We were devastated as I wasn’t too well.
By this time we had got to know people and we became great friends with Molly and Alf Whitley. They had been married a little while before us, and she was pregnant with their first child. They were a wonderful couple, and Molly taught me such a lot. She was a waitress at the Town Hall Café in the Market place in Knaresborough. Alf was a cabinet-maker for Mr. Woodward, who was a funeral director with no children. When he died, he willed the business to Alf, for being such a good and faithful worker. Molly had a baby girl called Kathleen – a very pretty red haired child.
We used to take our babies for walks along the riverside or watch the boats and punts on the river.
Ralph and Alf would take us punting. They would compete with each other to get up the rapids, which was quite a feat, as the water rushed down between two rocks that were just wide enough for a punt to get through, but unless you knew the knack you would end up in the river. We used to watch others try to get through, it looked so easy – no one was hurt – only soaked, and the cushions wet through.
For 10 years, we had wonderful happy times. Ralph seemed to draw friends to him like a magnet, and the chap’s all brought their girlfriends to our place, or to Molly and Alf’s. We had great parties. We did not have a lot of money, but we never missed it.
Trevor born in 1928:
Trevor was born in 1928, in March, and that year it was so cold in Knaresborough. The river froze completely and everybody went ice-skating. Tacky lights were strung all through the trees and I walked on the ice very gingerly, afraid of falling and having a miscarriage. Molly came and looked after me when Trevor arrived. Mother came and took Dennis back to Bridlington for a few weeks. He came back with a whole lot of new clothes she had made for him – specially a beautiful red overcoat with brass buttons. He looked real bonny with his blonde hair and big blue eyes. Trevor was quite different – very dark hair, green eyes a thin, restless baby but very lovable. He was always more reserved – not as out-going as Dennis, even in later life, but they were great friends and went everywhere together. Our lives were just marvellous. Ralph taught the boys to swim.
On Thursday afternoons half day closing, we would either go fishing with jam jars, or go punting on the river. It was only 6 pence an hour. Alf and Ralph joined the YMCA and met two or three times a week to play Billiards, Snooker and Table Tennis – where all the other young congregated, and where all our other friends originated, and of course Ralph invited the ones he liked best to our house for supper – fish and chips and tea – nobody drank in those days. Then they asked if they could bring their girlfriends. There was Molly and Alf, and Bernard Newly, Hubert Kenn and his girl Pam, Jack Wheelhouse and his girl Ethel, Basil Wheelhouse and his girl Nellie, Archie Sorrel and his girl Elsie, Syd Corcheran and his girl Fay. Each one of these men, married the girl they brought to our parties – all except Bernard Newby. He was too busy studying and going to Leeds University to have a regular girlfriend. He always made a beeline to our place whenever he had a vacation, and Dennis and Trevor always called him Uncle Bernard.
Molly and Alf had their second child, named John, another redhead. Molly had to give up work for a while, so we were able to go out into the Castle-yard with our children. We spent many happy hours in the new paddling pool that the council had made. Molly and I were very close. She was like the sister I never had.
Carol born in 1933:
When Trevor was four years old, I fell pregnant again. At first we were a bit upset, but when our little girl was born on Jan 6th, 1933, we were thrilled. We called her Carol. She was a beautiful baby, and weighed 9 ½ pounds. She had fair hair and blue eyes that were speckled with brown. I used to say she had stardust in her eyes.
Ralph bought a big motorbike, Royal Enfield. He also bought an old sidecar to fit on his big motorbike, so he could take us all for rides and picnics in the country. It looked quite smart when repainted. Dennis would ride pillion, Carol, Trevor and I managed somehow to fit into the sidecar. He would go roaring up the High street and I would cling like mad to his back. I lost so many hats on that bike, that I refused to go anymore. Ralph and Bernard used to go for a swim to Rogers Lido every morning at 7-o-clock. It was a very popular resort for campers. Ralph would then come back, have breakfast, and open the shop for 9-o-clock.
Once a year we were allowed a week’s holiday from the shop. We would take off for Bridlington, to stay with Mother and Dad. We always went up Garroby Hill, which was very steep in those days – 1 in 6 whatever that meant – and when we arrived at the top of the hill people used to stop and let the engines cool down. Some cars couldn’t even make it to the top! It was a great attraction; but there were dreadful accidents for folk’s in cars and buses going down the hill, mostly because the brakes failed. One very bad accident was when a bus failed to take the sharp turn in the road, nearly at the bottom. A few people were killed so a cross was planted there to warn motorists to take special care.
We also went with Molly, Alf and their two children to Blackpool for a week. We found some cheap lodgings and brought our own food, and the landlady cooked it for us. It was a good system, and worked very well as there was not a lot of money to spare. In fact, we took our weeks wages 2 pounds, 12 shillings and 6 pence, and managed fine. So did Molly and Alf.
Unfortunately it rained nearly every day, and was very cold, so we spent a lot of time in the Tower. It cost nothing to go in and listen to the big Wurlitzer organ with Reg Dixon playing.
When we did manage to get on the beach the poor kids were muffled up in overcoats and scarves, trying to build sandcastles; but we did enjoy it just the same. It was a change, and the first holiday that Molly and Alf had had for years. We were invited to London to visit Beattie and Allan, so off we went on the motorbike. Allan was in the police force, and was living in Wandsworth at that time. They made us very welcome, and we became great friends. Beattie and I exchanged letters every month, until she died in about 1963 from heart trouble. She and Allan had not been retired long, and had bought an old pub, “The Talbot”, at Much Wenlock in Shropshire. After a while Allan sold out, and went to live with his son Max and wife Enid for several years.
Dennis and Kathleen Whitely started at the Castle-yard school when they were three years old. Then Molly and Alf were asked to be caretakers of the YMCA. The house was very nice too; so all the lad’s went there for their games. It was very popular, didn’t cost much, and, of course, there was no alcohol. I don’t think any of them took a drink – at least, Ralph didn’t until he was 25 or 26, when he and Alf joined the Working Men’s Club.
When we had a party, one of the lad’s would take a huge jug to the pub and fill it with beer for the men. We ladies would have lemonade, a few sandwiches and cake. We played guessing games and twenty questions. We really had a lovely time.
In the weekends we would take picnics and all go to Scotton Banks, by the river. Ralph taught both Dennis and Trevor to swim – also Kathleen and John.
By this time I had painted and papered all the rooms of the house. The wallpaper was only sixpence a roll. And large cans of paint cost one shilling and sixpence.
Mother would come for a weeks visit every couple of months. She had given me her old big Jumbo Singer sewing machine, which I kept up in the attic, and Mother would go into Knaresborough market, and buy remnants of material very cheaply. Then she’d make clothes for Dennis, Trevor and me.
When Dennis was seven, and Trevor five, I would put them on the Bridlington bus and ask the conductor to put them off in York. Then they would walk through the Town, and over the Bridge to Rougier Street, to get the other bus to Bridlington. They knew the way, as I had taken them many times when they were younger. They really were marvellous, and I never worried – not like today! They would stay for a month – all the school holidays. Dennis still talks about what a lovely time they had. They played on the beach, and went swimming nearly every day, and did look well when they came back on the same bus route – reversed this time, and I would meet them at the bus Terminus.
In the meantime, Molly had gone back to waitressing in the Town Hall café, so I also took a job whilst the boys were away at school. I was doing quite well, and the bit of extra money was useful, as Ralph had not had a rise since first taking the managership of the shop. We did very well though, as Ralph earned 2 pounds, 12 shillings and 6 pence a week, and rent rates, gas and electricity were free – which was an exceptionally good wage in those days. But of course, as the family grew so did our expenses, and our lifestyle. I didn’t want homemade clothes anymore. I remember one time Ralph took me to Leeds on the bus to buy some things from Crofts, and I came away with three lovely outfits for 1 pound, 9 shillings and 11 pence: a white linen suit, dress and jacket, a navy-blue silk dress and long coat, and a plaid dress. I felt very smart. I kept my job at the café. I started at 9-o-clock in the morning, and finished at 7-o-clock in the evening, when I picked the boys up from a friend who looked after them from 4-0-clock, after school. I would collect them both and put them to bed. Then I had to prepare the meals for the next day and clean the house, because Ralph was too busy in the shop.
When I fell pregnant again with our daughter Carol, I had to leave the café. Dennis was five, and Trevor was seven, and we all adored this little baby girl. Mother came to visit and decided to have a plumber bring cold water up to my kitchen, and had it paid for too. We had another three perfect years. We thought it would last forever, but life is not like that.
We got a letter from Scales and Sons of Pudsey, to say the firm had gone into Liquidation and they gave us a month to quit the house and shop. We were frantic. Ralph tried to get another job – he even went down to Lewis’s, in Leeds – they were advertising for floor walkers, but the wages were two pounds and10 shillings per week and we would have to find somewhere to live and Ralph would have to pay for fares to Leeds everyday.
Ralph answered an ad for undermanager at a shoe-shop in Skegness. He got it, and had to start straight away. So I was left to pack up and store all our furniture, and then go to Mothers with the three children. Mother and Dad were then living in Balhome Chalet – a lovely old house in Bridlington on the Southside. There were only five of these Chalet’s built – by a Swiss builder – so mother decided to take in visitors, and I was to help. The children all went to Hilderthorpe School – Carol was three by now. Ralph sent a pound a week for our food, as he had to pay board and lodgings. As it turned out, the job at the shoe shop was only seasonal, and finished at the end of September.
Ralph came back to Bridlington, but there was no work to be had, and he refused to go on the dole. He had a months pay in Lewes, so he relaxed a bit. One morning he didn’t go downstairs to breakfast until after 9-o-clock. Mother was furious. The visitors had gone out and the children were at school. I can see Mother now – she stood in front of Ralph and said, I quote, “Them that don’t work, don’t eat in this house!” Which was a bit unfair. It was just like two electrics were meeting.
Ralph just turned round and walked out without a word. Dad and I were struck dumb.
I waited all day for Ralph to return, and when he did, he said he had got a house and shop to rent, and we are leaving. He had been to the Estate agent and found this shop up Flamborough road, by Forty Foot Bridge. It had been empty for two years and needed a lot of decorating and cleaning. There were six bedrooms, a huge lounge on the second floor, a toilet and a bathroom. Ralph promised to do the decorating, providing we could have the property six months rent-free. The landlord agreed.
Our furniture was still in the store in Knaresborough, and it was going to cost 15 pounds to bring it to Bridlington, so we sold it to the chap for 20 pounds, and we gave the money to Mother so she could go and buy some more furniture at the sales rooms. She was happy to do that – she got some real bargains.
Opening a Shoe Shop: “London Shoe Store”
Ralph did up the shop first, and we moved in. We got a friend to paint the outside, and to put “London Shoe Store” Above the window. It looked good. Ralph contacted a firm in London, and bought 5 pound’s worth of stylish shoes, and we were in business. I started papering, and Ralph started to repair shoes in the back place. We had a nice big living room with a kitchen leading to the back door, and an outhouse where Ralph did his repairs. That became a nice little business, so I looked after the shop and helped to finish off the repairs using heelball and special tools that were heated in the fire. I got quite proficient after a while, but I didn’t like it.
We gradually built up the business and got our Stanley – my younger brother, who was a joiner – to put in new shelves and a nice window back. He made a very good job of it, too. It looked very smart and we were selling good class shoes that we bought from Lilley and Skinners of London – the name helped us a lot. Lovely high-heeled sandals, and court shoes that appealed to the younger set. By this time we had made a few friends, but we didn’t entertain much as we were still struggling to make ends meet – the children were growing up fast and needed bigger clothes and shoes.
The boys went to St. Georges School on a new estate, but Carol still went to a school on Key rd, which was quite a long way from where we lived. I used to set her off half way down Tennyson Ave, and meet her at 4-o-clock on her way home (they all had school dinners).
We had been there about 18 months when Ralph’s sister Beattie, her husband Allan and their three children came to visit us for a week. Max was the youngest – about 11, then Ralph 14 years old, and Allan 16. A lovely family – but could they eat, my goodness! I couldn’t feed them enough. Although they did pay, it wasn’t nearly enough to keep them. But we did enjoy their company and caught up on all the news. So, in the next summer months, I decided I would take in visitors. It was hard work, but a bit of extra money, as rents and rates were a bit heavy. But we managed as always, the winter months were the worst. Bridlington shut everything down end of September, and it was too cold for visitors and there was nowhere for them to go.
One day a workman came into the shop to ask if I could take in Seven Labourers full board. But I felt I couldn’t tackle all those men, with the shop, the children, cleaning and helping to finish off all the repairs that Ralph had done.
Evidently these chaps had come from Hull to build four houses up Eighth Avenue, and they were sleeping in tents, as they could not travel to Hull and back everyday. After talking to them a while, I told them all I could do was to make them a good hot dinner every night on weekdays. Two of the chaps did get a place, so that left five to look for. They were really nice men – not rough, and were very grateful to me. They came to me for six months until the houses were finished. It was hard work, but they needed the money. They always helped to do the dishes – I think they missed their family life, and were most intrigued when I fetched out the irons and heelball and cloths for finishing Ralph’s repairs, and made a good job of it too! When they left, they bought me a lovely pottery set, teapot, milk jug and sugar basin on a tray. I had it for years.
We got through that winter okay, and spring and summer brought the visitors back, and trade bucked up again. There was another shoe-repairer just round the corner from us, and Ralph made friends with him. His name was Mr. Nixon. When Mr. Nixon was snowed under with repairs, he let Ralph have some and it worked very well. Bernard Newby was the only one who came to visit us – we were always pleased to see him as he took the boys swimming. Carol had her little friends now too, and everything seemed to be going right for us for a while, but nothing ever lasts.
Mother was very good, still making clothes for the children and Dad would go to the fish pier when the Trawlers came in with their catch. Some of the fish was auctioned off before the rest was sent to the big towns. Dad would come back with a huge Haddock that he got for 6 pence. It would make a dinner for all of us for two days, with a few chips – it was lovely.
Ralph made friends with Mick Martin. He worked on the deep sea Trawlers, and was away six months of the year. His parents had the fish and chip shop, on our Parade. Eventually Mick and Ralph went partners in a boat, to take 12 passengers. It had a 12HP motor, and of course they were going to make loads of money taking trips out to Flamborough and Bempton, but nothing ever turns out the way one wants. The boys thought it good though, until Trevor and Ralph got seasick. Dennis enjoyed it. I guess Mick thought they were sissies – Mick used it for fishing and we got plenty of the catch.
Mother still went to the sales rooms every week, and always brought back good bargains. My bedrooms were beginning to look nice. A social worker called to see me and asked if I would like to join their small club, helping old and lonely people. So every fortnight I would set out my big lounge to accommodate 12 people, who came for a Beetle-drive to raise a bit of money for little extras. They paid a shilling each and I provided tea and biscuits. Every Thursday afternoon I would go and visit an old lady, a Mrs. Wigg. She was over 90 and I read to her or let her talk about her old days. Poor old soul – it was very sad to see her stuck away in this little room with no family – just a landlady to make her meals. There were many more like her, and our little band of helpers did what we could.
By this time Mick’s father had died, so he began to help his mother in her fish-shop, and gave up Trawling. He and Ralph used to go to a pub in Old Town, called the Nags Head. It was a very popular place, as Mrs. Alexander the landlady had two very good-looking daughters – Sylvia who was 18, and Meda 20. They were a great attraction, and all the young fellows went to the Nags Head – it was the in thing at the time. I went a few times, but the customers all got up to such antics, it wasn’t my style. I thought the girls were fast, but Mrs. Alexander turned a blind eye – after all, she was making money hand over fist. We did not have many parties, as we could not afford them and they turned out to be boozy does. Besides, it wasn’t good for the children.
World War Two (1939)
Then it was 1939 and the good summer we were about to have came to an abrupt end. The threat of war altered everything. All the visitors I had booked in gave backward; and trade dropped drastically. There were soldiers everywhere and great rolls of barbed wire appeared on the beaches. We were forbidden to go onto the sands. The fun fairs and arcades closed down. By this time, war was declared. In September, the Town was empty.
Ralph went and got a job at the Fertilizer Works, just out of Town. There, he heaved 100 weight sacks onto lorries all day, for 7.30 am to 5pm. It was very hard work, and not big wages. He used to come home exhausted, and then if there had been any repairs brought in, he would do them. He still refused to go on the dole.
Then the German aeroplanes started to fly over. The first bomb to be dropped and flattened a large hotel called the Cock and Bottle, at the bottom of King St. My Mother who was out shopping that morning said that the blast literally blew her up the street. She said her feet never touched the ground until she found herself in a shop doorway at the other end of the street. There were a few people killed. It was awful. That was the beginning of the bombing.
Then the German single planes came across – the Spitfire and the Heinkels. These were dogfights with our planes. One time Dennis, Trevor and Carol went down to the beach. They somehow managed to play there, even with the barbed wire. Suddenly, three German planes roared over the sea, and our three scampered to a huge open garage beneath the Expanse Flats – a posh new building. They watched the British planes attack and bring down the Heinkels. After the all clear went, our three came home not a bit afraid. Dennis was so excited – he couldn’t stop talking about it. Trevor wasn’t so sure, and neither was Carol. It was just some thing that happened.
Dennis got a little job delivering meat for the local butcher before he went to school. For this, he received a shilling and sixpence. He gave me the shilling, and the rest was his to buy sweets and comics. Both boys went delivering papers for a while, but so many people were leaving Bridlington that Ralph got another job: furniture removing. The fertilizer shop closed down, as they were afraid of being bombed.
Then the government decided to evacuate children from the industrial towns – Leeds, Liverpool, Middlesborough, etc. About 200 children were brought to Bridlington – goodness knows why, as the bombers came over the North Sea to Hull, which was one of their targets. If the attack was too fierce, they turned around, dropped their load anywhere and fled -so Bridlington got quite a lot of damage.
Anyway, three lads were parked on me from the docksides at Middlesborough, and they were very rough, with only the clothes they were standing in and shaven heads. It was a bit difficult at first. I fitted them up with pyjamas and jumpers, and Mother made them some trousers. Ralph repaired their boots, and I received eight shillings and sixpence a week. We taught them a few manners, saw they brushed their teeth, and we had to separate them into different rooms as they had pillow-fights. They thought it was lovely. I don’t think they had proper homes, and the food they ate they just wolfed it down, and waited for more. Eight shillings and sixpence no way covered it. I baked a stone of bread twice a week, and gave them stews, dumplings, rice puddings, rabbit pies and steamed puddings, until I was sick of the sight of food!
But they calmed down and went to school – until all the children at school got scabies, and I had to scrub them in the bath every night, and cover them in sulphur – my own three included. The school was closed until the epidemic was over. I had the boys for six months, until the raids and bombings got so bad that all the evacuees were sent home to their parents. It was hard work trying to keep them entertained in the winter evenings, so I bought a yard and a half of Hessian and cut up all our old clothes into four-inch long clips, an inch wide. Then I set them on making a rug. Each one had a corner to do with different colours, and Carol had the centre to do. They liked it at first – for a week or two – but then I had to be really firm with them. I told them that if they spent an hour every night on it, I would let them go to the Cinema on a Saturday afternoon. I had no more trouble after that. They were not bad lads, and they liked being with us. They got on well with my three, and were sorry when they left. They were called Leslie, Frank and Spud – we never got to know his proper name.
Mother had left Balholm Chalet and bought a really nice semi-detached house at the top of Eighth Ave. Dad joined the A.R.P and would roam around the Avenues at nights, when the raids got worse.
Ralph and I slept under the table in the living room – it was strengthened with mesh. Dennis, Trevor and Carol slept under the stairs with mattresses piled around them. We dared not go upstairs to sleep, as the bombs seemed to get closer to us. St. Georges School got a direct hit one night, and so did the railway station – but the houses in the Town were badly knocked about. The air-force camp was at Driffield 12 miles away. I guess that’s what they were looking for. One day they did find it, and demolished hangers and air-raid shelters. A lot of air-force personal was killed that day – it was a dreadful tragedy.
By this time I was frantic with worry, no sleep and no money. Two lots of bombs were dropped very near our house. I was filled with a premonition that our house would be hit, and all I wanted to do was get away somewhere safe. Mother went to Leeds to see if she could find some place for us to rent. She found an empty house and shop in Oldfield Lane. It was not the best of places – three bedrooms, no bathroom, the privy across the yard, a sitting room, a big kitchen with an iron-side oven, and a tiny shop. But at least we had somewhere to start a shoe business again from scratch. It was a poor locality, and we hated it – especially Carol. We had got used to living in nice places, first Knaresborough then Bridlington, and now this. We felt we had come down in the world. We packed up all the furniture that would go on one truck, as we couldn’t afford two lorry loads. We had to leave quite a bit of furniture in the house. Dennis travelled with Ralph in the lorry; Trevor, Carol and I went on the bus. We all stayed the first night with Ralph’s sister Molly and husband George Stephenson, and their two children. It was very cramped but we were thankful to be able to stop until our furniture arrived the next day. It took us a couple of weeks to get ourselves sorted out. The shop was our first priority.
There was a small keeping cellar under the house. It was built of brick in the shape of a tunnel. It made an excellent air-raid shelter, as we still couldn’t believe we would be safe from the bombing – although we did have a couple of raids. One was at Barnbow ammunition factory just out of Leeds, and the other was at a railway depot.
We had been in our new home about three weeks, when Mother wrote and said a landmine had been dropped, and the Alexander Hotel on the sea-front had been hit as well as houses in Eight Avenue and St. Anne’s convalescent home in the next block to us. A great many invalids died, and our house on the Parade was cut clean in half – from the top bedrooms down to the kitchen, where we would have been sleeping.
So I had a lot to thank my Mother for. She was never demonstrative, but cared deeply for us in her own way.
Clothing coupons were introduced about 1942. We were only allowed a few, and couldn’t replenish our small stock we had brought from Bridlington. Mother again came to our rescue. There was a very old-fashioned shoe shop in Old Town. Mother knew the owner and bought about 20 pounds worth of men, women’s and children’s shoes from him without any coupons. It was quite a lot of money in those days. We were able to sell and make a little profit, and also get a few more coupons from the government. Ralph also was doing shoe repairing in the cellar, but it was not pleasant down there, lit day and night with a light bulb that he had rigged up. But we scraped by somehow. I would go to Leeds warehouses to buy a few shoes and odds and ends that I was able to sell.
Tuesday was half day closing. I was delighted to find a childhood friend, Alice Gaunt, who lived only two streets away in Amberley Road. Her husband, Harry, was in the war in Egypt in the desert. We were both delighted to meet again after all those years. Alice had had one baby girl who was still born, so she was feeling a bit lonely. She went with me shopping every Tuesday. We would go to Leeds market and buy remnants of material – enough to make a blouse or skirt for a shilling. Alice was a great sewer and made all her own clothes. So I bought myself a second hand sewing machine – one that I had to wind a handle to make it go – and I was able to make my own and Carol’s clothes, which saved us a lot of money.
Dennis and Trevor went to my old school in Lower Wortley, Carol went to Upper Wortley School, which wasn’t so far.
We used to go to Armley Slipper Baths for our weekly bath, as the children were too old to bathe in front of the fire in a big tin bath like we did in Knaresborough.
When Dennis was 14, he left school and went to work at an engineering firm. He wasn’t there long. He used to come home with filthy overalls covered with grease and oil. So we found him a nice clean job as a sales man in a gent’s clothing shop “Greenwoods” in Tong Road, Armley. He looked so smart in his navy blue suit. He had grown tall too. He was only there six months because he said he would like to work with Ralph and learn shoe repairing. I was disappointed. I thought he could do better. Ralph had heard of a chap who wanted to sell his shoe repair business in Lower Wortley. It was only a lock-up wooden hut, and the owner wanted to retire. So Ralph and Dennis set up shop and worked together. I took in repairs in my shop. They would take all the shoes in a sack on the tram, and bring them back labelled and priced. We were doing quite nicely.
Then Carol got Scarlet Fever and was whisked away to Killingbeck Hospital. She was there for three months. I was only allowed to see her by standing in the grounds – no one was allowed to go indoors and touch their children. I used to throw up a bag of sweets, which she was unable to keep – the nurses always took them. She was allowed one sweet every Sunday. I suppose it was only right, as sweets were rationed. We never saw a banana or an orange – the cargo ships had other, more important, things to bring into our ports.
It was a dreadful time. The casualty lists were getting longer and longer, and us civilians were finding it harder and harder to manage on the rations we were allowed.
Two ounces of butter each, one quarter-pound of lard for baking, 2 pounds of sugar for a family of five, 40 grams of meat each per week and a small piece of cheese. The flour was so horrid and dark, and mixed with something else, and the bread was uneatable (that is, when I stopped baking and bought loaves of bread instead).
There were no eggs, only subsidized powder, but I managed very well to make a cake with egg powder, and liquid paraffin instead of butter. The cakes looked good when baked and plastered with jam – our family thought they were good.
The margarine wasn’t fit to eat – it was a dreadful green colour. There was very little dried fruit – only on black market.
For breakfast the kids had porridge with treacle and toast with either butter or jam. Dinner was midday. It was always potatoes and whatever vegetables were available – mostly peas; and meat-pie without meat: just oxos and a steamed pudding. Tea was baked beans, bread and jam. Then there was always fish and chips or chip butties.
About this time we heard that our boat, “The Sarah Elizabeth”, had been commandeered by the government to help with the evacuation of Dunkirk. We never found out what happened to her. We never got the boat back, or any compensation – not even any news that boat or soldiers had made it back to Britain. Like thousands of other people, we were kept in the dark. It was just another mishap, another word for War.
Meanwhile, we struggled on in our little shop and made the best we could. When Trevor was 14 he also left school and went to work with his Dad and Dennis. They were doing quite nicely, and things were a bit easier money-wise. Trevor never did care for repairing, but there was not much else for boys to do, especially when they didn’t have a Grammar School education.
I was determined that Carol would do a bit better, so I arranged for her to attend a private school – Miss Brigg’s, in Town Street, Armley. I didn’t want her to speak broad Yorkshire. At least it gave her a bit of grounding. Each subject paid for separately, so she took a commercial course in typewriting and shorthand. Carol never like the school – she thought all the girls were toffee-nosed. Actually, it was the same school that Barbara Taylor Bradford went to.
At least a bit of culture rubbed off on Carol, and her deportment was good, and her speech improved – although Carol always said it was a waste of time and money, I didn’t think so!
Ralph decided he would take another shop in Burley Road. It was quite a good business, and Trevor could work there and keep an eye on things. There was already a young chap working with them, by the name of Tommy. He was a good worker, and got on well with Trevor.
Ralph managed to buy an old Ford very cheaply. It was an old banger, and did good service. It saved time, travelling on buses from one shop to the other and carrying sacks of shoes. Then Ralph joined Gotts Park Golf Club. He and Bernard Newby had always been interested in golf, from as far back as when we lived in Knaresborough, where they would have a knock around in fields.
But now he was serious, and lived and breathed Golf. Any minute Ralph could spare from work he would take it, and play Golf.
Poor old Dennis was left on his own quite a bit in the afternoons. I guess he was feeling a bit lonely and badly done by; so after he had done a few repairs he would close the shop, and go to the Lyric Cinema on the Crown, for the afternoon matinee. That didn’t last long, as customers complained to Ralph that the place was closed, so Ralph gave Dennis a raise in wages, and started to play golf on the early morning or evenings in the summer.
Still, the horror of war continued. Lists of casualties grew longer, and bigger and deadlier weapons were being poured out onto London, Liverpool, Coventry, Hull, and all the ports in South England. Food was even scarcer, and there was no fruit to speak of. The daily round of looking after my shop, washing, cleaning, making meals out of nothing except potatoes and oxos (vinegar) was constant.
We thanked the good Lord for fish and chips. The boys were always hungry, and would eat a two pound loaf of bread, with fish and chips, for supper.
It was so depressing living in poor surroundings, amongst streets of back-to-back houses.
Scores of children with their fathers at war and their mothers on munitions – no wonder they were wild and unmanageable. Even sweets were denied them, except on coupons and they were poor quality; and of course people in Oldfield couldn’t afford fancy shoes, and our business didn’t go too well. Although I tried all sorts of bits of drapery, without coupons it was hopeless.
The highlight of my life then, was Tuesday 1/2 day closing, when my life-long friend, Alice and I would go to Leeds and look round the shops, and visit the warehouses, and I would buy a few pairs of shoes with my meagre coupons. Then we would go and have tea and toasted-tea cake at Hagen Bach’s café. There, we would decide which Cinema to go to afterwards – or possibly to the City Varieties, to see and hear Evelyn Laye. She was very beautiful, and a great attraction in those days. It only cost nine-pence. Then we would have shandy in the Varieties Bar, and go home again on the tram. It didn’t matter what sort of weather it was, we never missed a Tuesday for 16 years. Dennis and Trevor would have their friends in to play Monopoly or cards, and Carol would go next-door to play with Jean Hackney.
One can imagine Ralph and I were having a few problems. He was playing Golf every minute he could spare, and family life was finished. The Golf and his work seemed to be all that mattered, so I joined the Golf Club in the ladies section, but I’m afraid I was no good. I was too tired to play even nine holes – never mind eighteen, and of course, no one wanted to play with a learner. I was no good at Bridge either – I felt such a mug, although I got on better with the women and we had some nice times. Olive Laycock was a real live wire when she was on the piano. She made the Club hum when she started playing all the old songs. Then all the fellows came in from the 19th hole. Women were not allowed in the men’s rooms, except once a year on Christmas Eve. It was a sore point with all the wives.
In 1944 Ralph saved a boy’s life on Christmas Eve Day. Ralph was playing in a match, and was on the fairway overlooking the Leeds and Liverpool canal, when some children shouted that one of them had fallen in the canal, and could not swim. They all ran down to the canal, but there was iron railings stopping them, so Ralph pried open the railings and squeezed through, pulling off his heavy Golf shoes and jacket as he ran. He dived in and pulled the boy to the side. It was a bitterly cold day, and Ralph was shivering, so they helped him and the boy to the club house and gave him brandy to warm him up a bit. The lad was about 15 years old, and didn’t seem any the worse for it. The Lord Mayor of Leeds presented Ralph with a certificate and a medal, from the Humane Society.
Ralph didn’t feel well for a long time after that, and he developed a Duodenal Ulcer. After lots of tests he had to go to Leeds Infirmary for an operation. He was in there for two weeks, and then was sent to a Convalescent home in Horsforth for three weeks. Dennis, Trevor and I had to manage the shops on our own. The lads did a good job and they were only 17 and 15 years old. When Ralph recovered, he realized he couldn’t work the same as he had before and set on another experienced man.
By this time, Dennis and Trevor were bringing girls home, especially Trevor – he had lots. Dennis only seemed to have one – Joyce Cam who had known him from school days. She would wait outside our shoe shop when he came home from work. She was determined to have him. He never got a chance to meet any other girls.
I became great friends with Joyce’s older sister. She lived in Doncaster with her husband Les and their daughter Carol. Nora’s husband was a soldier in the Coldstream Guards. He was a huge man – 6ft 4, and straight as a ramrod. Nora was also very tall and well made. She and Carol would come over to visit Nora’s parent’s who lived in Lynwood Crescent, and she always came to see me each time and have cups of tea and talk our heads off. She was a marvellous person and I thought if Joyce grew up like her she would be fine for Dennis.
The war news was dreadful and rations were even smaller. The children had forgotten what bananas and oranges looked like. No supply ships were able to get to the U.K because of submarines in the Channel. It was so depressing. I was sick of everything, the shop and the district. The poor people had no money to spend on shoes, but repairs were booming and Ralph employed another young man to help out. His name was Len Turners.
About this time, Ralph took on another business in Brudenall Road – quite a large premises with lots of machinery. Another chap called Tommy came into the business. He was a very good worker, even though he suffered terribly from Asthma.
So I decided as things were looking up, it would be nice to have a decent house for a change. I searched through the Yorkshire post for houses for sale, and I looked at a few that were way out in price, when I heard of one going in Woodhouse Ridge. I called in at the house, and I liked it. The couple were quite old; he was blind, and she couldn’t cope. They were such nice people, but the whole place needed painting and decorating, which didn’t worry me at all, and they were selling at 730 pounds, which was a real bargain.
I asked my Mother if I could sell the house in Bridlington and buy the one in Hartley Avenue. Some years ago Mother had bought these four Terrace houses next door to each other, in the hope that Leslie, me, Cyril and Stanley would all live side by side in Olinda Road – but, alas, nothing ever works out as planned, Leslies wife, Edith, didn’t like the house so they sold and went into a rented house for a while, until they and their two daughters went to live in Hull. Cyril was in the air force, and sold his house and took one of Mother’s flats in Roundhay mansions, which Mother had built in 1936. Stanley and Jenny did up their house and lived in it for a few years. All three boys were in the services. My house was rented out, a mere pittance, which Mother kept for any repairs set.
My house was sold for 400 pounds and Mother then gave me the other 350 pounds to buy it outright, as there were no agents fees, it being private sale. It was good, and I was in Seventh Heaven. It was a lovely house – three big bedrooms, and best of all a nice bathroom, a big lounge, dining room, a large kitchen and lovely views overlooking the Ridge towards Sugar well hill, and a small garden in the front and back. I began painting and decorating the house. Ralph never helped in any way; he wanted to stay in Oldfield Lane, so I did it all on my own every evening after closing the shop, when I would dash over to my new house. I painted ceilings and walls, as there was no wallpaper to be bought. I just went mad with paintbrushes and in six months it was ready to move into.
Then Dennis was called up for his National Service. That was a blow. He was just 18 years old and looked so young. He was sent up to Fort William, in Scotland, for six weeks of training, and after 10 days leave he was packed off to Austria. After a very short time he was made Sergeant and was put in charge of Flame Thrower’s. His letters to me were full of what he was doing. He liked the life, and he gave a portion of his Army pay over to me, but I banked it in the Post Office in his name for when he was demobbed.
At this time, Mother was seriously ill with Tinnitus and acute sinus. She had been in and out of hospital for a long time, but now the Doctors said she would have to have an operation for double mastoid, so she was booked in the London Clinic in Wellesley St. She was taken by ambulance from Bridlington to London. Dad and I were with her, and had to go to a hotel nearby until after the operation when I had to come back home. Poor Mum, she suffered for another six years in dreadful pain and was bedridden. She even had another operation for Gall Bladder. When we moved to Hartley Avenue, Mother and Dad came to stay with us for three months hoping she would feel better, and all this time Ralph and I had bitter rows over my insistence about leaving the shop.
Len Turners and his wife were expecting a baby, so Ralph let them stay rent free and Len’s wife looked after the shop whilst Len did shoe repairs alongside Trevor in the Lock-up shop in Cow-Close Road, whist Ralph and two repairmen worked in the Brudenal Road work-shop.
It was lovely living in Hartley Ave, and I felt on top of the world. There was lots of space and indoor plumbing, but Ralph wasn’t happy. He said rates and expenses were too heavy. So I found myself a job as a waitress at Fullers Café in Leeds, but even that wasn’t right. Ralph still went Golfing though, now and then. After we had been in our new house for just over a year, Ralph heard of a house and shop that were being let in Kirkstall – another repair shop, three bedrooms, living room and kitchen. It did have a bathroom though, so I had to put my dream house up for sale, and Ralph negotiated for the business, which cost 550 pounds for fittings etc. My house was sold for 1,900 pounds, which to me was a fantastic price.
I had just completed the sale, when Ralph collapsed with burst Duacenal Ulcers. I had to phone the Doctor, and he called the ambulance, which took Ralph to Leeds Infirmary.
Once again, I was nearly out of my mind, as I had to be out of my place on the Tuesday, and this was Saturday. So I sent a telegram to Dennis to get in touch with his Commander and ask for special leave. The army were very good, and sent him home straight away.
I begged the buyer of my place for a couple of days’ grace, and when I explained it, he was very nice about it. He was a Professor at Leeds University. It was touch and go with Ralph. He was very ill. This was in January 1948. Dennis was really marvellous and took charge of the removal to Kirkstall road. By this time, Trevor was called up for his National Service. Dennis, Carol and I had to run the three businesses as best we could. When Ralph was out of danger, I would take the books for him to manage while he was convalescing. What a nightmare that was. But at least I now had a bit of spare money after paying for the businesses. Ralph came home after six weeks, but was not strong enough yet to work.
Dennis got his discharge from the Army. I think he would have liked to stay in the Services, as they asked if he would like to make a career of it, but Joyce, his girlfriend put her foot down and did not want him to go, so that was that. They got engaged that year, and Dennis drew out all the money I had saved for him and bought Joyce an engagement ring.
A few months later they were married in Wortley Church. They rented a nice little house in Cobden St, Wortley, and we all settled down, until August 1948, when I was taken ill.
After being examined by the Doctor and having had X-rays, I was told I had to have my Gall Bladder removed. So, on the 16th August I had my operation. It took me about six months to recover. Ralph was better though, and the various businesses were doing quite well. He was back at Golf again. The highlight of his life was when he was made Captain, and he holed in one, twice on the same green in three months.
We, none of us, liked Abbey Road dwelling, although it did have a bathroom. We were on a very busy road with trams and traffic roaring past, day and night. Business was quite good, but I hated the repair shop, and got myself a part-time job in a grocery store two days a week. It was good pay, and I wanted a bit of money of my own, as Ralph just gave me housekeeping which wasn’t much.
Then Trevor met Mary Carr, and they were married at Crossgates and went to live with her parents for a couple of years. Trevor still worked for Ralph. Dennis decided his Dad wasn’t paying him enough, so he left and went to work for a large firm where he did piece work and earned a lot more money.
Joyce had a good job in Leeds managing a sewing machine firm. She learned her trade at a factory hands-on learning school. She was very clever, and made some lovely clothes. She was quite a fashion model.
Unfortunately, Joyce fell ill. After lots of Doctor visits, she didn’t get any better, so she had to have chest X-rays. They discovered the poor girl had T.B, and she was ordered to bed. Her own mother said she could not look after her, so Dennis and Joyce came to live with us. It was a bit crowded though, and Joyce needed to be necrosed, but she still continued to smoke even though she knew it wasn’t good for her. After three months she wasn’t better.
She wouldn’t stay in bed like she was supposed to. I asked the Doctor what to do, and told him she was still smoking. He very quickly packed her off to the Sanatorium Scotton Bank, at Knaresborough. It took two years for her to recover. From then on, she always had to be careful about her chest.
Dennis came back to live at home, and every weekend he would go and stay with our dear friends Molly and Alf Whitley, so he could spend as much time as possible with Joyce. She moaned and groaned plenty at having to stay there. Personally, I think she enjoyed the fuss she received from family and friends.
She looked very fit and well when she came home. She soon got another job, working at a sewing firm. She and Dennis then bought a new bungalow in Pudsey. They were very happy. Dennis had a job in a repairing factory in Bradford. He earned good wages. Joyce had started smoking again, although not quite as bad as before.
Carol had been so good helping in the shop, that I decided I would take her on a nice holiday. We went to Jersey for two weeks. It was wonderful – like paradise. We stayed a little way outside St. Helier, at a friend’s house, Nelly Bright. I used to go to school with her and her sister Alice, when I was about eight years old, and we all remained friends throughout the years. Carol and I had a wonderful holiday. We even went across to the French Coast, “Denard”, for the day. We visited the underground tunnels that had been built by thousands of Yugoslav’s, Polish and Jew’s that had been made captive during the German Occupation of Jersey. They were kept prisoners. Many of the prisoners died, and were buried in the walls where they fell. We didn’t like it – it was so cold inside. The Germans were getting ready to invade England from there.
Fortunately the war ended, but it left a dreadful feeling on the Island – all the people could talk about was the Occupation. Some of them suffered greatly. Of course, there were others who fraternized and betrayed their friends.
We also visited the Chapel dedicated by Lady Boots, whose husband founded the Boots Cash Chemists. The Chapel was wonderful. The alter and most furnishings were made of Lalique Glass, which had cost a fortune.
The beaches were lovely. It was like a beautiful dream, after living in Leeds. It passed all too quickly, and soon we drifted back into business and every day life.
Carol got a job at in Leeds at Mabanes shoe store, in Lands Lane. The wages were not too good, and I think she got a bit bored – there wasn’t enough going on. So she looked around for something else and found quite a nice job on Phonates, Travelling round to large firms, disconnecting telephones. She met lots of interesting people, and she looked very smart in her uniform. In fact, one of the managers at a big firm said he had friends in Norway who were looking for a nice young lady as a companion. We talked it over with Carol, and she decided she would like to go, provided everything was above board.
After a few weeks this Norwegian Lady, Fru Lunka was her name, called to see us. I suppose she also wanted to see if we were suitable and decent parents. It was exciting, but a bit daunting as it was the first time Carol had travelled so far on her own. We had to buy her suitable clothing for a cold climate, and off she went, sailing on the Britagme. One of her friends, a student from Leeds University, travelled with her and saw her off the boat.
We couldn’t wait for the first letter telling us she had arrived safely. She had to work very hard I believe, but her letters were full of interest – the different kinds of food, and plenty of it, and she drew pictures of the house and various rooms. It seemed a lonely life, miles away from anywhere.
Fru Lunka had a married daughter with one child, and Carol helped with the little girl who was terribly spoilt, and Carol wasn’t used to little ones. But apart from that, it was a good training, and she saw another side of life. In any case it was only for six months. We missed her dreadfully though, and were looking forward to having her back home. But Carol had other ideas, and decided she wanted to see some of the City, after being cooped up in the wilds.
So, instead of coming straight home, she stayed in Oslo for a few months and found work in a Restaurant washing dishes. At first the owner asked if she would like to work in her flat over the Restaurant. Evidently the lady, whose name I’ve forgotten, was very kind and understanding. But by this time, her Dad and I were frantic wondering what had happened when she did not show up at the allocated time. After all, she was just then 18 years. We knew she had her return ticket. Her letters were still cheerful and she seemed to know what she was doing. But we were very relieved when she wrote and said she was coming home.
The Yorkshire evening post photographers were waiting to greet her when she arrived at Leeds City Station. She looked lovely – so well and happy. It was a great day for us. It took us weeks to hear all the tales she had to tell us – it was a wonderful experience for Carol.
She stayed at home and helped me run the house and shop, which was really very boring. My job in the grocery shop earned me a bit of pocket money, but it was a very busy shop, and employed only one more assistant besides husband and wife.
Ralph and I seemed to be spending quite a lot of time at the St. Anne’s Hotel – quite a bit better class of pub. Tom and Freda were the managers and I occasionally helped Freda behind the bar, which was really very posh. Tom played Golf with Ralph – that’s how we knew them.
I thought it would be a good idea to get out of the shoe trade altogether, and have a pub of our own. Tom introduced us to one or two Brewery managers until they were interested enough to offer us the George Hotel in Kirstall. As I had quite a bit of money left over from the sale of Hartley Ave house, and as Ralph was also very interested in the idea, we eventually took over the tenancy of the George and Dutton’s house, in about 1951.
By this time, Carol had met John Edward. Actually, whilst we were still in the shoe shop, she had quite a few boyfriends – mostly university students. They went to dances – Dennis or Trevor would borrow Dad’s car – a Triumph Gloria – a very nice sporty type – and the boys would take Carol to the Broadway Hall at Horsforth. Then they would take out their gal’s, and have the car back at the Golf Club for Ralph and me to go pick up Carol at the dance hall. She was very popular and a lovely girl, and tall – I made quite a few of her dresses. It was there that she met John. He was a very nice lad, good-looking, and very tall too – 6ft 2 1/2 inches – so Carol was delighted to have found someone taller than her. From then on there was no one else. His father was in the police force, and his mother was a great helper in the church. I’m not sure they approved of John going out with a Publican’s daughter – but when they got to know her and realized what a lovely girl she was, and fairly brought up, they became very fond of her. John was in the Army, and was made Captain, and served in Austria at the end of the Second World War.
They were married in 1953 at Kirkstall Church. We had a splendid reception at the George, and gave them a good send off. It wasn’t a posh affair, as we didn’t have a lot of money at that time, so I borrowed 100 pounds from my Dad, who had come to live with us in 1952.
Dad had been living in Bridlington with my brother Cyril and wife Aggie after Mother died. He contracted pneumonia and was in hospital for two or three weeks. After that he just turned up at the George and said, “I’ve come to live with you”. He wasn’t well for quite some time, but seemed a lot happier and enjoyed the company in the pub. We got on pretty well, and eventually he started to help – cleaning tables, washing up and making lovely fires in each room, and as I didn’t charge him anything for his board, he gave me the 100 pounds. I soon paid him back, and he lived rent-free and had his pension of 30 shillings a week, with an odd pound now and again. He also had a lady friend, Alice, and a very nice lady too. They used to go to the pictures and have tea in Leeds once a week. Dad really enjoyed his old age, and was no trouble.
Carol and John moved to Middlesborough to live, where John worked for Goodyear Inguen’s as a Rep. There, their three children were born – Charles the Eldest, then Robin and last but not least, Margaret Anne –a beautiful little girl just like her mother.
When we left the repair shop to work in “George” pub, Trevor and Mary took over shop in Kirkstall, with their two baby boys – a two-year-old Tony, and a few-months-old Andrew. Trevor worked very hard, and Mary helped in the repair shop, but Trevor didn’t want to be a shoe-repairer for the rest of his life – he wanted something better. So he turned to buying and selling cars in between his repairing, and eventually over the years he gave up the shoe side, and was making a living quite nicely in the car trade. It was uphill for the first few years, but they made it in the end and are now quite wealthy, and of course retired (1991).
The tenancy of the “George” cost 650 pounds. I began to take in Commercial travellers, and ten the Brewery approached me and asked if I would take six or seven technicians, who were going to alter Kirkstall Brewery which had just been taken over by Whitbread’s, one of the largest and most popular Breweries in the country – which also boosted our trade, no end, besides being a better beer. I did bed, breakfast and evening meals for the men – all Londoners. They were a very good lot of chaps and spent well in the evenings. It was very hard work – I had a couple of good cleaners so I did get a bit of the money that I’d put down for the tenancy back. Ralph was a good host ands he still played Golf mostly Sunday mornings from 7 am till noon, and any other spare hours he could manage. The customers at the George seemed to like us. Things were beginning to creep back to normal. Cigarettes were easier to come by – they had been in such short supply during and after the war – it was a nightmare trying to keep customers happy. They would come in for a drink, and their eyes would ask questions, and we would either nod or shake our head, depending on how big our allocation was and they chaps would look so miserable if we couldn’t supply them with one packet. What a terrible drug cigarettes are. I don’t think people ever realized what a serious health-risk they were, until years later and the connection to cancer was proven. Ralph and I both smoked, but not heavy until later when we left the George and were steward and stewardess of Banken Conservation Club in Corn Square, Leominster.
We did very well in the George, until 1958 when Ralph collapsed and was rushed to Leeds Infirmary, with Burst Duadenal Ulcers. He was in hospital for weeks, until he was allowed home. Then he had a relapse with Yellow Jaundice – altogether he was in hospital for five months. During that time I had to run the pub with the help of a bar-cellar man Tommy Pudyman, and a cleaner and a waiter. I also had to do half a dozen outside catering functions, supplying Beer, Spirits and wines for each do, catering for numbers ranging from 50 guests to 100.
The very last winter was at the Leeds Town Hall for 500 of the Polish non-combatants in the British Forces. It was terrific and I was so thankful when it was over, and so were all of my staff; but they rallied round and everyone was very kind – family and friends all chipped in. Ralph was very pleased with the results and takings – I think he thought we could never manage without him.
Ralph came home, but he was so poorly for weeks. He had lost so much weight that he had no energy, and of course the business began to go downhill. The staff were taking advantage of Ralph’s weakness – the beer-man was drunk nearly every night, and his wife was complaining about his late hours. We were in a mess.
Ralph decided we would move, and find another job or a smaller pub and the Brewery were pressing because we were not ordering much, although I still carried on taking in paying guests which was a good thing as takings were well down.
The Whitbread’s Brewery that had bought out the Dutton’s Brewery, had by this time finished all the alterations, and the workmen and engineers were sent back to London.
We knew then that we would have to move. Ralph and his friend Mr. Gilbert Parr went off to look at other places down South. Ralph also applied for jobs as a manager. Ralph had a reply from a little market town in Herefordshire, called Leominster, and started work. It was rather a large building, and we had the flat above – A huge lounge, two nice sized bedrooms, a bath, a toilet, and then there were the attics, which were in poor conditions. The house had once been a private school for girls and was situated in Market Square – a very old-fashioned town with narrow streets and tiny shops huddled together on the High Street.
There was a large village green, and a beautiful black and white mansion, Grange Court. It was like going back in time. Only 7,500 people lived there, and they were very conservative. We were considered “foreigners”, and the toffee-nosed customers treated Ralph and I like servants, never passing the time of day, except for my Father who had been living with us for the past three years. He was 80 and quite active. The committee made Dad an honorary member and he got on with them all very well -they called him Joe – so maybe it was us that were wrong.
It was very hard work, as we had to do the cleaning and polishing of the huge floor-space, and a skittle alley, a large lounge, the hallway and a polished oak staircase, besides looking after the cellar and bar.
We arrived 16th July and started work straight away. I immediately began papering and painting our living quarters as they were very shabby. It was a great improvement and the committee were very pleased to see everything looking so smart in our living quarters. Then I started on the attics and the three large bedrooms that had not been used in years – the walls had holes in then so I cemented them over, and scrubbed the floors, and bought a bit of carpet for one room as I knew the family would want to come and stay to see how we were doing. Ralph was still not really fit, but we had to keep going.
Then Dad was taken ill – “just old age” the Doctor said. He died after just one week. I made all the funeral arrangements, and he had his last train ride up to Leeds, where the rest of the family were waiting. He was cremated at Lawnswood Cemetery on in Jan 1960. We missed him a lot. He never caused any trouble and helped where he could. He did like the pub trade and enjoyed his drop of rum – but he never ever took too much or got drunk – just happy, and he would occasionally sing an old music hall song. He had quite a nice tenor voice and could yodel when he felt in the mood.
Life at the Rankin Conservatory Club was not easy and entailed and a lot of cleaning and polishing. Ralph wasn’t really happy. We were treated like servants – not as equals. We were not acknowledged outside the club. After 18 months there was an election, and of course, being a very strong Conservatory Club, we had the Member of Parliament Lord Clive Bossam, and his wife Lady Barbara. They were very charming and asked me to make tea and sandwiches for the committee and members. It was lovely on Election Day. The Conservatories got in with a large majority, and I was congratulated on my efforts at catering. I did enjoy that day – until late afternoon when a telegram was sent to Lord Bossam to say that his younger brother, 23 years old, had died from an overdose of drugs, at Oxford. That put an end to any celebrations.
Later in the New Year Ralph and I received a personal invitation to a cocktail party at his home, Elverton Hall, just outside Leominster. We felt very proud, and offered to take a couple of committee men who were also invited, but they were such snobs that they refused even though we had a nice car, a Sunbeem Talbot.
We were greeted like old friends by Lord Clive and Lady Barbara, and were shown into their library for wine and snacks. Everything was beautiful, but none of the Club members spoke to us. We were treated like spare parts, and Ralph was furious. We stayed an hour and our host again congratulated us for the help we had given them on Voting Day. Each year we received a nice Christmas card from them, sent to the Golden Lion. By this time Ralph had had enough of working at the supposedly Gentleman’s Club.
We heard about a small hotel on the outskirts of Town. It was very run down, and wasn’t much in going for the tenancy of 250 pounds, but we didn’t care. It was such a relief to be on our own. Trade was bad and mostly cider was sold. We were not used to cider drinkers, so Ralph refused to serve them, as they were mostly drunk and half-witted. There was no great loss, and Ralph began to build up the beer trade. The first six months were very tough, but we tightened our belts, and people were curious to see the “Yorkshire foreigners”, as they called us. It was hard going, as there were 28 pubs and three clubs in Leominster, and only 7,500 residents – a lot of them poor and out of work, and mostly Agricultural workers or labourers.
We had six bedrooms, so I decided I would take in Commercial Travellers, and I soon built up a good clientele bed, breakfast and evening meal, which caught on very quickly because it was cheap. I had quite a few regulars. After a while I put washbasins in each bedroom, as we had only one bathroom. I bought nice carpets and good beds, and although the rooms were old-fashioned with big oak beams, they were cosy and visitors loved the “Olde Worlde” looks. We had a lovely kitchen, garden and stables where the farmers came in and stabled their horses whilst selling their produce in the market-square every Wednesday and Friday.
We also had 12 acres of land, and 36 apple trees – red, delicious Newtons and Bramley. Also, we had a lot of cider apples, which we sold to the Bulmers cider co. but as we had to pick them ourselves and we couldn’t spare the time, we let that go, but I didn’t mind. The price wasn’t so good, and the trees were old. But one afternoon we decided to pick some apples after the bar closed. Ralph climbed a big tree and I caught the apples as they fell. When I called up to him that I had enough, the branch broke, and he landed with a bang on the ground. He was unconscious, so I rushed across the road to the chicken factory, where they phoned the ambulance. The medics gave Ralph a quick examination and took him to Hereford Hospital for X-rays. He had three broken ribs, and one had pierced his lung. It was touch and go for a few days and he was in intensive care, and stayed in hospital for a month. So we decided no more apple picking. He was very careful for a long time.
Fortunately the cellar was on the same level as the ground floor, and fairly easy to manage. I did ploughmen’s lunches with cottage loaf, pickles, and cheese for two shillings and sixpence. On weekends I cooked chicken in a basket – Saturday and Sunday evenings it was very popular, ½ a chicken with chips at three shillings and sixpence. I cooked hundreds of chickens. I also kept 60 white leg horn hens in the stable, and sold dozens of eggs to the egg-packers – until 1965, when foot and mouth disease was rife in the farms round Herefordshire, and the Government sent inspectors to kill all my beautiful birds even though they were quite healthy. I was very upset, but there was nothing I could do. I was given twenty pounds compensation for my loss, but when I realized how much the farmers had lost – huge herds of cattle and sheep were slaughtered and burned – the countryside was alight with huge fires everywhere one looked, and troughs of disinfectant were placed outside shops in the High Street for people to step into before going into shops. The whole Town stank of Lysol for weeks afterwards.
The worst disasters were the floods’, which happened year after year. We had three floods in two years. It would happen when the floodgates were opened at the Caerwyn Dam in Wales when the weather had been particularly wet – which was a lot of the time. The river Lugg ran through our land and met up with the river Severn, so when the dam was full and the floodgates were opened, Leominster was informed and we had about six hours to prepare – moving furniture etc. from all the houses and shops on Bridge Street, and get sand bags filled to try and stop the water. But it was impossible. The first time it happened, we couldn’t believe it.
People kept talking about when the floods came, and we thought it was just a joke – until one morning. At about 4.30 am, a local man banged on our back door shouting, “You had best get up, the water is in your pub”. We had put our Wellingtons in the passageway ready to pop on if it did flood. We came down the stairs and couldn’t believe our eyes. Our Wellies were floating upside-down in two-feet of water. It was so cold, but we had to empty the water out and find thick socks. It was dreadful. In spite of sandbags piled all round, the water still kept coming. In the end we had to open the front doors of the pub to let the water out – as it had risen to four-feet, and barrels of beer and crates were floating. We had taken up the carpet in the lounge bar. Fortunately the public bar had a lovely composition floor and came to no harm. We put boards down on crates for customers to stand on – we got quite a lot of sight-seers, and boats were sailing down Bridge Street to get residents from the upstairs windows, and there we were sloshing about serving pints. We couldn’t make a cup of tea – we dared not use the electricity. We had to rely on the boat people bringing food and drinks. The water started to drain away after about five hours, but the mess that was left behind was incredible – frogs, fish and mud – it was horrible. We swept it out as best we could, but we couldn’t get warm. Ralph did manage to lift up the fridge onto the bench top, and we were able to make a hot meal when the power was back on.
We were ready for the next flood, I can tell you. We had things organized better – although the water still came up through the fields – until the council realized something would have to be done. The river Lugg was widened and dug out seven feet right through our meadows, so we never flooded again – although the water was pushed out to merge with the river Severn and the Welsh valley where it again flooded the fields and roads. The weight of the water was too much for the narrow streams. Eventually all the cottages beside the Golden were pulled down to make way for new property.
We now had a huge bar park – we let caravans and Trailers Park overnight, and we became very known for travellers coming down from the north, Wales and Bourmouth. Ralph decided to turn the stables to some use, by having windows fitted into the cowshed and by painting the floors bright red. I then bought 12 tables with four chairs to each table, and made a number of checked tablecloths with some material for curtains. The walls were whitewashed and the huge beams made it look very Olde Worlde. I bought 18 white teapots, a hot water jug, and three-dozen cups, saucers and plates all to match. We became very popular, and bus coaches would come every Sunday morning on their way South, to have coffee and tea and scones. Then they’d call back a week later for afternoon tea. I would make sandwiches and cakes for each table. It looked so clean and nice, all set up like that. The bus company was delighted and I was pleased with the extra money and was able to make many improvements in the bedrooms and living quarters of the hotel.
Monday to Friday I was busy with commercial travellers – bed, breakfast and evening meals at 15 shillings a night. What a busy life – I didn’t have time to think. I had a wonderful helper, Dot Davis, she would come and clean both bars whilst I was upstairs making and changing beds and seeing to the washing. I would put all my washing in a trundler basket, and take it to the Launderette where it was washed and dried and folded in half the time it took for me to use my own machine at home. Dot left at 12 o-clock every day, but she would come back in the evenings for an hour if I needed her until I got another young lady to come in the evenings – a single woman who lived with her father just across the road. Nellie was her name – very efficient and pleasant, we got on very well together.
Before we had become so well known, the principle of the boys Grammar School came to see me and asked if I would take in a young boy aged 15, to board until the Social-workers could find somewhere permanent. His mother had died when he was about four, his father was serving in the forces abroad, and his grandparents had practically brought him up. He was spoilt and resented any sort of discipline – But I was sorry for him. He could be charming when he wanted. He was a brilliant scholar and did well at school. His father was supposed to send money for his keep etc, but kept forgetting. Raymond Griffiths was the boy’s name. We had quite a few disagreements, as I had brought up three children and didn’t stand any nonsense. This welsh boy had got away with so much with his aged grandparents, and he thought he could do the same with us. I think he was a bit surprised when he couldn’t do as he liked.
He lived with us until he was 21, when he came into his inheritance of 6,000 pounds. His father had washed his hands off him when he was 18, and said he wasn’t sending any more money. He said that Raymond would have to get himself a job – which he did. He was quite a brainy lad, and soon got a good position in Herefordshire, in the metallic dept. in a reputable firm. He soon became bored of that though, as he thought he knew as much as the chaps that had been there for years. Then he met a girl. After a while she got pregnant, so they were married. They lived it up as long as the money lasted, and after wrecking two cars and losing another job, Raymond and his wife and baby came back to Leominster and expected me to take them in, and baby too. After rushing around trying to find somewhere for them to live, I found a nice flat in Town. But Lynn was hopeless as a wife and was pregnant again. Eventually she walked out and left him. The two children were taken into care and were fostered out. After that I washed my hands from him. I heard later that he remarried and had two more children – a boy and a girl. She was a Leominster girl and had good brothers to keep Raymond on the straight and narrow path.
The Social Services sent us another young boy to look after, Phillip Brown. He was a really nice lad, and 12 years old – the eldest of six children, whose Mother had died and the father couldn’t cope. After a few weeks I decided I couldn’t handle the thought of another teenager who might turn out like Raymond. They soon found Phillip a good home. He was a different type of boy.
We settled down to a rural life and enjoyed our14 years of hard work, which goes with hotel and public life. We got to know a lot of people, but no real friends. We were too busy, thinking up new ways to attract more customers. There was such a lot of competition and we were right on the edge of Town, going towards Ludlow, which was 12 miles away, through some of the most beautiful country with lots of stately homes and mansions, belonging to well known Aristocrats.
We built up a very nice business and visitors came year after year. Twice I had a cricket teams from Manchester, called Obededum, from a Catholic Church, and they played matches with village teams around Leominster. But they began to be very boisterous late in the evenings, and drinking to excess even though a Priest was supposed to keep them in order. I don’t know what it is about – a lot of Cricketers and football teams who get together and really whoop it up when away from home. They are like a lot of little boys let loose, which egg one another on. I couldn’t cope and refused to take them the third year. Besides, I had my good name to think of. We ran a very tidy and respectable hotel. We would not allow any rowdy people in our bars. Customers could come and bring their wives and girlfriends for a nice quiet drink and meal without having to worry about bad behaviour from one or two rough customers. They all behaved or they were barred – so ours was a very happy pub, and visitors enjoyed the truly rural atmosphere.
I had very good staff too, which helped, and we had a very efficient and good barman too who never quibbled about long hours etc, as my husband Ralph had high blood pressure and tired quickly. But Ralph always saw to the pumps and beer himself, as he also liked a good glass of beer. I think he drank rather more than he should have, but he never got drunk and was a wonderful host. Everyone liked him and respected him, which goes to make a good landlord.
Ralph and Phyllis retired to New Zealand in 1972 and lived happily near their family until Ralph died in 1979.
Phyllis then moved into a granny flat at Carol’s house where she lived for the rest of her life, making three trips back to England. Sadly, she died in 1997, but she left happy memories with us all.
Postscript:
If you wished to print this on your Machine, Love, you are welcome. I wrote this after Ralph died in 1979.
I can’t think of anything further just now, if you want to know about Ralph’s parentage, I could write as much as I know at a later date (but not as much as my family).
If you put this through your word computer it would look a lot tidier.
I know for a fact my Mother was 22 when she married Dad, so perhaps you could work it out about dates. I’m a bit hopeless. I reckon about 20 years each generation. Mother died in 1950. She was 68 years old.
Dennis married Joyce Cam in 1950, Trevor married Mary Carr in 1952 and Carol married John Edward Watson in 1953. Dennis had no family, Trevor and Mary have two sons now aged 39 and 41, and both married and divorced and have five children between them. Carol and John have three children; Charles married Pauline but is now divorced with three children, Bob married Jane and have two girls – lovely family, Margaret married David Allis and have four children – one girl and three boys, which brings my total of Great-Grandchildren to 14.
I don’t know if Cyril can add anything to this, but ask him, I’d be happy to know. Charles has been over from Australia over Christmas and he also wanted to know about the family tree, so it is all fresh in my memory. Dennis divorced his first wife and remarried and is very happy.
I do hope you can make head and tail of this, Love. Its funny, I can’t remember what happened last week, but I can remember all those years back.