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PREFACE.
In the years immediately following the First World War, life in England was
different from today's high-tech world. The pace of life was more leisurely, the
summers seemed longer and sunnier and people, provided they could afford them,
bought things because they were needed - not because advertisers constantly
told them they must have them.
Hijackers were something half a century away in the future along with football
hooligans and terrorists. The aeroplane and motor car were in their infancy, and
as for satellites, they were the natural phenomena orbiting stars or planets. As
for men on the moon, this was an area of Science Fiction. Into this time I was
born.
Dedication.
To my dear wife, Margaret, and for all those whose lives have touched mine.
Chapter 1. Around Barrowford.
Chapter 2. Exploring Our House.
Chapter 3. Local Country Walks.
Chapter 4. Happenings Nearby.
Chapter 5. Farmed Out.
Chapter 6. Some Local Superstitions.
Chapter 7. Street Traders.
Chapter 8. Impromptu Concerts.
Chapter 9. Starting School.
Chapter 10. The Move to Nelson.
Chapter 11. A Childhood in Nelson.
Chapter 12. Back to Barrowford.
Chapter 13. Fireworks and Adventures.
Chapter 14. Boats, Motorbikes and Cars.
Chapter 15. Bill Blacksmith and Our Sunday Afternoon Bike Rides.
Around Barrowford
My parents had met at a local roller skating rink, later to be the Imperial
Ballroom, in Carr Road , Nelson, after my father had returned from the War
having served in a cavalry regiment. At this time, roller skating was a popular
pastime and would remain so for the next twenty years.
On marrying, they had set up home in the village of Barrowford, a mile and a
half from the town of Nelson. The village nestled in a valley through which ran
Pendle Water, a small stream which eventually joined the River Ribble.
Barrowford was divided into three areas. Reedyford, on the south side, was next
to Nelson and a ford in days long ago would cross the stream where the reeds
were. Barrowford itself was in the centre where the stream was crossed by the
barrow or ancient burial mound. At the northern end, where we lived, was
Higherford.
Pendle Hill was some five miles away to the west. The small village of Blacko,
with its famous folly, a landmark built on the highest hill , was a mile and a
half on the road to Gisburn. The latter place gave its name to the main road
through the village.
The house where we lived, and where I was born, was one of two terraced back
to back cottages in Pinfold, a short lane leading off from Gisburn Road as it
started to climb the hill to Blacko. At the bottom of Pinfold was the 'Roman
Bridge', so named by local people although it was a medieval packhorse bridge
and, in olden times, would have superseded the ford over the stream.
As you crossed over the humpback of the bridge, in front of you was Crowtrees
Farm. This was an 'olde world' cottage with a timeless garden to the side and
rear, where hollyhocks and sunflowers bloomed among the white rock flowers. Blue
lobelia smothered the walls. It was truly a storybook cottage and garden.
Crowtrees was in Foreside, a short lane running parallel to the river.
Looking left from the 'Roman' bridge you would see Foreside. Half way along it
there were three cottages and, by the last of these, a path ran off over the
hill to a large field behind Higherford Mill. The mill chimney is still in situ.
Along the right hand side of the path was a high wall, on the other side of
which , was Brookdell, an imposing house standing in its own extensive wooded
grounds.
To the right of Crowtrees farmhouse was a barn and a large area which, at one
time would have been the farmyard. At the far end was another farm building
which was probably a shippon and, nearby, in the centre of the area , there were
three very large lime trees. These, in summer when their flowers were in bloom,
were crawling with 'drunken' bumble bees. The bees were intoxicated by the
nectar secreted by this particular specie of lime tree. They were incapable of
flight for some considerable time.
Leaving these behind, you would find the way narrowed to a cart track which
entered the edge of a large meadow through a five-barred gate with the river on
the right. The cart track, also a public footpath, followed the river with the
large meadow on the left.
A quarter of a mile along this track, brought you to a waterfall. From here, by
operating a sluice-gate, water could be drawn off through a short tunnel which
ran to the part of meadow furthest from the river. The water then surfaced to
become a four foot wide stream, running the length of the meadow, to fill the
mill dam, or lodge, as it was locally known, which was situated behind
Crowtrees. In olden days, the stream supplied the waterwheel at Higherford Mill.
More recently it filled the boilers for driving the steam engine. From the dam,
the stream was taken under the grounds of Brookdell to emerge as an open
watercourse once again behind the mill.
At five o'clock each evening during the working week, a man walked from the
mill to the waterfall and lowered a sluice-gate slide by inserting and turning a
winding handle. This slowed down the supply to the dam. Covering the sluice-gate
was a grille with vertical bars. This protected the mechanism from large pieces
of floating debris. It was here that local children could gather apples that had
floated down river from overhanging branches in the orchard of Watermeetings
Farm further upstream.
A short distance on from the waterfall were the Holme Lea tennis courts. They
were behind the wooden bungalow where the Sharp family lived . The Sharps were
local farmers. The front part of the 'wood hut', as it was known locally, had
been made into a small shop. It had an open window where soft drinks and sweets
were sold to walkers, who, on summer evenings and at weekends, enjoyed the
lovely countryside. In those days walkers were numbered in hundreds.
Next to the shop window was an electric shock machine. For a penny in the slot
you could have some scary fun for a couple of minutes until the time ran out.
The lads and lasses would join hands in a semi-circle and let the current flow
through them all. One of them would hold a metal knob on the machine whilst, at
the other end of the human chain, someone would operate a moveable handle which
would increase or decrease the current. It was very popular, although today,
the authorities would probably consider it dangerous.
Leaving the 'wooden hut' behind and following the sycamore shaded path beside
the river would bring the walker to some of the loveliest countryside
imaginable; the Watermeetings, just beyond the farm of that name . Here, as the
name implies, two streams met to form Pendle Water which was in a valley
surrounded by rolling hills and overlooked by Utherstone. This was a wooded hill
populated by alder, oak, birch, hazel, holly and ash. Towards the top of the
hill, the trees became sparse and gave way to heathland, purple heather in the
autumn.
Almost in the centre of the wood was the 'Girl Guide's Cave', a small hollow
in a rocky part where farmers of years ago had removed material with which to
build their dry stone walls. No one could tell how the name originated, nor
could any one say how many holes had been dug by school children seeking the
treasure they believed to be buried there. Similarly, no one knew by whom, or
why, any treasure might have been buried at this spot.
From a footpath in the wood you could look down through the trees and see the
swimming pool which had been made by youngsters damming the river. In the summer
the pool would be crowded with children and teenagers, the Watermeetings being a
popular picnicking spot for families.
Onward, past the the Watermeetings, you would eventually arrive at the tiny
village of Roughlee with its so-called witches cottages and Roughlee Old Hall.
Roughlee also had a waterfall, watercourse, dam and mill, though the latter had
been derelict for many years.
Walking along the country road through Roughlee, by the waterfall, were
Waterfall Cottages, a row of four houses. Carrying on, you would reach Happy
Valley with its one house and shop and tea gardens on the other side of the
road. Happy Valley shop was situated at a crossroads; turn left and you were on
the road to Nelson and Burnley; straight on for Newchurch-in Pendle (more witch
country); whilst, turning right would take you past Thorneyholme and Narrowgates
weaving mill and on to Barley.
It was at Thorneyholme Cottage that an uncle and aunt lived. They kept hens
and I used to walk from Barrowford to clean out two hen huts and then walk back
again, a round journey of six or seven miles, for which I was given one shilling
(five pence in today's money, but worth possibly ten times more in those days).
This then, was but a small part of the picture to be seen by my parents,
relations and local people. For most, life was a struggle on low wages. Work was
interspersed with unemployment. The cotton mills, which provided ninety per
cent of the employment, were going through indifferent times. However, people
accepted things as they were and enjoyed the simple things in life.
Exploring Our House
Within two years I had two sisters, Win And Mary. It was shortly after Mary's
birth that I became aware of my own existence, aware of a wonderful feeling of
well-being, of warmth of being wanted, conscious of the security of family life.
I remember the quiet sound of my younger sister as it came, drifting over the
warm summer air, from the house to where I was playing in Pinfold and I recall
the contented cawing and clucking of the hens at Crowtrees Farm across the
stream.
Shortly after my third birthday the family moved house from 12, Pinfold to the
cottage just behind it, 259, Gisburn Road. This cottage was next to S.S. Peter
and Paul's Catholic Church. The doorway to the cottage was tucked away in a
corner where the steps of the church were at right angles to the cottage front.
As in Pinfold cottage , there was no kitchen, and the sink, , or slopstone as it
was called in those days, was under the window in the tiny single room. The
slopstone was some three feet by two, and had two-inch deep sides. Slopstones
were made by hollowing out a piece of sandstone. They were forerunners of the
earthenware sinks which were very much .deeper. These later sinks were glazed
cream inside and brown outside and, in turn, they were superseded by
white-glazed sinks, long before the modern stainless-steel ones.
The fire-range was one of the many fitted in the rows of houses which were
built to accommodate mill workers in Lancashire and Yorkshire. They were
mass-produced in cast iron in ever-increasing numbers as the Industrial
Revolution progressed. Some were made by foundries in Nelson, while others were
made in Padiham at a foundry owned by cousins of my father who had moved from
Kings Winsford and Stourbridge in Staffordshire where the iron industry had been
founded for some time.
The fire-grate was some fifteen inches deep with three horizontal bars. On the
left side was a boiler and, on the opposite side, there was a oven where bread
and cakes were baked. Both boiler and oven had a tunnel beneath where red hot
coals could be raked from the fire to give extra heat to either. Early ranges
such as this were replaced by ones without a boiler or oven. These had slabs of
different coloured tiles with a tiled hearth, wooden surrounds and
mantle-pieces, and were known as 'low ranges'.
On the earlier ranges, above the oven, was a space where pans and kettles
could be stored when not in use on the fire. At the top of the range, and as
wide, was a stone lintel shelf. It jutted out from the wall by about six inches
and, on it, were ornaments or a clock. Velvet runners with hanging tassels
draped the front of the range.
Hanging behind the door was a bamboo pole with brass rings from which hung a
draught-excluding curtain. This was usually made of velvet too, as were the
Sunday best table covers, because the material was woven in many local mills,
one could be bought at them at much reduced prices. The velvet was dyed at home,
the favourite colour being red.
At this time bathrooms in cottages and terraced houses were very rare and so,
each Friday evening (bath night), a small oval tin bath, with a handle at each
end, was hauled from its hiding place at the back of the small pantry and placed
in front of the fire. It was filled with water from the fire-place boiler and,
being made of cast iron, the water was was always a rust colour. However, when
cold water was added, the rust colour was somewhat diluted. In turn we were
bathed and, as we grew older, each of us would ask to be bathed first as the
water was warmer and certainly cleaner.
The living room was lit by gas which was the universal method at this time.
Some of the lights were quite sophisticated, having globe mantles which were
impregnated with a chemical which didn't burn away but lit up with an intense
white heat. The larger and more expensive light fittings had ornate glass globes
and pilot lights for easy lighting, and with hanging chains for turning the gas
on and off.
The light in our cottage was only a simple fitting and had one large mantle.
Chains were unnecessary as the ceiling was quite low so a tap sufficed to light
and extinguish the gas. If the gas was turned on, and a match or a taper (a
long, round waxed wick) was brought to it too late, there would be a loud 'pop'
and often the mantle would have a hole blown in it with a consequent loss of
light. The gas was wasted as the flame would blow through the hole. Dad would
then take a small cardboard box from a cupboard and take out a new mantle,
fitting it where the old one had been removed. We children were always amazed to
see the silky, floppy net-like fabric on its circular burn proof fitting when
lit for the first time, for it shrinked to a black shrivelled shape and then
suddenly ballooned into a brilliant globe, once more filling the room with
light.
Upstairs, above the living room, was a small bedroom where Dad, Mum and my
sisters slept. Above this was a half-attic with a wooden balustrade across it.
This was my bedroom and, from here, I could talk to my sisters until sleep
brought silence. There was no gas lighting in the bedroom or in the attic so
paraffin lamps were used on dark nights when we were taken to bed. Sometimes we
would scare each other aided by the grotesque shadows cast by the lamp before it
was hung on the wall.
I remember scaring my sisters all the more by reciting a poem I had learned at
Infant's School :
All around the house is the jet-black night ,
It stares through the window pane,
It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light,
And it moves with the moving flame;
The shadow of the balustrade,
The shadow of the lamp,
And the shadow of the child that goes to bed;
All the crooked shadows, going tramp, tramp, tramp,
With the black night overhead.
Dad had a wind-up gramophone which, in those days, had a large horn some two
feet in diameter. If we weren't tired when we were put to bed, we would shout
down for Dad to play a record as a sort of lullaby. Dad had quite a lot of
records, mainly light Classical music. Our favourite was a piece called 'Tango'.
As the months came and went my awareness of, and interest in the world around
me quickly developed. I had an inquisitive nature and demanded answers to what
puzzled and intrigued me. There was a window in my attic bedroom, and I wondered
what could be seen from it. I could look out of the window of the bedroom below
and see Gisburn Road with its horses and carts and the odd motor car. But I was
sure that the view from the attic window would be more revealing as it was above
the common gable-end of the cottage and church and high up.
Quietly dragging a chair to the window, I found that I could open the catch
and, pushing the window open, I climbed out onto the sloping roof of the church
porch. In the gutter were several tennis sized balls, maybe lost over a period
of time, by children throwing them too high. Interest in the balls was soon lost
in the discovery that I could at one end of the roof, look down on to Gisburn
Road across which the Bridge Inn could be seen. A few steps in the other
direction brought a view of Pinfold, directly below the house where we were
born. I felt no fear on looking down from this height - as I had felt none when
walking on top of the 'Roman' bridge. Who knows danger at this age? Repetition
of this adventure was prevented by my Dad making sure that I couldn't open the
catch again !
On my fourth birthday, I was given a toy which was my greatest possssion for
some time. It had a four inch disc with coloured celluloid windows which could
be rotated at a fast speed by holding a stem between the first two fingers and
pressing a toothed, spring-loaded bar with the thumb. Behind the coloured
windows was a flint which, giving off sparks, illuminated the windows. The
faster the disc was made to rotate, the better the effect. During daylight I
would open a bottom cupboard door, in the house, and partially shut it to
exclude some of the daylight which made the toy more brilliant in the
semi-darkness.
Local Country Walks.
On warm summer days we were taken for walks. We went over the bridge, along the
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