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Foreside and up the path past Brookdell Wood. Here the watercourse emerged from
a tunnel and flowed for a short distance before vanishing into another tunnel.
This latter tunnel was in the wall at the back of the mill and, from this spot,
we would sit and watch the water voles as they dropped from nicks in the
stone-built banks to swim underwater. They left trails of silvery air rising to
the surface.
It was so tranquil there, listening to the plopping of the voles, the hum of
the bees working the abundant flowers and the relaxing, almost hypnotic, sound
of the looms running in the nearby mill. Further up the hill, almost at the top,
was the short, square mill chimney almost hidden by tall beech trees, the flue
running underground from the mill, and halfway up the hill, was the mill owner's
house. It was quite a large property, standing in extensive grounds, and was
called Bankhouse.
On other evenings, when work was finished, my parents would take us children
for 'walks on the bottoms', as the walk from the Roman' bridge to Holme Lea
tennis courts was called. Mary, the youngest, was carried most of the way on
Dad's shoulders. What happy and tranquil times these were for the whole family;
the quiet lapping of Pendle Water wending it's way over stones and shingle, the
plopping of the fish jumping for flies in the deeper parts, the calling of the
waterhen and the duck on the mill dam,the song of the willow-warbler proclaiming
it was summer, then quickly changing to a two-note warning should anything scare
or pose a threat to it.
The hum of the wild bees would attract my attention. I would follow the flight
of one and watch with fascination as it settled on a clover flower, its long
tongue probing each floret in search of tiny drops of precious nectar. I was
full of curiosity and wanted to learn more about these industrious, furry
creatures with yellow and white bands round their bodies and some with orange
tails. I marvelled at the variation in their markings.
Best of all I liked to watch the bees working the wild dog roses which grew in
profusion on the edge of the path along the river. The way they would scurry
over the stamens in the centre of the flower, vibrating their wings to disturb
the pollen dust so that it could be easily collected, seemed something of a
miracle to me. When their bodies had become yellow with pollen, they would comb
themselves with their front legs moistening the dust with a drop of nectar to
make it stick like yellow putty. Thus it was added to the ever-growing pellets
in the 'pollen baskets' on their hind legs.
My thoughts would be interrupted as one of my parents would call me from some
distance. They had walked on but, by running, I could soon be beside them where
they waited at the waterfall. Here we would all gaze into the river, as though
hypnotised by it, as it tumbled, whitening as it fell, into the boiling pool
some twenty feet below. Our attention would be caught by the blue flash of a
kingfisher darting through the curtain of falling water to reappear, seconds
later, and fly off downstream with a fish held firmly in its beak.
Below the waterfall, and across the river, was a row of eight wooden posts.
They were set upright in a pool and they acted as a breakwater in times of
flood. Their purpose was to catch fallen trees and other floating debris to
prevent the blocking of the bridges lower down. Originally eighteen inches
square, these posts had rotted away. They were then only small stumps at the top
and teetered at various angles. The deep pool was essential in flood time for it
absorbed the weight of falling water to prevent it from scouring the river bed
ever deeper and so undermining the wall at either side. The wall on the opposite
bank was already slipping into the pool having been built in a one piece block
of concrete on a clay base.
The depth of the water was maintained by a double row of huge stone blocks
each four feet square and two feet deep. They were fastened together by thick
iron bars bent at each end like giant staples set in holes packed with lead.
Previous floods had moved some of the blocks out of place but the iron bars,
though twisted and bent, still held them together.
Having rested at the 'falls, and being somewhat refreshed, we would then
resume our walk and, arriving at the 'wood hut', we would take the path to the
left where an old oak tree stood. It was a tree of some eighteen feet girth and
though not high, its spread was considerable. Most of the thick branches were
dead and pointed starkly skywards, but the smaller ones were leafy and the tree
was capable of survival for quite some time . It was said that the dead branches
had been struck by lightning in the past but the tree's condition was probably
due to its age which was estimated, by local farmers, to be around five hundred
years old. We would sit on the low dry-stone wall whilst we would pretend to
smoke our paper 'pipes' which Mum had made from toffee wrappers, winding one end
round her finger to make a bowl with a twisted stem. All about us were the
sounds and scents of summer.
On our way back, we would walk along a hedge which marked the boundary of the
large meadow on the opposite side of the river. The hedge was very old and the
original ridge of earth where the trees had been planted was still visible. In
addition to hawthorn trees, there were several large oaks and beeches where
acorns and beech-mast could be gathered.
The hedge ended at the mill dam where a small overflow channel ran back to the
river through a short tunnel beneath the footpath. Where the tunnel met the
river there was a most magnificent beech tree. It was, by far the biggest for
miles around. Its trunk was almost as thick as that of the old oak tree, and it
had a beautifully smooth bark of varied hues of brown, green and silvery-grey,
each colour changing subtly from one to the other. Half its roots ran under the
footpath and into the meadow, whilst the rest plunged into the river bed below
the stones and shingle.
Here among the masses of huge roots, a pair of stoats at play could
occasionally be seen by the quiet observer, their supple bodies wrapping round
the roots like fur rings as they intertwined this way and that . They had a
plentiful supply of food : trout from the river, or rabbits of which there were
hundreds living in the woods across the river.
The wood was owned by the farmer of Crowtrees, Tobias Taylor, known as 'Bye
Taylor. He was a pleasant happy-go-lucky man who loved his way of life and
didn't appear to have a care in the world. He would frequently stop what he was
doing to pass the time of day or have a chat about the village news. He had two
daughters, Mary and Ella, but he could not know, at this time, that Mary, the
elder, would, in the space of a few years, die tragically after a short illness.
Happenings Nearby.
At Dicky Nook, a few hundred yards up Gisburn Road, the road forked; left for
Blacko and right for Barnoldswick. A little way up this latter was a turn-off to
the right where there was a five-barred gate with a stile which led across open
fields . After a short distance was the canal. As it had been dug through rising
ground, four locks had been built and our family would go for walks there to see
the brightly painted barges. These barges mostly carried coal or grain and they
were often pulled along by shire horses. Occasionally, an engine powered boat
could be seen.
We would watch as a boat was sailed into the first lock. The two water-tight
swinging lock doors closed behind it, the boatmen using the long beam extensions
on the doors to do this. Then the sluice gates were wound open to allow the
water from the lock above, to pour and foam into the lower until the water level
in both was the same. The doors of the lock above were then opened allowing the
boat to sail into it. The whole process was started again with each lock being
filled higher than the last, enabling the boat to 'climb' the hill. Boats
travelling in the opposite direction were put through the same procedure, but in
reverse.
On the way home delicate harebells could be gathered from the edges of the
many overgrown outcrops of stone from where the canal builders obtained material
for the embankments and the large feeder reservoir nearby. Scattered around were
mounds of earth which had been dug from the 'cut', as the canal was called
locally.
Two miles further along, the canal disappeared into the 'mile tunnel' near
Foulridge. Here, on the boat entering the tunnel, the horse would be released
from its rope and led through the fields above. The boatmen propelled the barge
in the darkness by lying on their backs and pushing with their feet on the sides
and roof of the tunnel until they reached the end. The horse would then be
hitched to the towline again.
Unhitching and re-hitching used to take place at most bridges where there was
no towpath, although there were a few which had ingenious half-circle
'slip-lanes. These brought a horse to the other side of the bridge without the
necessity of un-hitching. They were called change-line bridges.
The Leeds - Liverpool canal boat transport was augmented by steam driven
lorries, their chimneys poking through the roof of the driver's cab, and
belching smoke. Many had 'Tate and Lyle, Liverpool' painted in bright
neatly-lined letters on the doors and front. Each lorry would be loaded with
cloth sacks of sugar and many pulled trailers which had similar loads.
Up the hill towards Gisburn and Yorkshire they went, their chain drives
rattling. Now and then a lorry would stop by the roadside and the driver would
throw the end of a flexible pipe into the deeper part of the river to fill the
tank. This was done by using a mechanical pump powered by the engine. The pipes
had ball-like wire baskets at the end to prevent blockage by sucked-up debris
from the river bed. We always watched them with interest as most of the traffic
in those days was horse drawn.
There was one time of the year when it seemed that all the cars in the world
went up the hill towards Blacko. This was in April and the drivers were on their
way to Gisburn Races, an annual point-to-point meeting. One could see a motor
car go by every few minutes on that particular Saturday morning.
Almost opposite our house in Gisburn Road was an old building where
Armistead's Mineral Water Company produced their bottled drinks. We children
would watch through the open doorway as the bottles were machine filled, then
gassed with a loud hiss.
'Glass marble' stoppers were used to seal the bottles in the years before
screw tops were invented. After being filled and gassed, a glass stopper, which
had been placed inside the bottle when it was made, sealed-in the contents. The
pressure of the gas forced the glass stopper tight up against a soft red
rubber-ring seal near the top of the bottle neck.
A couple of inches below the bottom of the bottle neck was a pinch in the
glass across the diameter of the bottle which was formed when the bottle was
made . This pinch made a ledge on to which the glass stopper came to rest,
preventing it from dropping to the bottom of the bottle, when the bottle was
opened.
More importantly, the ledge on which the stopper rested was also designed to
be used for re-sealing the bottle if only a part of the contents were needed.
The ledge itself had a noticeable slope. The reason for this was so that the
stopper could run down it to the edge of of the inside of the bottle, ensuring
that it became trapped beneath a shorter pinch-ledge made above the main one,
which effectively kept the stopper in a sort of cage . This prevented it from
dropping back into the neck of the bottle when the contents were being poured.
If some of the lemonade or soda water was being kept for later, the bottle
could be re-sealed by giving a half turn and then inclining it. The stopper
would roll out of its 'cage' and run down the main ledge. A quick tip-up of the
bottle would let the stopper drop into the neck up against the rubber seal and,
helped by the gas, it would tightly seal the bottle keeping the sparkle in the
remaining contents until more was required.
The bottles were opened by a wooden peg similar to a child's spinning top. The
pegs were available in the shops where the drinks were sold.
Armistead's bottling plant would have been used by the former brewery to
bottle their beer and may have been left there when brewing ceased. When
Armisteads left the building, i, along with several local children, used to play
in the unlocked building. Beneath what had been the bottling room there was a
cellar which was covered by a light bluish oil around six inches deep.
After years of searching for an answer as to why this oil was there, I found ,
after consulting some notes compiled by the historian, Robbie Hayhurst, that at
one time, the property included a 16 horse-power gas-oil engine. It is likely,
therefore, that when the place closed down, someone opened a drain-tap on a
storage tank allowing a light oil to drain into the cellar.
There was another building which joined on to the mineral water factory. It
had been connected with the brewery. The floor was stone flagged, beneath which
were two stone built arches forming the roof of a large cellar, used by the
brewery for malting barley. From this cellar, a six foot wide stone-lined tunnel
led under Gisburn Road to the main part of the brewery. The building had, for
some time, been a corn mill making cattle and poultry feeds. There was a high
open-fronted loading bay with a platform as high as a lorry back. A long rope,
at the end of which was a hook, could be lowered from three storeys up. Almost
all indications of these have gone now.
Among the ingredients used in the mill were maize, wheat and locust-bean pods.
The latter were soft, sweet, sticky and juicy and almost black in colour. All of
these were finely ground and compressed into pellets for poultry feed and cow
cake. We children living nearby were always shouting up to the workmen at the
top of the building to throw down some locust-bean pods as we loved to eat them.
Broken pieces of locust-bean pods were often included in so-called
'lucky-bags' which were sold in small sweet shops for half a penny. Lucky-bags
also contained broken ice cream wafers and two or three stale toffees. The beans
and the toffees were often covered in ice cream wafer dust.
It is interesting to note that the large square area of land behind the malt
kilns, which some time ago, were used as a riding school, was, in 1920, the
'Barrowford Cattle Auction and Piggeries' owned by Nicholas Grimshaw. Horses
were bought and sold here. At the time the Auctions were advertised as being,
'Only one minute from the tram'.
The public transport of the time was the tram-car. Earlier trams were horse
drawn. These gave way to steam power and eventually they were electrically
driven. The tram sheds were situated in Charles Street in Nelson and, in the
cellar there, in the early days, there were rows of glass batteries linked
together to give enough power to enable the trams to be brought off the roads
to the depot, should there be a power failure - a fairly common occurrence in
those days.
Tram travel was cheap, quick and pollution-free if somewhat noisy. One could
travel from Nelson to Barrowford, Colne, Burnley or Padiham and trams were
numerous and therefore quite frequent.
The Barrowford terminus was outside Higherford Mill; the lines ended just
short of the bridge. Opposite the mill was a small waiting room with wooden
bench seats. The inside walls were painted a dark brown and there was a dim
light. It was somewhat depressing .
There was, however, in the winter, a fireplace with a warm fire and we spent
many an hour there as children. We would sit on the seats and sort out the
tickets from the used-ticket box. Tickets were in colours which differed
according to price, and occasionally one was found which had not been punched.
The lucky finder could then have a free tram ride, but we used only the ones as
far as Nelson otherwise it would be a long walk back. At this time you could
travel from Higherford to Nelson for one penny.
When a tram reached the Higherford terminus the conductor would take a long
pole from its place on the side of the tram, and remove the trolley. This was
the trailing pole contact which was on top of the tram. It was on a swivel and
was spring-loaded against the overhead cable. A small wheel 'picked up' half the
current. (The other half was obtained from the contact of the wheels with the
lines). The conductor, using the hook at the top of his pole, would fit it into
an 'eye' on the trolley pulling it down off the cable and walking with it to the
opposite end of the tram repositioning it onto the cable. The tram was then
ready for the return journey.
The wooden slat seat backs were also on a swivel so that they could be flipped
back at each terminus enabling the passengers to face the direction of travel.
Often, when a tram arrived and the trolley was being changed over, the seat
backs would be quickly flipped over by some youngsters trying to beat the
conductor who, no doubt was happy to have his or her work done for them.
While on the subject of trams, a large cake comes to mind. It was called a
'tram-stopper', and it looked like they could do just that ! They were sold at a
couple of shops and were a mixture made from unsold, often stale, cakes which
were re-crumbed and re-baked with a layer of jam inside and sugar on top.
'Tram-stoppers' were about four inches long by three inches wide and were of the
same thickness. There wasn't a mouth in the area big enough to bite them so
they had to be sliced from the end. Even the poorest could afford them now and
again as they were only a penny each.
Our parents worked at Higherford Mill, starting work at six-thirty a.m., so my
sisters and myself were left sleeping. We were wakened, dressed and fed when Mum
and Dad arrived home for the breakfast break. This was from eight-fifteen to
eight-forty-five. Then we were taken to a house nearby where we were minded,
being collected at the end of the working day at five-twenty. Within two years
there was a slack period at the mill and half the weavers were laid off.
Farmed Out.
Our parents soon found work at the more modern Sunfield Mills behind the White
Bear Inn further down the village. As this was near on half a mile away ,
getting home and back would have been difficult in the time allowed. My sisters
were taken , therefore , to the minder at six-fifteen in the morning whilst I
was taken each Sunday evening to my maternal grandparents.. I stayed all week to
be collected the following Saturday afternoon, as the mills worked Saturday
mornings till eleven thirty.
My grandparents lived in Nelson on Elizabeth Street, the next street but one
to Charles Street, where the tram sheds were and but a short distance from the
town centre. My weekly stay with my grandparents was from the age of three and a
half until five when I started attending the Infant's School next to where we
lived in Gisburn Road.
I loved every minute of that time with my grandparents. There were also an
unmarried aunt and uncle, Annie and Alfred, and another bachelor uncle, Ralph,
who was in the regular army. I was always pleased to see Ralph when he came home
on leave for he would take me for walks around the town. If I became tired he
would carry me on his shoulders. I was always so proud of him when he was
wearing his uniform as he looked so smart. His regiment was the King's Own
Liverpool. He was soon to go to Egypt, telling me that it would be some time
before I would see him again.
Occasionally, my aunt and uncle would talk of going to the pictures. This was
in the evenings and there were two 'houses', the earlier one at six-thirty and
the second house at eight-thirty. They always went to the second house as the
six-thirty hardly allowed time for tea and changing out of working clothes.I
would often ask to go with them but, as eight -thirty was well past my bedtime,
Uncle Alf would tell me that I could see the pictures. He'd then lift me to face
the pictures on the wall and tell me in doing so, that I had been 'to see the
pictures'. I was annoyed by this joke as it was played on me too many times.
These pictures were prints of well known paintings. They hung from a picture
rail, near the ceiling, by a cord. Two were colour prints of stags; 'Monarch of
the Glen' and 'The Stag at Bay', both were popular at this time and they were to
be found in many local homes. There was also a picture of General Gordon of
Khartoum, resplendent in colourful uniform and decorated with shiny medals.
Grandma told me that he was an English officer and a hero who had been killed by
the 'fuzzie-wuzzies'. I never believed that the general was English for he wore
a strange, inverted plant-pot sort of hat which Grandma said was called a fez.
In addition to the coloured pictures there were two black and white ones each
with a man and a woman with strange hairstyles and even stranger clothes. They
were a pair. In one the man was standing behind the woman holding her hands in
his but high in the air. It was entitled 'Betrothed'. The other where the man
was looking at the ring on his wife's finger was called 'Wedded'. Grandma said
they were Grecians.
On another wall there was a large picture frame with twenty or so flags
displayed under the heading, 'Flags of all Nations'. These flags were made from
silk, the colours being woven in. There was also a photograph of Uncle Alf in
World War One uniform. This, too, was in silk and photos like this were common
in peoples houses at this time, many dating back to the war itself. Another
picture was a framed photograph of the 'Titanic', the tragedy having happened
only some fourteen years previously.
On top of some drawers, on a sort of high sideboard with a mirror in the
centre, there were two porcelain figurines under glass domes. These were a boy
and a girl dressed in the clothes of a bye-gone age. She was wearing a long pink
dress and widebrimmed hat with blonde curls showing below the brim. He was in a
blue jacket and knee breeches with gold buckles below the knee. He looked like
'Little Boy Blue' who could be seen in childrens picture books at this time.
On the wall, and to the right of the window, was a Vienna clock with a carved
eagle on top. I would watch as one of the brass weights slowly fell. The clock
chimed the hours and I would often be sent to the point of sleep by the sonorous
tick-tock of the movement of the slowly swinging brass pendulum. On either side
of the glass door, on a ledge, were some First World War rifle bullets in their
cartridge cases. The cordite propellant had long since been removed leaving only
the harmless percussion cap. They shone like burnished gold as they were
constantly polished with the rest of the household brasses.
The chair I liked best of all was the rocking chair. It was covered with shiny
black horsehair cloth and there was a matching sofa along one wall. I always sat
on a cushion on these as, wearing short trousers, the backs of my legs would be
red with scratches.
Under the stairs was the pantry which was a common feature in most terraced
houses in those days. The pantry had shelves at the top and three steps down to
where it was cool . Here were two cubby-holes for keeping butter and soft
drinks. There were no fridges in those days. As you opened the door into the
pantry there was a wooden buffet on which stood a shallow earthenware bowl; it
had a small base and a top opening of some three feet across. In this, bread was
kept fresh for a few days under a wooden lid with a damp cloth draped across the
top.The bowl was also used for mixing and kneading the yeasted dough before it
was placed in front of the fire to make it rise. The bread was baked in deep
tins in the oven at the side of the fire range.
The fire range at Grandma's house was much bigger than the one we had at home.
Below the firegrate was a big opening to where the ashes fell as the coal
burned. This was called the 'ash-hole' and it was cleaned out every Friday
night. The ashes at the far back were raked out with what was called a coal
rake; a long-handled metal implement with a knob at the top and a half-moon
shaped piece at the other end.
The ash-hole was hidden by a large cast iron screen known as a 'tidy Betty',
on which fancy patterns were worked.Along the top, there were often brass
decorations of flowers or just fancy shapes. Surrounding the entire hearth was
the 'fender'. These were mainly of black cast iron but some of the more
expensive ones were made of wood, covered with copper or brass leaf. Often they
had a small box at each end with a hinged, padded seat where coals could be
stored out of sight for use on cold dark nights.
Every Friday night, the cast iron parts of the fender,'tidy Betty', oven and
boiler were 'blackleaded'. A black liquid polish from a tin named Zebo or Zebra,
made by different manufacturers, was applied, allowed to dry on and then
vigorously polished with a brush until it shone burnished black.
There was a silver-coloured metal platform at the height of the fire-grate and
this was called the top bar, on it were placed kettles or pans. There was also
available, for fitting to this, a most ingenious toasting fork. It consisted of
a large wire-made contraption with a double hanging hook suspended some three
inches below, on which a slice of bread was impaled at its top end. The toaster
was then slid on to the top bar and the slice of bread was automatically placed
in front of the brightest red part of the fire. When the first side had been
toasted, the toastholder was slid off and twisted upside down in the hand and
the bread would swing down to present the untoasted side to the fire when the
toaster was again slid into place.
Suspended from the ceiling, just above the fireplace on a series of pulleys
common to most homes, was the clothes rack, a platform of four wooden bars some
nine feet long and spaced nine inches apart. The rack might be three or four
feet wide. It could be raised or lowered by a rope which went round the pulleys.
Of course the rack was used for drying and airing clothes. It was also used to
dry oatcakes, made of oatmeal, rolled thin to around ten inches in diameter.
Oatcakes were a welcome change from ordinary bread and they were delicious with
cold stew made from moulded jellied beef. A slice of what we called 'stew and
hard' along with some onion was a real favourite and it can still be purchased
in local pubs.
Some Superstitions.
On New Year's Eve there would be a knock at the door and, before anyone could
get to it and open it, in would bustle the mummers,usually in pairs. Dressed in
old clothes, some wearing battered top hats and with faces blackened with soot,
they carried short hand-brushes and polishing rags. They would pretend to sweep
and polish the hearth and fire-range humming all the time. Mummers swept out the
old year and people looked forward to their arrival as they were thought to
bring good luck.
The tradition was to keep up the humming and not speak even when someone in
the house spoke to them. If the mummers spoke they wouldn't be paid as much as
if they had carried on humming. Usually a sixpenny piece would be their reward.
On New Year's Day most people looked forward to the first visitor being dark
haired; this person was thought to bring good luck for the coming year.
There were a number of superstitions, such as...never walk under a
ladder...never put an umbrella up indoors...never put new shoes on the table,
not even when in their box. In the early summer, early hawthorn blossom must
never be taken into the house for that would bring bad luck. Never put a hat on
a bed, and you wouldn't have good luck if you looked at the moon through glass.
This was taken to mean a window as spectacles were not mentioned. Some people
would tell you if there was to be rainy or fine weather by considering the moon;
if the crescent was flat-looking, like a baby's cot, they would say that we were
in for fine weather as the moon was 'holding water', or, if upright with the
points at the top and bottom, then there would be rain. Good luck would come
your way if, when you saw a new moon, you 'turned your money over' in your
pocket and the same good luck applied if you did the same in early summer on
hearing the first cuckoo.
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