When I was eight, I went to the ‘Big School’, but before I talk about that, I’ll say how we were dressed. I was fairly typical, for of course there was no real poverty in Alsager, such as was known in the towns. A few were perhaps more expensively dressed, a few not so well. This is what I wore. In the winter, a wool vest, and combinations, this was a one-piece affair in fine wool, like a vest with legs in, buttoned down the front. ‘Combs’ they were called and everybody hated them, but if your mother said you had to wear them, then you jolly well had to. Cotton interlock knickers, navy or light blue, (white for Sundays) with a pocket for your hanky. Then a ‘Liberty Bodice’ which was like a fleecy lined waistcoat, a flannelette petticoat topped by a hand knitted jumper and a blue serge skirt. Long black stockings and stout lace up shoes with rubber soles. The stockings were made from cotton or cashmere, the cotton ones were called ‘Lisle’ and could also be bought in fawn or grey. Cashmere ones were beautifully soft and fitted without wrinkling, a problem I always had, due to my skinny legs! I had Lisle ones, as did most of the others, one or two had Cashmere but, of course, they were more expensive, about half-a-crown a pair against a shilling for Lisle. The previous year’s best coat was let down and used for school. It was usually tweed, or smooth coat material, Mum always made them and I had a new one each winter. Best shoes were ankle strap, or t-bar, black or brown polished leather. Always a hat, round black felt with a brim and elastic under the chin to stop it blowing away. This was highly unlikely as the school hat had been the previous year’s best one and was consequently always a bit tight.
Best clothes were strictly for Sundays, and I used to love getting dressed up on Sunday morning. I had a brown and a blue velvet dress, (one to wear and one to wash) these had long sleeves and cream silk collars and cuffs. Fawn Lisle stockings, and my Sunday knickers, white, with a little white lace hanky in the pocket. You would have sniffed for ever rather than use it. Mum and Dad also changed into best clothes. Mum would have an apron on while she was getting the dinner, but no-one lounged about in dressing gowns or everyday clothes and casual wear had never been heard of. They were so cosy, those winter Sunday mornings, the fire was stoked up in order to cook the dinner, and just about the time the Sunday paper came the meat was beginning to ‘sizzle’, it smelled delicious, meat never smells like that now! The paper was the ‘Empire News’. A journalist calling himself ‘Marcus’ used to write a column on the ‘News of the Week’ and for some reason, Dad used to always read it aloud to us while we were waiting for the potatoes to roast. It must sound very dull now but for me it was an essential part of Sunday mornings.
Up to the time I was eight we used to go to granddad Rosson’s on Sunday night. The house and shop were where the ‘Village Green’ shop is now, so it is back to being a greengrocer’s after all the years. Grandad was a grand old man, he had a lot of thick white hair and a moustache. He was always pleasant and kind. Grandma was an invalid so I rarely saw her. Dad’s two unmarried sisters lived at the shop. Aunty Flo kept house and Aunty Lizzie helped in the shop. When we went to visit them, the two Aunties, and occasionally Grandma, would be sitting around the fire even in summer time. They were never reading or knitting, just sitting, this may have been because it was Sunday, lots of people thought it was wicked to indulge in any form of relaxation or pleasure on Sundays. I always sat on the sofa, which was covered in horsehair, I have no idea who first thought of using this material for covering furniture. It was black and shiny, probably extremely hard wearing but absolute torture to sit on especially if you were wearing a short voile dress and short socks, it was like having hundreds of pins sticking into you. Most Grannies had a horsehair sofa but thankfully they had gone out of fashion for our parents. Grandad came in from church and the Aunties would ask him what the hymns had been, usually he would sing one or two, just sitting there in the big wooden armchair, quietly singing the old tunes., sometimes we all joined in. I thought it was lovely. After a while Aunty Flo would say “you’ll stop for a cup of cocoa won’t you”? We all had cocoa and some of Grandad’s ‘Shrewsbury’ biscuits (they were as big as saucers and if you called on Friday when he had just baked them they were all spread out on paper round the hearth to cool before being put in the tin). After this there were kisses all round and murmers of “well it has been nice seeing you, quite a change, perhaps you will call in during the week when you are passing, and, of course, we’ll see you all next Sunday”. We then went home to bed if it was winter, but on summer evenings we went for a walk.
Most families did this, father, mother and children could be seen all in their best clothes, out walking. The route varied from week to week. Up Settles Drive, across the Shooting Range, and out past the Mill (it was a mill in those days, not a flashy pub) then on to Crewe Road was one favourite. The Shooting Range was a grassy hollow dug out during the first war and in which soldiers had target practise. Grass and wild flowers had covered it and it was a wonderful place to play in. The last time I saw it an enormous pit had been constructed in it and it was filled with factory waste. Down Close Lane, along Sunnyside and through Palfreyman’s wood was another nice walk, Close Lane had not been ‘developed’ then, there were just a few houses and one or two smallholdings. Dad knew all the people living in the farms and houses so the walk usually took a long time through stopping to chat and on occasion being invited in. There was lots of time, we were not rushing back to watch a television programme or even listen to the radio then.
Dad’s eldest sister Annie was married to a policeman, Frank Birtles, they had a little girl called Joyce who was a bit younger than me, and in 1928 she died. I do not know the cause, I remember everyone being sad that Joyce had died and I recall going to her funeral. The same year Grandad was playing in a bowls match at the Alsager Arms, he had just won, and as he threw up his arms, saying “that’s it”, he collapsed and died. It was a very sad summer that year.
Later on, we went to Blackpool and stayed in a boarding house. It was all very exciting to me but Dad did not like it. He missed the fields and thought that Blackpool was just a dirty town with sea. He never went on holiday again.
At about the time I started to go to the ‘Big School’, I went to Christ Church on Sunday afternoons. They held what was called ‘Children’s Church’, this was, in fact, very similar to the morning and evening service. My friend Marion Edwards, and I were in the choir, we wore white surpluses and white head dresses like old-fashioned nurses. Dad was very pleased that I was in the choir as had been a member when he was a boy. We had a small brass bell that the Rev. Daniel Shaw had given to Dad. “Old Daddy Shaw gave me that for not missing choir practise” he said. Gill has the bell now. I really enjoyed those Sunday afternoons, especially in the summer, the church always seemed to be full of sunshine. One Sunday, we joined forces with St.Mary’s at the dedication of the East window in that church. The window, which was given by Sir. Francis and Lady Joseph is very beautiful. Our choir accompanied that of St.Mary’s in a procession around the church and during the service which followed. It was not usual in those days for churches to mix. Each church and chapel was a very separate establishment. Alsager had a fair number of these, considering that the population was 2,350. There was the Wesleyan Chapel at the Lawton end of the village, always called ‘Wesley Place’, Chapel Lane Wesleyans, at the corner of Hassall Road (this was because Hassall Road was called Chapel Lane then!), the Primitive Methodists had a chapel in Crewe Road (now demolished), The Congregational Chapel in Brookhouse Road. Linley Mission – a hut belonging to St.Mary’s, St.Mary’s itself, Christ Church and even a ‘Christian Scientist’s’ hut in Sandbach Road. The vicar of Christ Church from 1924 – 1935 was a Mr.Moir, very tall and dark, he took his duties very seriously and visited throughout the parish regularly, this must have caused him agonies at times because he was a very shy man, but a true Christian. He was vicar of Christ Church but was in part responsible for St.Mary’s as well, and had a curate to help. Then the curate left, and either another one could not be found, or else the Church Commissioners simply decided that Mr.Moir must take on both churches. Of course, the poor man could not cope, and he closed Christ Church. To say that this caused a sensation is an understatement. It even made the National Dailies and was number one talking point wherever two or three were gathered together! It made him many enemies among the ‘so called’ Christians, who refused to see that the poor man could not be in two places at once. This state of affairs continued for many months, until Mr.Moir went to another parish at Ross-On-Wye. Another vicar, and a curate were found and the status quo was restored.