When I was ten, the Aunties in Manchester invited me to go for a week in the summer holidays. I have said that we often went to Manchester but I had never stayed on my own before. Up to that time we had always travelled by train, but a bus service had started from Hanley, passing through Lawton, four shillings return fare for adults and two shillings for children, so this time we were going by bus. It was not just a simple matter of being at the stop at nine thirty. Tickets had to be booked in advance at the Lawton Arms. After tea on Monday, Mum, Dad and I walked to the Lawton Arms and Dad went in to buy the tickets for Wednesday. Then we walked home along the ‘Horseshoe Level’, across the fields and through the wood home. Wednesday morning was bright and sunny, and, if allowed I would have set off to walk to Lawton at eight o’clock. We did get away in plenty of time to catch the bus at nine twenty. When we arrived at the Lawton arms, Mum had to go to the back door to tell the Landlord, Mr.Palmer, that the two passengers for Manchester were ready and waiting. Then, this was the really exciting part, he put a tray advertising ‘Oxo’ in a little window that faced the way the bus would be coming, this was to let the driver know that he was to stop to pick up passengers! The fact that there was not a soul about except for Mum and me standing there with a suitcase was obviously not sufficient reason for him to stop! Eventually, the bus came, when I caught sight of it through the trees on Green Bank, the excitement was almost more than I could bear. The journey seemed endless, not that I wanted it to be over quickly, it was all part of the pleasure. The distance was only about thirty miles but it seemed like three hundred. We passed through places that I had only heard about, like Knutsford (where I was born) and Altrincham, then the driver slowed down and called out “Is there a lady for Sale?” I was astonished and looked all around to see if I could spot this strange woman. Mum laughed when I told her what I was looking for. The bus arrived at the bus station in Jackson Street Manchester at eleven o’clock. The two Aunties were waiting and after kisses all round we went to Piccadilly for the tram to Alexandra Park, where they lived. The city fascinated me, the shops, with hundreds of lights glittering like fairyland, and in broad daylight too! The trams singing and crackling their way along the lines, but I loved the horses best, it seems funny, coming from the country, yet there were more horses to be seen than at home. Beautiful heavy horses pulling carts loaded with bales of cotton, and the ‘Manchester Evening News’ horses, smart steppers these, pulling high red carts. The ride on the tram was, I suppose, about three miles, most of it through a dismal part of the city, and, at first it jangled and clanged and blue light flashed from the overhead trolley wires, this was until we got onto a straight stretch along Greenheys Lane and then it seemed to fairly sing along. We got off the tram at the Depot on Princess Road, it was then just a short walk to Russell Street where the Aunties lived. At that time Alexandra Park was a nice district in which to live.
The houses in Russell Street all had bay windows, and five steps up to the front door. These two facts were undoubtedly the status symbols of the times, plus the added bonus of a bathroom! It was a popular Lancashire saying, when referring to anyone a bit above the average financially, that they ‘lived up steps’. The two Aunties lived next door to each other. The houses each had a long hall and a spacious front room, the dining room looked onto a paved yard, and beyond the dining room was the kitchen. Upstairs were three bedrooms and the bathroom, and electric lights everywhere! There was a high wall between the two yards, on which Virginia Creeper grew. The two Aunts had each put a pair of steps against the wall, so that If they wanted to tell each other anything they just popped on the steps and called over. I always stayed with Aunty Edie, she and Uncle Jason had lost their only child, Ena, when she was a baby. Aunty Nan and Uncle Tom had Bill and Doreen, I used to think of her as a big sister, she was four years older than me, and I loved her. She was always kind and amusing, and often took me out with her friends, which I regarded as a great treat. She also had some very nice clothes, bought from the best shops which were often handed down to me. Mum did not like the idea at first, but Aunty Nan must have persuaded her, and I, of course, was delighted. I well remember one dress, pink crepe-de-chine, with tiers of picot edged frills all down the skirt, it was a copy of one that Princess (now Queen) Elisabeth had worn, and I am sure that I caused a bit of a stir in Sunday School in that! I also had a lot of Doreen’s books and the first time I went to stay she gave me her doll’s cradle. It was metal and swung on a wrought iron stand, it was covered inside and out with blue satin and had white muslin drapes. It was truly beautiful and I was the envy of all my friends, for most little girls played with dolls. Doreen played the piano (much better than I did) in fact, I think she passed all the exams up to teaching standard.
Auntie Edie had a gramophone, this was housed in a wooden cabinet standing about four feet high, the gramophone was in the top part, then underneath were the records and a little space for the needles! These had to be changed frequently, not for every record but it seemed that when two or three had been played it was time for a new needle. There was a handle on the side of the cabinet which had to be fully wound before playing could commence, and at least halfway through the record it had to be wound again, and if, by chance, you were carried away by the music and forgot to rewind, the music would go slower a n d s l o w e r, then when the handle was hastily turned, it picked up and seemed to go twice as fast as it should. The records were very fragile and were easily chipped or broken. Consequently, to have the gramophone on for half an hour was more of an ordeal than a pleasure. Everyone had to sit quietly, no jumping about in case a record was carelessly touched, or worse still, broken. The ‘putter on and winder upper’ had to be constantly on the alert in order to wind up quickly before the music ran down.
The two Aunties were in the ladies bowling team at Alexandra Park, so we went to the park most evenings. If they were not playing themselves they used to enjoy watching the men play. The park was a great novelty to me and I soon became friendly with some of the local children and was invited into their games. At that time, Walls Ice Cream Co. used to employ men on bicycles to sell ice cream. The bicycles were specially constructed with an enormous box on the front, they were painted dark blue and in white letters it said “Stop me and buy one”. Wafers were one penny, twopence for a very thick one, they also sold ‘Snofruits’, these were a penny and were the forerunners of today’s Ice Lollies. Snofruits were not on a stick but were in a triangular carton. There was always a “Stop me and buy one” man riding round the park, and, being on holiday, I had extra coppers to spend, and the Uncles would often give me sixpence when I was going out so I was quite wealthy! At home, we sometimes had ice cream on Saturdays, but you had to walk to Elsie Wilson’s near the station to get it. It was the most delicious ice cream, she made it herself and was famous for it locally.
When the bowls match was finished we used to go to the second house pictures. At this time, in the thirties, the cinemas were booming, new ones were opening all the time each one trying to be more attractive than the rest. Their names were all lit up with coloured lights, ‘Regal’, ‘Rialto’, ‘Roxy’, ‘Astoria’, were favourite names. One of the most opulent in ‘town’ was the ‘Paramount’ in Oxford street. I looked forward to going to town on the tram just to see the ‘Paramount’, even if we were not going in. The whole front blazed with constantly moving lights, it looked like the entrance to fairyland. Another very plushy one was called the ‘West End’, this was within walking distance. It had a thickly carpeted foyer and an enormous ‘coal effect’ fire. I had never seen one before, and even the Aunts, who were used to lots of modern marvels with living in Manchester, were very impressed by it. The screen was covered by silk curtains on which coloured lights played, rose, green changing to mauve, and an organist appeared as if by magic from the depths in front of the screen. He played a selection of popular tunes until it was time for the programme to start then he slowly disappeared from view again. All this ‘atmosphere‘ beforehand was as exciting as the film! When the show was over, after the National Anthem, very stirring music was played as we were coming out., and Aunty Edie used to march and pretend that she was carrying a banner. If Mum and Aunty Nan were there they would pretend they were not with her but I thought it was great fun.
Both the Aunts did voluntary work at a clinic in the city. I think it was on a Wednesday morning, so, of course they took me with them. The building in which the clinic was held was probably a disused warehouse, the walls were bare brick, heavily whitewashed, whitewash was used a lot, it was lime mixed with water and was sloshed on with a big brush. It had a lovely clean smell, the clinic was clean everywhere. Scrubbed wooden tables and a nurse in a sparkling white uniform. I do not know who was responsible for the running of the clinic but they certainly had plenty of ‘customers’. There was no National Health Service then, and often, if people were poor they could not afford a doctor. Clinics like this meant that babies and toddlers could at least have some attention. Babies were weighed and checked for minor ailments and dried milk food was sold cheaper than at the chemists. Sometimes the nurse would let me weigh one of the babies, and better still, the mothers would often let me nurse one of the children. When the session was over the grown ups had tea and biscuits and the children had milk. When I had been several times I got to know a lot of the names, and going to the ‘Welfare’ as it was called became one of the highlights of the holiday. They organised a trip to Blackpool and I went twice on this. We went on several buses, the Aunts, all the other voluntary workers and the nurse. We all had a grand time and sang all the way home. One song I particularly remember was ‘The Stein Song’ made popular by Rudi Vallee.
About this time a vast new slum clearance was being started in Manchester, particularly in an area called Hulme, which was in a terrible state. The people were re-housed in Wythenshaw and Benchhill, which were almost country. A new wide road called Princess Parkway was constructed and led to the estates of hundreds of modern houses. The Prince of Wales came to see this vast new programme and went into several of the houses. I remember seeing him waving to the crowds from someone’s bedroom window, and Aunt Edie saying “I do hope she’d got the beds made”. He was a very popular man, everyone referred to him as ‘Teddy’ and thousands were sad when he abdicated in 1936.
The summer holidays in Manchester continued until I was fifteen, and each time I stayed for four weeks. On Sunday mornings I used to go with Doreen to see her Grandma Hutcheson. She lived in Crossecliffe Street, Moss Side. With her lived her daughter and son-in –law, Aunty Cissie and Uncle Arthur Nicholls, and their daughter Joan who was about my age. Joan’s friend, Irene Clegg lived next door, it was these two who had the yellow straw hats with the pink ribbons. Joan wore her hair in ‘ringlets’, these were made by damping the hair at night and twisting it round a strong piece of calico, then in the morning, when the material was removed, the hair (if you had the obliging kind) hung down in long ringlets. This was called putting your hair ‘in rags’. It must have taken Aunty Cissie ages every night, but the result was good. Joan had lovely hair and, of course, curly hair was every mother’s wish for little girls. I was a great disappointment, my Mum tried several times putting mine in rags but it remained as straight as sticks. It was dark brown, shiny and straight!
In the summer of 1933, King George the Fifth and Queen Mary came to open the new Central Library in Manchester. I was there for the holidays as usual. Mum came for a few days and we all went to town to join the crowds thronging the route along which they would pass. There were barriers at the pavement’s edge, but a policeman standing near to us said to me “come on love” and lifted me over the barrier just as the King and Queen were coming, so I had a good view. Queen Mary had on her usual toque, she was all in pink, but her hat style never varied. She was a stern looking woman, but the King smiled quite a lot. The next day they were opening the Mersey Tunnel in Liverpool so we went there. The lasting impression of that was one of row upon row of school children lined up in front of St.George’s Hall. Sometimes at the end of the holiday Mum and Dad came to fetch me and they stayed for a day or two. On the Saturday we went to Belle Vue. This was a large entertainment complex and people from all round the North West area converged on it, especially on a Saturday. First, in the afternoon, the Zoo, then in the early evening, the Speedway, motor cycle racing on a dirt track. Of course, being ‘up from the country’, Mum Dad and I were vastly excited, even Dad did his share of shouting “come on Eric” to one of the favourites. After the speedway was over, the highlight of the evening was the fireworks .display. The L.M.S. (London, Midland and Scottish Railway Co.) used to run trips every Saturday from stations all around the region to Belle Vue Speedway and fireworks. I do not know how long the firework display lasted, probably about half an hour, but it was a very spectacular end to a day packed with entertainment. Whenever Dad came to Manchester he liked to go to the Football match with the uncles on the Saturday afternoon, (the men did not want to come to the Zoo!). they would go to Maine road to watch Manchester City or Old Trafford to watch United, whichever team was at home, Dad really enjoyed it as he was fond of all sports.
Aunty Edie once made some Blackcurrant jam, and on the Sunday morning Uncle Jason was sitting in the armchair reading the paper. He had on a new suit, as I have already said, everyone dressed up on Sundays. Uncle was an Inspector of Chains on the railway, and although it sounds like a dirty job it could not have been, because he always went to work beautifully dressed, and never seemed to get his hands dirty. He was based in Manchester, but on Mondays he had to go to Dudley in South Staffordshire where most of the chains used on the railway were made, his parents lived there and his father was a chain maker. Perhaps uncle had been apprenticed to that trade when he was a boy, and his knowledge had secured this rather important job for him. However, on this particular Sunday morning Aunty Edie said, “will you take a jar of this jam to your mother tomorrow?” “Will it carry all right in my case?” said uncle. “Oh yes, it is very stiff,” said aunty, she then fetched a jar from the kitchen where she was about to put the tops on. Standing over uncle with the upturned jar of jam, she said “how is that for stiff?” and a pound of blackcurrant jam went all over uncle’s new suit! Aunty rushed to fetch a cloth and got down on her knees crying, “Oh Jason, the carpet”. “Never mind the damn carpet, look at my suit,” said uncle. The marks never came out, even after cleaning, and I don’t think he wore it again. They had many a laugh after, and “how s that for stiff” became a family saying.