I seem to have devoted a lot of space to telling about school holidays, I will now say something about the school itself. It was always called the ‘Big School’, its proper title, (on the front of our exercise books) was Alsager Church of England School. It lay literally in the shadow of Christ Church, and from two of the classrooms it was possible to see the Church clock, which I consulted far too often during arithmetic! The Vicar paid us a visit once a week., Scripture was the first lesson every morning and we had a scripture examination once a year. The building itself was low, with too few, small windows, and of course the ubiquitous brown paint. The classes were called standards, so you had standards two, three, four, five, six, seven and ex seven. There were three rooms, two had two standards in each, and the third room had three. Each room had coal fires, the one in standard 2-3 had an oven as well, any children who lived too far away to get home at mid-day could bring a little basin of hotpot, or something that the teacher could put in the oven to warm up. Or she would boil eggs on the fire! Not many children stayed to dinner, (lucky for teacher). I sometimes stayed in severe weather, but I took sandwiches.
Standards two and three are not memorable for very much except for one occasion when I got all my sums right, and the teacher said, “Very good, you can go out now Brenda”. I was so beside myself with excitement at this unusual event that I rushed to the cloakroom for my coat and hat, ran all the way home thinking how surprised Mum would be to see me so early for my dinner. She was indeed surprised, it wasn’t even ready, I had rushed home at playtime! My joy soon turned to tears when I realized what I had done, but the teacher was very understanding when I got back, late of course.
From standard four onwards, I enjoyed school, except for arithmetic. I had not got the kind of mind that happily solved problems involving a number of men digging a field, or baths filling with water. Mental arithmetic or any sums requiring quick reckoning, I was spot on with, but figures generally, bored me.
Not so, words. I enjoyed every moment of the English lessons, especially Monday afternoons. We had composition, (never called essays), the time was never long enough for me to say all that I wanted to say. I put a lot of flowery language into them, words like exquisite and elaborate. I was always searching for new adjectives to describe things and situations. I always got full marks for composition. Years afterwards the teacher, May Birch, who lived with her two sisters, told me that they always looked forward to Monday night to see what I had come up with.
I loved poetry too, and once when we had a test, while most of the others were searching for something short that they could memorize easily, I chose ‘The Lady of Shalott’, twenty seven verses! I really lived it and could picture the scene.
Alas, an ability in English was not sufficient to secure a place at a grammar school. The examination was called the ‘Scholarship’, and was held for pupils between ten and eleven. There were usually two or three places available at either Macclesfield High School, or Crewe Grammar School, so you had to be pretty well above average in every subject to have a chance, so no doubt my arithmetic would have let me down any way, but in fact, the year I sat, the Vicar told Mum that there had not been any places for Alsager children, and he considered it most unfair to have let us take the examination.
I was not too put out, and of course it was impossible for Mum and Dad to have paid for me to go. Dad, by this time had established a small window cleaning round, and it kept us fed and clothed, but nothing left for luxuries.
Moses Corfield was the headmaster. He was a small man, going bald, we thought he was ancient, but I suppose he was in his forties! He was very fair minded and hard working, and I feel sure he did a good job. On looking back I realize that all the staff were very competent, when you think that they achieved results without any aids at all. We were very much in awe of them, there was none of the camaraderie and frank discussion between pupils and teachers that exist today.
They told us the facts, or chalked them up on the blackboard. We listened quietly and assimilated them, (or not, in some cases). Talking was a cardinal sin and I had my sleeves rolled up and my arm sharply slapped by May Birch on many occasions. She very quickly resorted to this method of keeping absolute order. She presided over us in standard four, from an old fashioned high desk, and was the only teacher to use physical punishment. The others were content with raising the tone of their voices. The mere fact of getting to school in the first place must have been exhausting for them. Mrs. Brett, standard two, lived in the middle of Oakhanger, far away from the main road, so she still had a long walk, even if she used the Crewe bus for part of the way, and of course there were no buses between Crewe and the Potteries until about 1927. May Birch lived in a house next door to the National Westminster Bank, (Charles Butters Estates Agents now). She was lucky, she did not have far to walk. Mrs. Frood who taught standard five, lived in Talke Road, she was lame, so the long walk to and from school must have been a great trial to her. She was a widow with two grown up sons, always pleasant, and reasonably good tempered, I got on quite well with her except in the sewing lesson which she taught. I was no better at sewing than I had been at raffia work, and I must have sorely tried her patience. We did have one unusual lesson with her, which I think must have been her own idea. We had small glass bowls on to which we stuck small pieces of coloured tinfoil, (saved from sweets and chocolate) these were stuck on to the outside of the bowl, coloured side inwards. When every part of the bowl was covered, it was varnished on the outside and the result was very pretty, and the greater variety of colour the better the effect was.
We also did leather work in standard four and five. I made several purses and comb cases, and a small handbag with a design of flowers embossed and stained dark red, on the flap. The glass decorating and leather work were the only two creative lessons we had, apart from drawing in our Nature Study books. I enjoyed that, especially as that lesson was usually preceded by a walk on which we gathered leaves and berries and flowers to help us with the drawing. We also had a school garden in which we planted seeds and looked after their cultivation. Moses Corfield showed us grafting and how to take cuttings, that was always an enjoyable afternoon activity. History and geography were lessons I liked too. Dates of battles were stored in my head like tins in a cupboard, ready to be brought forth when required. Battle of Crecy 1546, Battle of Flodden 1513, two I remember! I also enjoyed reciting a very dramatic poem entitled ‘Edinburgh after Flodden’, the first lines of which were: “News of battle, news of battle, hark, the sound of running feet”.
Agnes Nield taught standard six. She was very tall, with grey hair in a very severe style. When she was angry she walked up and down in front of the class, jerking the fronts of her cardigan down with both hands, her face very red with temper. She was not so bad though and could be prevailed upon to smile quite frequently. She lived at Mow Cop, so she had a long exhausting journey twice a day, even with the benefit of a bus ride to Red Bull, she still had a long tiring walk. Moses, who lived on Crewe Road, taught seven and ex seven, before I left it became all one class, standard seven. Once a week a large wooden box of books was delivered. This was euphemistically called the ‘library’. Pupils in standards six and seven were allowed to borrow one for a week. I Personally was not short of books. Christmas and birthday presents always included one or two, and groups of friends borrowed and lent books to each other. Nevertheless, there was always a queue eager to see what the ‘library ‘had brought. We also had an adult library in the village, but more of that later. First thing in a morning, Moses Corfield stood in the doorway of the partition between the two large rooms. To the accompaniment of a piano he conducted us as we sang, before lessons commenced, before and after lunch, and before we left in the afternoon. We sang the first verse of The Old Hundred: Praise God from whom all blessings flow, Praise Him all creatures here below, Praise Him above Ye Angelic Host, Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. If I sing that to myself now, I am immediately transported back to those afternoons. The scraping of feet on the bare boards, the rush and push to the cloakroom, fingers smelling of powdered ink. ‘Dip in’ pens were used, each desk had a pottery inkwell with a brass cover and polishing this with your hankie was a favourite activity in boring lessons like arithmetic!
On autumn afternoons several Mums would be waiting with baskets, to go blackberrying. Most of the fields had umpteen blackberry bushes, and there were plenty for everyone. We picked until it was almost too dark to see. The smell of damp grass, and leaves was everywhere, and often the first nip of frost. Mum and I were so pleased if we had got a big basketful. When we got home from one of these expeditions Dad would have got in a big bucket of coal and chopped sticks for lighting the fire the next morning. The fire would be burning brightly, with the kettle ‘singing’ on the hob. It was very simple but so cosy. Next day Mum would make jam. Apples from the garden, blackberries gathered free, it was cheap jam with only the best ingredients.
Moses Corfield presided over the village library on Friday evenings. Many years previously, two old ladies had left a sum of money sufficient to build the Alsager Institute. It was down a long drive, off Sandbach Road, in fact it still is. A single storey building, it had one room with a billiard table, a tiny kitchen with a gas ring, where refreshments could be made. A large room where most village functions were held, and a glass verandah at the back, overlooked a beautiful bowling green.
Dad was a very enthusiastic member of the Institute bowling team for many years. The old ladies had ensured that a condition of the bequest made plain that no alcohol was ever to be served on the premises. The nearest approach to rowdiness was on summer evenings round the bowling green when spectators were clapping various players on bowling a ‘good wood’, or on winter evenings when the winner held up his or her winning card at the weekly Whist Drive.
On Friday evenings a selection of books was displayed on shelves round the walls of the general purpose room, and Moses, with the help of Gwen Edwards, dispensed these to the borrowers. Going to the library and calling for a quarter of sweets, (great variety at twopence a quarter), was quite something. It did play havoc with the bathtime programme though, and once we had got the library habit, the grownups had to change their bath night to Monday, after the washing.
Mum sometimes kept a low fire under the copper, and Dad, armed with a towel and a lighted candle would have his bath in the wash house, using the still warm water from the copper.
Regarding the Institute, there was an occasion when a new caretaker was needed. An old man called Jack Howarth applied for, and got the job. He was well known in the village, as he sold greengrocery, taking it round in two large bags, on a bicycle! That tells you that he posed no threat to the legitimate traders, but he had his ‘regulars’, and seemed able to support his fairly large family by his efforts. There were rumours that he supplemented his stock with a few cabbages, potatoes, etc, from the surrounding fields when the farmers had gone home at night! He was by no means a real villain, he just lived by his wits. However, he undertook the task of mowing the bowling green in the summer, and keeping the building clean, and when winter came he had to stoke the boiler in the cellar on Whist Drive nights, or any other occasion when the big room was being used.
One summer day Dad came home, highly amused, because, on calling at the Institute in the morning in order to check on some arrangements for the bowling match at night, he found that Jack had got his ‘produce’ spread out on the seats round the green, and his customers were there with their baskets, choosing what they needed. No-one tried to stop him, after all he was doing no real harm, and it was a source of amusement to most people. He pressed his luck too far though, when the cold weather started. At the first Whist Drive of the winter, the patrons assembled, having paid their ‘shilling including refreshments’, Mum was one of the number that evening, and after play had been in progress a little while, everyone began to shiver and reach for their coats. Someone felt the pipes that ran round the room, they were cold! They finished the game in their coats, and, of course there were loud grumbles and cries of “Jack will have to be told off about this, forgetting to light the boiler”. However, on being told of his oversight and urged to ‘get the boiler stoked up for next week’, he replied, “Oh I canna do that, I daren’t light the boiler, it will be too hot fer me rabbits!” On inspection of the cellar it was found that he had several wooden crates, housing rabbits, which he was fattening up, as an additional line to his green grocery enterprise. Naturally a real row ensued, and Jack was told to remove himself and his rabbits forthwith.