"Hokey pokey, penny a lump, that's the stuff to make you jump,"
the little man pushing the handcart would come calling down the
street -always on a Sunday, and us children would leave whatever
we were doing and run out to look at him in wonder and
fascination. Sometimes, not often, we had a penny or halfpenny
clutched tightly in our hands and very reluctantly we would
exchange it for some Hokey pokey which he would plop into our
cups. I say "sometimes, not often" because two miracles had to
happen, and alas miracles did not often happen to us in those
days of my childhood because we were very poor. One miracle was
brought about if one of my favourite Uncles had given me a
halfpenny, the other was if I could persuade my mother to let me
have a cup -she daren't trust me with a cup with a handle in
case I dropped it. So if I had a penny and a cup I got some
Hokey pokey which was the nearest we ever got to ice-cream.
I had 12 Aunts and Uncles -my mother's sisters and brothers and
two -a brother and sister of my father's so as most of these
aunts and uncles married that gave me 28 aunts and uncles. Some
of them were more like big brothers and sisters to me and as I
was their first niece I am afraid they petted me quite a lot. My
youngest Uncle, Uncle Billie was really my favourite and almost
as soon as I could walk, he would carry me on his~ shoulder
every Sunday afternoon to Sunday School. I loved Sunday and
every year in the summer we had a 'Treat". All the children were
taken into a field and we had games and races and our teas in a
bag. Each bag had in it a piece of bread and butter, apiece of
plain cake and a piece of fruit cake; to us it was a feast! We
learned to sing some of the same hymns that you do -All things
bright and beautiful, Twinkle twinkle little star, Away in a
Manger.
My childhood home was in the Black Country -that part of the
Midlands between Birmingham and Wolverhampton, a stretch of
dirty, smoky towns, factories and coalmines. Our town, West
Bromwich, was always called the Queen of the Black Country but
even so there was very little beauty about it in 1907, the year
I was born.
Our house was really a very squalid old cottage -the end one of
three; ours was the first, on a corner, the other end one was
built on to the Railway wall -the Goods Trains used to travel
along this line carrying coal chiefly, from the mines. Sometimes
we climbed over this wall to play at the side of the Railway
Lines -we knew it was very dangerous and if my parents found out
we were in real trouble, but sometimes we found a few wild
flowers -dandelions, buttercups and dog daisies -in the grass at
the side of the lines and as these were the only flowers we ever
touched we thought it was worth it.
We had no garden at the back of our houses, but a big open yard.
My father used to sell coal at this time so there were six
stables in the yard for the cart horses, two big sheds to store
the coal and plenty of space for the coal carts and wagons. If
one of our customers ordered a load of coal it would be
delivered in a cart or on one of the wagons. Prince, Bonnie or
Blackie would draw the carts, and Queenie, Jenny or Rosie the
flat wagons. Many of our customers couldn't afford to buy a load
of coal so we had about 30 wheelbarrows and soap boxes on wheels
and all these had to be filled with sixpenny worth or ninepenny
worth of coal before I went to school. I used to help my mother
shovel the coal into the barrels and boxes so that they would be
ready for the children to collect when they came out of school
at dinnertime. One of our favourite games was "Playing Shops".
We got a piece of wood about 12 inches long and balanced it on a
brick -like a seesaw -and used little pieces of coal or pebbles
for "sweets".
Sometimes a fresh lot of straw would be needed for the stables
as my father changed the straw every week. We looked forward to
the fresh straw, it came in a big wooden crate, we used to tip
the crate on its side and play "houses" in the straw. With all
these games we no doubt got very dirty and did we need a bath!
We had no bathroom of course, but a long tin bath which my
mother used to set on the hearth in front of the fire. We had no
water in the house, there was a tap in the middle of the yard
and we had to carry all our water- for drinking, washing, and
bathing in kettles or buckets from the yard tap. We had no hot
water ever, it all had to be heated on the fire or gas stove in
kettles or saucepans and carried to the bath or wash tub. When
we had bathed the dirty water had to be ladled out in buckets.
We never had warm water to wash in each day -only when we had a
bath.
We had no indoor toilet; our toilet was a long way across the
yard and had to be shared by the two families living in the two
cottages in the yard. My mother was very concerned about this,
she thought we should have our own toilet seat even if we
couldn't have our own toilet so every time we went to the toilet
we carried our own seat to it and brought it back again. I was
always terrified in case anyone saw me. I had two sisters -
younger than me, Ada Beatrice 4 years younger and Mabel Florence
eight years younger. We always called Beaty "a Momma's baby"
because she never let go of my mother's skirt or apron whatever
my mother was doing. Once when Mom was scrubbing the floor (we
had no carpets, just brick floors) Beaty was right by her side
and suddenly stepped back and sat in the bucket of "floor water"
wedging her bottom in the bucket. She stuck in the bucket quite
firmly and Mom had to tip bucket and child upside down to
release her. Of course that meant an extra bath!
I remember the day my sister Mabel was born. It was one Sunday,
- a Sunday school anniversary which was always an important day
in our lives. My sisters had naturally curly hair but my dead
straight hair was the despair of my mother, so, as soon as I got
home from school on Friday teatime I had to submit to my hair
being tortured into "curling rags", -my hair was wrapped round
and round the strips of rag, hopefully to produce ringlets. I
would go out to morning Sunday school having endured the
uncomfortable curling rags night and day from Friday until
Sunday as proud as any peacock with my curls, but alas during
the morning the glory would vanish and by the time I got home my
hair would be as straight as pokers.
Alas the day my sister Mabel was born proved to be a black day
indeed. First as soon as Beaty saw the new baby she cried and
screamed jumping up and down in temper and nearly had hysterics,
"Send her back, Mommy, send her back, I don't want a baby, send
her back," -we realized at last how much of a Momma's baby she
really was, but even worse was to come - first my beautiful
curls had all vanished, but more disastrous still was my new
hat. It was a beautiful brown straw hat with the most fabulous
wreath of flowers all round it. I really loved that hat, but
someone loved it even more for on my way in from the anniversary
I had called in at the stable to see Queenie my favourite horse,
- I always fed her with apple peel or a carrot or a lump of
sugar whenever I had the chance, and the day I called to see her
in my new hat she was over the moon and with one grab she
severed the gorgeous wreath of flowers -white daisies, yellow
buttercups, red poppies, blue cornflowers and ate the lot. Alas
my hat was ruined.
Of course my childhood joys and adventures all revolved around
Queenie. I found out I could climb up into her manger high on
the stable wall and I would be in there amongst the hay until I
was found out - generally when one of the men brought Queenie
into the stable, or I would clamber onto her bare back as soon
as her harness was taken off and ride her round the yard. Many
were - the "shoutings at" and the "good hidings" I had for these
escapades but it never once stopped me from doing it again.
There were very few cars in those days, but sometimes for a
treat we would go out on a Sunday with Queenie or Prince in our
wagonette. This was a sort of cart with bench seats in it, and
we used to go out for a ride into the country -not very far as
it would be ~ too tiring for the horse, we never stayed in the
wagonette to ride up a hill, at the bottom of the hill we all
had to get out and walk, we loved this as we might find some
wild flowers or even a few blackberries. When we went out like
this we always took tea with us and picnicked, mostly our tea
was bread and jam -no butter as mom couldn't afford it, the very
first time I remember having jam butter as well on my bread was
when I was 18 and went out to tea. I always remember that tea as
I had white AND BROWN bread, ~ and jam. We had plenty of food to
eat but no luxuries and nothing was ever wasted -I hated cabbage
and would always leave it, but sure enough when I did I would
have it set before me for tea, supper, breakfast, dinner, tea...
until it had gone. I didn't like rice pudding either!
One worry I had in childhood and right on to teenage years was
SHOES. My father was firmly convinced that I had "weak ankles",
and he believed the cure was strong, heavy shoes, and so
whenever I had a pair of new shoes, he chose the strongest,
heaviest BOYS shoes that could be found. Tears and pleading were
of no avail and looking at my sisters', light-weight fashionable
girl's shoes didn't help.
We didn't have many toys but I remember two Christmas gifts very
well. One was a "Ladies Companion", - I was supposed to guess
what it was but I never did guess and after all the wonderful
things I thought it might be I felt very disappointed when I
found out what it really was. It was a dark green cardboard box
with Ladies Companion ~ printed on it in gold letters and inside
the box was a packet of sewing needles, three reels of cotton, a
thimble and about six liner buttons. I wasn't a bit thrilled but
my Christmas stocking was partly filled as usual with an apple,
orange, a few nuts, a few sweets and a bright new penny -the
first money I ever had. But one Christmas when I was 7 I had a
most gorgeous doll, a breakable doll with fair curly hair and
pink cheeks and eyes which opened and closed. One of my Aunties
had made her a beautiful pink satin coat with a bit of brown fur
round the collar and cuffs. I remember carrying her up the
street - very proud I was and I couldn't have been looking where
I was going so I fell down (I was always falling down and making
holes in the knees of my stockings). Dorothy, as I had
christened my beautiful doll, wasn't broken fortunately, but
alas her marvellous coat was covered with mud. I suppose I
couldn't blame anyone that I wasn't allowed to play with her
again, she mysteriously vanished upstairs somewhere, I never saw
her again until I was 17.
When I was 7, in 1914 the First World War started. The day it
started was on August 4 and we were having a whole week's
holiday -our very first holiday. We stayed at a little village
called Kinver about 8 miles or so from West Bromwich. There was
great excitement -fancy actually living and sleeping away from
home for a whole week, and in the country at that, where there
was grass, where trees grew, where cows and sheep quietly
munched the green grass in the fields.
We had travelled to Kinver in our own wagonette -drawn by Jennie
our Black Mare - how beautiful she was, her coat shining in the
sunlight. When she was loosed in a field her joy knew no bounds,
she galloped round and round the field, she ate the juicy grass
until we thought she would burst. We arrived on the Saturday
August 2 and by Monday August 4 we were just beginning to
believe this heavenly existence was really true when suddenly
all our joy was shattered - war had broken out between England
and Germany, all our young men must be ready to go and fight,
but even worse, so it seemed to us then, all fit horses had to
be given up at once and were to be sent to the Front across the
sea to Europe to play their part in the war. My heart was
broken, I couldn't bear to think of Jennie going away from us to
be in danger perhaps to get hurt or even killed. Even the
thought that my beloved Queenie wouldn't have to go as she was
too old was no consolation to me, Jenny our most handsome and
aristocratic mare was to go, I would never see her again, I
cried and cried. I was inconsolable. I wanted to go home, the
country wasn't lovely anymore, I wanted to die. How could we get
home without Jenny, what would happen to Queenie and Prince and
the other horses if I couldn't get back home to help feed them,
Jenny must go Queenie and the others would surely die without
me. I was inconsolable.
Then my father had an idea. No one in Kinver knew we had Jennie
-the soldiers would look for her in West Bromwich and find she
wasn't there, so suppose we tried to hide her? The soldiers were
coming to Kinver the next day -on the Tuesday, so after dark on
the Monday night we led her quietly out of the field and hid her
in a wood. Early on Tuesday morning I was sent into the wood to
keep watch over Jennie, to give her carrots or apples or sugar
lumps if she got restless. I could just see the road from my
vantage post at the beginning of the wood. I would see the
soldiers on their motor bikes as they turned into our lane to
come up to the house and ask their questions. But this was never
to be for as the two bikes turned into the lane one of them
suddenly unaccountably burst into flames. The rider flung
himself off his machine. Fortunately he wasn't burned but the
accident put all thoughts of his search for horses out of his
mind, he abandoned his blazing bike, hurriedly got on the back
of the other bike and the two soldiers drove off at high speed.
We never saw them again. The experience spoiled our holiday and
thoroughly frightened us, so we went home on the Thursday. We
kept Jennie in her stable as much as we could although the war
lasted 4 years.
At last it was all over and we decided to enter Jennie and
Queenie in the Peace Procession to celebrate. Prizes were to be
given for the best decorated vehicles and all were to join in a
grand Procession through the town. We decided to enter Jennie in
her coal cart, and Queenie in her coal wagon. We washed and
scrubbed the cart and the wagon, we sat up all night on the
Friday night making hundreds of paper flowers red yellow and
black for Jennie's cart -those were the colours of the Belgian
Flag (Britain had gone to war to defend Belgium) and Red White
and Blue for Queenie's wagon, the colours of the Union Jack. The
horses, cart and wagon were completely covered with flowers and
my two sisters and I sat on chairs on the wagon, dressed in
white proudly we rode in the procession and Jennie, brilliant
Little Belgium won second prize, but to us she was First Class.
During the war life was very unpleasant. What we hated most of
all I think was our bread. We were short of flour and so our
bread was made mostly out of potatoes and turned black in
cooking. Ugh! How overjoyed we were at last to get white bread.
We had no television, radio, cinemas, just an occasional
theatre, but we made our own entertainment. Our greatest thrill
was our Picture Book. We cut out all and any pictures we could
get and put them between the pages of a book. Then we took it in
turns to "pick a page" by sticking a pin between the edges of
the pages, opening the book to that page and seeing which
picture we had chosen. We played games -tag, hide-and-seek, cops
and robbers, we raced, we jumped, we quarrelled and often we
were sent early to bed as a punishment.
I didn't mind being sent to bed if I had a book to read. We had
very few books so I read anything I could get hold of, how I
loved What Katy Did, Treasure Island, The Water Babies, Little
Women, Her Benny, Uncle Tom's Cabin -the list seems endless more
especially as I was never allowed to read openly, it always had
to be in secret for reading was regarded as a waste of time when
household jobs needed to be done and my mother was too busy to
do them all herself. We were put to bed -three in a bed, I had
to sleep on the outside as I was the eldest, so I often woke up
in the middle of the night on the floor under the bed, my sister
Beaty was always very restless in bed and often pushed me out.
When we started school we were sent to a very good school, we
were lucky that we were allowed to go to Birches Road as this
was in a better part of the town from where we lived, our house
was in Spon Lane and it was a very poor rough area. We were very
proud to go to Birches Rd and the teachers there were very keen
and encouraged us to "get a Scholarship". If we passed the Exam
and got a Scholarship that meant we could go for 4 years to the
local Grammar School, I knew if I didn't get a Scholarship I
would never go to the Grammar School as most of the children
could only go there of their parents paid for them to go. I
worked very hard and got a Scholarship, but I was doomed to
disappointment and not allowed to go, you see my mother had had
another baby and my father was so pleased as the baby was a boy,
James Wilfred.
My Mother couldn't look after us all and see to the Coal Yard as
well so I had to let the Scholarship go and leave school so as
to help my Mother. I looked after the baby a lot and loved doing
it but he was never very strong and only lived just past his
first birthday. I was 13 now and I think my Father realized how
much I had lost by not being allowed to go to the Grammar School
so he asked if I could sit the Scholarship Exam again. I had
missed two very important years at the Grammar School, a lot of
the subjects taken there I had hardly heard of so I wasn't very
hopeful of passing the Exam. However I tried very hard and I
passed. In fact I did so well that the Education Committee
decided to encourage me by paying for all my books. This was
most unusual as all students usually had to pay for their books.
So here I was, starting two years behind, still helping at home
with the household jobs and doing extra homework to catch up at
school. Perhaps by modern standards our lives were a bit hard,
but we had our pleasures and we learned to be happy and
satisfied with simple things.