Hard Times And Making Ends Meet

A Memory of Bolton Upon Dearne.

When I was a child, my parents got divorced before I reached the age of four, and I didn't meet my Father until several years later. Together with my Mother and my younger brother, we lived with my maternal grandparents. Grandad always seemed to cough quite a lot; not that it seemed like anything unusual to me at such a young age. However, over the next few years, I came to realise that this constant coughing was the dreadful result of a lifetime in the coal mines. Meanwhile, Mum seemed to spend a great deal of time in a hospital a long way from Grandad's house, she suffered from something called TB. My brother and I never seemed to be concerned about these matters, probably because we always occupied ourselves with the many things a young boy spends his days doing.
I guess that we were living at a time when we could enjoy a freedom that doesn't seem possible these days.
As we grew older, my generation all developed their own very individual thoughts of what to expect from life and conversely, what they would put into life. South Yorkshire was not very different to most other places; many of us went through childhood and school with the very likely prospects of working our whole life in a specific industry; which in our case was the coal mines, whilst others may harbour some ambition to achieve some other destination or status in life. Whatever we envisioned in those early days, whether or not we would follow our idealised life plan was something that no one knew - and at that time I guess we wouldn't have cared.
This! was our future, it would be exciting, it would be great, and we were here to enjoy life and make the best of whatever it threw at us - Bring it on!

As previously mentioned, Mam didn't have it easy bringing up the three of us. With a meagre pension, she found it necessary to supplement it in whatever ways she could. And as we kids grew up, we found ourselves more and more, helping with various situations. Of course, this made us mature much faster than most kids of our age; it also taught us life skills that would help us in later years. Little did we know that these early lessons in hard work and resourcefulness would shape our resilience in the face of greater obstacles to come.


Not surprisingly, we actually enjoyed this hands-on learning. During the season, we would go pea picking or potato picking for a local farmer. It was necessary to begin this with an early and chilly morning start. The farmer would pick us up on a cart towed by his tractor and take us to whatever location he needed us at. Adults and children alike would then either pluck the peas or dig the potatoes, and fill the provided sacks, for which we were paid the princely sum of threepence per sack. We would work until midday when we lined up for a hot drink and our pay. After the farmer had finished working a field, we could go "harrowing". That is going over the worked ground for any missed potatoes; we could keep these for ourselves. On one occasion, my brother got into a little strife because he went harrowing in a field that the farmer had not yet worked. He was fortunate, in that the farmer let him have the potatoes for a nominal fee.

Mam also collected odds of wool which she would knit into squares and then stitch these together to make a blanket. She also made multi-coloured socks from the odds of wool. Mostly, these blankets and socks were for our own use; but she would sometimes sell them to supplement her income. Other than blankets and socks, Mam made and sold artificial flowers made from bits of wire and crepe paper. Mam also made lampshades, teddy bears, and doll clothing. Mam's nimble fingers transformed all kinds of things into beautiful creations, earning her the admiration and gratitude of those who purchased her handmade items. Many was the night Mam would be working until after midnight just to earn an extra copper or two.

Winters were especially difficult, yet in one way, we were fortunate; we lived in a coal mining community where most people had a good supply of coal. Often, someone would give us a sack of coal to burn. Mind you, there were a few times that we had to resort to other ways. Such as; the yard where the trucks carted the coal from would load the trucks as high as possible, the consequence being that when they went around a corner, there would be some overspill. We benevolently went along with an old pram and saved them the problem of a cleanup. I remember, one particularly harsh winter, we had used the last of our coal. It was bitterly cold so! as a last resort Mam decided to chop up a couple of dining chairs to warm us up before going to bed. As the flames crackled and danced, fueled by the remnants of our dining chairs, we huddled closer, finding warmth not just in the fire but in the bond of our family's unwavering determination.

Despite all these odds, Mam always managed to keep us well-dressed and put a warm meal on the table. All of which goes to demonstrate her amazing strength and resourcefulness.

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