Countryside Memories Holidays In The 1950s

A Memory of Glossop.

The journey from our home in North Essex to my grandparents’ home in North Derbyshire took almost a full day back in the 1950s, allowing of course for periodic stops along the way. The first, usually at Melton Mowbray was to purchase the famous pork pies, which were not at that time readily available nation-wide. We would always include a couple for my grandparents who also appreciated this annual treat.

Dad’s car was an elderly black Austin eight. It set out well, but had a tendency to overheat if not given adequate breaks en route. On reaching Derbyshire, it would labour up the long steep hills and issue a warning signal of steam from under the bonnet, when it all became too much. The journey included the aptly named Snake Pass, a steep and winding road across the moors. Included in its long ‘snake’ were many ‘devil’s elbow’ bends, with a sheer drop of many thousand feet on either side.

My grandparents' house was in a long terrace and had a tiny front garden with two steps leading up to the front door. The house was built of local Derbyshire stone and comprised a two up two down plus a kitchen at the back, which opened on to a communal yard - and the toilet. The kitchen was modest. Merely a table, old gas cooker on iron legs and a shallow stone sink, out of which the water inevitably splashed. The solo tap produced cold water and if hot water was required, heated in a kettle on the range in the living room.

The flight of deep steep stairs opened onto a landing with two bedrooms. Without electricity in the house all lighting was by gas. We used a candle to go to bed and I would have been very disappointed if this had ever changed. It was all part of a child’s wonderment. The freshly laundered white cotton sheets were fragranced with starch and the smell of fresh air in which they had dried. In fact, apart from the smell of the extinguished candle the sheets perfumed the entire room.

Little if anything changed over the years. Even the piped radio was rented because they never had a radio, only a speaker.

The absence of a garden was compensated by the allotment at the end of the terrace. Here they once reared hens and tendered the fruit bushes. In their later years only the bushes remained, gooseberry and blackberry and then there was always the lavender bush. Granny patiently picked and dried the lavender seeds and made them into bags to give away and some were placed in the wardrobe and drawers, to fend off the moths. When Granny was no longer able to utilise the fruit, she would happily content herself watching the birds have their fill. She had a hard life and this had taught her to cope with anything that life could and had thrown at her. The result was that the disadvantages of old age seemed inconsequential by comparison.

Outings by car were a rare treat and so we always took them out during our holiday. Sometimes this would be for a picnic in the beautiful surrounding countryside, and on other occasions we would venture further afield. Buxton, famous for its Spa was always a favourite. The journey took us past a field of black bulls, tethered from a ring in their nose on long iron chains. As a child it was one of those lasting memories and every year without exception they would still be in that particular field.
Other visits included the various reservoirs in the area, Derwent and Lady Bower, all contributing to the colourful patchwork of these delightful holidays.

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