Memories Of Low Westwood 1955 1966

A Memory of Hamsterley.

I was born at Low Westwood, a small mining village in the North East of England in 1955 – well, when I say I was born there, that’s not entirely true. Unlike today, children were born at home not in hospital and I was actually born in my Gran’s spare bedroom in the nearby market town of Consett at 2.00 one October Wednesday afternoon. The only “medical” intervention was the midwife, Nurse Noddle – which led to the childhood myth that, unlike other children who were found under a gooseberry bush, or brought by the stork, I was delivered by Nurse Noddle in her little black bag. Also unlike today, it was unheard of for Dad to be there for the birth. He had gone off to work that morning as usual and wasn’t aware of my appearance in the world until he returned home from his shift that evening.
We lived in one of two pit rows made up of two bedroomed, stone built, slate roofed terraced houses. As a child there was no understanding of whether a house was owned, rented or “tied”. In fact ours was a “tied” house, being provided as part of dad’s wages as an employee of the National Coal Board (along with regular deliveries of coal for the fire, but more of that later). In addition to the two rows, there were houses in one direction where people lived who didn’t work at the pit – I think they may have been office workers, but I always thought of them as the posh houses. In the other direction was where the poor people lived – an estate of Council houses where the rent man called each week and, even lower down the scale, the “prefabs”, an area of prefabricated housing built for short term use during the second world war, but still in use and rather dilapidated. We children from the pit rows never mixed with those from either of the other two areas whilst playing out at home, although many of them were in our classes at school.
Our houses had very large gardens at the front and at the back, in my earliest recollections, there was a dirt road running between the houses and each house had a set of outbuildings comprising the coal house, the outside toilet and the “midden”. The last of these was an area where rubbish was collected and was, of course, forbidden territory for young children, so we loved to sneak in there to play! Later on the Coal Board modernised the houses, putting in a toilet/bathroom and creating a paved and walled yard between the main house and the outbuildings. There were no garages next to the houses – very few people had cars and those who did kept them in small wooden garages in an area at the end of the street – another forbidden area for playing, where we loved to climb onto the roofs and jump between them.
It was a very close community. Because the majority of the men worked at one of the local pits, the men and wives all knew each other. There must have been 40 or 50 houses in the two rows and I can remember even now almost everyone who lived in each of the houses.
As with all small communities, we had our “characters”. There was old Mr. R who lived alone and who didn’t like children – or at least he pretended not to. If any of us encroached on his property, perhaps to rescue a lost ball, he would run out of the house shaking a metal toasting fork at us angrily. Our next door neighbour was another who objected to children in her yard and would confiscate any balls that went over the wall. She was, however, a kind soul and would often take care of me if Mam had to go out, or would be a source of advice to Mam if I was ill, from her experience of bringing up her own 3 children, now grown and left home. There was Mr. & Mrs. A who had no connection to the pit as far as I was aware and who had led an exciting life, having spent many years in Africa. There was old, Deaf Mrs. McD who was a source of rather cruel fun for us children with her blank look and large NHS hearing aid. Winnie was another local character. I don’t think she was a Down’s Syndrome woman, but she certainly was what we referred to as “backward”. Despite this she was always happy and served a useful purpose pushing babies up and down the street in their prams to give them some fresh air and their mams a bit of peace and quiet for half an hour. Old Mr. O was always referred to as Giant O. Again, on reflection, this seems rather cruel since it related to the fact that he was very small, having lost both legs in the First World War. Despite this he got around very well using his arms and hands and was a very accomplished gardener.
Many of the households were young families with children of a similar age to me. We played together throughout the year, outside in summer and in each other’s houses in winter. We walked to school together and seemed, to me, much closer than my blood relatives, cousins who lived 7 or 8 miles and at least 2 bus rides away. Of course, we had our friendships and enmities, which would change over time. This week’s best friend might be next week’s enemy. There is still one friend I keep in touch with at Christmas, although her family moved away to the Nottingham coal fields when we were only about 7 years old. We were pen friends for years, keeping in touch with each other’s progress through school and on through boyfriends and marriage. Her daughter is now quite impressed that mum has a friend going back so far.
As I mentioned, most of the men worked in one of the local pits and at this time there was no such thing as pithead showers or baths. It was a daily occurrence to see black faced miners with ruby lips and white eyes walking home to bathe – in the early days, before the bathrooms, this was in tin baths in front of the fire. The baths hung on a hook outside of the back door and, while they bathed, their wives would bang their work clothes against the wall to rid them of the thick dust accumulated during the shift. These days it seems a bit of a cliché, but many of these miners kept dogs (sometime, but not always, whippets or greyhounds) and pigeons. As with the garages, there was an area of land near to the houses that was filled with ornate wooden “huts” that were the pigeon crees. These were spotlessly kept and brightly painted – the pigeons had to be able to recognise which was their own cree when they returned from their twice daily exercise flight. They were that mysterious phenomenon, homing pigeons and the men were very competitive about racing them, setting off on Saturday mornings to destinations many miles away to release the birds, which would then fly home.
Another big difference from the present day was doing the shopping. With few cars and fewer supermarkets, plus the fact that, on the whole, women did not work outside of the home, shopping was a daily activity. My earliest recollection of milk deliveries was by horse and cart pulled by Dollie or Dobbin. As well as milk deliveries we had a bread van, a butcher van, a greengrocer and a pop wagon. There was also “the store” which was the local co-operative store. This had several separate areas, interconnecting within, but also with separate external entrances. There was the main shop, with general groceries – tea in large caddies, sugar spooned out into blue paper bags, loose biscuits, pats of butter, bacon sliced to order etc. There was none of this self service lark; we were served by smartly aproned staff, overseen by the “manager” who had his own little darkly panelled office and who lived in the big house next door. Sometime we children might be sent to buy something that Mam had forgotten – perhaps a blue bag for the washing, or some other small item. This was a big responsibility because we had to remember “the number” – the unique identification number that credited every purchase to accumulate the customer’s “dividend”. All regular customers had these numbers to signify that they were members of the co-op and the dividend was a form of discount, accumulated over a period and claimed back in times of need, or at Christmas or Easter. Most people of my age seem to remember their mother’s dividend number, whatever else they may have forgotten. There was also a butchery and haberdashery section and, in the rooms above the shops, there was a reading room and institute where the men could go (I don’t recall women going there, although we girls might sometimes be allowed to go with Daddy) to read books and newspapers.

Hearth and Home

Most of the houses, including the one we lived in until I was about 7 or 8, had one main downstairs room. This was our kitchen, but unlike modern day kitchens, it was kitchen, dining room and living room rolled into one. It held the dining table, the 3-piece suite, the writing bureau, a delicate, bow fronted china cabinet and Mam’s pride and joy, the height of modernity, a large wooden kitchen cabinet. This last piece of furniture was about 6 feet tall, with a double, glass fronted cupboard at the top for storing cups, saucers and plates, two drawers below that where we kept the knives and forks in one and an assortment of oddments in the other, a drop down section not unlike the writing bureau that formed a shelf for food preparation and two lower cupboards that held pots and pans and dishes. We were also the proud owners of a small, black and white television and a Fridgidaire.
In addition to this room and, later on, the bathroom, there was a small, narrow “back kitchen” with a stone sink, wooden draining board and 4 ringed gas cooker with grill beneath. There was no oven in this back kitchen. Why would we need to use precious, expensive gas or electricity to cook with when we had a perfectly serviceable side oven in the main kitchen, fuelled by the supply of free coal provided as part of Dad’s wages. This was delivered periodically in big wagons, which dumped the ration in a heap by the coalhouse in the back street to be shovelled in later by the men on their return from work. It was great fun for us children running up and down the coal heaps - but not really very helpful to our dads when the coal became spread around and had to be swept back into manageable piles.
The fireplace was the centre of our world. It was speckled cream, with a tiled hearth. There was a bottom oven for baking and cooking, with a smaller warming oven above. The drop down door to the top oven was permanently open and inside lived the teapot. My favourite place to sit was on the hearth with my back to the oven door reading a book. The fire was also used to heat kettles and pans and I remember great excitement when Mam bought a special front for the fire that had two round plates that could swing over the fire, rather than having to settle pans precariously directly on the coals. It was a special privilege as a child to be allowed to make toast on this fire using a wooden handled, three pronged wire toasting fork. It was also a real treat at Christmas when chestnuts were placed in the embers to cook. We knew that they were cooked when they popped and they had to be carefully fished out and blown cool before being peeled of their blackened shells so that we could eat the delicious kernel.
Food was basic - plain meals of meat, potatoes and vegetables to feed my hungry dad on his return from work, with a roast joint and Yorkshire puddings on Sundays. I don’t remember Mam making her own bread, but we certainly never bought cakes or pies. Baking was a regular weekly task and it was unusual not to have several tins full of home baked cakes, biscuits and fruit pies. We only had pudding in the sense of sponge and custard, or rice pudding etc. on Sundays. The rest of the week we finished off with something from one of the tins. Lunch (or dinner as we called it) during the week for Dad was his “bait” of sandwiches, while I had my dinner at school. The meals were substantial, but there was rarely anything eaten between them and no real weight problems. Dad did a hard manual job, Mam was kept busy with housework and I played out as much as possible, as well as walking over a mile each way to school. Nobody went to a gym, or “did exercise” it just happened as part of the daily routine.

Playtime

As I child, in memory at least, I was always out of doors. It had to be a very cold, wet day for children to stay inside. We called for our friends by standing outside their back door and calling their name until they came out, or one or other parent came to say they were not coming out to play today. Even during childhood illnesses we went out to play - it was believed that all children had to catch certain things and the sooner they got it over with the better, so we might as well pass it on. I seem to recall this applied to mumps, measles, German measles and chickenpox. There was still the threat of more serious illnesses such as scarlet fever, whooping cough or diphtheria and people spoke of T B and polio, but I don’t remember any of my friends catching any of these.
In summer we roamed for long distances away from home without supervision. There were few cars and no fear of child abuse. A favourite pastime for the girls was to make a camp or den. This was usually in a hollowed out area of a large bush and served as a pretend house. Here we would gather all sorts of things to make it homely. We begged old dishes and bowls from parents and relatives, or raked through the middens and dustbins to find discarded treasures. The pantry would be filled with empty cans and jars, also found in dustbins, an old cardboard box might serve as an armchair and, with luck, an old tea chest as a table. We spent many happy hours playing houses and woe betide any boy who might try to join in. The house was for girls, just as it was at home, during daytime at least, for our mothers.
There were a number of places that were forbidden and, therefore, all the more exciting. I’ve mentioned already the garages and pigeon crees, but the direst warnings were not to go onto the pit heaps. These were great heaps of spoil from the pits - ash and fine coal that compacted into mini mountains to climb up and slide down. They were, in places, overgrown with bushes where we made our dens and, in autumn, provided a harvest of blackberries to take home for puddings and pies. The danger was that, in places, they were prone to subsidence and there were stories of people who were swallowed up when they walked onto part of the heaps that collapsed beneath them. They were also known to be burning underneath and, on cold, wet days, steam could be seen wisping up as it evaporated from the hot surface.
Our village had no “play park” for the children. It was a special treat on a Sunday to be taken by Dad to one of the neighbouring villages to go on the swings. It was like flying up into the sky and I pretended I could see for miles - into Gran’s garden in the market town 5 miles away, or into our own kitchen where Mam might be baking or preparing the dinner.
As I have mentioned, going out to play was our normality. We played a huge variety of games, which seemed to move round with the seasons. Many of them required no “equipment” or toys to support them, whilst other might involve some inexpensive, but precious items. There were games of the imagination, such as Cowboys and Indians, or Japs and English, both of which involved lots of shooting with imaginary guns. Such games might be condemned nowadays as inappropriately violent for young children, but there was no real concept of war or killing, the younger children just joined in with the older ones and the games were no more “violent” than others such as hide and seek. There were, of course, the forbidden, mischief games such as Knocky Nine Doors where we would knock at someone’s door, run away to hide and watch the householder answer the door with much puzzlement. This was OK in most cases, but could become a bit unkind if the householder was elderly or infirm. We played Tiggy where one person was “on” and had to run round trying to touch anyone else in the game, who then became the person who was “on”. We also had the tradition that if, for some reason, a member of the game needed a rest, or wanted to duck out of the game for a short while, they could do so by crying “skinch” and crossing their fingers.
We played houses and shops, playing at being little adults, with very clear gender roles and no inhibitions about the fact that the girls played at keeping house and the boys played other games such as football, or cricket. One of these games was often played by both boys and girls together and was Doctors and Nurses. Of course the doctors were always the boys and the nurses always girls. This reflected some of the television programmes of the time such as Doctor Kildare and Emergency Ward 10 - early forerunners of E.R. and Casualty.
There was a great deal of competitiveness in terms of athletic ability – who could run fastest featured in many of the games, while the girls could all do handstands against the outhouse walls. We also competed in games such as skipping – who could skip the most times without tripping, or who could keep going as the rope was spun faster and faster. For the real experts we had French Skipping, which involved a double rope. There was skill in both turning the ropes so that they didn’t tangle and in skipping between them at double speed. There was great skill in a simple form of juggling with two rubber balls. These would be bounced against a wall or door to well known chants, first simply alternating the balls, but becoming more complex in a given sequence such as every 4th bounce being over arm, or one handed, or allowing the ball to bounce on the ground on its return.
We had simple toys such as tops and whips. Ours were mushroom shaped, with nails in the tip that could create sparks if whipped hard enough. Also, the tops would be marked out in complex patterns with coloured chalk that merged into white as they whirled round. The boys played marbles to complex rules never explained to us girls. The marbles were treasured possessions and certain colours were considered to have special powers. The best ones were considered to be small metal ball bearing, which were much heavier than the usual glass marbles and invariably won whatever game was being played.
Then there were the special toys only received for special birthdays or at Christmas, such as a bicycle or roller skates. Some families couldn’t afford such things, but this often wasn’t a problem as we simply pooled our resources and took turns.
Looking back now it was a very safe and secure time compared to the lives of today’s children. In summer we would be out for hours on end, far out of earshot of parents, but with few cars around, and in a community where everyone knew everyone else and their business, we had no fears about safety.

Schooldays

This extended to going to school. I don’t actually remember ever being taken to school by Mam. I’m sure she must have taken me on my first day since there must have been forms to fill in, or some sort of handover. School was just what happened next. There was always somebody’s older brother or sister who had started the year before and it was something to aspire to – part of growing up.
Our school was in the next village. There was no bus and, even if any of our parents had owned cars, the direct road between the villages was a dirt track unsuitable for road vehicles, so we walked. We all went together, so there was safety in numbers and the mile or so journey was a normal part of everyday life.
By the time I attended the school it was for infants and juniors to the age of 11. It had, however, served as a school for children up to the school leaving age of 14 at some time in the past. This meant that it had rooms such as the cookery room and the drama room. I don’t think the names had any real significance to us children. They were used as overflow classrooms, or to accommodate times when classes would be split, for example when the big girls did needlework and the big boys did woodwork and basketwork.
Heating was by huge radiators, or in some rooms, large stoves, operated from a huge boiler underneath the school, or by burning coke. I still recall the acrid, choking smell of the coke when the stoves were first lit after the summer holidays.
The teachers were mostly women. Only the headmaster and the top class teacher were men – and there was much trepidation going into the top class to be taught by Mr. D or Mr. W. The headmaster lived in a house next to the school and at least one of the class teachers lived in the village. They were kindly, but very firm and we all knew just how far we could push them before being threatened with punishment. This could be a simple as being asked to stand in the corner for a period, but it was also in the days when the cane might be used, which was quite a significant deterrent. I’m sure that child psychologists nowadays would be horrified that we might have such a threat hanging over us, but as with so many other things, it was considered quite normal and we expected to pay for our misdemeanours if we were caught.
There were 5 classes in the school, Standards 1 – 5 according to the age of the children. There was the baby class, the infant’s class, and then we progressed to 3 stages of junior class. Class sizes seem to have been high by today’s standards. I recall 30 pupils per class being the norm, with the teachers dividing us into groups by ability. We also helped each other – something that I’m sure would also be frowned on today. The better readers, for example, might spend time sitting with, and helping the more backward pupils. The top class had a very clear split as it spanned two years, with an even further division in the upper year between those who were expected to “pass for the grammar school” and those expected to go to the secondary modern. The brighter ones were taken in special classes by the headmaster and coached towards passing that huge milestone, the “eleven plus”. I was in that top group, but I’ll never know if I would have passed the exam because they changed the rules in my final year and the decision on who went to grammar school seemed to rest on the headmaster’s recommendation.

Family Matters

In those days women didn’t go out to work. Their job was to stay at home, bring up the children, keep the house clean and tidy and make sure that there was a hot meal on the table when the men came home from the pit. My mam had “served her time” as a dress maker before marrying Dad, so she was able to make a bit of money from this, but it was all done at home so that she was there to look after me and Dad. Although we were not well off, I was always well clothed - often from the offcuts left from things made for customers. She had a day out on a Saturday when she took me to see my gran, combining this with the opportunity to stock up with groceries at one of the new supermarkets, where things were often cheaper than from the vans that came round delivering, or the co-op in the village. The other social event of her week was the Wednesday evening Ladies’ Club. It wasn’t a W.I. branch, but I think they had regular speakers on different topics and once a year there was a Christmas party for the children when one of the husbands would dress as Santa Claus.
Mam was always the one who was at home and had to deal with any times when I was naughty, so Dad was favoured because he was the one who dealt out treats. Sunday afternoons were our special time. After the Sunday lunch Dad and I would go for a long walk. This gave us time together, as well as giving Mam some time to herself. The countryside where we lived was lovely and there were lots of favourite walks. Of course the best ones were those that ended up passing the little sweet shop where I might be treated to a halfpenny gobstopper, or something similar.
Dad’s main social activities were being a member of the local Bowls team (flat green bowls, not crown green as they have in Yorkshire) and going to “the Club” on a Friday night. There were a number of Working Men’s social clubs locally and he would visit them in turn. I think he must have been a member of several of them, because, like the Ladies’ Club, they also had an annual Christmas party for the children of their members. This sounds as if it must have been great fun, so many parties, but in fact I was a very shy child and hated taking part in the games that were involved.
In those days I seemed to have lots and lots of aunties and uncles. Most of them were no more than close friends of my parents, but children were not allowed to call adults by their fist names, and if they were close friends, it seemed a bit formal to call them Mr. And Mrs., so they became aunties and uncles. Even now I think of them in that way and wouldn’t dream of referring to them otherwise. In fact, I had very little to do with my real aunties and uncles unless they happened to be visiting my grandparents at the same time as I was there with my parents.
My maternal grandmother was always Gran, who lived in a semi-detached council house with a large garden that was her pride and joy. She had very “green fingers” and her garden was filled with plants that had been taken as cuttings from parks and gardens all over the place. I don’t actually remember the rent man calling at Gran’s - I expect I was never there that day - but I do remember two gentlemen who used to call who were very “posh” because they always wore a suit and tie (unlike Dad with his pit clothes, or Granda who worked at the local iron foundry). These were Mr. Carmichael and Mr. Hepple and were “tally Men” who collected weekly amounts of money, which were saved up and put towards clothes during twice yearly visits to Newcastle. The money was returned in the form of tokens and could only be “spent” in certain places that were not open to the general public.
Mam and I went to Gran’s every Saturday (I don’t ever remember Dad going with us, I think he spent the afternoon at the pub and, possibly, in the betting shop). Unlike our own home, Gran’s house was only about 100 yards from a large “play park” with swings, 2 roundabouts, a see-saw, a rocking horse and a huge slide that nowadays would be condemned as unsafe. Often my cousins would be there and we would play together. I was the only girl in the family, so the games were often based on a war theme, or cowboys and indians, or based on a theme from a current T.V. programme such as Tarzan, Robin Hood or William Tell. If the boys weren’t there, I still benefited because they often left behind their comics that I loved to read. There was quite a collection of American style comic books such as Superman, Spiderman, Batman etc. with fascinating advertisements for things I had never seen or heard of such as Tootsy Rolls.
My granda was Gran’s second husband, my mam’s father having died when she was only 3 years old. We children weren’t aware of this though and he was a wonderful grandfather to all of us. He had a wonderful imagination and could make up brilliant adventure stories with me and the cousins as the heroes, fighting dragons and saving the world. He also had a part time job selling “Football Pinks” which were the Sports Supplements of the regional evening newspaper. Every Saturday evening, come rain or shine, he stood on the corner of the Market square selling them to passers by and it was a great treat on the way to the bus to call by and collect a paper to take home to Dad. The other great treat was to go out with him “collecting”. This was collecting the money owed by customers of the newsagent who employed him to sell the football papers for their daily and weekly newspaper deliveries. If I was lucky, we’d end up back at the shop and Mr. McBride would give me unsold comics to take home.
Teatime at Gran’s was a great treat. It was a very traditional “afternoon tea” with home baked cakes and pies, but she also had things we never had at home such as slices of cooked meat - ham or pork - and bought cream cakes. I remember she always had “Tuc” crackers to go with cheddar cheese and I loved those when I had them at Gran’s, but when Mam bought them at home I never wanted to eat them - they belonged at Gran’s. She also always had bottles of fizzy pop which were bought from the “pop man” who came round weekly with a wagon filled with bottles of various flavours of pop, as well as a beverage referred to as “Hop Bitters” which smelled very much like beer and was sold in large stone bottles. This was Granda’s special drink for when he came home thirsty from a long, hot shift at the foundry. There was a system of deposit on the bottles. If they were returned you would receive a few pence in exchange, but the stone bottles were very versatile in that Gran had one or two that she kept back in winter to use as hot water bottles - essential in those days with no central heating.
My father’s mother was Grandma, to distinguish her from Gran. She was widowed before I was born, so I never knew my Granda on that side of the family. This was more than made up for, however, because Grandma lived out in the country in one of three houses, all occupied by members of my Dad’s family. Grandma lived in the bottom house, and two sets of great aunts and uncles lived in the other two.
Visits to this Grandma were less frequent than to Gran’s and involved a very long journey, with 3 buses. A journey that would have probably been completed in about half an hour in a car took over 2 hours by bus. My grandfather had been a country blacksmith and the houses also had a blacksmith’s shop, stables and cow byre just across the road. The family were tenants, but felt that this was their place by right. At some point a previous owner had made a stipulation in his will that no member of Dad’s family could be evicted and I think it also restricted rent increases. As a result, the current landlord was reluctant to modernise or improve the houses, so for many years after it became the norm elsewhere, they had no water, gas or electricity. There was a wooden “yoke” that hung on the wall outside of the back door and my great uncle used this to carry buckets of water back from a spring some distance away. When he could no longer manage this, my dad and his cousin used to take water up in gallon containers. This meant that water was very precious and not a drop was wasted.
Lighting was provided by oil lamps, so paraffin oil also had to be bought regularly and there were no street lamps anywhere near, soon a cloudy night, with no moon or stars, the darkness once the lamps were extinguished, meant that you literally couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. I suspect that very few children these days will ever experience such complete darkness because everywhere has some sort of street lighting that means it is never completely dark.
The other thing I remember from Grandma’s was the petrol pumps. As the local farmers moved away from horses towards tractors and more people bought cars, they family business diversified and there were 2 petrol pumps next to the blacksmith’s shop. These were fed from a large underground tank and were operated manually by turning a heavy handle. It was wound forward 8 times for each gallon of petrol, then wound back to start again. My uncle, who was older than my father, inherited the family business and he worked in the blacksmith’s shop, operated the petrol pumps and did all sorts of other things to make a living, including being a driving instructor and dealing in antiques. Unlike Dad, who had moved away from home and into regular employment, he was always self-employed and turned his hand to anything he could. Unfortunately, his son did not want to take over the business and neither his daughter nor I were born at a time when girls became blacksmiths, so the family business came to an end after at least 3 generations that I am aware of.