Open Writing

Around Easter time Irish Catholics would take out the windows of an upstairs room and in it they would make a display of Jesus and Mary, with candles and flowers. The displays would be all draped with lace, and the windows would look like beautiful framed pictures.

The Priest would walk round the streets and bless the houses, while swinging a container of sweet-smelling incense. Some of the children would follow the Priest from street to street, stopping to look at the wonderful window displays which were lit up and looked like fairy grottoes. Well,as I imagined a fairy grotto would look.

I think it was on a Good Friday when two of the older girls would take a big thick barge rope which they would use as a skipping rope. It would extend across the road from one side to the other and they would swing it so that we could all jump in and skip. The grownup women would take it in turns to hold the rope as it was very heavy.. Everyone would be expected to jump in as the rope was turning. This would go on along all the streets,not just ours, and it was something to see with Mum’s and Aunts jumping in and having a go.

Grandma had lived on The Island (the Isle of Dogs) in a house in Stebondale Street for many years She had her living room in The Airey.

This was down steps under the house, and it never saw much daylight or sun. On nice days people who lived in Airies would sit on the top of steps and watch the people go by. It was the time for neighbours to stop on their way to Mrs Kirks and have a chat.

Grandma had the downstairs room and two bedrooms on the first floor, and in the rest of the house lived another family. At the back was a scullery where the washing was done in a copper. This worked by lighting a fire under it to heat the water and so the washing was boiled.

The scullery always smelt of Sunlight soap and boiled beetroot. It had a damp stone floor and this is where Gran had done her washing for all her family.

One toilet served both families and it was out in the garden. This was the same for all the people at that time and everyone had a ‘JERRY’ under the bed to use during the night.

I was about eight when we came to live in Stebondale Street, on The Island. Recently I read in one of The Island Trust magazines that Stebondale Street was the hardest hit out of the whole Island during the war.

Every day brought a new scene for us to look at. Through our streets beautiful draught horses hauled heavy barrels of beer from Whitbread's Brewery. You could not help but stare in wonderment at these beautiful animals, who were always so well groomed and handsome. Tall, ig horses with enormous hooves and drays reaching high up in the air, so high we had to lift our heads to see the drivers. The drays were always driven by big strong men who wore leather aprons and sat proudly holding the reins, guiding their charges.

The horses had big leather halters round their necks and their manes were plaited and knotted with different coloured ribbons. Big leather straps hung around their necks. They were covered with beautiful brass ornamental emblems. These horse brasses are now copied and sold to the many who like to display them in their houses. The originals are very collectable and it must be quite something to hold one of these authentic brasses knowing that at one time a beautiful Draught horse wore it proudly, and its owner polished it with pride.

Our street had cobble stones when we first came to live there, and I loved to listen to the sound of those horses hooves on the cobbles. It was really something special to see such large animals trotting so gracefully, while carrying such heavy loads.

Sometimes they would leave droppings on the road and it was common s to see someone rushing with a bucket and shovel to collect up the manure. This was not to make the road clean but to have some manure to put on their allotment.

Sadly we do not see these beautiful horses now, but they can be seen on special occasions like the once a year Ale Festival at Earls Court London.

These wonderful scenes were free for me to enjoy as a child, now they live only in my memory. How I would love my children and Grandchildren to have seen this picture, but now all I can do is try to tell them about it through my writing.

Sometimes buskers would come along the street, walking in the road to entertain us. I remember Mum, when two men dressed as women came along one day. ‘They are Aunt Sally’s ‘ she said. 'Don’t look at them, come indoors.’ I never knew why she said this, and still don’t know to this day. I did ask Aunt Con and she said Grandma used to say the same to her but she never knew why either.

I used to love to entertain the local children. They would sit on the pavement and I would dress up and dance and sing for them. I loved the films and grew up with Fred Astaire Ginger Rogers and all the wonderful Zeigfeld show girls who could be seen at the cinema in those days.

You would see the main picture and a “B’ film., and during the interval a wonderful. enormous Wurlitzer electric organ would rise up slowly from below the stage.

The organ would be white and glow with different coloured electric lights and the organist would wear a white suit. With a microphone beside him he would announce the songs he would play.

The organist would end with his signature tune and wave, and as the organ slowly descended back down under the stage you could hear the music slowly fading away. These were wonderful outings with Mum and Dad, and it was real value when you went to the cinema in those days.
During this entertainment the audience would have the opportunity to buy ice cream and sweets from the girls who came round with their goods on trays which hung from their shoulders. They wore white overalls and little caps on their heads and always looked clean and smart.

It wasn’t always easy to get into the cinemas and sometimes people would have to queue and this could take a long time especially if it was a good film and a Saturday night. The evening could end with disappointment if a sign was suddenly put in front of the queue informing the public that all the sixpenny and one shilling seats were now sold out. The cinema attendant would call out 'Sorry, no more seats, but there are some left in the one and sixpencees.'

Some people would move over to the shorter queue and would stand in front of the sign that read One shilling and sixpence, but often for a family of six the difference would be too much and feeling let down we would all go home.

Wouldn’t I just love to be an entertainer like that organist or be a film star? These thoughts would be with me after a show and I would dream of all the wonderful things I could do.