Open Writing

We were not at Reed Street very long before we found the house had some other tenants in addition to ourselves. These were small four-legged rodents called mice. They were so brazen! They came out during the day and could be heard running around the house. All food had to be covered. Mousetraps were purchased but proved to be ineffective, as these were intelligent mice who could steal the cheese without setting off the trap.

The final solution was to get a cat, which we were assured was a good mouser. It ate the same food as we did, with perhaps a bonus of fish pieces when we went to the fish shop. It worked, but only for a short while. The poor animal did not live with us for long and it died in a very unusual way.

It enjoyed the comfort of sitting in front of a warm fire, but its search for further warmth was to be its downfall. The black fire range consisted of an open coal fire, which heated the adjacent oven. The oven door would often be left ajar to help to warm the room. The cat must have opened this door further and climbing in, it thought it had discovered Heaven.

Unfortunately, it had, because someone closed the oven door, unaware that the cat was inside. My mother always said it was the mice!

Many years later I was amazed to find cat - and dog - food in tins and people paying good money for these, yet very likely throwing suitable alternative food away!

The communal wash-house - no washing machines in those days - was used every week by each of the yard's three families, on mutually agreed days. The start of the week was always seen as the best day for washing, but yard seniority applied and we finished up with Wednesday.

Wash days were the major event of the week and had to be planned in advance. It was even worse if you lived upstairs as we did, because everything had to be carried up and down stairs.

First the small boiler in the wash-house had to be lit with paper, wood and coal to boil the water. The dirty clothes were then boiled. After a stipulated time, a pair of long tongs were used to transfer the clothes to the poss tub, where they would then be possed with a poss stick, scrubbed as required and then rinsed. Finally the clothes were put through the mangle to squeeze out every drop of water.

This is where I came into the process because at a very early age, in addition to carrying the clothes up and down stairs, I got the job of turning the mangle. The clothes then had to be dried. This was easy if it was a fine windy day with the clothes blowing on the line in the back lane. Easy, except for the rag and bone man, coalman or bin men, who always seemed to appear once the clothes line was full.

If it was a wet day, it took all week to dry the clothes indoors in front of the fire. In later years after I had started school, I always knew that Wednesday was a jam and bread lunch day and that there would be a basket of clothes waiting for me to carry upstairs when I got home.

The shared outside toilet in the backyard was not a pleasant experience. Going to the 'lav' as it was known, on a cold, dark, winter's night and searching for newspaper on the floor to do the necessary, is something I will never forget. The door was difficult to open from the outside and it was impossible to know if the toilet was already occupied. When I was a little older I pulled the door open, only to find the lady from downstairs sitting there!

Perhaps the only advantage of our new flat was the impressive view. One window overlooked the stately entrance to the large Wesley Methodist Church and the ever-changing Frederick Street - Reed Street junction. The other window, whilst sharing the view of the church, also overlooked the many and varied activities of the back lane. Every time I looked out of any of the windows, I saw the imposing 1881 -the date the church was built - sculptured into the stonework above the imposing entrance. Many years later it combined with Laygate Primitive Methodist Church and was re-named Frederick Street Methodist Church.

Rev Wainwright was the Minister of the church but there were many visiting lay preachers. The caretaker of the church had a busy job. As well as all the internal work, we used to watch him climb the ladder to change the name of forthcoming preachers on the Wayside Pulpit.

Perhaps his hardest task was to wash the church steps every Sunday morning to get rid of all the pigeon 'droppings'. If he washed the steps on other occasions, we knew there was going to be a wedding or funeral later that day.

The Church was very well attended at both morning and evening services. We used to enjoy watching the people arriving and leaving. Such was the number who came to the evening service, that people were often waiting for the doors to open at 5.30 p.m.

I remember one occasion when we saw an old lady waiting on the steps in pouring rain at about 5 p.m. My mother felt so sorry for her that she went over the road and invited her into our humble abode until the church opened. It turned out that the lady was living with her daughter and family and she had left early, to allow them some time to themselves!

With the prospect of a war with Germany creeping closer every day, the metal railings around many gardens, houses and some churches were cut down so that the iron could be used to help with the war effort; not so with the church opposite. Around the base of the building, there was a deep moat-like trench that provided access to the lower floor of the church. For obvious safety reasons, these railings were not removed. This did not, however, stop many people using the 'moat' for unwanted rubbish. The caretaker had a thankless task clearing the area.

Looking to the right from our two-roomed flat, we had an excellent view of the busy Frederick Street junction. There were not many cars, but trolley buses passed both ways every few minutes. The pavements were always full of housewives shopping and Darkes, the Chemist diagonally opposite was usually crowded.

At midday we watched hundreds of dockers hurrying home on bike or foot for a quick lunch, before returning about forty minutes later. There was often more horses in the back lane than motor cars in the front street! The bedroom window overlooked the back lane where there were always
children playing, housewives attempting to dry their clothes, and tradesmen trying to sell their goods.