Open Writing

Very occasionally we were allowed to go shopping with Mummy, in town. As we did a tremendous amount of walking we would ask to go in the tram-car which was much more interesting. They were double-deckers with long bodies and the driver at the front had always to stand, completely exposed to the elements. When the terminus was reached he merely removed a brass handle, passed through the tram to the other end, fixed the handle on the instrument raised from the platform, and was all ready to drive off, no turning being required.

Climbing up the two deep steps with the help of the middle pole, we entered the lower part which had wooden seats, all of one piece, running along either side and facing inwards. The upper seats were quite different. They were set in rows, two by two, parted by a centre aisle, and also made of wood. They had the advantage of a movable back-rest so that one could face the way one was going, and for the return journey the back could be adjusted so that one did not go backwards way as it were! This adjustment was an added attraction if a group of three or four friends wished to talk together.

At each end, over the platform, were seats in the open air, one facing ahead for two people and a curved one to take about six which joined the closed portion. It was a delight to me to sit in this part to enjoy a good blow, but, of course, it was disagreeable in bad weather. It was disappointing at first when the trams gave way to trolley buses, but they proved to be more comfortable and a great deal quieter, for the trams made an appalling clatter.

It is difficult in these days of crowds and hurly-burly to realise that the tram crew knew all their passengers, many of them by name, the same crew keeping to regular routes. We had a little, round, smiling man on our route, his face beaming with bonhomie which did everyone good to see. He was polite and pleasant and we were delighted when Sir William Ramsden, who lived in Edgerton, left a legacy to the team of his regular tram, with remarks of thanks for their ever-present courtesy and kindness, and we said "Hear! hear!"

When we arrived in town we always went to Bellarbys, the confectioners, in John William Street. On one side of the shop were two or three round marble-topped, iron tables and we were allowed to sit there and partake of a penny glass of milk and a halfpenny bun, plain with white or pink icing on the top. This was quite a treat as we were on no account allowed into cafes.

We next called at Crisps, the greengrocers, on Market Walk. Here was a small, bustling man, never without his cloth cap and his apron tied around his considerable middle. He invited us inside, and with twinkling eyes and jolly laugh to tease us, popped a juicy grape into one open mouth after another. If any man gave service to his customers it was kind, buxom Mr. Crisp.

We would also call at Woods, the fishmongers, in Westgate, where the tall, pale man, with large moustache, in dark blue overall and white apron sometimes told Mummy that her father, Mr. Thomson, had been in that morning, and he had again had difficulty to "get his halfpenny", and the two stood together nodding their heads in amusement. Grandfather, true to his Scottish descent, evidently hated paying out halfpennies and refused to have anything to do with them. "He'd rather pay a penny any day," the fishmonger remarked, which rather puzzled me, as then he would have lost two halfpennies instead of one I thought.

At that time, when I was a small girl before the 1914-18 war, there was always the cheerful sound in the air of the clip-clopping of the horses pulling great drays of barrels, iron girders, bales of wool; coal wagons and lighter tradesmen's carts; or a dogcart; and perhaps a carriage, whose horses, gleaming and high-stepping, made a beautiful sight. Frequently a cab would come bowling along with the cabby flourishing his long whip.

Sometimes one would see a horse stumble and fall, and at once the driver jumped down from his now slanting seat, and rushed to sit on its head, or the horse's head might be covered with a sack, until willing hands appeared to loosen the harness so that the animal could be helped to its feet, often with great difficulty. My heart always gave a lurch when I saw this happen for it was frightening to see a powerful cart horse, with his lovely mane, beautifully groomed fetlocks and heavy body, go down in this way.

It was not infrequent to see a cart spanking along carrying the stiff, stretched-out body of a dead horse. I saw this on numerous occasions and fear many of the old and weakly ones worked until they dropped.

Here and there among the horse traffic were motor cars, their high coach-work gleaming, often in bright red and green paint, and their large brass lamps twinkling in the sunlight. Rubber horns honking as they cleared a pedestrian out of the way, they were curious and interesting.

The ladies prevented their hats from blowing off in the wind by voluminous veils. Mummy had one of emerald green, shaped into folds secured by a covered button on the top. It was very becoming, and framed her pretty face.

The pavements along the main street are wide in our town, and were never crowded, so that we met many people whom we knew. Now, one seldom sees anybody, one can only squeeze through busy crowds, often stepping into the road to avoid clusters of prams and their attendants. The atmosphere and style are all gone for ever. No longer is it possible to shop leisurely and at ease with the bewildering traffic, and the rushes across the road according to the changing lights. There is the steady thunder of the great lorries and oil tankers among the variety of motor vehicles roaring through the streets, when not stagnating in long rows awaiting their turn to move on.