I was born in Jersey Street Dwellings in 1912, we moved to Jervis Street, off Holland Street, Newton. I was the only girl in our family but I had five brothers. We were a very happy family. We would play together with our friends. I attended St. Mark’s School.
My brothers used to go to Royal Street canal, to collect coal that fell off the barges, they would use ropes from orange boxes, tie them on a bucket handle and throw the bucket in. (Sadly two of our friends fell in while doing this, and drowned). When my brothers got some coal, I would carry the bucket the short journey home. My mum would send me back with some jam or dripping butties and a bottle of water.
I remember lots of things from childhood, There was a man who came round with a barrel organ, with a monkey on the top, we loved to stroke it and we’d ask the man if we could have a turn of the organ wheel, which kept the music going.
Also a lady came round with a box on four wheels, she’d shout “ pickles, crumpets, muffins.” The box was lined with a white sheet. There was a German man who used to play a one-man-band. We loved to watch him, and throw what pennies we had into his cap.
Another man came round with a tall hat on, selling flycatchers. He had some of the flycatchers around his hat; full with buzzing flies, it was horrible.
During the coal strike, the Salvation Army came round with a big van, with lovely pea soup in containers, we could all take our biggest jug or bowl and they would fill it up for tuppence. Mother would cut chunks of bread for us to dip in this soup.
I had an uncle who repaired our shoes, and he would send me to the tan yard on Tripe Colony, where they sold sheets of leather. Then he’d send me to Grahams the Cloggers in Holland Street near Royles’ Bridge for 2oz of sprigs, which were little tacks to nail the leather on, and a stick of brown and black wax, which he melted with a soldering iron and smoothed it around the leather. They looked lovely.
My mother and aunty used to send my cousins and I to Salford abattoir for three penn’orth of lugs and lips with which our mother could make a lovely stew. The thought of it now turns me sick!
Margaret Bowden
