Recollections of a Collyhurst Lad
My name is Harold Maher. I have often been asked by my grandchildren, "What was it like when you were young?" And when I sit and think about it, the differences between now and then are immense.
I was born on the 21st of March 1933, in Woodward St, Manchester. My Father was Michael Maher (Mikey) an Irish immigrant from Tipperary, who worked as a Terrazo Polisher. My mother was Annie nee Raby, who worked as a Cop Winder at Lawsons Cotton Mill on Butler St, Ancoats. She came from a large family, one of her brothers was called Harold, he died in a tragic accident at a wood yard at the age of 18 so that`s how I was given the name of Harold.
I don't recollect much of my very early years but when we moved from Woodward St. Bradford to 16 Fielden St, Miles Platting, I remember being carried into this very small house with a lobby and flag floors. I must have been about 4 or 5 years old, but I can remember snippets of those very early days. We moved with the aid of a handcart. I remember Trams and many horse drawn vehicles, no cars and a feeling of being really poor. I remember gazing out on to the cobbled street, with long rows of small terraced houses. (2 up, 2 down, as they were commonly called) Let me try to tell you about our house, which was typical of most.
You entered across a stone flagged pavement, and the flags were about 4 inches thick, The house had sash windows, usually with small panes of glass; many of which were cracked or missing and replaced with cardboard. There was usually a snow scraper outside the front door, comprising of two pointed iron uprights, with a flat bar in between them, on which you scraped the soles of your boots to get the snow/mud off. On entering the front door the lobby was about 10ft long and 3ft wide, on your right was the door to the parlour, this was approx 8ft by 6ft with a small cast iron fireplace set into the chimney breast, and a single gas pipe protruding from above it, for lighting. The door at the top right of the lobby was to the living room, when you entered this room, immediately on your left was a door leading to the space under the stairs, commonly called the `Coal `ole`, where we kept the coal and coke, and later during the `Blitz` became our air raid shelter.
The living room was about the same size as the parlour, and set into this chimney breast `The Range`, which housed the fire and the oven. There was always a large black kettle hung over the fire, on a hook, and this was often the only hot water in the house, and was used for washing, shaving etc.
Further along to the left was the door to the stairs leading to two bedrooms, and immediately adjoining that, the door to the scullery. The scullery was the smallest room in the house, so small that to if you wanted to go into the yard, the outer door had to be opened first. It had a large brown `slop stone`, like a large rectangle stone box, about 6inches deep. In the corner next to the slop stone was a square brick built boiler, it had a copper inside, and space below the copper to make a fire. You heated the water, and doled it out with a pan for washing clothes or having baths,
Over the slop stone coming out of the wall was a solitary lead pipe, with a tap attached, and this was the only water supply in the house, in cold weather, if it froze, you had no water at all. On entering the yard immediately to the left was a small brick built single storey lean-to, this was the toilet. It had a high cistern, with a chain and handle to flush it. In cold weather it was liable to freeze up. There was always a tin bath, hung on a nail on the yard wall, on `Bath Nights' it was put in front of the fire, and filled with hot water from the `Copper` in the scullery. Bath nights were weekly, and we children were bathed one after another with the water being topped up in between.
The back yard was whitewashed, and along with the bath, contained a wringing machine or mangle as it was commonly called. This was a device with two large wooden rollers, one above the other, and a screw fitting on top to vary the pressure and a handle to turn the rollers, wet clothes were passed through to squeeze the water out. I remember the pressure especially when my brother Michael turned the handle when I was pretending to play the piano, and trapped both my hands. The Fire Brigade had to take it to pieces to get my hands out, and to this day I still have the scars, one finger was split and the top was hanging off, but I got no sympathy from my mam, she said I was always accident prone, and it was my own fault for being so daft.
There were no carpets; only oilcloth, but in the living room in front of the hearth was the usual pegged rug. I can hear my grandchildren saying "What's a pegged rug?" Older readers will know about the Hessian and material rugs. You marked a design on the Hessian, then cut the material into strips about 6ins by 1in. Then used a rug needle, (which was a large needle with a wooden handle, and a clip just below the point) to push through the Hessian with the strip of cloth attached, then pushed it back again about an inch from where it entered and released it to make a tuft. This continued until the rug was complete. This usually took weeks and the whole family were involved, and because it was a family concern every rug was individual in styles and colours. Having `half an hour on the rug `took on a completely different meaning to what it does today!