Tales from the Cut by Tom Connor

Cat and Canal
When we were very young, my mate Arthur and I often went on walks around the neighbourhood. One Sunday afternoon we were passing a house and a lady was standing on the doorstep. She asked us if we’d do a little job for her and she would give us a tanner (six old pence). We asked what she wanted and she told us that her cat had fleas, and it had pinched the Sunday joint! She wanted us to throw the cat in the canal to get rid of it. Arthur and I both gave each other a disgusted look, then she said, “I’ll give you a tanner each!” Realising that the tanner would get us into the Pop Cinema three times during the week, we said, “Okay, then.” She had put the cat in a sack with a brick and tied the neck of the sack. We took the sack off her and went to the cut (canal). We went under the bridge at Grimshaw Lane, and after much deliberation decided to give the cat a fifty-fifty chance. (We had only said we’d throw the cat in, we hadn’t said we’d make sure it drowned) We untied the string and threw the sack into the cut and stood there saluting. We watched as bubbles rose in the water, then the head of the cat breached the surface and it swam rapidly to the other side. We both gave out a big laugh and made our way home. Passing the cat owner’s door we saw a sodden cat sitting on the step. So we made ourselves scarce for a while.

‘Bywash Beryl’
There were some characters around in the old days, like there are today. One I always remember hearing about, was a woman the locals called Bywash Beryl. She earned a few bob when the pubs had let out, by taking men over the canal near Mitchell Street and down to where the bywash of the canal ran, as this afforded some privacy for them to get down to the oldest business in the world.