MORE MEMORIES OF KNOTTINGLEY
MAURICE HAIGH
Buck Yard
was an early 1900's open square surrounded on four sides by plaster
rendered cottages and I was born in one of theses cottages on the 14th
June, 1935. I was the youngest of three sons born to Benjamin and
Ada Haigh (nee Holt). My older brothers were William and
Raymond. My parents married at Christ Church, Knottingley on the
27th November, 1927. My father originated from the local village
of Little Smeaton where he was born to Mary Haigh and Ada,
my mother, was his second wife. He had previously married
Elizabeth Byrom, a Knottingley woman who tragically died aged just 25
years. They had one daughter together, my half sister Irene who
was adopted by relatives of the Byrom's and who did not in fact ever
live with her fathers side of the family. My father served with
the RNVR based in Plymouth at Victory Barracks and was posted to France
where in 1917 he fought on the frontline. He suffered chest
problems from a gas attack which affected his life in later years and
upon his release from service he found employment as a glassworks
labourer at Bagley's Glassworks in Knottingley. My father died in
June 1936 leaving my mother with the task of rearing her three boys.
In 1940 we
moved up the street to Anchor Yard and lived next door to our new
neighbours the Turner family. They used to race greyhounds at the
Knottingley dog track, one of their dogs being named 'Canny Lad' which I
believe won a couple of races. Our Anchor Yard property was like many
others around us. The toilet was situated at the furthest corner
of the yard, a good thirty yards from the house. I mention this
fact as through the blackout's during the war and also the cold winter
months, you never forgot crossing the yard with a torchlight and at my
age thinking of ghosts, monsters and other frightening things.
The main
public meeting places were the Palace cinema and the Town Hall.
The owner of the Palace was Mr. Wood, a plump man who wore thick black
framed glasses and was without a hair on his head. He was very
proud of the cinema and always had pride of place on the top stair to
the entrance. He was always dressed very smartly with a fine suit,
shirt and tie and shiny footwear. The balcony price was one
shilling and sixpence which in the 1940's was a lot of money to
pay. Belonging to the 'riff raff' so to speak, we sat in the first
three rows of seats which were constructed of wood and very
uncomfortable on your bottom. We paid sixpence for the privilege
though it did not spoil our entertainment. My mother would take me
to the concerts held during the war in the Town Hall. Local people
who had some talent for singing, whistling etc.. entertained us although
without doubt the stars of the concerts were the Kellet sisters, Pamela
and Margery, better known as the 'K' Sisters. They always had the
best makeup, dresses and hairstyling. In later years they
performed professionally and went into the theatre and on radio.
The majority of the concerts held during the war were organised to help
the war effort by raising money to pay for a spitfire or tank and so on.
When I was
15 in 1950 my brother Bill bought me a floor chart which had black
painted footprints showing various dances, modern waltz, quick step and
tango. It was on this chart that I honed my skills to have the
confidence to ask the girls to dance. I have the most wonderful
memories of the Town Hall dances. We danced to a band called the
Silver Chords with Henry Cooper on piano, Bill Hayes on the trumpet and
other band members whose names I cannot recall. I also have sad
memories too as I remember a girl I grew up with called Doreen
Temple. She was the elder sister of one of my best friends, a few
years older than me. She had joined the Queen Alexandra Nursing
Corps and was home on leave. One evening we had some dances
together and she was enjoying dancing in her bare feet. After she
had left the service she went to London working as a nurse in one of the
London hospitals and it was there that she died at a young age.
Doreen was a lovely girl both in looks and in her nature and it was a
very sad loss to her family and friends.
On waste
ground behind the cinema we played football, rounders and cricket.
Our favourite game was cricket which we played with a bat made for us by
Billy Roberts brother-in-law Henry. It was kept at the Roberts
house and we always had to knock at the door to borrow it. If
Henry was in he would only lend the bat if he could bat first. We
also played marbles and piggy. In piggy you had a piece of wood
about five inches long and carved at one end into a point. You
placed this over a stone and hit the pointed end tossing it into the air
and then giving it a good clout while in midair to see who could hit it
the furthest. Whip and Top was also a well played game but all
these are much out of favour these days, so much for progress but happy
days all the same.
Another
looked for event was the Fair which always set up on the Flatts.
This was a long area of land located by the river. There used to
be coconut shy's, guess the fat mans weight, the bearded lady, the
waltzer and finally Billy Boscoe's boxing booth. This was the ring
in which his boxers would challenge anyone from the audience to a
contest. If they managed to win he would give them half a
crown. One morning I remember going onto the Flatts and it was
filled with army trucks and soldiers who had stayed the night. One
of them asked if I would fetch him some hot water for him to wash and
shave, so I took his enamel bowl and brought him the water, he was very
grateful.
We like
many other families had lots of callers to our house. Bill Spires
our milkman came with his shiny two gallon churn which had inside a one
pint ladle and a one gill ladle. He would fill your milk jug as
everybody had milk jugs. Bill Brown was our coalman when he had
coal to deliver. He was a small man with red cheeks, flat cap and
was always black with coal dust. Mr. Lightowler, the father of
Joyce Bell, cleaned our
windows and wore a
jacket with large pockets in which he would keep his cloths. Mr.
Beadle collected the rent for the Metcalfe family, local farmers who
owned the property. He was a very tall man who always wore a brown
trilby and a long dark macintosh, resembling a character from a Dickens
novel. Another caller was the insurance man whose name I cannot
recall but he was a portly gentleman with a large red birthmark on his
face and a trilby hat. My mother paid sixpence a week on a death
policy.
I can
vividly remember a small Jewish man almost bent double who carried a
large tied-up bag containing all manner of haberdashery, lace, needles,
cottons and dusters. My mother always bought something from him
because she was sorry to see he had such a hard and difficult life
selling door to door. Times in those days were hard and money in
short supply.
My mate
Billy Roberts's father, Harold, was a skipper on the barges plying to
Immingham. He lost his eldest son Harold on the
beaches at Dunkirk when he was 19 years old. The last time I saw him was
on his final leave home when along with him, Billy and some other
friends we crossed over the river to the marsh and walked to the broken
bridge. Harold climbed a tree and with his army knife carved his
initials.
The broken
bridge was a small limestone one which over the years had fallen into
disrepair. We fished for sticklebacks and tadpoles with our
nets. Bird nesting was another activity we enjoyed and we would
enter Sherrards Wood in search of bird nests. We also cut wild
rhododendrons to take home for our mothers. Sometimes if we found
a water-hens nest containing eggs we collected them and took them home
to put in the Yorkshire pudding for Sunday lunch. A man we called
Gobby Gill bought old disused wooden barges and sailed them down the
river from the Shipyard, mooring them on the river bank where we would
help him dismantle them and he would then sell the wood to people for
building sheds.
During the
war a lot of people kept pigs. Ted Brookes worked at the chemical
works but he had an old derelict cottage where he housed his pigs.
It had a coal fired copper to boil waste food and potato peelings and we
spent hours in there boiling up the pigs dinners. It was always
somewhere to keep warm in the winter when we were out playing. Old
Tab Gardner had pigs and if you saved your peelings and waste food and
went to his house with it he would give you a handful of Liquorice
Allsorts as a thank you. That was a real treat when sweets were on
ration.
Across from
his house there were the remains of houses demolished years ago. A
small brick wall remained and occasionally a very old Lady Tramp dressed
all in black and wearing a large broad brimmed black hat would tell us
stories of her travels. She also had a collection of small pot
dogs which she would show us and was very proud of. Despite her
wanderings she always appeared to be very clean.
Many times
we would drag the river using a rope and a hook but the only treasure we
ever found were old bicycle frames, dolly tubs and other rubbish.
At the end of the Flatts facing the river was a cluster of cottages
called Island Court. In one of these cottages lived Barney
Rhodes. He had strung a very thick rope across the river connected
to a couple of stout posts and with a little cobble boat he owned he
would transport Knottingley folk across the river to go on the marshes
for walking, nesting and fishing. For this service he charged a
penny return fare. At times when the river was low a limestone
walkway was accessible opposite Jackson's farm. Many years
previously, boats had unloaded their cargo of coal there. If you
went with a rake you were able to retrieve pieces of coal which over the
years had been washed as smooth as glass but it burned on the fire and
with coal on ration a lot of people did this.
Another
errand I used to run was the 'coke run'. I would go to McDonalds
shop and borrow a set of wheels and off I would trundle to the local
gasworks. They were allowed to sell coke to people off the
ration. I would take a large sack and the man weighed a hundred
weight of coke on his scales for which I paid half a crown.
I wheeled it back home up the street and mother would mix it with the
coal to make it last longer. She would also send me to
Murgatroyd's farm with a jug to buy extra milk and homemade
butter. It was expensive because basically it was a black market
purchase. On Hollingsworth Lane stood the vicarage orchard and on
many a dark night myself and Frank Turner who had come out of the army,
raided it and came away with apples, pears and plums. We also went
with our bikes to a field belonging to Bagley's glassworks where coal
was stored for use in the furnaces. We would fill a couple of bags
and take them home. Mother never complained or scolded us, she was
just happy to have the extra fuel.
Poor we may
have been but we were happy and had no complaints.
Maurice Haigh
Also by Maurice Haigh
Memories of Knottingley
Final Thoughts About Knottingley
Conclusions of Knottingley
Second World War Knottingley