England 2 Wakefield
Without Prejudice
So we were amongst family, for the first time in my memories, and they were awesome. My Aunty Pat who we first went to live with, Jackie And I. Dad and Mum and George and David with Grandma and Grandad Wilsher. I hated it here, at Grandma and Grandads, the toilet was outside in a cement block for all the residents, not fun on a snowy winters day. I went there once and once only and my Grandad was ahead of me, me hearing his long drawn out cough of bronchitis. Grandad was a miner all his life and he was certainly paying the price as an old man. I listened to the hacking cough and backed away. My poor Grandad forced to sit outside.
My parents went to the council shortly after that and insisted Grandad and Grandma be rehoused, with a place that had a bathroom and a toilet, inside. The narrow Sliver of a terrace house they lived in was sandwiched between 8 others, living cheek by jowl with the neighbours. No bathroom to speak of, just a big tin hip bath in the Kitchen, dragged out on Saturday nights for a "Good Wash" And there was always the commode in a chair for the loo, if you were desperate or the weather was too harsh. Grandma and Grandad slept upstairs, sometimes us kids slept in another room, cold as ice. I could not sleep unless I curled into a foetal position, feet drawn underneath me, a hot water bottle not helping with the bitter cold. I thought I would die of it, convinced of it.
I liked it at Aunty Pat's, her place was plushly decorated with lots of wallpaper, rich curtains, tiny galley kitchen but best of all lush softly carpeted bathroom. It was all very English, small, tiny almost with narrow stairs to the top floor. Jackie and I were at home there and within days we were at a dance, me dressed up to look older than what I was, which was 12. Aunty Pat was in on it, dressing up like dolls and we were going with her to 2 sons, my good looking cousins, Raymond and Keith. Keith looked like Elvis at 16. He was unbelievably handsome, had a motor bike, was popular with girls and boys his age. He seemed so old to me and he would give me "dinks" on his Motorbike which were freezing cold and scarily fast.
We went everywhere with Keith and there was so much social life happening it was dizzying to Jackie and I. We were 16 and 12 and we could go to any pub, and dance, any social club and drink and dance. This was unbelievable for us two, who had never been let out of sight of Mum and Dad and we made the most of it. Aunty Pat was a beautiful creature with her blue black hair and ample frame. She was so very funny, a rebel of the family who didn't give a toss for what convention decided. She was our "Aunty Mame. She cooked for us all the time, always treating us to real "Yorkshire " food, small crispy "Yorkshire Puds" with "Ash" pored over (A thin meat Gravy) and hot sauce. Then the roast and vegetables and then something totally waist band busting like Apple Pie, eaten with cheese, as was fruit cake or an apple. Or steamed jam roly poly covered in hot custard. She kept a full pantry and expected us to use it.
Jackie and I had never seen food like it. Squat moist gingerbread called Yorkshire Parkin, chocolate covered mini sponge rolls, crisps in packets with a folded piece of paper inside containing the salt. Beef flavoured chips, eaten at the steamy indoor pool and soggy vinegar soaked hot chips eaten at Wakefield Market. Fish and Chip Suppers at 9pm every night, sloppy peas, and a serving of crispy "bits" and HP sauce, bread and butter and pot after pot of tea. Grandma's was the same and Aunty Betty's. we learned their Yorkshire Pudding recipe was highly prized and Grandma had a strict method of making it and it could not be varied, EVER. There was strict method of mixing, proving the oven and the "Yorkshire Pudding pans" not big trays like I had always had, but about 6" in diameter circles. once the mix was ready, ( it could take an hour or two in preparing and "resting", the batter.
The prized batter would be poured into smoking hot lard in the pans and straight away into a very hot oven. And good ones came out high and crisp, glistening with lard, browning the crisp puds and my brothers preferred to eat them then with lemon and sugar. Jackie and I would wait for our "Ash", sometimes Aunty Pat would make Yorkshires as big as a dinner plate, fill it with Ash and meat And Vegetables and serve it as a main meal.
The Yorkshire tradition was to have the puds first with ash as it filled you up so you did not need as much meat, not much meat around in rationing days. And all my aunts and Uncles had been through the second world war, all serving in one capacity or another. They never forgot the war, having lived through it and they were quite happy to talk about it. They had beaten Hitler after all and they made us shiver with pride when we heard the speeches that Winston Churchill had made. He had just died and it seemed as good as time as any to talk of the War, such a big impact on the Residents of The UK, but they had been resolute and strong, They would fight them on the beaches, fight them on the sand, fight them in their backyards and they would NEVER surrender.
we loved the thrilling speeches, stirring up ghosts of our Scottish and British past, ready to fight, ready to never give in, never surrender. Our Uncle Jack, My Mother's brother, standing tall and proud, Uncle Joe, Married to Auntie Pat, an invalid, Uncle Ernest Married To Aunty Betty. They were funny and unusual. Aunty Betty very much the oldest sister, despairing of her younger siblings ever being any good.She was sharp and bossy and said her piece whether you wanted to hear it or not. She was not happy with Keith And Raymonds wild antics and said so. She was Olive Oyle, like in looks, waspish almost spinsterish but was happily married and had one son, David. My cousin.
Aunty Betty was the Family Matriarch in a way because Grandma was just a soft little roly poly ball of dough. Deaf in both ears, she wore hearing aids that she nestled in her Bosom , that looked like a shelf. She was sweet and trusting and lived in a quiet world of her own. mostly and when she had to hear Grandad, she would dive her hand down that massive bosom and turn the hearing aid machine up. Which was not very often. I think she learned to lip read very quickly, Grandma. She loved to decorate and was a terrifyingly fast wall paperer. You either kept up or look out. She changed her entire environment every 12 months. Off came wall paper and couch covers changes, ceilings and walls painted and granddad was mainly at the Pub, in retirement.
They moved To Bottomboat, near the RISING SUN Pub, a lovely warm compact one bedroom unit with heating and a bathroom. No more coal fires for My Grandad's wrecked lungs, no more sitting outside to go to the loo, instead a warm and luxurious bathroom. And when we went there every Sunday, I was 13 and sat in Dad's car for hours listening to "Radio Hits" and Messages to the Armed Forces, in Australia and thought of Ian all those thousands of miles away. Mum and Dad were quite happy to leave me there on my own, my music was different to theirs, my music came from the clubs I had been to. Moody Blue, with their single " Go NOW", played everywhere. And the Beatles had arrived, changing music forever. Dusty Springfield, Lesley Gore, English Music exploded with the Dave Clark Five and The Batchelors, Cliff Richard. It was a great time to be in England.
England started to lead the way in Fashion, Music. There was high fashion in very shop and you could choose what style you wanted to be seen as. I bought a black Velvet Cord Dress, button up front, Tight, Stretch with lace collar and cuffs and hip belt, bought with my money. I was at Chelsea Girl and the fashion was Rocker or Greaser. Then you could be a Mod, with a bubble perm and white pancake makeup with frosted pink lipstick. Or Hippy, which was fun, I had a hippy dress that looked like a short version of "Little Miss Bo Peep", tiny floral with Ruffled hem with matching long Ruffled bloomers" and I wore cow bells in my ears, very daring !
I took to my Sisters brand new daggy length burgundy kilt and pin and made a mini skirt out of it. God was she livid, can't blame her. She went to bed that night with my purple satin Frilly shirt and ruined it. We had our own room at last at Roseleigh, headlands Road, Ossett. A cavernous double story house with its own cellar and cold larder at the top of the stairs. It was located in a Mews of its own, opposite us, a vacant block and 2 more houses tucked into corners. There was a huge Horse Chestnut tree out the front and we learned to play conkers, there being a difference between Horse Chestnuts and eating chestnuts, ( delicious roasted and split open with butter and salt )
We loved being in our own house, a cavernous kitchen with a washing line of wood frame that could be hoisted in to the air, out of the way of the fire, open coal fire, every week the coal man came and dropped a ton or half ton in the coal room, reached from outside. Hated the job of fetching coal in the scuttle, dirty and cold! But I loved the laying of the fires, one in the kitchen and one in the lounge, one in mine and Jackies room. First would be the twists of paper, important they were fat and tightly twisted, then kindling, then coal. And when it was well done it was to die for and when not, like if the chimney needed a sweep, or windy days caused gusting of soot, it was horrid. It had to be warm it was so cold outside that clothes turned stiff with ice on the line outside.
And come the Summer we watched the English beat the Germans in Soccer and watched it on a hired colour TV. Only one channel was colour, the BBC2 and we watched Wimbledon that year in colour too. Mum would buy at the COOP and bring home warm pork pies from the butchers and fresh pork dripping for spreading on bread with salt. She was good at pastry and bad at cakes and said you couldn't be good at both. We were forever going to the corner shop for credit or fags for Mum, They sold them in packets of 10 or singles in those day and children could buy them.
So we were amongst family, for the first time in my memories, and they were awesome. My Aunty Pat who we first went to live with, Jackie And I. Dad and Mum and George and David with Grandma and Grandad Wilsher. I hated it here, at Grandma and Grandads, the toilet was outside in a cement block for all the residents, not fun on a snowy winters day. I went there once and once only and my Grandad was ahead of me, me hearing his long drawn out cough of bronchitis. Grandad was a miner all his life and he was certainly paying the price as an old man. I listened to the hacking cough and backed away. My poor Grandad forced to sit outside.
My parents went to the council shortly after that and insisted Grandad and Grandma be rehoused, with a place that had a bathroom and a toilet, inside. The narrow Sliver of a terrace house they lived in was sandwiched between 8 others, living cheek by jowl with the neighbours. No bathroom to speak of, just a big tin hip bath in the Kitchen, dragged out on Saturday nights for a "Good Wash" And there was always the commode in a chair for the loo, if you were desperate or the weather was too harsh. Grandma and Grandad slept upstairs, sometimes us kids slept in another room, cold as ice. I could not sleep unless I curled into a foetal position, feet drawn underneath me, a hot water bottle not helping with the bitter cold. I thought I would die of it, convinced of it.
I liked it at Aunty Pat's, her place was plushly decorated with lots of wallpaper, rich curtains, tiny galley kitchen but best of all lush softly carpeted bathroom. It was all very English, small, tiny almost with narrow stairs to the top floor. Jackie and I were at home there and within days we were at a dance, me dressed up to look older than what I was, which was 12. Aunty Pat was in on it, dressing up like dolls and we were going with her to 2 sons, my good looking cousins, Raymond and Keith. Keith looked like Elvis at 16. He was unbelievably handsome, had a motor bike, was popular with girls and boys his age. He seemed so old to me and he would give me "dinks" on his Motorbike which were freezing cold and scarily fast.
We went everywhere with Keith and there was so much social life happening it was dizzying to Jackie and I. We were 16 and 12 and we could go to any pub, and dance, any social club and drink and dance. This was unbelievable for us two, who had never been let out of sight of Mum and Dad and we made the most of it. Aunty Pat was a beautiful creature with her blue black hair and ample frame. She was so very funny, a rebel of the family who didn't give a toss for what convention decided. She was our "Aunty Mame. She cooked for us all the time, always treating us to real "Yorkshire " food, small crispy "Yorkshire Puds" with "Ash" pored over (A thin meat Gravy) and hot sauce. Then the roast and vegetables and then something totally waist band busting like Apple Pie, eaten with cheese, as was fruit cake or an apple. Or steamed jam roly poly covered in hot custard. She kept a full pantry and expected us to use it.
Jackie and I had never seen food like it. Squat moist gingerbread called Yorkshire Parkin, chocolate covered mini sponge rolls, crisps in packets with a folded piece of paper inside containing the salt. Beef flavoured chips, eaten at the steamy indoor pool and soggy vinegar soaked hot chips eaten at Wakefield Market. Fish and Chip Suppers at 9pm every night, sloppy peas, and a serving of crispy "bits" and HP sauce, bread and butter and pot after pot of tea. Grandma's was the same and Aunty Betty's. we learned their Yorkshire Pudding recipe was highly prized and Grandma had a strict method of making it and it could not be varied, EVER. There was strict method of mixing, proving the oven and the "Yorkshire Pudding pans" not big trays like I had always had, but about 6" in diameter circles. once the mix was ready, ( it could take an hour or two in preparing and "resting", the batter.
The prized batter would be poured into smoking hot lard in the pans and straight away into a very hot oven. And good ones came out high and crisp, glistening with lard, browning the crisp puds and my brothers preferred to eat them then with lemon and sugar. Jackie and I would wait for our "Ash", sometimes Aunty Pat would make Yorkshires as big as a dinner plate, fill it with Ash and meat And Vegetables and serve it as a main meal.
The Yorkshire tradition was to have the puds first with ash as it filled you up so you did not need as much meat, not much meat around in rationing days. And all my aunts and Uncles had been through the second world war, all serving in one capacity or another. They never forgot the war, having lived through it and they were quite happy to talk about it. They had beaten Hitler after all and they made us shiver with pride when we heard the speeches that Winston Churchill had made. He had just died and it seemed as good as time as any to talk of the War, such a big impact on the Residents of The UK, but they had been resolute and strong, They would fight them on the beaches, fight them on the sand, fight them in their backyards and they would NEVER surrender.
we loved the thrilling speeches, stirring up ghosts of our Scottish and British past, ready to fight, ready to never give in, never surrender. Our Uncle Jack, My Mother's brother, standing tall and proud, Uncle Joe, Married to Auntie Pat, an invalid, Uncle Ernest Married To Aunty Betty. They were funny and unusual. Aunty Betty very much the oldest sister, despairing of her younger siblings ever being any good.She was sharp and bossy and said her piece whether you wanted to hear it or not. She was not happy with Keith And Raymonds wild antics and said so. She was Olive Oyle, like in looks, waspish almost spinsterish but was happily married and had one son, David. My cousin.
Aunty Betty was the Family Matriarch in a way because Grandma was just a soft little roly poly ball of dough. Deaf in both ears, she wore hearing aids that she nestled in her Bosom , that looked like a shelf. She was sweet and trusting and lived in a quiet world of her own. mostly and when she had to hear Grandad, she would dive her hand down that massive bosom and turn the hearing aid machine up. Which was not very often. I think she learned to lip read very quickly, Grandma. She loved to decorate and was a terrifyingly fast wall paperer. You either kept up or look out. She changed her entire environment every 12 months. Off came wall paper and couch covers changes, ceilings and walls painted and granddad was mainly at the Pub, in retirement.
They moved To Bottomboat, near the RISING SUN Pub, a lovely warm compact one bedroom unit with heating and a bathroom. No more coal fires for My Grandad's wrecked lungs, no more sitting outside to go to the loo, instead a warm and luxurious bathroom. And when we went there every Sunday, I was 13 and sat in Dad's car for hours listening to "Radio Hits" and Messages to the Armed Forces, in Australia and thought of Ian all those thousands of miles away. Mum and Dad were quite happy to leave me there on my own, my music was different to theirs, my music came from the clubs I had been to. Moody Blue, with their single " Go NOW", played everywhere. And the Beatles had arrived, changing music forever. Dusty Springfield, Lesley Gore, English Music exploded with the Dave Clark Five and The Batchelors, Cliff Richard. It was a great time to be in England.
England started to lead the way in Fashion, Music. There was high fashion in very shop and you could choose what style you wanted to be seen as. I bought a black Velvet Cord Dress, button up front, Tight, Stretch with lace collar and cuffs and hip belt, bought with my money. I was at Chelsea Girl and the fashion was Rocker or Greaser. Then you could be a Mod, with a bubble perm and white pancake makeup with frosted pink lipstick. Or Hippy, which was fun, I had a hippy dress that looked like a short version of "Little Miss Bo Peep", tiny floral with Ruffled hem with matching long Ruffled bloomers" and I wore cow bells in my ears, very daring !
I took to my Sisters brand new daggy length burgundy kilt and pin and made a mini skirt out of it. God was she livid, can't blame her. She went to bed that night with my purple satin Frilly shirt and ruined it. We had our own room at last at Roseleigh, headlands Road, Ossett. A cavernous double story house with its own cellar and cold larder at the top of the stairs. It was located in a Mews of its own, opposite us, a vacant block and 2 more houses tucked into corners. There was a huge Horse Chestnut tree out the front and we learned to play conkers, there being a difference between Horse Chestnuts and eating chestnuts, ( delicious roasted and split open with butter and salt )
We loved being in our own house, a cavernous kitchen with a washing line of wood frame that could be hoisted in to the air, out of the way of the fire, open coal fire, every week the coal man came and dropped a ton or half ton in the coal room, reached from outside. Hated the job of fetching coal in the scuttle, dirty and cold! But I loved the laying of the fires, one in the kitchen and one in the lounge, one in mine and Jackies room. First would be the twists of paper, important they were fat and tightly twisted, then kindling, then coal. And when it was well done it was to die for and when not, like if the chimney needed a sweep, or windy days caused gusting of soot, it was horrid. It had to be warm it was so cold outside that clothes turned stiff with ice on the line outside.
And come the Summer we watched the English beat the Germans in Soccer and watched it on a hired colour TV. Only one channel was colour, the BBC2 and we watched Wimbledon that year in colour too. Mum would buy at the COOP and bring home warm pork pies from the butchers and fresh pork dripping for spreading on bread with salt. She was good at pastry and bad at cakes and said you couldn't be good at both. We were forever going to the corner shop for credit or fags for Mum, They sold them in packets of 10 or singles in those day and children could buy them.
