MEMORIES OF OLD KNOTTINGLEY

recalled by

FRANK WEBSTER CHAMBERS

Published in memory of Frank Webster Chambers with the
kind permission of his Grandson, Carey Jonathan Chambers

BOOK TWO

A CHILDHOOD ANTHOLOGY

Memories of old Knottingley recalled by Frank Chambers

Sit back, relax and share with me, a memory of Knottingley
An anthology through my eyes seen, of a childhood spent on Fernley Green.

The year is nineteen thirty-two, could that period equate to you?
If so, as I reveal my treasure, I hope it gives a touch of pleasure.

Did you spend your days on Tommy Wood's bank or journey to the fishing plank?
And did you wonder, just like me, just what they did with the pitch at Y.T.D?

Did you visit Harker's yard, and watch them launch a ship?
Or see one needing mending, being pulled up on the slip?

Did you buy sweets at Allen's, did their parrot talk to you?
Or did you visit the other shops?, my, my, there were a few!

Eva Barker's, Leonard's, Wilson's, Shepherd's for your veg
I wonder, are there more shops, from my memory I can dredge?

Mrs. Mowbray's springs to mind, a baker of renown
And Nellie Askin's fish and chips, the best there were in town.

The mortuary down Stocking Lane, a magnet seemed to be
If you stood on your pal's shoulders, through the window you could see.

I used to live down Manor Fold Lane, as did my cousin Sally
Oh, what a posh address you think, it was really Shitten Alley.

Did you call at Lizzie Kellett's, for a glass of Vantasade?
Or go into the Palace, if your penny you had paid.

Flash Gordon was my favourite, on his journey up to Mars
Buck Jones, Tom Mix and Tony, with a host of other stars.

I took my Granddad's breakfast, as off to school I went
It was sometimes eggs and bacon, you could tell that by the scent.

All neatly wrapped up in a dish, with a spotted red bandana
And for this weekly errand, I sometimes gained a tanner.

I had to worry with this task, for school I daren't be late
In case Morris Jackson, was waiting at the gate.

He really was a stern old man, his voice it made you tremble
So woe betide if you were late, and in the hall, did not assemble.

Did you bluebells pick at Valley Woods, or daffy's at Woodhall?
It makes you really wonder, were those places there at all?

Shall we stroll across the Ramper now, and catch tiddlers at Pot Dix?
Or go and ask Tom Barton, if our bicycles he'd fix?

That man, he was a wizard, with buckled wheels and cranks
A lot of folk in Knottingley, owe him many thanks

Can you think back to the Carnivals, and garland threaded streets?
Jimmy Hollingworth was the leading man, behind those decorative feats.

Let's go watch the limekilns burn, and inhale the fumes with zest
They claimed the worked just wonders, if you had a wheezy chest.

Did you get pork dripping, at Porky Taylor's shop?
Or warm pork pies from Petty's, with a little hole in't top?

That was for the gravy - they're not like that today
The crusts are made of concrete, and the gravy's got away.

Did your sister have a Yo-Yo, or perhaps a Hi-Lo bat?
She maybe had a Diablo, you'd ask me, what was that?

It was a kind of wooden bobbin, that you dangled on a string
You tossed it high into the air, and tried to catch the thing.

We used to play at Kick-Can, in the street beneath the lamp
Or have a word with Clara King, a kind of lady tramp.

She used to use a baby's pram, her worldly goods to tote
She'd coffee, tea, plus bread and jam, in fact was short of nowt.

She'd lots of wondrous tales to tell, to the likes of you and me
And in return for that small favour, your mother made her tea.

My mother shared a wash house, with our neighbours in the yard
We helped her wind the mangle, by golly, it was hard!

It had great big wooden rollers, and where they'd worn away
They got all wrapped in bandages, to last another day.

Did you get your hair cut at Barber Colley's shop?
Short back and sides, a standard fringe and nothing left on top!

And now for Hannah Rhodes' shop, for you I do declare
I care not what your needs were, you could satisfy them there.

Tin whistles, tops and pea-shooters, so endless was her stock
She'd donkey bricks, pan menders and feathered shuttlecocks.

Shall we go jumping on the drums, in the yard at Tubby West's?
I can still hear the foreman shouting, "Go home you bloody pests!"

Come August and the fair arrives, a real red letter day
The Cake Walk, stalls and Flying Chairs, they took your breath away.

The Meadow Dairy was the place, to see the butter being patted
In Aire Street, you could buy or see, most things that really mattered.

Mrs. Doubtfire skinning rabbits, Clocky Suffield mending clocks
You could get your shoes from F. D. Carver's, and from Hollingworth's your socks.

Whatever happened to the quarries, with their water crystal clear?
Why did the newts and tadpoles, just have to disappear?

Bullrushes, cowslips and milkmaids, we picked the time to pass
And the to fill your mother's vase, a bunch of Trembling Grass.

Do you recall the Yeast Man?, Chadwick was his name
We sometimes got his empty bag, and made a football of the same.

You could go and watch the Blacksmith, he would let you pump the fire
And as the heavy horses' hooves he shod, my word did he perspire!

I remember Billy Robinson, selling mussels from a cart
He used to get quite angry, when his pony wouldn't start.

Radishes and lettuces, from Ned Burden you could buy
Or bunches of string onions, I can still recall his cry.

Did you take the ferry, on the marsh to spend your day?
Catching Red Breasts, picking King Cups, and see a heron fly your way.

They say these were the good old days, I don't think that's quite right
Diptheria, T.B and Rickets, and a Bed Bug in the night.

Yes, they say these were the good old days, would that apply to you?
If your head dress was a ringworm, all painted brightly blue?

The Nit-Nurse used to visit school, examining your hair
Bringing this curt snap from mother, "She'll not find any there"

If you felt ill and sickly, the response was fast and sure
You stood transfixed and trembling, at the thought of Fever Cure.

Was your toilet dry and smelly, and shared by one and all?
With squares of Daily Paper, dangling, on a string upon the wall.

My comic was the Funny Wonder, sometimes the Comic Cutts
I sometimes bought a stick of Locust, or a bag of Tiger Nuts.

The Circus came to Bagley's Field, a really grand affair
Your first sight of a lion, or a tiger or a bear.

The Greenhouse was the meeting place, to roll and play in the sand
And listen on a Sunday night, to Sammy Marshall's band.

It's Whitsuntide, new clothes to buy, the list seemed never-ending
And it all has to be paid up, to the Co-op at quarter ending.

Let us turn to Christmas now, a time of real good cheer
Not for gangs of hooligans, with their bellies full of beer.

We never had a turkey, on the table for our dinner
It was probably a rabbit, poached for us by a local sinner.

Did you tune to Luxembourg, the radio sensation?
Or perhaps your favourite programme, was on another station?

Was Doctor Fu Man Chu the man, to fill you full of fears?
Or were you a fan of Carson Robinson, and his Oxydol Pioneers?

Alan Cobham's Flying Circus, was a spectacle to see
A flight cost you a dollar, far too much for me!

Buying packs of Beech Nut, was a very hush, hush task
Why on earth should that be?, justifiably you ask.

You had to find a slot machine, of these there were many
But you had to find one that gave two packs, for every fourth halfpenny.

An Ovaltinee was my sister, she made such awful noise
When joining in the chorus, of "We're happy girls and boys"

She used to wear a shining badge, on her uniform of blue
Reminding all and sundry, "Ovaltine is good for you"

Then came the Silver Jubilee, followed by the Abdication
The crowning of King George the sixth, closely followed by the sensation.

To mark the celebrations, they gave us presents many
Mugs, pencils, pens, tinned chocolate, plus a bob in't Yorkshire Penny.

Did you watch the airship Hindenburg, as it passed above the town?
Wasn't it a bloody pity, that we didn't shoot it down?

Then came the Royal Visit, my school days nearly through
For the wireless, it was talking, of the threat of World War II

Go collect your gas mask, the air raid shelter build
Ours was no use at all, it was just with water filled.

The ditty now it has to end, if it has memories stirred in you
I will try and jog them further, in an item called part two.

A Childhood Anthology
Written by Frank Chambers
Edited by Carey Chambers
With additional notes by Betty Chambers

Reproduced here with the kind permission of Carey Chambers
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