Polly Oldham
My father was a labourer with Blackburn Corporation and my mother stayed at home. There were eight of us children – Harry, Jim, Jo, May, me, Frances, who died of diphtheria, Ethel, who died of TB, and Albert. There were two years between us all.
We lived in a two-up, two-down, in Hannah Street, Blackburn. We all lived there, but some got married and moved out. We were all very happy, although we weren't well off – Dad was a labourer, boiling the pitch all round Blackburn.
We had a wash boiler and Dad used to make broth in it. It tasted good. He used to put sheep's heads in, big lumps of beef, and vegetables and barley and dumplings. Then we'd go round the street giving out broth and sometimes patty cakes to the old girls.
Every child they had made it that much harder for my mother, because there was just the one wage coming in. Some of the children were at school when I was born, and within a fortnight she was back washing and so on. The older lads and my dad looked after the family for those weeks.
I started work when I was twelve – half a day at the mill, half a day at school, then I went full-time when I was thirteen. I had a bad arm, and I had to go to the infirmary every twelve months and have it scraped. They wanted to take my arm off, and my mother said, ‘What chance has she if you don't?’ ‘Well, just as much chance as she has now.’ So she said, ‘Leave it on, then. We'll risk it.’
We used to play games with old buttons, and we used to have wooden hoops which you put round your neck or waist, and then swing them. Then we played tips – rounders. You'd hit the ball with your hand and run, and they'd try to hit you before you got to the next stop. We played in the street, and the organ-grinder used to come round once a week, and we'd go and dance on the flags to the music. The boys used to dance as well. Then a rag-and-bone man used to come round with a peep show. You'd give him rags, then he'd let you look through a little hole, while he was pulling a string to make these dolls dance.
We had a good wash before we went to bed. We had no bath, so we used a big bread mug. Mother used to bath us and Father used to wipe us – girls one night, lads another. We washed our hair every week in the sink, and then she'd put Rankin's ointment on – ooh it did stink! Our lads used to say, ‘Is it sassafrass night? We're going out.’ It smelled like sarsaparilla but very strong, it was to stop you getting nits. She wouldn't let us go to school with Rankin's ointment on, but she used to put it on Friday nights, then she'd wash our hair on Sunday before we went to school on Monday. She was a very clean woman – spotlessly clean. We had sand on the floor, but you could have eaten your dinner off it when she swept that sand up, and the bedroom boards were white – she used to struggle with bleach and water.
At Christmas we used to hang our stockings up, and we'd get a toffee pig, an apple and an orange, a bar of chocolate and a little toy – and you could buy a little doll then for tuppence, with a black head, and she'd give us girls bits of rags to make clothes for them. The boys would get a whistle or a flashlight – something like that, and a new penny. She'd make a rabbit pie with some beef in – I used to like the head. I used to like picking it over.
I had rheumatic fever when I was eleven and I was ill for a long time then. I went to Blackburn Infirmary and I got St Vitus Dance – they had to strap me down. You never hear of it any more.
When I was fourteen we moved to Providence Street next to the Co-Op – to a house with a bath! We wanted more room and it had three bedrooms. The toilet was outside, and downstairs we had the front room, a hallway and a kitchen.
Father was a great fellow – marvellous. He used to like a pint, but he'd do anything for his kids. When the fair came to Blackburn, the marketplace was full of horses that went up and down on a carousel. Then there was the cakewalk – all of it run by steam engines. There were huge swinging boats with each side holding fifty people. They were on big pulleys, and there were also swinging boats for two, where you had to pull yourself up, and on the ground there was hoop-la stalls. You could buy peanuts, hot chestnuts, popcorn and black peas. They used to sell lotus in the shop – you could chew it. It was like a big piece of root – like liquorice to chew on, but you'd spit it out – not swallow it.
Lena Burton
Our chief fun was dressing our father up – we used to dress him up in all sorts, and he used to sit there and let us. Proper silly games, but there was nothing else to do.
My father was bothered with gout a lot, and was off work, so I had to start working when I was thirteen. I felt awful in that mill, it was horrible. It was at Kinder's and I was with a woman by herself in the basement – she never used to talk to me. I used to cry every night. After six weeks my father said, ‘You're not going there any more,’ and he got me in at Bocking – and I was really happy there. I gave my mind to it – but I knew I could have done something better if I'd had the chance.
We used to look forward to the Christmas tea party, which was held at St Mary's School – each school had their own party. We used to make our own entertainment – dialogues and singing and recitation and dancing. And Whit Friday we used to get up at six o'clock in the morning to get ready, then we'd assemble at school and go on a walk, then come back at dinnertime for tea and buns. Then we had sports in the school field and then we came in for tea. The sports were running, racing, three-legged races, wheelbarrow races, skipping rope races and egg-and-spoon races.
We had a maypole, but not at school, at the band club. The band used to parade round the village with a horse and cart all dressed up – and once a year there was the bike parade, and the bicycles were dressed up with flowers. This was for May Day, and the May Queen and Princess would be on the parade too. They had to vote for the May Queen – and there was a lot of jealousy. I was never May Queen – I was on the retiring side – a bit shy.
We never sat down for a meal. My mother and father sat down, but we had to stand round the table – and we couldn't leave until we'd asked permission. And we hadn't to speak at the table – if we spoke he'd say, ‘Let your meal stop your mouth – that's enough.’ We never answered back. No matter how tired we were, we had to stand, and we went to bed at half past eight every night.
At Christmas we used to hang our stockings up on the mantelpiece and we would get an apple and an orange and a thruppenny bit, and one little toy – then it was filled up with carrots and things.
An aunty of mine bought me a doll, and as I was very fond of sewing I used to make this doll little clothes. I think my sister poked the doll's eyes out with a pin when she was a baby – and I cried.
When I was about twelve I helped out at school teaching the little ones ABCs and counting. There was a teacher there – I was just a helper. I'd wipe their noses and take them down to the lavatory, that sort of thing.
We used to have slates tied round our necks with two strings, and the school provided slate pencils. We'd sometimes say, ‘Please sir, I can't write because my pencil wants sharpening,’ and he had something to sharpen them. Then, when we were older, we started with copy books, and we had black lead pencils. When we got pen and ink, it was glorious, we made a lot of blotches, but we thought it was great. The ink was in inkwells set in a little hole in one corner of the desk. That was a great day in our lives when we got inkwells.
We always wore all sorts of clothes. First a vest, then a chemise over the top, then a liberty bodice, then a flannel petticoat and a cotton petticoat, then your frock, and a pinny over the top. And knickers – and woollen stockings that Mother knitted herself – she used to make all our frocks too. We kids were sweltered to death in those days. We had clogs and shoes for Sundays. I had to have buttoned-up boots and we had a button hook to fasten them. We had to take our Sunday boots off when we came back from Sunday school and put our clogs back on. You'd take your frock off while