Ratcatchers, c loos... tales fr
Writer Yvonne Young grew up in Newcastle’s poverty-stricken West End in the 1950s and 60s. It was a time when community was everything, housewives proudly competed to scrub their doorsteps clean and children turned derelict houses into playgrounds.
In a new memoir, Cobbled Streets & Penny Sweets, she remembers how people made the best of what little they had and tells stories of family, friendship and getting through the hard times with a healthy dose of Geordie humour...
WHEN I was around five years old I looked at a photo of my parents in their wedding gear.
“Where was I?”
“You weren’t here yet.” Whatever did they mean, how could they be somewhere without me? This was disgraceful.
But I was there alright. The receipt for Mam’s wedding ring, purchased at The Northern Goldsmiths, Westgate Road, Newcastle upon Tyne, price £3, is dated September 29 1951. I was born on February 24 1952.
I never understood why being a single mother was frowned upon but a couple, like my parents, who had married while the bride was pregnant was acceptable.
In those days it was necessary for every houseproud housewife to “donkey stone the front step”. In other words, they scrubbed it clean on their hands and knees, bucket at the side, before a yellow rubbing stone was applied. You weren’t allowed to step on it when it was newly done.
The fanlight received the same diligent attention – apparently, a dirty step and fanlight meant you had a dirty home. Folks really took a pride in their meagre dwelling places.
The women were regularly seen out on the street, wearing Paisley pinnies with scarves tied with a knot at the front, covering their hair curlers (working-class turban style), sweeping their part of the path.
Of course, this was also an excuse to gossip (known as “gassing”). They would stand around gassing about this one or that one: “Who does she think she is, the cat’s mother?” “Aye, man, aal fur coat and nee knickers!”
I enjoyed listening to tales of local characters. There was the rat catcher who called in at the pubs, went into the cellars and placed a lantern with a kipper over the top. He hid in the corner until the rat came sniffing, then grabbed it with his bare hands and chucked it in a hessian sack.
The charge to the publican was 4d (2p) for a little rat and 6d (3p) for a large one. If the payment wasn’t given, the catcher tipped them all out on to the bar counter – “Here then, have your rats back!” Sure enough, this would clear the place.
The chimney sweep was a favourite of mine. A father-and-son team visited homes in the area. To me, it was fascinating how they carried a long fabric bag, unravelled it and inside were all these poles and a huge circular brush.
The bag doubled as a cover to protect flooring and half-covered the fireplace. The sweep slotted all the poles together and the fabulous brush was
MEMORIES Yvonne the crown. This snake of a man went up the chimney and then the excitement began. I ran outside and half the street was gathered around our back door in the lane. Everyone knew which house the sweep was working in, so word got around. Then the long-awaited event happened: the brush burst forth from the chimney pot, doing its pirouette. A massive cheer would go up. Folks were easily pleased in those days! I never understood why everyone did their washing on Mondays and placed it on long lines, criss-crossed over the lane. This was the day the coal van called so the women ran out with their props held aloft to allow it through. Woe betide any driver who didn’t give a warning and sailed through those white sheets. Angry females would beat the side of the lorry. The women were also out in force if us kids decided on a game of “Run Through”. It was a great feeling to charge into the freshly laundered cotton and feel the flap on our faces.
I wonder now how any of those women got any work done between attending to us and the coal men.
There was generally a woman in the street ready to organise a trip out. The bus would be booked and everyone paid their share. Once on the beach, a plateau of sand was made and a tablecloth placed over the top.
The sandwiches were usually egg and tomato. Us kids referred to them as “soggies” – by the time you got there, the tomato had soaked into the egg and bread – or “sand sandwiches”.
Women enjoyed playing darts in the pub and had their own teams. Folks
When the brush burst from the chimney a massive cheer would go up