Dear Mervyn...
HISTORIAN MERVYN EDWARDS REFLECTS ON CORRESPONDENCE HE HAS RECEIVED FOLLOWING SOME OF THIS YEAR’S WEEKLY COLUMNS
WE are fast approaching the end of the year, so it seems an apposite time to sift through the readers’ correspondence I have received and to share the joy of oral testimony with a wider audience.
This year’s articles in The Way We Were have triggered reflections from numerous readers who have taken the time and trouble to contact me and to offer fascinating memories. Among these kind individuals are Marta Cox, John Scott, John Morris and Yvonne Cooper – so today, we shine the spotlight on their contributions.
My interview with Paul Niblett on the subject of oatcakes (September 10) elicited an interesting response from reader Marta Cox, formerly of Burslem but now living in Biddulph.
“My daughter was lucky enough to have a six-month stint in America as part of her degree course and in 1992-3 spent the autumn term in Norfolk, Virginia,” says Marta. “It was decided that I would take the opportunity to advance my knowledge of America and so I booked a holiday to coincide with their Thanksgiving break.
“Naturally, I asked if there was
Arthur helped himself to a couple of apples. He was grabbed, the police were called, and he duly did a spell in Borstal
anything she was missing from back home that she would like me to take over, and the three items she chose were a bottle of Newcastle Brown, a bottle of Diamond White and a dozen oatcakes.
“I asked my travel agent whether this would be permissible. With the answer being yes, I set off to Manchester airport with these items in my hand luggage and explained to Customs that I had already made inquiries as to whether the items would be allowed.
“The Customs Officer said that the bottles would be fine but unfortunately he would have to confiscate the oatcakes. As you can imagine, I wasn’t very pleased but was resigned to the fact. However, I was absolutely astonished when he then proceeded to eat one! I think even his colleagues were stunned.
“The next moment, there was a huge smile on his face and he very apologetically said it was many years since he had eaten an oatcake and he just couldn’t resist. He handed back the other oatcakes and said there was no problem taking them through.”
Newcastle Brown is a beverage still enjoyed today, though we cannot say the same for Parker’s beer. My piece on the long-gone Burslem brewery (September 3) caught the eye of John Scott.
“My father, Alan Scott (19192006) worked as a delivery driver for Parker’s in the early 1950s,” muses John, “and he lived in Davison/podmore Street, just across from the Bleak Inn in Cobridge.
“One interesting story he told me was that there was an old fellow, past retirement age, who worked in the brewery yard. He had been born in the early 1880s. One day, reminiscing about the past, he revealed that as a young man he was involved in the oncea-week delivery of beer to Market Drayton.
“These men would drink over 10 pints a day while working. They had a pig’s bladder on the cart, which they used for the purpose of relieving themselves. On the return journey to Burslem, the delivery man was always sleepy through drink, but once they reached Longport, he could nod off knowing that the horses knew their way home.”
John’s father also recalled that in the 1920s, children looking for ways of earning a penny or two would go to Parker’s to collect horse manure, then wheel it away in a hand truck across the Grange to sell to allotment owners.
Another recollection, states John, illustrates the way times have changed: “One of my father’s friends was Arthur Prince, who in later years owned Prince’s pet shop across from the Raven pub in Cobridge. One Saturday morning,
John Scott’s cautionary tale of scrumping was prompted by Mervyn’s September column about the old Parker’s Brewery, right
a group of hungry young lads were wandering through Burslem and Arthur decided to help himself to a couple of apples.
“He was grabbed and the police called. He duly did a spell in Borstal. When my father saw him months later, he was all skin and bone with a shaved head.”
John Morris also found the Parker’s brewery feature of interest as his own father worked for Parker’s after leaving the army at the end of the First World War.
John conveys: “He was employed as a plumber but subsequently as a pub maintenance manager. I recall trekking through the dark with my parents from
Sneyd Green to Burslem railway station for the annual Parker’s day-trips. Among the destinations I recall were Southend, Clacton and Portsmouth/southsea. Sometimes I was queasy on the home journey, but was told that the best antidote was a port and lemon. It worked for me!”
Mr Morris also responded to September 17’s article on shopping in Leek, which carried a photograph of Wilson’s shop.
“In the early 1960s, I was in hospital for a minor operation and when I came round, I found myself sharing a room with another chap, with whom I chatted about our respective occupations. It transpired that he was Mr Wilson who had a television shop in Leek. The upshot of this conversation was that he sold me our first colour television, and I, being a travel agent, sold him a holiday.”
Yvonne Cooper read my article on Brownhills High School for Girls in Tunstall (October 1) – and attended my history talk on the same, two days later. She was born Yvonne Rushton, 66 years ago and lived on Tunstall’s Mill Hill estate before attending Brownhills school between 1967-72.
She reveals: “We quickly learned on our first day that we should stand up when a teacher entered the room and only sit down when instructed/invited to do so. I recall being confused as to who was a teacher and who was a sixth form girl as those girls were able to wear their own clothes as opposed to school uniform.
“Our first week’s homework in all subjects was to back all our books, both exercise and text books, all of which I had to carry to and from our home, some twoand-a-half miles away, in an oversized, strong leather satchel.
“I always walked both ways to school in all my five years at Brownhills, often out of breath, especially on the days when I also had to carry my violin and case.”
Yvonne reveals she was scared of most of the teachers and speaks of one encounter with her French teacher: “In my second year, Mrs Horton went around the class firing questions at individuals. When she came to me, she gave a long sigh and posed the question, ‘Yvonne, qui est imbecile?’ (who is a fool?) I blushed and was forced to respond with “Je suis imbecile, Madam,’ to the sound of uncontrollable spluttering from some fellow pupils.”
In common with many of the erstwhile Brownhills girls I have spoken to, Yvonne is refreshingly honest about her time there: “Overall, I would say that I felt like a small fish in a big pond, swimming for my life.
“I thought I was reasonably clever at my junior school but oh, heck, did I have to work hard to keep up at Brownhills.”
Of course, it was during Yvonne’s spell at the school that major changes took place. She continues: “When the school became comprehensive in 1970, they left the original Brownhills girls to continue their remaining years as they were, in classes of all girls. Hence it was actually another four years before totally mixed classes.
“When the sixth form college was built, the school’s sixth form ended and so did my enthusiasm for any further education.”
She credits her maths teacher, Miss Newark for influencing her to apply for a job in a bank. Everything happens for a reason, and Yvonne is philosophical as she reviews her early life: “Despite my anxieties, feeling inferior and often shaking with fear, I look back and consider my time at Brownhills as having a big and positive impact on my life.
“After leaving my job at the bank after eight years to have and raise a family, I decided to study for a job working with pupils who had special educational needs. I loved every moment of my subsequent job in a special school, and when any pupil demonstrated embarrassment in the awareness of their learning difficulties, I would recall my own early nervousness and often empathise with them, assuring them that I would understand how they were feeling.”
Yvonne has one other reason to recall Brownhills with gratitude. She smiles: “When boys joined the school, I became involved in a relationship with one of them and we married six years after leaving school. We recently celebrated our 45th wedding anniversary.”