The Greater Kelsall Burial Recording Project

MEMORIES OF KELSALL AS A 10 YEAR OLD (1964ish) THE ADVENTURES OF HERBERT, TOM, DICK & HARRY 

 Names anonymised (to avoid prosecution) – 

 ‘Elf & Safety are advised NOT to review these Blogs!

Blog #1 – Playing in Harry’s Barn. 

Harry lived in a small holding, where they also had some cows and chickens. There were various barns, the biggest of which was often our playground. The barn had cross beams in the rafters, but this attic space had no floor. We would scramble up the walls to get on the beams and then if you were feeling brave, you would walk along the beams (probably a fifteen-foot drop to the floor); the less brave would still crawl along the beams. ‘Elf and Safety eat your heart out! Harry’s mum would often provide refreshments.

 

Blog #2 – Visiting Tom. 

Tom lived out in the sticks, so to visit him was a bit of a trek; probably a 3-mile round trip. It was worth it though as his house was surrounded by farmers’ fields where you could just run free and enjoy yourselves. Opposite his house was Bluebell Wood where you could just ramble. Picking flowers for our mums and conkers for “fights”. We were quite professional about our conkers, soaking them in vinegar and part roasting in the oven to get an “invincible” one. We always had to remember the long trek back, so tried not to get too tired. It amazes me that we didn’t have watches, our homes had no telephones and yet we always got home on time; even though our parents probably didn’t even know where we were (as 10-year-olds).

 

Blog #3 – Parties on the Yeld. 

The Yeld was a steep hill, going from Mackie’s shop towards Howarth’s Fruit Farm. At the top of the hill on the left hand side (just after what is now the Sculpture Parks car park) was an area of paths with gullies (and brambles) that apparently used to be a scrambling track. The others would bring their bikes (I wasn’t allowed one as I had epilepsy at the time); we would stock up on Tizer, Dandelion & Burdock, Crisps, Mars bars and a couple of cigarettes each (you could buy them in the Post Office in 1’s or 2’s). We would have a great time running, cycling, playing games; always glad that the route home was DOWNHILL.

 

Blog #4 – Learning to ride a bike.

As previously mentioned, I wasn’t allowed a bike of my own, but the others would occasionally let me learn to ride on theirs. This willingness to “give me a go” evaporated however, after one of my excursions. Harry’s smallholding had a wide and relatively steep drive, down to the Old Coach Road; not a busy road, but a road nonetheless. Harry had got a new bike and I was eager to have a try, so whinged, moaned and begged until he let me try it. To shut me up, he let me have a go; but remember, I hadn’t mastered the art yet and the bike was probably a bit big (Harry was a bit older than me). I tentatively got on the bike at the top of the drive and managed to keep my balance and free wheel down the drive. I was rigid with fear though, and when it came to turning the bike to get onto the road, I couldn’t do it, and just careered across the road (no traffic thankfully), stopping when I hit the stone wall on the other side; scratching Harry’s new bike and consequently being banned from borrowing it again. P.S. One of the first things I did when I went to college was to buy a 2nd hand bike! 

Blog #5 – Working at Howarth’s Fruit Farm.

Often during the summer, we would try and earn some pocket money by working on a fruit farm, getting paid for each punnet we picked. There were about three of these fruit farms in Kelsall, but my favourite was Howarth’s, where my uncle was a manager and lived on-site with my aunt and cousin. It was about one mile to the farm, starting with going up Yeld Lane (which was very steep). My uncle would often pick up some migrant Polish workers in a flat-bed truck to do the picking and I would wait for him at Mackie’s shop to hitch a lift. However, the truck was old and not very powerful, so would struggle to get up the Yeld. Consequently, some of us would have to get off the truck (to lighten the load) and then manually push the truck, with engine revving, until it at last got to the top and we could all jump back in for the rest of the trip.

 

Blog #6 – Making a million. 

I was quite interested in science and nature. I would collect butterflies and moths, putting them in jars (with holes in the tin lids for air) and their favourite leaves to eat. They never survived though. I said I was interested; I didn’t say I was any good at it! I also sometimes bought saltpetre from the chemist, adding liquid to it, painting a maze with the mixture on e.g. cardboard, and then lighting it and watch it burn a trail. I do not think you could do this now as I believe saltpetre (Potassium nitrate is one of several nitrogen-containing compounds collectively referred to as saltpetre). Major uses of potassium nitrate are in fertilizers, tree stump removal, rocket propellants and fireworks.); it is also an ingredient in gun powder! Another “scientific” experiment was to make cigarettes from privet leaves. We had huge hedges of privet and I thought I could make millions from making “privet cigarettes” and never have to buy them again. I knew I had to shred the leaves, but hadn’t realised I needed to dry them first (or even check if they were poisonous or not). Needless to say, the moist (but shredded) privet leaves, when rolled in a bit of newspaper, were absolutely disgusting. Surprisingly to this day, I am still not a millionaire!

Blog #7 – Scarred for Life.

This picture of the Smithy (next door to Dick’s house) does predate my time there (I don’t remember a horse and carriage – other than the rag and bone man who had one). Behind the Smithy was a scrap yard with bits of broken metal, but most intriguingly, a large stone wheel (presumably it had previously been used for grinding). I would often climb to the top of the wheel and then slide down it. Once however, I did this but fell off, landing on some broken glass, resulting in a large “V” shaped cut on my knee; the flap of skin was hanging down and blood pouring out. Luckily I knew one of my other friends mum was a nurse, so dashed to her, just a few doors away. She tended to me, calling my mum and ordered an ambulance to take me to A &E to get it sorted out. A doctor got me to sit on the end of a bed with my legs dangling down and cleaned up the wound. He then said he was going to inject some pain relief into the wound before stitching it up. However, as soon as the needle touched the wound my leg shot involuntary upwards and I don’t know if that doctor ever had children after this! He did however manage to complete the job (after a short recovery break [for him]) and consequently I am now “scarred for life”. 

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