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BELFAST MEMORIES
This book is in no
way intended as a historical book.
It is just the
memories I have looking back over the years to the time when the Ormeau Road
and I were young.
Maggie May Hughes
Taylor Court
Belfast BT8 4SZ
written in 1990 approx.
CONTENTS
Memories
Ballynafeigh
1906-1918
Ormeau Road and
Park
Characters
Street Callers or Vendors
Our Homes
Shopping
Home Cures
Sayings
Memories II
Memories 1913
Fashions
Transport
Hospitals
Christmas
Stories
~~~~~~~~~~~
Memories
Childhood 1906 –
1914
My name is Maggie May Hughes (nee Kemp). I was
born on May 1st, 1901 at Dunluce Avenue, Lisburn Road, Belfast. My
father, James Kemp, came from Lizars in Glasgow to finish his training as an
optician, in Lizars here in Belfast. He met my mother, Susan Johnston, well
known for her beautiful contralto singing, and they married in 1899 in Larne
Methodist Church. I was only five months old when my father died in 1902,
leaving my mother a widow with two small daughters.
Two years later, she met my stepfather John Bailie, an embosser in a
printing firm and they were married in 1906. I remember standing in a very dark
building, holding on to my mother’s skirt during the service and on coming out,
I stood up high on the steps, looking down at the two lovely white horses and at
the white cockade on the tall hat & the bow on the whip of the coachman. I was
told later we drove to Lisburn and spent the day with friends of my “father”, as
I soon learned to call him. He was the most loving and kind father a child
could have had, he lived only for his home and family. Later I had three sister
and three brothers, two of whom died in infancy. It was after my mother’s
second marriage we came to live in Upper Walmer Street, Ballynafeigh, where I
lived for nearly 70 years.
Ballynafeigh 1906
– 1918
In my younger days Ballynafeigh was classed as a
residential area, where many well known business and professional men lived and
all the larger houses kept servants, whose wages were around £12 per year plus
‘keep’. They also had a cleaning lady (charwoman) once a week to help with the
washing and rough work, my mother often worked for them, from 9.00 a.m. to 5.30
p.m., she was paid two shillings and sixpence, 12½p today.
In 1906, I started school in Ballynafeigh Methodist Infants school,
which was a small whitewashed building where the Curzon Cinema now stands – it
was one large room with an earthen floor. Beside the school was a row of
whitewashed houses called Duffs Row, a little further along was the little
old-world tavern with a massive tree outside, this was to become the Errigal
Inn. As we went to school on Friday mornings we used to see the farm carts
sitting outside the inn, sometimes the wives were sitting on the cart waiting
while their husband had a refreshment before going to market. Further along on
the other side was Ballynafeigh Police Station, a very old very tiny building
next door to the lovely old-world tavern the Red Lion, sadly these have both
been demolished by bombs.
In 1909 we were marched over to our new school,
built behind our church, led by Mr. T. D. Brownlee, our principal, for many
years “T. D. as he was known, was a wonderful man, turning out many scholars
well known in our city in later years. He never spared the rod, being very
strict, demanding attention and obedience at all times.
Also in Ballynafeigh I remember that we had another very strict man,
the priest from Holy Rosary Chapel, Father Crockart (I think his name was) and
he always carried a blackthorn stick and he only had to shake it at the boys
from either school and they ran in fear. We as children were always taught to
show respect, no matter what denomination, the boys on meeting their teacher or
clergy would touch their caps and the girls would incline their heads and wish
them time of day. When I first went to school we used slates and slate pencils,
then we got jotters and lead pencils, later learning to use ink to copy the
beautiful writing in our Vere Foster copy books. There was a plaque for many
years outside a house in Great Victoria Street, in honour of Vere Foster.
Sunday school, morning and afternoon was a ‘must’ in our family, as
was church, and I am still a member now over 80 years of Ballynafeigh Methodist,
which was built in 1898 and as I first remember it, it was red brick with
stained glass windows and it has two spires. The spires and windows were
removed some years later. The Sunday school party and excursion were the
highlights of the year. At the party we were presented with the prizes we had
won for our attendance and the scripture examinations and then anyone who could
sing or recite, were always there, my, how they practised their songs and
recited their ‘pieces’, there was one ‘old faithful’ sure to come up every year,
“The ship on fire”, ‘There was joy on the ship’, we knew it word for word. The
Sunday school excursion was usually to Portrush or Castlerock. The open topped
trams took us to the station, then on to the train. The going and coming home
was the highlight of our day, especially for the boys, at the end of the day the
teachers must have had the ‘head staggers’ by the time they got home, after
trying to keep the boys from falling off the top of the trams, or falling out of
the carriage windows. It was hilarious.
Beside our school was the Edgar Home, later to
become Haypark Hospital, it was a home for inebriate women, and it was also a
laundry, and when you took the laundry up you rang a bell in the wall and the
small door was opened by a woman in a grey and white striped dress, a white
bibbed apron and a mob cap. Round the Edgar Home was a high stone wall, behind
which was an orchard, and often the boys would be caned in school for stealing
apples during lunch time. When we came out of school it was all fields, where
cattle sometimes grazed and we could run right down over the fields to the river
Lagan.
From Upper Walmer Street down to what is now the Ava estate was sand
dunes, known as the Red sands because of their colour, then there were fields,
in the middle of one was a small hill called the Dummies Hill. I often gathered
shamrock on this field for St. Patrick’s Day. Down near the ‘new’ or King’s
Bridge, an English firm came over and opened up potteries, it wasn’t china they
produced but earthenware, crocks, chimney pots, etc., but they did not last very
long, most of the workers going back to England. There was a bottle works over
the river at the bottom of Ridgeway Street, and after the ‘new’ bridge was
opened around 1911 or 1912 the people were given permission to come every
morning around six o’clock and when the furnaces were emptied you could take
away the coke. I often went with my father as did many of our neighbours,
taking a couple of bags, and a push cart or a box some had made on wheels, and
we had them filled.
Also before going to school in the morning, a couple of times a week,
I would be sent round to the then small Ormeau bakery shop, where you could get
quite a lot of the day before’s bread for a few coppers. Mr. Wilson himself was
always there and you had to stand in an orderly line, and anyone misbehaving was
usually sent home again, sometimes we got the large ‘snowtops’ and ‘currant
squares’, and ‘sore heads’, these were buns with a paper band round them and
they were sprinkled with ‘window pane’ sugar, they were always so large and so
fresh, of course they were hidden away till teatime. These were a treat for us
since there were very few cakes or pastries, except the occasional apple tart or
the cakes at Christmas.
It was down on the Ava fields that I with my parents and many of our
neighbours stood and watched ‘Haley’s Comet’ flash across the sky. On the
comet’s second appearance about four years ago unfortunately it wasn’t visible,
which was a disappointment after 76 years. (Halley’s Comet last appeared in
1986 so this was written in 1990 – Mary) We also on several occasions
watched the large balloon rise up out of the Botanic Gardens, usually at Easter
time. I think Ballynafeigh must be the community with the greatest number of
churches and meeting halls in Ulster. In a radius of a couple or three miles
there is a church or meeting hall for every Christian denomination, except now
the Salvation Army hall is closed after 60 years or more. I was taken along
with the other ‘juniors’ from the Deramore Hall to see and hear General William
Booth, the founder of the Salvation Army, in the Belfast Hippodrome, I remember
him as a tall old man with a flowing white beard. In my young days in
Ballynafeigh the Salvation Army had such a large congregation on Sunday
evenings, the meetings were held in the ‘Orange Hall’ their own hall being
unable to accommodate them.
Ormeau Road and
Ormeau Park
The Ormeau Road from the bridge, right up to
Newtownbreda, was lined up each side of the road with trees, as was nearly every
avenue. Just at the beginning of the Ormeau bridge was a very large ‘workroom’
Pullmans it was called, it made all kinds of fancy linens. On the other end of
the bridge was Maggie Boyce’s wee shop, just a tiny hut it was, and she sold
newspapers, sweets and cigarettes. On the other side of the river her brother
ran the wee rowing boats which ferried people across from a small jetty in the
Ormeau Park over to the other side for one penny and a halfpenny for children.
The Park played a very large part in our lives. We played, had picnics
with a bottle of water or perhaps buttermilk and a couple of slices of bread and
jam. We had our coronation party for King George 5th and Queen Mary
in it, I also remember a bicycle race starting from it, the bicycles all
decorated with crepe paper. It was called ‘The go as you please to Lurgan’, and
it was led by the well known figure who appeared on the front of the ‘Pink’
Ireland Saturday Night and he was called Larry O’Holligan. (O’Hooligan The
cartoonist?) The head park ranger wore a light blue frock coat trimmed with
gold braid and always carried a heavy stick with him.
There was no embankment then, the field just ran down to the river’s
edge with a low wooden railing along it. Sheep grazed right up to the bridge
and at night they were taken to be penned over where Park Parade school stands
today. The Ormeau Park was a beautiful place, a mass of flower beds and some
lovely walks, and the chestnut trees in spring hung over the wall heavy with
their pink and white candles.
On the other side of the road was the Ormeau Bakery, it was a small
shop then and beside it was a row of shops, about four, then a large gate behind
which was a posting establishment where carriages and jaunting cars were kept.
There were very few shops, it was all houses along the road. As children we
used to go round at night to the bakery in Ava Street to watch the horses go up
the ramps to bed, as we used to say.
I have often been asked if I remembered the horse trams, I don’t
remember ever seeing one but I do vividly remember being taken up to the
terminus at the convent to see the beautifully decorated first electric tram
coming up the Ormeau Road, that was 1910. Also in Ballynafeigh was Mr.
Kennedy’s chemist shop, he later became a doctor and our City Coroner, a very
well known and respected man.
Characters
There were many characters I remember.
There were two who lived in small shops, each on
the corner of the street where we lived.
There was ‘granny,’ who lived with her daughter and her son, and
whenever Mary Agnes went out, granny, after a visit to the drawer in the counter
would call us over and give us a small buttermilk can with a lid on it and
strict instructions “Not to lift the lid off” as the dust would get in, well we
always obeyed her because there was always a 'Wee' bag of sweeties for us, until
one day my mother was asked by a very angry Mary Agnes did she know that her
young daughter was carrying down from Barney O'Hagan's (a licensed grocer)
stout, or whiskey to HER mother in a buttermilk can - that was the end of the
sweeties and of course 'granny's tipple.'
Ida and George lived on
the other corner, they had come over from England to the potteries and they
never went back. Ida was a small stout lady, the model of Queen Victoria
whilst George was a very red faced robust big man. Now George was very
fond of a 'drop' of the 'crittur', but Ida kept a very tight hand on the purse
strings, so George had to plan a way round this, so he used to rise very early
in the morning, open the shop, then pocketing the takings he would take himself
off for the day, returning well 'oiled' later on. Ida always kept a cane
hanging up in the shop and when George returned, always on a jaunting car, out
would come Ida, she would help him down, then she beat him with the cane into
the shop, next, out she would come and have an argument with the Jarvey, I
suppose for what he charged, I'm sure the Jarvey never won.
There was 'auld Oiney',
Fifer, Isaac and his wee drum, the dancing bear, the organ grinder with his wee
monkey, the barrel organ, Forty Coats, and a blind man called Happy Jimmy, he
came round in a small donkey cart, on which he had an organ, he played by
turning a handle, he always played the same tune over and over "Where is my
wandering boy tonight". I don't think he ever found him. Jimmy had a
vile temper, and is we went near the donkey or his wife failed to get enough
coppers, the air was blue, and she often had to walk along a bit before getting
into the cart.
Auld Oiney was a tiny
little man, he wore an old green with age tail coat and a battered old tall hat,
and he hadn't a tooth in his head. He would dance, turn somersaults and
sing, then he would go collecting, always asking for halfpennies for some
reason.
The Fifer carried a tin
whistle in his back pocket and he wore an old 'claw hammer' coat a red muffler
and an old cap. He always went into the pub at the corner and if anyone objected
to his playing there was sure to be a fight and out would come the Fifer and his
whistle, not always on his feet.
Isaac, was a grown man
with the mind of a child and played on a wee drum, as I look back on all these
poor souls I feel we could never be grateful enough for the help and care people
such as these get today.
Forty Coats, wore several
old coats with many pockets in them, sometimes when he walked it was like a
crinoline around him, I think he carried all his worldly goods around with him.
There were also many
beggars and sometimes gipsies would come around when they were camped up near
the brickworks further along the Lagan. One day a beggar called, a small
baby with her so my mother brought her in for a cup of tea. My mother had bought
herself what she termed a 'good pair of stays' (corsets today) and a pair of
boots, these she had left laying on the sofa but when mother came out of the
scullery with the tea, the beggar, mothers 'stays' and boots were gone.
Another day a beggar man called asking for a 'drop of tay' and a 'piece'.
Although we hadn't a surplus of this world's goods, mother always liked to help
so she came in, made a small poke of tea and sugar and a couple of slices of
bread and jam. When she gave these to the beggar man he set them on the
window sill and looking at her he said 'missus this is no use, it was a mug o
tay and a good sammidge I wanted' and seemingly disgusted he walked away.
Street Callers or Vendors
A man came round every week carrying on his shoulder several iron hoops, he
would call 'any washtub hoops' and if one of the hoops around the wooden tub was
rusted or broken he came it, took it off, the rusted or broken hoop and put on a
new one. It was some years before we got the large zinc bath. Next
came the man with the grindstone, which he peddled with his foot, he would call
'any knives or scissors to grind cheap'. Herrings were brought round on a
handcart, the call being 'Ardglass Herrins' never 'Ardglass Herrings', fourpence
a dozen. The cats of the neighbourhood, like the poor were always with
him. The coalman would ring a bell, and we called him the 'Bellman'.
Coalbrick was also brought around on a handcart the call being 'coalbreek'
fourpence a dozen. The rag man, and women, came round the back entries
calling 'wan delph, and delph', on their arm they had a basket with a few cups,
plates, small jugs, or perhaps a nice butter dish and for a few rags you could
choose one of these from their basket. There was also 'Ikey' the packman,
he carried his goods round in a black oil cloth bag on his back and he sold baby
things, towels etc., being paid for at sixpence or a shilling a week. I am
sure he did a good trade for nearly every house had a baby and several young
children. Ikey never failed for years to come round every Monday for his
money but I should imagine he was left with many outstanding debts because never
changing his day to call, well, 'My Ma isn't in the day' very often I'm sure was
the answer he got.
Many came round our
streets singing, and there was one girl, young with very dark long black hair
and she had a beautiful voice, and amongst other songs I remember her singing
'Cockles and mussels alive, alive oh!, I'm sure if she were alive today she
certainly would not be singing on the streets. I often heard my mother,
herself a beautiful singer who sang in public for years, tell of the lovely
voice of the street singer.
Around about 1912 or 13 a
German band, all wearing black leather caps with a peak, they sat with their
gleaming instruments on a lorry and went round our streets playing. Later,
when the first world war came, it was said they were spies, on hearing this I
could never figure out what they could spy in Ballynafeigh, except at that time,
as today, there was a lot of unrest in Ulster and the Ulster Volunteer Force
were being drilled to fight Home Rule. Many, many of these man, some of
them very young and whom I knew well, were killed in the Ulster Division at the
battle of the Somme in 1916.
As a child I was luckier
than most of my small companions because I got 5 or 6 weeks holidays every year
in Scotland. My Grandfather came over every year, as soon as our school
holidays began and took me to Glasgow where my aunts, uncles and cousins were.
After a week or so, my elder sister (whom my grandparents raised, from my
father's death till she was 18 years old) and I, grandpa and my aunt, all went
to Rothesay in the beautiful Kyles of Bute. My grandfather was a scottish
business man and he had a small house in Rothesay, those were happy days, going
so often, my sister and I had many young friends, and one night, every week, we
would be taken on one of the evening cruises on the paddle steamer up around the
beautiful places, then on other evenings we would be taken down to the Pierrots
show on the promenade, where during the Scotch Fair week, were stalls, with
naptha flares burning, the hoop-la, coconut shies, and the mystifying find the
coin under the three little shells. During the Fair the edge of the
promenade, window ledges of the nearby shops, would all have little coloured
jars with small candles in them, when darkness came, these were lighted and that
was the illuminations. When my holiday ended, always before coming home I
was taken to town and my aunt had to buy me my frock, coat, hat and boots for
the winter.
Sadly 1914, my last
holiday in Rothesay, came suddenly to an end, war was declared and we had to
return to Glasgow. It also was an end to many things for me, two
especially, the first I never saw my Grandfather or aunt again, my Grandfather
died suddenly in 1915 and after his death my aunt, being a nursing sister,
joined the Q.A.I.N.S. and she was posted to Mesopotamia British Military
Hospital, where is 1918, in June, she contracted small-pox and died, her memory
is enshrined in the War Memorial Shrine in Edinburgh, also on a plaque in St.
Giles Cathedral in Edinburgh, and in York Minster, and only recently I have been
able to find out where her body was re-interred, it is in the Basra War
Cemetery, Iraq.
In leaving my childhood
memories, I have to recall many of the never-to-be forgotten memories of outings
my father took me on. My mother having a small family, did not often
accompany my father and I, you see, I was almost 8 years older than their first
child. My father took me to see our wonderful new City Hall, with its high
dome, beautiful marble staircase and stained glass windows, to me it was like a
palace. Cornmarket was a cobbled stoned square, with some corn chandlers
shops, outside of which were sacks of corn etc., and the square was always full
of pigeons. Later it became the site for the Classic Cinema, today it is British
Home Stores. On the corner of Arthur Street was the Theatre Royal, where
many great plays were staged, it later became the Royal Cinema. Mark's
Penny Bazaar in Upper North Street was a great treat to be taken to see, nothing
over a penny, pencils, jotters and little stick dolls with black painted heads,
the hours we spent dressing those little stick dolls. Memories.
Smithfield where one could buy anything, old and new, one little shop my father
always went to, to buy small pieces of leather and round piece of 'heel ball'
these were to mend our boots with, also steel protectors, little half moon
shaped steel, which were knocked into the back of the heel of your boots to
strengthen them.
The Custom house steps
was a favourite outing on Sunday afternoon, during the summer, it was here I saw
my first woman drunk, she was lying on the steps, she had a black shawl on her
and her long hair was hanging around her, when I asked who she was, I was told
that's 'Kelly the rake', she must have been a familiar figure, for often, if our
hair was very untidy my mother said, get your hair tidied for you are running
around like 'Kelly the rake'. The Custom House steps was like speaker's
corner in Hyde Park, there were preachers from many denominations, the Grosvenor
Hall was well attended, with its beautiful band.
There were quacks of all
kinds, selling cough mixtures, corn cures, etc., one in particular was known a
the Corn King, he wore a tall hat and used to have some of the packets round the
band on it. There was a big coloured man who would pull your tooth out for
sixpence. Going to the Grosvenor Hall to see the new moving pictures,
other times it was a minstrel group with their black faces and their banjo's or
perhaps it would be a military band, dressed in their bright red uniforms, but
of course these treats were only at a holiday, such as Easter or Christmas.
Up till this time, I had only seen lantern slides at the Band of Hope, where one
would see a poor weary looking woman with a couple of children and a very untidy
house, no food on the table and no fire, all due to the demon 'Drink', then the
father would sign the Pledge and what a transformation there would be.
Mother all cleaned up, the children at a well laden table, a nice fire and the
father sitting by it all due to the Pledge. Then nearly every child
present would sign the pledge every week, I'm afraid many, a few years later
became back sliders. We also occasionally would go to Bangor on the paddle
steamer, which cost 1/- shilling and sixpence for me or my younger brother.
In 1911 I was taken to
see and go over the first large White Star Liner, the 'Olympic', she was
beautiful and when I first thought of writing my memories I wrote to Harland and
Wolff's records office and they sent me four large photo's of her and on one the
Titanic is in the slips alongside. (The ship that was to sink on her maiden
voyage in 1912.) I shall always remember the magnificent staircase with
the large glass dome above it. One day my aunt took me up to Botanic
Gardens to see the Lord Lieutenant (Or Mayor's) Garden Party. It was a
lovely summer day and the ladies and gentlemen were strolling around, the ladies
wearing very long silk frocks and large hats, all trimmed with ribbons and
flowers and many of them carried very pretty parasols, the men wore frock coats
and shiny silk hats, all came in shining carriages.
Our Homes
Our homes were so different in my young days, the gas was a thin bracket on the
wall and on the end was a jet which spread out like a small fan, giving a very
poor light, next came the incandescent mantle which fitted over the jet and had
a straight tumbler like globe over it, it was thought to be wonderful, of course
we always used candles in candlesticks to see us to bed. It was many years
later before we got electric into our homes. There were no gas cookers, so
everything was cooked over the fire, we had black iron pots and always a large
black kettle on the hob and of course an iron frying pan and griddle, the pots
and kettle were taken out every week into the yard, there they were scraped,
black leaded and polished till they shone. The griddle always hung up in
the scullery where the big white bake board also hung, beside it was the 'bettle'
a very large wooden hammer like thing which was used to 'bittle' or mash the
potatoes for the potato bread and the 'champ'. Champ was potatoes mashed with
'scallions' (spring onion) which had been warmed in milk, this was served with a
hole in which was placed a large lump of butter, and some milk, as children we
loved it. The fireplace was a big open fire with the oven at the side and
a small hole beneath the oven where, if baking an apple tart or oven soda mother
would put a shovel of red hot coal into it, a goose wing was always used to
clean the griddle after each cake. In front of the fire was a steel slide
and the ash-pan had a fancy steel band around the top and around the fireplace
was a steel fender. The fireplace was black leaded and polished and the
steel was all scoured with emery paper and polished till it shone. It was
lovely to come in on a cold winter's night to a bright fire and shining
fireplace. The chairs and table were all white wood, and these were scrubbed
every week with parazone, to keep them clean and white, the floor was small
bright red tiles, with a colourful rag rug in front of the fire. In the
scullery were shelves and in the corner was a large earthenware crock with a
wooden lid on it, in this the bread was kept and on a form along the wall the
pots were set. The jawbox (sink) was brown stone with a single watertap,
in some houses the watertap was in the yard outside.
Few homes had bedroom
suites as we have today, instead we had a dressing table with a small mirror on
it, a chest of drawers and a wash stand, on which was a nicely decorated china
wash basin, jug and soap dish. The black iron bed, with a brass rail and knobs
had a valance at each end and a deep frill around the sides, which I suspect was
to hide the 'gerry'. There was always the large wooden chest at the top of
the stairs, which held the extra bed clothes and our winter woollies, above this
was a rail, where underneath a bright curtain, father's suit and all our best
clothes were hung up. The parlour was furnished with a black horse hair
suite and above the fireplace was the over mantle, around the mantelpiece was
draped a red velvet cover edged with ball fringe, on top of it was the clock and
photos of the family, particularly the one of the latest baby, lying naked and
I'm sure feeling blue with cold on a rug. In the corner was the 'what not'
a piece of furniture with three shelves, on which were all the little ornaments
and mementoes which we were never allowed to touch. Around the fire was a narrow
black fender with a brass rail around it and a pair of shining brass poker and
tongs. No parlour was complete without its wooden pedestal, china flower pot,
holding an aspidistra plane and placed at the window.
Wash day, as children, we
hated it, in would come the tub which was placed between two chairs then the
clothes were scrubbed on the wooden wash board, next the white clothes would be
starched with a rub of blue in the water and every so often these would be
steeped overnight in parazone to keep them very white. The heavier clothes
would be taken out to the yard to be mangled, the mangle was on an iron stand
and had two big wooden rollers and these were turned by the handle on the big
wheel at the side, the kitchen was always steamed up and at night the clothes
would be hung up on lines to dry. Later we had pulleys put up, these were four
wooden slats on ropes attached to the ceiling and these could be pulled up or
down and it certainly looked much tidier. Our cutlery, sink or jawbox as
it was then called were all cleaned with bath brick, this was a brick which you
scraped and with the damp cloth you used you cleaned them, then polished them
afterwards. The first metal polish we ever used was distributed round our
doors by men wearing brightly polished brass helmets advertising it, each one
was given a small box of paste, with instructions how to use it. We had no
bins but at the bottom of each yard was a pit called the 'midden' and on the
wall outside was a small iron door, and each week men came with a cart, opened
the door and emptied the 'midden' out, then they sprinkled some disinfectant
into it and cleaned the back entry as they went along. Usually beside the
'midden' sat the 'refuse' bucket, this was where all potato peelings, table
scraps etc. were thrown, then a boy came round collecting them for pig feeding
every day.
At the front of the
house, outside the door, was always scrubbed in a wide circle, then the steps
would be done with whiting or yellow achre? (ochre?) We had some very nice
pictures on our kitchen wall which could be changed every year because the
grocer or bake always gave a nice calendar, along with a gift of a cake or large
currant loaf, and my father would frame the pictures in frames he himself had
made.
When a new baby came
which was as we in Belfast would say, brave and often in our house, out once
again would come the lovely white linen sheets and lace edged pillow cases,
fleecy blankets, and the heavy white 'alhambra' counterpane, and mother would
sit up like a lady, in her fancy nightie, nursing our new brother or sister
while her friends who had called admired it. Seldom if ever was a doctor
called in to a confinement, in every street there was usually the so called
handy woman who attended the birth, and also usually taking away the washing, as
well as cooking for the younger children and this service would all be done for
10 or 15 shillings for eight or ten days work. It would be this same woman
who would attend to all that had to be done when someone died, she did what was
called 'laid them out' the bed all would be pure white, the mirror would be
covered with a white cloth, clock stopped, and all blinds were drawn. On the
front door would be a large black crepe bow, if it was a child who had died the
bow would be smaller and tied with white ribbon. All the family, no matter
how poor, would wear black clothes and the men wore broad black bands round
their hats and black arm bands. The hearse would be drawn by two black
horses with black plumes on their heads, if it was a child the little white
coffin was carried in a glass case underneath the drivers seat of a carriage. I
remember seeing John and Elizabeth both being taken away like this, they were
both babies. The ladies used white handkerchiefs with a broad black band
round the edge of them.
In every kitchen in our
homes in the corner was father's armchair, with its bright cushion, often made
of patchwork, as was the one on the black leather sofa. When my mother was
going to do the ironing she would build up a very big fire, and when it was red
she made a hole in it and would drop in the heaters for the iron, these were two
irons made in the shape of the smoothing iron, this had a little door at he back
you lifted up with the handle on top and you put the red hot heaters inside, and
it must have been a very hot, tiring job for those like my mother who had a
large family, yet my mother-in-law who lived to be 83 years old, having been
raised in the country, never used a gas or electric iron, nor would she have
cooked by gas, of course she had a big closed in range with two large ovens.
At the sides of nearly every fireplace was the wooden salt box on one side, and
the 'bellows' on the other, and up on top of the mantelpiece, or fireboard as
some called it, sat on the corner was the tea caddy, and on the other corner the
box where monies for special things was saved. There were no bank books or
access cards in my young days.
Shopping
Wages were small but food was cheap, I and one of my companions were often sent
down town to the Maypole Dairy for 1lb of what was called 'overweight'
margarine, that was when you bought a pound, you got a pound or half a pound
extra for sixpence then we would go round to Sawer's in High Street, the large
fishmonger and poultry store, and you got 1lb of Giblets or a nice rabbit for
sixpence. We would always get a penny to spend and there was a little shop
in Cromac Street where you could buy some home made toffee and honeycomb toffee
and you got quite a bag full for your penny. The big shops were lovely and
everyone was very courteous, when you went in, a man who wore a frock coat
called the shop walker would come forward, ask mother what she was looking for
then leading her to the counter he would ask her to be seated, then he would
call 'forward' please Miss X, this was the procedure if mother was only buying a
yard of ribbon or veiling. The bill would be made out and then a small box
would be pulled down from the wire, which ran along to the cashier who sat up in
what to me always looked like the pulpit in church, the small parcel would be
neatly tied and handed over and the door would be opened for you coming out.
This was always the pattern in every big shop in town.
Nearer home I was often
sent round to the butchers for a pound of lean pieces, which cost four pence, or
½lb sausages coating two pence, or a good marrow or steak bone which cost one
penny, then I would go into the greengrocer's and get ¼ stone or 3½lbs of
potatoes, one pennyworth of mixed vegetables, a good halfpenny carrot, and
parsnip with a halfpenny onion. Sometimes if the beef cuttings were very fat, I
would be sent back with them, after being told to say, they were too fat, please
would you give me leaner ones, which the butcher generally did, even with a
grumble, or very sarcastic remark. Every Friday was market day, and
everyone made for the market, especially the variety market, where you could buy
anything from a needle to an anchor, if you had any money. Around the
stalls which sold second hand clothes it was like a battle ground, everyone
pushing and shoving to get in nearer, hoping to get a bargain. In the
butcher and egg market, there would be a low form on the ground, and the
farmer's wives would stand behind it, with their pats of country butter and
lumps of creamy butter spread out along the form.
Beside them would be the
baskets of fresh eggs, some duck and goose eggs. Most customers had their
own particular woman, so they would come along, and often they would take a
little sample of butter, rolling it round their mouth, to test the flavour, then
they would say 'aye its a bit salty the day' or 'its very yellow looking this
morning; next it would be the eggs turn, and it would be 'Oh surely them's not
sixpence the day a dozen, there're terrible wee, more like Banty's eggs, they
are." Also very often they would have a few fowl with them, which were
very cheap, and fresh.
Home Cures
Most people could not afford to have the doctor called in so we had many cures
in our homes, especially oils. Castor oil was thought to cure many ills,
Eucalyptus and Camphorated to ease chest colds, cod liver oil to build you up,
olive oil for sore ears, carron oil for burns, sassafras or paraffin to remove
unwelcome guest, if any, from your hair. Linseed meal, with which you were
poulticed, for congestion or pleurisy. For a sore throat, a sock filled with
roasted salt was tied round your neck. An infected finger or heel, the
trouble on the heel usually caused by the dye from your black stocking, was
treated with a poultice of bread or soap, applied very hot. I had such a
heel, and was taken to the chemist, who recommended 'Venice Turpentine', a
sticky substance like what was used on flypaper, it certainly cured my heel but
I felt it was drawing the bone out, as well as the infection, it was so painful.
When one had a cold, your
feet and legs were placed in a bucket of boiling water to which a small tin of
mustard had been added. Whilst being roasted, you were given a mug of hot
buttermilk to drink, which also had pepper, and a lump of butter in it. I
think the very thought of having to drink another mug of what tasted like poison
cured you, I'm sure it did. Even today after many years, I still can't
understand why our parents felt that unless you were nearly roasted alive or you
felt you were slowly, but surely, being poisoned, the treatment would not be
effective. I was also dosed, because I was thought to be bloodless, with
something called parrish's Chemical food, Cod liver oil and malt, ugh, and then
later with somebody's pink pills. Some people believed in charms,
especially for whooping cough. They would take the child down to the gas works
and hold it over a tank, and let it inhale the fumes, or some passed the child
three times under the belly of an ass, or donkey, but the animal had to have the
mark of the cross on its back.
Others believed in having
the child charmed for ring worm, when it would be given a piece of bread with
butter and sugar on it, and the parents were told she must not say thank you as
the woman said a few words over the child. Treacle and sulphur was dosed
into you every spring, to clear your blood, again I often heard people say when
a child had measles, give it as much sulphur as will lie on a sixpence, it will
bring the rash out on her or him. Nearly seventy years ago, when I gave
birth to a stillborn baby, my breasts were bandaged very tightly with brown
paper, soaked in vinegar, and I was given a mug of Epsom salts to drink every
morning for a week, this was to disperse the milk. This was one of the home
cures so called in my young days.
Sayings
People used to say some very funny things, like the old granny who sometimes
came in to look after us when my mother was working. When my mother and granny
would be exchanging bits of local gossip, if I was sitting around she would
suddenly stop and say 'just wait a minute there's a mouse in the thatch' I would
then be told to go out and play for a few minutes, or go up and tidy your room,
in case I heard something I shouldn't have. One day I had a very sore toe,
and I was limping around when she said 'what on earth is wrong 'way' you, for
you're hirpiling around there like a duck 'way' a sore fut'. Another time
I was sent an errand and was long in coming back and was told 'you would be a
good one to send for sorrow fir it wud take you a brave while coming back.'
Another day I had been cheeky with her, and I was told, as I was given an angry
look 'ma lady someday you'll sup sorrow way a spoon o grief.'
An old uncle used to say
if I forgot something I was sent for and had to go back, 'always let your head
save your legs' or if I told him I had been given something for doing an errand
for someone, he would say 'aye a going foot always gets something if its only a
thorn'. I was in bed one day sick, when my mother brought an old friend in
to see me, and as she looked down on me, she turned to my mother and said 'Mm,
I'm afraid she won't scratch many grey hairs' so much for old folk lore, I am
now in my late eighties and I have still quite a few grey hairs left.
Memories II
As I have written earlier, my father worked on an embosser in a printing firm,
his wages up to the beginning of world war one were twenty one shillings a week,
then they were raised to twenty five shillings up till he joined the Royal
Flying Corps in early 1917. My mother worked out for many years, cleaning,
then later she worked for a long time as a presser in the Star Boys Clothing
Company on the Donegall Road. Before I started working I used to take my
young sister in the narrow pram, which had carving on the sides, long wooden
handles, a brass rail round it, with two very tiny wheels and two larger ones.
I would take her up to meet mother coming out every Thursday night, it was her
pay night, and we would come home through Sandy Row where there was always
something special bought for our tea and we would each get a candy apple
perhaps. I often wonder, how, all those women managed to do all they did,
with large families, small wages and working out and in. My mother baked
every day for us, made our clothes, our underwear, and pinafores made mostly out
of cotton flour bags bought for six or eight pence a dozen out of the Ormeau
Bakery. They were brought home, the flour beaten out from them, then they
were washed, and soaked in strong bleach. They then were made into
chemises, pants, petticoats, and pinafores for us, these were trimmed with swiss
work (Embroidery Anglaise) today or torchom lace. Our pinafores had frills
around the shoulder and arms. Our everyday pillow cases and sheets were also
made from these and the summer patch work quilts were lined with these. My
mother also made our frocks and her own, and she many times went out to sing at
some function, dressed in a pretty frock which she had just made, from perhaps a
remnant of nice silk or velvet.
My mother was a wonderful
mother, very strict with us all but she never at any time that I can remember
was too busy to talk to me about her life as a child, and often of my own
father, whom she eloped with and loved very dearly during their short married
life. My aunt, a sister of mother's was a house keeper for 34 years, to a
couple who had no family, her wages were £12 per year for many years, and at her
death, in 1933, she only had £16 per year, and her lady had been an invalid for
a number of years, confined to a wheel chair, but Aunt never had any help of any
kind. She, my aunt, did some lovely work in the evenings, especially
crochet work. Lace for bed linen, table, and beautiful embroidered supper
clothes. It was she who did all the, what was then, used plate mats, and the
antimacassars used on our chairs in the parlour, and the patch work cushion
covers in the kitchen for our home.
Memories 1913
Now my childhood days, when I could roam the fields, play in the park and with
my school companions, play the many games we knew, were coming to an end.
We used to have such happy days, playing, skipping, piggy, spinning tops, the
tops of which were coloured. All kinds of ball games. 'Wee shops' with
clay, and using pieces of broken delph, we called baby dishes as money.
There was hop scotch, bar the door, ghost in the garden, tag, hounds and hares
and always in summer, I spy a straw boiler, a straw boiler was a white straw hat
with a brightly coloured band round it, worn by the men, we used to go round to
the main road, taking a piece of paper and pencil with us, marking an x for
everyone we saw, and whoever had the most x's on their paper was the winner.
Such games today many children have never heard of, nor have they ever known,
the joy and happiness, we found in playing these innocent games.
As I say, my childhood
days were ending, I wasn't quite thirteen years of age when I first started to
work. I became a nurse made to twins just three months old. The couple I worked
for lived near us but they had a shop down Bankmore Street, convenient to all
the large Warerooms as they were called, they were all manufacturers of fancy
linens and handkerchiefs. The shop did a very brisk trade, being a grocery and
confectioner's, they also sold milk and several kinds of buns and sandwiches to
the girls from these factories. Above the shop, Mrs. Hirst, who was a
dress maker, used the rooms where she too was also kept busy, having many
customers. I had to go in in the morning for 9.00 a.m., wash the breakfast
dishes, clear up after the babies were bathed, when they would be put into the
twin pram and we wheeled them down the Ormeau Road to the shop. The babies would
be fed and changed, I would get a cup of tea with Mr. & Mrs. The babies were put
in the pram again and I had to keep them out till 12.30 p.m., wheeling them
around.
After dinner I washed the
dishes, sometimes being helped by the girl who worked in the shop, then off I
would take them, up Dublin Road to the Botanic Gardens, then I brought them
back, we had our tea and Mrs. H. and I would bring the babies home, when I would
help get the babies bath and night things ready and I would get home about 6
o'clock or if she was busy it would be nearer 7 o'clock. My wages were two
shillings and sixpence per week and my food. I was often given some sweets or
ice cream to bring home. I worked with them for almost a year. I loved the
babies and they loved me.
Just before I was 14 I
worked for a few weeks in Pullman's at the bridge, I was a clipper, as the
machinist embroidered the linen pillow cases and clothes, they just carried the
thread from one flower to another without breaking it, so our job was to clip
these threads, so we were called 'clippers.' I was paid 4 shillings per week,
9.00 a.m. until 1.00 p.m. then an hour for lunch and back from 2.00 p.m. until
6.00 p.m. and to 1.00 p.m. on Saturday. These were the hours worked in all
warerooms. The mills and the shipyards worked from 6.30 a.m. to 5.30 p.m. and 1
o'clock on Saturday, also the ropeworks. Many children at that time, my
age, worked in the mills as half timers. They worked half a day in the mill,
some of them often working in their bare feet, in water and then they had to go
to school the other half of the day, for this, they were paid three shillings or
three shillings and sixpence per week. (42p today).
Two days after my
fourteenth birthday I was taken down to a handkerchief manufacturers in Adelaide
Street where I got a job as a handkerchief folder, that's what mother was told I
would be but alas it just wasn't so, I was just dogsbody 'little one' (the name
I hated to be called) the old forewoman (supervisor today) would call me, saying
"have you cleaned the sink and lavatory", or "please make Miss x - her crony -
and I a cup of tea," or perhaps "get the brush and brush the floor, you know
'Little one' I have to keep the room tidy," so much for handkerchief folding, I
hated it. The forewoman was another replica of our late lamented Queen, and her
friend was not much younger. They seemed to spend their time in continuous Bible
study when not instructing me on what I had to do as my work, also what I should
be doing regarding my religious life.
I hated it all, so after
a couple of months, at four shillings, (48p per week), once again I was trotted
around to the firm of John Gilliland's, blouse and Underclothing Manufacturers,
where I was to spend the happiest four years in my life in Ormeau Avenue. I
started as a blouse folder, at six shillings per week (72p). Every chance I
would get I would learn to work the high speed Wilcox and Gibbs machine and
although I don't think a girl under 16 years was allowed to a machine but I was
given permission to learn to become a blouse machinist and we were all on our
own time, making our wages. It was beautiful work, blouses of silk
shantung, and white voile. The voile blouses were beautifully hand embroidered,
this being all worked by women, down in the South and West of Ireland, it was
called flowering. Mr. G. had several agents there. The work we did was
mostly for the big stores in London, Harrod's, Swan Edgar, etc. We were paid
four shillings and sixpence (50p) a dozen, for the shirt and voile blouses, the
voile often having insertion and fine pin tucks. For the short sleeve summer
blouses, with a little basque or peplum I think it would be called today, we
were paid two shillings and sixpence (30p) a dozen.
There were no conveyor
belts then, you got the blouses straight from the cutters and you completed
them, all except the buttons and buttonholes. We all had to work very hard but
we were very agreeable and our lives seem to be one long laugh, except when you
had to go home for half a day when your machine broke down and the mechanic was
busy on another, or if you were over five minutes late, then you were 'locked
out', either till after dinner time, which meant you lost half a day, a big drop
that week in your pay envelope. I wore one of the beautiful voile blouses
on my wedding day, 1918, I made it myself. My training in John Gilliland's stood
to me well, for on arriving in Toronto, Canada, shortly after my marriage, I
applied and got a job as a blouse machinist in the large Timothy Eaton factory
there.
At the time of which I
write most large 'warerooms' employed outside workers and it was an every day
sight, seeing women and children carrying large bundles of white work, clippers,
thread drawers, flowering, handkerchief workers and handkerchief smoothers. Work
was very plentiful then, most of these firms were in and around Ormeau Avenue
and as you walked down Ormeau Avenue you could hear the sound coming from the
hundreds of machines. There were two very large buildings, one was
Fulton's which later became the Gas Offices, the other being Berrington's apron,
overall and linens. That building is Fermanagh House today. From six o'clock in
the evening when the firms closed, Ormeau Avenue, Cromac Street, the Albert,
Queen's and East Bridge Street were black, as the thousands of workers went
home. Very often as I and my friends went home over the Albert bridge we would
have to run onto the road, thank goodness there were few if any motors around,
to escape from the herds of cows or sheep being brought to May's market to be
penned up, till it was time to take them down to the docks to be shipped to
England or Scotland. We would often run also when we saw what we called
'The Ballymacarrett Cowboy', this was a man riding a bicycle and he would be
wearing a cowboy hat, blouse, pants and all the other cowboy paraphernalia, we
ran because he always carried a rope and tried to lasso you as he passed.
We had such fun going to
and from work, walking over the bridges four times a day, I and five or six
other friends met at the corner of the Ravenhill Road, where I now lived and the
stories we had to tell, who we had a 'set' on with (a date today), where we
went, what was said, or if we had been to a dancing class somewhere, sometimes
this would be the private class in Sandy Row, next time it could be St. Matthews
Parochial Hall, we knew no barriers, or fear from any of our friends, we worked
happily and enjoyed our leisure together.
We would discuss the
latest films, dances, hairstyles, etc., of course as in every company there was
always a 'Sarah', she was really dumb. Each morning, during the war,
around 1917, when things were scarce and eggs were very expensive, Sarah would
come running down, handkerchief to her mouth, and we would start laughing saying
'no Sarah, there isn't' for she always started off. 'I was late, is there any
egg round my mouth' till one day one of our pals turned and said 'you know her
people's awful well off, aren't they Sarah', 'her ma keeps hens' doesn't she and
Sarah replied 'oh no she just buys half a dozen every Friday', then she said
'eggs I mean, not hens'. On another occasion four of us went to the
Panoptican Cinema, in High Street, to see some particular picture, it was the
silent pictures when the sub titles were put on the screen. Sarah was
there and on came the words as the star fell prostrated. 'Hell hath no fury like
a woman scorned' Sarah quite loudly, with a voice quivering, 'Ach dear help
her', it says 'He'll hath no furry like a woman scorned, but anyway she's not so
bad for she has lovely long hair round her, so she's alright,' none of us could
figure out what she was talking about, and we laughed so much and so loudly we
were all quietly but firmly asked to leave. Sadly most of all my old 'pals' are
now gone, leaving me just, memories.
Once at Easter time, one
of our friends invited six of us to go to a dance being held in a small, white
washed hall, somewhere beyond Ballygowan, which was to us the heart of the
country. On arriving we found the hall had a long form placed down each side of
it, and at the end was a platform, on which were placed two chairs, for the
musicians, which was a melodeon player and a fiddler and if shouting and
stamping their feet with their heavy boots was to be any indication of enjoyment
they sure were enjoying themselves. Many of the girls attending wore child
like frocks with sashes round their waists and bows of ribbon in their hair to
match, whilst we "Them yins from the town" as they later called us were wearing
our dance frocks, and our first pair of silk stockings, (black of course) which
had cost us three shillings and sixpence a pair, which we all paid off at
sixpence per week, to 'Rosina' also our broad black silk bows for our hair.
Rosina, one of our workmates, who knew someone with a small shop, kept us
supplied.
We were the belles of the
ball, when we could stop laughing long enough to dance or enjoy the supper,
which consisted of tea, home baked soda, wheaten and currant bread. The bread
was cut thick, 'like Ballymena doorsteps', and the tea was served in white
enamel mugs. All went well till the girls began to get angry, one of them
saying 'It wasn't fair them fellows dancing all night way them yins from the
town, way the veils on their legs', 'while we were all left standing, like a cow
lukin over a gate'. I am sorry to say my friends and I almost had hysterics on
hearing this, so we were told if we didn't stop laughing 'we wud have tay
go out' which eventually we did, leaving we had to walk two or three miles to
the station, where we waited a couple of hours before the workmen's train came
along, around six a.m., this was our one and only country dance.
We often during this time
were invited to go to picnics run by the workers in the Air Craft factory and
other firms, also to afternoons tea and dance in 'Ye olde Castle' a restaurant
in High Street, they were usually in aid of the wounded soldiers, some who were
able to attend being invited. The picnics held in the Crawford's Burn Inn or the
Cingalee were highlights, when you were required to wear dance shoes whilst
dancing ours were black velvet, costing three shillings and eleven pence per
pair. Supplied as usual by 'Rosina'. Another place we used to go to for
parties, and in summer picnics was to a cottage up the Rockey Road at
Castlereagh. It was the home of a lady called 'Mrs. Wells' and she had make what
she called the 'Long Room' into a large party room. The walls were white washed,
there were a couple of long tables brought out for our tea, there was also a
piano. When tea was over, again this would be tea with homemade bread, currant
scones and slim cakes, the table would be taken out and then the games,
Postman's Knock very popular, Forfeits, when one if failing to answer a question
had to sing, recite or tell a story.
The ladies room was the
small bedroom where we left our coats on the bed, combed our hair in front of
the small mirror on the dressing table. The loo was always our problem, it was a
small shed at the top of the garden, the boys would go up and stand around
laughing and adding to our discomfort until Mrs. Well's would come up and remove
them. In summer it was a lovely place, the hills and fields around were so green
and pleasant, not so today with all the building and development, which is now
called progress.
The Ormeau Park once
again came to play a big part in my life after my parents moved to live on the
Ravenhill Road, which was known then as the village. On each side was a row of
small white houses, one side they were like small cottages with half doors and
very small windows, and there were very few shops, but there was a woollen
factory and the large Baltic fire wood company. There were many big fires in the
Baltic, when the flames and smoke could be seen for miles around. I soon
made many friends and in the summer evenings we would go up the park, meet more
friends of both sexes and we would laugh and talk together, and once or twice a
month one of the town's bands would be playing and we would all meet at the
Bandstand.
During 1916 and 1917, a
choir was formed in Belfast, called the Empire Choir, and sometimes many of our
friends who were members of the choir, and others who were not, would go round
Lovers Walk, as it was named, but which we called the Black Path and sitting up
on the bank they, the choir members, would sing. On summer Sunday
afternoons the mane path was like an Easter Parade, the girls all parading in
their new summer outfits. The new costume and hat you had just got would
be looked over and remarked upon, of course it would be always lovely, or
perhaps your hat could do a wee bit more forward or back, which your friend
would accordingly adjust, we never took offence at these remarks, they were our
friends. Then perhaps would come along some of our boy friends, one of whom
might walk you home, and you wearing your new outfit, well, that just made our
day, not to mention it also made some of the others green with envy. How times
have changed.
It is now practically
unheard of to have a special outfit for Sunday wear as it was then customary,
one never walked out without wearing a hat and gloves, even though the gloves
only cost sixpence and were of white or black cotton. As for wearing your Sunday
best during the week, no matter what the occasion it was never allowed. The men
folk too always wore hats or caps, indeed you very seldom saw a man or boy
without a cap on, the boys at school wore what was known as 'skull caps'.
Fashion
Fashions were very different then, ladies frocks had long skirts,
sometimes touching the ground, also the skirts, if they were of
heavy or woollen material had, what was called, 'Brush Braid round
the bottom to prevent fraying, the ladies sometimes had small-hook
like attachment on which they lifted the back of their skirt to
prevent it from getting wet or soiled in wet or dirty weather.
Their blouses were always high at the neck and long sleeved and some
were elaborately trimmed with lace and ribbon. The hats in
summer were very large usually, white or cream, trimmed with
flowers, ribbons and sometimes it would be ostrich feathers.
In winter it would be smaller hats of felt or velvet, trimmed with
ribbon, perhaps a bird perched on the brim or just a wing up the
side of the hat. Some ladies wore small furs on their necks
called 'Tippets' and they carried fur muffs to keep their hands
warm. Children also often carried small muffs. The ladies
boots were always high button boots, sometimes the buttons being
Mother of Pearl, and for a lady to be properly dressed she always
wore a pair of finest kid gloves.
The hair styles were
elaborate, some having their hair done up in 'Merry Widow' curls.
Others wore pads, around which their hair was rolled and the front
was curled with a pair of curling tongs, these were small tongs
heated in the fire, then the hair was rolled round them,
occasionally with disastrous results if they were too warm.
Some very pretty combs were worn at the back of the head, often
being jewelled if worn for evening wear. Elderly women wore
capes, as did my grandmother, though only 52 years old. She wore a
black velvet cape with black beaded embroidery and a silk frill
around it, with this was always worn her small black bonnet, with
two small feathers and a little bunch of violets on it. In her
very wide skirt was a large deep pocket where her handkerchief and
purse were carried, her watch hung pinned on her breast. When
at home she wore a pretty lace cap, sometimes having a small black
velvet bow or a lavender one on it.
Most working woman wore
shawls, some black and some coloured, very similar to the rugs used
today in our cars, they very often also wore a man's cap with a hat
pin pushed through it, and in the home they would be seen wearing a
small shawl round their shoulders with the ends thrown back. This
was referred to as a 'Cloud'. Those who worked in the mills,
rag picking, sewing potato bags, or working in Finlay's soap works
at Victoria Square, would wear coarse brown sack aprons. Many
machinists wore black sateen aprons, thus hiding the oil stains, and
of course a white apron always put on before baking began.
Babies and young children
dress was very different, the bay would, for the first couple of
months, be smothered in clothes, first would be a vest which tied
down the sides, then a flannel 'roller' this was a band about five
inches wide, next a flannel 'barra coat' a long petticoat on a
narrow yoke with no sleeves, next a white flannelette petticoat,
lastly a pink or white flannelette robe, the tail of which was
always put up over the baby's head if a small fine shawl wasn't
used. No mother with a baby who hadn't been baptised was ever
welcomed into your home, since it was said to bring bad luck with
it. For the christening, baby would wear a long white robe,
usually a heirloom, hand sewn and heavily embroidered, and a white
shawl, some times it was a cashmere cape with a silk frill round it,
this was called a 'pelisse', it also wore a silk bonnet with a fine
veil over the baby's face. When about six weeks old baby would
be shortened, or that is, be put into short frocks underneath which
would be first, yes, its flannel roller, then a woollen crocheted
petticoat, next a white petticoat, then its frock with a pinafore on
top. Little boys were also dressed like this, and wore frocks
and petticoats till they were two or three years old, then they
began wearing trousers, and jerseys, and the trousers came right
down below their knees. The girls frocks were also worn well
below our knees, and we too wore long black stockings, and always a
white pinafore. Sailor suits became fashionable for Sunday
wear and reefer coats, with these we wore Sailor caps and in summer,
white breton straw hats with ribbon hanging down at the back.
Transport
Transport was very different when I was young, the first Royal
Mail van I remember seeing was a horse drawn cart with a wire mesh
cage over it, urgent messages were delivered by Telegram Boys, who
rode on red bicycles and wearing pill box caps. The trams were
very open, inside there was a long row of wooden slatted seats down
each side, and from a bar from the roof were straps, which one held
onto when the tram was crowded. Upstairs again were smaller slatted
seats, which at the end of each journey the conductor came up and
turned them round again. The railing round the top of the tram
car was black wrought iron and the long trolley rose up out of the
centre.
When travelling up by
tramcar to Glengormley, the leaves of the over hanging trees would
brush your face as you rode along the Antrim Road. Every
tramcar, no matter what its destination was, had to pass through
Castle Junction, and boys, holding long iron polls (poles), would
change the line at the junction, and the tram would change onto the
other line then go on its way. Later came half covered cars,
which were open at each end and when it was wet one usually got
soaked. There was no protection whatever for either driver or
conductors. The drivers and conductors on our trams had to work very
hard for low wages, many having to leave home around 4.30 a.m. or
5.00 a.m. to walk to the depot to take out the 6.00 a.m. workman
tram. They had no facilities whatever for a meal, instead a member
of the family would meet their car and hand them a can of tea and
some sandwiches, if their car was late, leaving them no time at the
terminus, they could be seen having their meal as they drove along.
Drivers, conductors,
postmen, railway men, etc., were always neat and tidy, wearing dark
uniforms, most trimmed with red braid and brass or silver buttons.
In summer, drivers and conductors wore, from May to October, a white
cover over their caps. Tram conductors carried a bunch of
tickets in our hand, and in the other a punch like gadget with which
he punched a hole in your penny or halfpenny ticket. On each
side of the tram was a white board, bearing large black letters
telling you which route it was going along, and at the end of the
journey this had to be turned again, it was called the destination
board. In the depots at night there was a band of cleaners,
and every morning each car came out shining, seats, windows and the
brass rails and pole.
The ambulance was a brown
van in shape not unlike a horse box, with a roof on top and Belfast
Insignia on the side of it. It was housed in the Fire Station
and as far as I know it was driver by two firemen. The fire
brigade was a low slung van with a large tank on it, it was drawn by
two grey horses, and the men stood around it wearing shining brass
helmets, and one of the men kept clanging a large bell.
In 1920, during the
terrible epidemic of Scarlet Fever and Diphtheria, I was taken to
Purdysburn Fever Hospital in a large carriage, it and the windows
being painted dark green. The nurses outdoor uniform was also dark
green.
The first holiday we had
in Cloughey, Co. Down, we had to go down very early in the morning
to get the Mail Van at May's market, on reaching the Six Road Ends
we were met by the man who kept the small grocer's shop in Cloughey,
and we continued our journey on a jaunting car, and it certainly was
a case of sit tight or you'll lose your place, the narrow roads then
being full of pot holes.
When going to church to
be married, it was in a carriage and pair, the horses being either
white or grey and the coachman wore a white cockade on the side of
his hat, and a white bow on his whip. I was the first in our
street to go to church by motor car, I'm sure it must be a museum
piece today, it looked just like a square box, with the driver
sitting close up to the wheel as though sitting up to the fire.
Our milkman came round in
a large trap on which was a large churn with a brass top on it, over
the tap hung two measures, 1 pint and 1½ pint. The milk was poured
into the jug you carried out to him and he came round twice a day.
The bread man came round twice or three times a week on a square box
like cart, he would sit perched up on top, or at other times he
stood up on the shafts as he went along.
Most people walked
everywhere, many walked to the church to be married, the brides
mostly being dressed in what was known as 'Easter Monday blue'
because that was the colour popularly worn. St. Ann's
Cathedral was the church where many, many people were married, also
many baptisms of babies too, because anyone having no connection
with any church could have these services in' St. Ann's'.
I remember going on an
excursion one lovely summers day, we travelled by brake, this was a
lorry like vehicle with a form up each side and was drawn by two
sturdy brown horses, and we went to the 'spa' at Ballynahinch and it
was fields and animals grazing all the way.
Living near us was a
policeman, whose duty it was to deliver the special letters to the
different stations, to do this he rode a chestnut coloured horse, on
whose side were carried two saddle bags and he wore a pill box cap.
The Sunday dress uniform in Ballynafeigh Police Station wore was a
dark green uniform, decorated with 'frog braiding', and a tall
spiked helmet. When on duty, policemen wore helmets and capes
at night if it was wet weather, they also at night carried small
lamps like bicycle lamps attached to their belts.
Hospitals
Hospitals were so different seventy or eighty years ago, today,
people could not even visualise what they were like. Nurses
worked long hours for very little pay, and on the wards they were
regimented like the army, they daren't have approached a doctor, or
Mr., without permission, and as for escorting the Matron without
their caps cuffs and aprons immaculate, they were in trouble.
Not only had they their medical duties to attend to, they had to
every morning, wash the lockers and window sills, make and keep the
beds tidy, and they most certainly were very poorly fed, and were
often hungry. I was in the Belfast Union Infirmary several
times, the 'Union' as it was known, it was also the Work House, it
was run by the Board of Guardians. There were no lifts, and
you were carried to the ward by two of the pauper inmates. The
domestics in the ward I was in, in the year 1924, were two women who
were also inmates, they had a bed at each end of our ward. They had
to scrub floors, which had only a strip of brown linoleum down each
aisle between the beds. They washed the dishes, sorted the dirty
linen, etc. etc. Two men pauper inmates looked after the big
fires, one on each side of the ward, they had to carry up the
buckets of coal, clean the hearths, and take away the ashes.
They also carried up the food which was appalling, and it was all
served on very often badly chipped enamel ware. Soup, like cabbage
water was served in an enamel mug, the same every day, the potatoes
were always in their jackets, and if you were too weak, or unable to
reach them, well, you just did without. To get a cup of tea
after your dinner, your relatives brought you in a quarter of tea
and gave 'old Mary' one of the paupers, and a most kindly dear old
woman, a shilling every Sunday, and she made your tea. When
old Mary died, there was quite a write up about her in the paper,
she died leaving a substantial sum of money, possibly to charity
because I remember her telling me she had no friends.
There would be thirty to
forty beds to each ward, the beds being end to end up the centre.
The little maternity unit had only about fourteen beds in it, it was
called 'Ivy Lodge' and was where the Jubilee Maternity Hospital is.
If a mother was taken into the Infirmary and she had no one to look
after her children, they were brought into 'the body of the house' a
building beside the hospital, and they would be given lessons, as in
school. The vagrants, who would be in overnight, could be seen
sometimes, sweeping the paths or beating the heavy door mats, before
they were given their mug of tea, and bread for breakfast, then they
would go out on their way again. I often saw this through my window.
One had no choice but to go into the Infirmary if there were no beds
in the Royal or Mater Hospitals, and according to one's
circumstances, you were expected to pay, even in some cases, two
shillings and sixpence per week. Whiteabbey hospital was set
in very nice surrounds, it was the hospital for the treatment of
chest troubles, but most of all for Consumptives, (T.B. today.) For
many years it was the most prevalent and dreaded disease of all, and
people just lay wasting away, there being no known cure for it.
Amongst other things, fresh air was considered very beneficial, and
the patients lay in wards with the windows wide open, or out on the
verandas, well covered up, no matter how cold the weather, still the
number of deaths from consumption was very high.
Purdysburn, the lovely
new hospital, (which now after over 80 years) I live quite near,
still is a fine building. The old hospital which was beside the
Fever Hospital, was the old Purdysburn Asylum, where many poor
mentally defective people were kept, in some cases, forty years,
because of this some people felt there was a stigma attached to the
name Purdysburn, so the hospital is now re-named Belvoir Hospital,
Belvoir being the name of the estate near by. How different
the treatment today for scarlet fever, it used to be the patient was
rushed off to hospital, then men came out and the house was
fumigated all through, if the bedroom wall had wallpaper on it was
immediately stripped off, if on the other hand it was an only child
who had the fever, then the house would be fumigated, and a sheet
which had been soaked in disinfectant was hung over the bedroom
door, and only the person looking after the patient was allowed in
from four to six weeks, especially when the skin was peeling off.
You could rub your skin and it came off like dandruff.
Part of the treatment you
got in hospital was called a 'Tin Bath', why it was called I will
never know, because it consisted of your being laid naked without
pillows, then covered with four or five blankets, followed by three
hot water bottles down each side of you and one across your feet,
after a certain time, all these, the blankets soaked in
perspiration, were taken away, and you were then bed bathed in tepid
water. You were given this treatment about three times during
the three weeks you were kept in bed, you were kept in the hospital
six weeks. While we were in, mother took it, and she was, we
were told afterwards, very ill, and on coming home we had a new baby
sister.
Looking at our beautiful
hospitals today in Belfast, where everything is done for the
patients comfort, such pleasant surroundings too. The nice china,
bed tables, even to serviettes, and the choice of your meal from the
menu you are given. Medically, no stone is left unturned to help and
ease one's suffering. As for the care the young mothers and babies
receive today in our maternity hospitals, I would say at all times
give thanks, for you have no idea what it used to be like.
Christmas
Christmas was the event of the year, looked forward to for months
ahead. My mother, like very many others, a few months before
Christmas, joined both the grocers and the butcher's clubs, paying
in a little each week, ensuring a plentiful supply of extras.
The excitement when these arrived! Everything for the pudding,
butter, and always a stone jar of strawberry jam, with the big
luscious strawberries in it, and then out of the box would come the
'Cake' with its pink and white icing, and a red ribbon round it, and
piece of holly on it. There would also be some small oranges,
an apple for each of us, and perhaps some figs, or dates.
Christmas would arrive with noise and jumping around as we showed
each other when we had got in our stocking, perhaps a doll, dressed
by mother, a story book, or a box of picture blocks and for my
brother a tin train, or a little horse and cart.
As we grew older it would
perhaps be a new school bag, which cost sixpence, or a cradle which
father had made, one year it was a doll's chair, toys of very little
monetary value which would be frowned on today, but how we prized
them, we were never allowed to play with them till we came home from
church. Always in every boy and girls stocking was a new penny and
an apple and an orange. We the older children went to church with my
father, the service then was at 7.00 a.m. and all the church bells
would be ringing. I was married on Christmas
morning December 25th 1918. On returning
home, the fire would be lit in the parlour and we were allowed to
take our toys in and play.
Mother would have a
roaring fire in the kitchen, on would go the big iron pot with the
pudding in white linen cloth in it, whilst father would be busy
taking away the ash pan and fender, leaving only the steel slide,
next a screw was screwed into the fireboard, then the hook, on which
hung the roast of beef, or small goose. This was hung over a tin on
the slide, and the meat was cooked by turning it around in front of
the bright red fire, constantly turning it must have been a very
tedious job for father. I remember we kept a big iron spoon, and
this was filled with sugar, which was plunged into the heart of the
fire, it would come out blazing, and it was mixed in the gravy to
brown it, before it was thickened with a little flour.
We would then be called
in when dinner was ready, the lovely white damask table cloth, on
which was the best china, and there was our plates well filled with
meat, and always parsnips, and a piece of suet roly poly, next
father brought in the pudding, covered in white sauce, and a sprig
of holly on top. Every Christmas, mother's stepmother, and her
brother, his wife, and two sisters and our two cousins, came for
tea. After tea, there would be games, singing, uncle Albert, mothers
brother, who was a stoker on the Navy, had a splendid tenor voice,
and while he was away he would send her postcards, with the words of
some nice songs, (my daughter still has some of them) and together,
they would sing duets, then mother would sing, and my aunt would
play on the mandolin she would bring with her. Before leaving, they
would have ginger wine and biscuits, or a cup of tea.
On Boxing Day, we went to
'Grandma Louise's' who lived in University Street, and again it
would be the same entertainment, except we would have learned a
short poem or piece which we had to recite. 'Grandma' was an English
lady, and she always had a couple of students staying with her, from
one of the neighbouring Presbyterian or Methodist Colleges.
'Grandma' was a very good baker, and she would always have such
pretty, dainty little pastries for tea, and being the only
'Grandchildren', on leaving to go home, we were each given a toy,
and mother would be given a bag of these little dainty goodies for
us. Sometimes it would be moonlight, as we walked home, it
would be very late for us and I would be a very happy but very tired
little girl.
Christmas 1910, I, my
sister and brother, spent in Purdysburn Fever Hospital, it was the
year of the big epidemic of Diphtheria and Scarlet Fever, there were
two or three children out of nearly every home. I was able to be up
for Christmas, I have never forgotten it, it was the most wonderful
time for us all. It was like fairyland, also the first time I had
ever seen a Christmas tree outside of a book, and the little
coloured candles in their tiny candlesticks, we talked about them
for months after.
My father was given a
live rooster one Christmas, having never had a live bird to kill
before, he decided if my mother held the birds head over the stool,
he would give its head a shop with the hatchet. There was my mother,
down on her knees, holding the bird, down came the hatchet but
father either didn't aim right or chop hard enough, when off went
the rooster with its head hanging to one side, next the pair of them
were chasing it round the kitchen, holding a tablecloth to throw
over it, at last it was caught, and a neighbour came in and saying
"Ach, there's nothing to killing a bird, I just wring it's neck". I
never saw our rooster again, nor yet another live bird in our home.
In July 1918 I went with
four of my companions to Bangor, for our annual week's holiday.
Whilst there I was introduced to a chap, recently home from France
where he had been serving, and was now medically discharged from the
'Royal Irish Rifles'. On Christmas morning 1918 I married him,
but, that is the beginning of another book of memories!
A few
stories I have heard over the years
Johnny, who came in from the country, met Jane, who, one evening,
invited him to her home for tea. As is customary, Johnny was asked
if he would like a little more. "Ach no", said Johnny "that was very
nice, what there was of it". Oh, sure you can have a little more, he
was told. "Dear no", replied Johnny "There was plenty of it, such as
it was".
A Belfast business man, who had a lot of money but very little
education, had a very nice house built, with steps up to the door.
On top of the steps sat two stone urns filled with flowers, beside
which one day Mr. X had his photograph taken. On showing the
photograph to a friend one day, the man said, "I like your pose Mr.
X". Whereupon, Mr. X huffily replied, "I beg your pardon, them's not
poes, them's flowerpots".
A mother boarded a tramcar with a very tall lanky boy, on asking for
a half fare ticket, the conductor asked his age. He's only 12 years
old, why?" "Mmm" said the conductor, a very small man, "He's such a
big boy for his age, isn't he". Whereupon the mother replied "Aye,
well, that's more than your mother can say about you, isn't it".
Nearly every road used to have a pawn shop, one evening a woman,
rushing into one in Sandy Row, pushed a frying pan up on the counter
which was still hot, saying to the assistant, "Give me sixpence
quick on that, I have his sausages fried, and I want to get him a
pint of porter and a couple of sodas for his supper"
When wages were small and times hard, very often a woman going to a
Church or some other social, would take a little bag with her, to
bring a couple of buns home for the kiddies. One evening a
friend did just that, but not wishing everyone to see it she put it
carefully, having three buns in it, up under her coat, on coming
out, the clergyman, a very hearty hail fellow, well met sort of man,
gave her a resounding slap on the shoulder saying, "Hello there,
it's great to see you out". Well 'out' came the buns all over
the porch, and with the people coming behind her, crushing her buns,
the place looked, what with the sugar off the tops and the crumbs
getting dirty, it looked like snow turned to slush, she vowed never
again would she ever take another 'wee' bag to a social.
Sometimes it is customary, when putting in the interment information
of the deceased, friends will add a favourite line of a hymn or
psalm, mot always quite appropriate. One woman, whose husband
was known to be a very quarrelsome, tight fisted man, inserted; "Oh,
that will be glory for me".
Another insertion, put in
by a butchers wife read, "Sheep may safely graze"
A man, a large boxer type
was also a very heavy drinker, he lived in our district for years,
when worse for drink he would become a real fighting man, and it
would take four or five policemen to hold him down till the 'Black
Maria' (police van) took him away. "Safe in the arms of Jesus"
was the insertion put in by his friends.
Yet another, was for a
man who when in drink would come home and literally wreck the house,
the insertion was for him; "Praise the Lord, All things shall be
made new".
No
disrespect or blasphemy intended, just seeing the humorous side.
Looking
back now over the years, sometimes I feel it is unbelievable, I just
can't take it all in. With the end of World War One, life and
our world changed completely, never to be the same again. I have had
a wonderful life, travelled a lot seeing some beautiful places and
things. I have known hard work, the love of companions and
friends, joys, heartbreak, and sorrows, and now today I have the
love and care of my children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.
I have seen many changes in our once lovely city, and I have seen so
many wonderful things happening too. The care for our
children, the opportunities in education, our hospitals, the many
inventions which make life so much easier in our homes and in our
work, the care and help given to the elderly. I have also seen
the ingratitude of many, but I have also seen the love and self
giving of so many of our young people and others. Voluntary workers,
youth leaders, carers helping others who carry a heavy burden, and
many more.
These
pages are now all I have left.
My
Memories
Maggie May
Hughes
Taylor
Court
Belfast 8
~~~~~~~~
Maggie,
I hope you did write more stories and that some day I may come
across them ~ Mary |
