大象传媒

Taking my sledge to the gasworks for coke; Father and brother sawing railway sleepers for firewood; washing frozen stiff on the line; double glazing before it became fashionable; frost on the inside of the double glazing.
These first memories which spring to mind seem to indicate a preoccupation with keeping warm. Hellifield was a cold place then. I retired back to my roots in 1996 and my first observation was the change in the weather, global warming had arrived.
The church was at the centre of village life. The vicar was Canon E.Evans and until fairly recently when anyone asked me what he was like I replied 'Enoch Powell'. Now there is no one to compare him with; in fact not many people remember Enoch Powell. I recall Mr.Evans' skill with languages when welcoming the locally billeted prisoners of war into his church. A man known to be a formidable scholar I can see him now, attache case in hand, coming down the subway returning from one of his regular visits to Durham University. He tought me the creeds, catechisms etc. It was a Christian education which has stood me in good stead throughout life. In my experience he was kind, approachable, showing interest in what I did. He used to put a small electric fire outside his study door to warm the draught as it came in. That coldness again, we used to notice the wind only when it stopped.
Mr Bright was the Headmaster. He used to walk behind you in assembly, listening to hear if you were singing in tune. The teacher who really sticks in my mind was 'Nippy Lowe' so called because of the speed at which he travelled round the classroom, ruler in hand. He did not live locally but travelled daily from the Morecambe direction. I got the ruler across my hand once for 'not dotting my i's or crossing my t's'. I am still guilty of the same misdemeanour. Miss S.Evans is also memorable. She taught us needlework and always wore long skirts to hide her disability. She was really nice. She and Mr Bright encouraged my love of reading and lent me books.
Play features large in my memory- learning to skate on Gallaber; egg rolling at Easter and sledging in Winter in the Back Field; learning to swim over at Arnford; bowls and hoops made for us by the village blacksmith; skipping ropes and whip n'top in the road up Midland Terrace; the list is endless. We were safe in those days whether skipping on the road or wandering the countryside. In wartime there was scarcely any motorised traffic; in fact I remember after the war ended we used to sit on a wall top counting vehicles on the A65!
Peel Wood was my favourite place. We used to post a shoebox full of snowdrops to my Grandma in Derby and it arrived the following morning, flowers in mint condition. Primroses were everywhere, bluebells in Tommy Clarkes wood.
During the 1940's there were quite a lot of shops. Down at the bottom of Midland Terrace there was Hoare's/James general store and Mr Swinbank's bakery. On Good Friday we used to go down for hot cross buns which we then ate for breakfast. A few doors further on were Mr Howson the butcher then, through the railway bridge,the Post Office. The railway bridge was a definite dividing line in the village. opposite the Post Office was Mr Baker the jeweller and then the Misses A&V Richardson selling sweets. We used to save up our rationing points to buy sweets at Christmas. Mr Rumney the butcher came next, then Mrs Barton's haberdashery and drapery shop going round the corner to Preston's newsagents, the fish n'chip shop and so round to the Co-op. The Co-op looms large in my memory. Downstairs Mr Coates was weighing out flour etc. and upstairs I saw my first films- Rose Marie and Maytime. There were quite a few small businesses round The Green and in Back Lane was a slaughter house. Further into the village were the cobbler, joiner and blacksmith and, as now, a garage at each end. Hellifield was a flourishing,largely self contained village.
The village was a real community. As children, the village protected us from the outside world. I saw troop trains and Red Cross trains coming through, I overheard adult conversations about the black-market inspectors and yet, somehow, it did not touch us. We had plenty to eat, the rations were supplemented by the hens we kept and Dad's allotment. We ate vast quantities of things like mushrooms. Rosehips were picked and sent away to be made into rosehip syrup. Popay's greengrocery van called, Mr Swinbank brought the milk. We had all that we needed.
Recalling Mr Evans in his clerical raincoat makes me realise that I came in at the end of a long period of rural stability. The war ended and the structure of society changed. I am fortunate in that I have made the long journey back to the land of memories. I thank God every day that i have come home before I die.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.