The HorseShoe was once a Stage Coach Inn, before the days of cars; we had stables that were turned in garages that people would rent. The Pub was made of granite, and we had granite slabs on some of the floors. The doors were really big, about 5 feet wide with great bit iron keys that went in the lock. All of the rooms had coaled or gas fires.
We had everything in the 50's, that was unusual, a fridge, oven, washing machine, hoover as we called it (vacuum). The TV came much later 1956. I did not know we were well off and did not understand why my father would not let me play with some of the children. Later I found out many things. One of them was that he was a snob.
My father had staff to help him. They were all characters and very kind to my brother and I. There was Mrs. Holmes who had worked there before my father bought the Inn. Dad asked her to stay; Mrs. Holmes thought she would have to leave and was happy to stay and my father raised her income. Her hair was always the same style, a bun with hairnet. She would scrub the floors on her knees; you could eat off them. I loved her. In the morning she came about 6.00 a.m. to set the fires and clean out the ashes. In the evening she would serve in the bar.
Mr. and Mrs. Holmes lived in a stone cottage, which they rented for 50 years on the road to Tansley. They had an out side toilet and an outside water spigot. I never knew Mrs. Holmes first name all the years I knew her, right up to her death. It was a courtesy to name elders with Mr. and Mrs. A lost tradition called respect.
Mrs. Holmes was a part of my family in my head, loved her very much. When I was 3-4 years old I would always ask if I could come home with her. Now and again she would let me come. She walked like speed lighting up that hill and I had a hard time keeping up with her. She brought me home when she had to open up the bar at 6.00 p.m. For walking she would have won gold meddle at the Olympics for fast walking! Dressed in her wrap around flower pinafore she always wore.
Picture of Mrs.Holmes and my step-mother Mabs.
Many years later when I had married we visited her in her stone cottage. Her husband had died and that in some ways must have been a relief as he spent his money drinking .Not to say she did not love him, it was hard living with him.
When I was young Mr.Holmes would sit me on his knee. I liked him but but when he drank he turned mean.
We sat at the table with a fine table cloth and china and had some tea and biscuits. She now had indoor water, which my father paid for after all the service she had done.
A little whiskey bottle was brought out and she asked my husband if he would like a nip in his tea, but he declined. It was lovely to visit, and many years later when she was in sheltered living on her own, in a flat with a kitchen, bathroom, living room it was her own little palace with her furniture and bits and pieces. Slowly she had gone blind but it did not slow her down. She had made friends and the warden called through the intercom morning and evening to make sure everyone was alright. There were lovely gardens to look at but she could not see the flowers, which was a pity.
Don and I went out and bought some food for her, things I know she would like, potted beef spread, crusty bread, pressed tongue and tomatoes. Of course she told us we were silly to waste our money but to me it had never been a waste for someone who meant so much in my life. We sent cards at Christmas, and then my step mum told me she had died, that another closed chapter in my life.
Mrs. D. was another cleaner Dad had coming in as early at 4.30 a.m. She was so thin, and now when I think about it hardly ate a thing, she was always in a rush and I think she had a few jobs on the go, her children that meant everything to her. She had a gaunt look and her hair was the same style all of her life. Her work ethic was really hard on her as she adored her children and spoilt them she woke up at the crack of dawn and walked at least a mile to out pub. I have no idea about her husband or if she was a widow. There was not a lot of money around and I never saw her in anything new. Her hair was shoulder length with a parting to the side held by a grip. Mrs. Dennis spent her whole life working for her children. Many years later my stepmother moved and lived right next door to Mrs. D daughter and we could hear her shouting at Mrs. Dennis. How sad is that? Every Christmas she would buy my brother and I a little gift when we were children. I always remembered that.��
My mother always made a big pan of coffee with milk, and toast for the working staff at 10.00 am, milky coffee, toast with marmalade, and then she started boiling eggs for them. I know for a fact Mum never had to make them anything but she knew their backgrounds and she made this time the best of their day where they could stop to eat and enjoy each others company Mum included.
My mother cared about all the people she met. She knew some of them did not eat well and her main concern was with the children. My father did not like it one bit.
They were his workers and should be treated as such. To mum they were her friends and should be treated as such. Mum kept on feeding the troops as she called them.
Mrs. Ling was a round chubby lady with curly hair who reminded me of Mrs.Tiggywinkle from the Beatrix Potter Books. She lived in a tiny cottage, the living room was cozy and warm and there was a kitchen in the next room behind. It was a sweet little home the that remind you of chidren's books where animals dress up in peoples clothes living in cozy homes, crocheting with net curtains. Mrs. Ling had a budgie who could speak.
For some reason there was rivalry amongst the staff some did not get on at all with each other and sometimes it was a great cause for concern for my father. Especially when she walked out and my father had to beg her to come back, that was all she wanted, to be wanted. She was in her 60's then and had a crush on Dad who was in his 30's and when he did something for another one of his staff, she would get very angry.
Mrs. lived by Drabbles Mill a clothing factory that made knickers and other undergarments. The stream that flowed past the Mill was a different colour every day orange, red, green, purple a rainbow of colours. Mr. and Mrs. Bowmer lived in a stone house, she had two children and they kept greyhounds. I remember walking toward their house as a child on my own, and one of the dogs had escaped and had been run over. The poor dog was yelping in pain and the side of its body had the skin torn away. You could see all his organs. I may have been 7 and I ran home as fast as I could and ran through the front door of the Pub crying. Children were not allowed in the pub in those days, but this was different I was in shock and when I told everyone my Dad gave me a little brandy in water to calm me down. It had the most disgusting taste I ever tasted and made me tired.
Why the dog had been run over was always a puzzle to me as the road was rarely used and was not really a main road, it only went to the Mill, and the bluebell woods up to the Chesterfield Rd.
Mrs. B.took us all a cup of tea first thing in the morning. That was how I awoke to get ready for school. I never saw my parents first thing in the morning as they had their tea later after late night closing and never got to bed until after midnight.
One day I told my mother that Mrs. B. did not make my bed properly; my mother said, "Well you better make it yourself". She did not want me to turn into a brat and told me off. I did and I learnt, my children always make their beds!
Mrs. A. was one of our cleaners. She was very very round with red hair. Every time she work her face was red and the sweat would pour down her face sometimes, and had terrible BO because she was portly. She had a hard life and many children, and she became pregnant again. I liked her very much we would chat when she was working. Mrs. A. was a very kind lady. One day she did not come to work, and I asked Mum where she was. She told me she had a baby and if I wanted we could go and see her that afternoon.
She lived on the council housing estate and it was a walk up the hill to get there. Her husband was no where to be seen when we arrived at her house. The children let us in. There she was in a bed breastfeeding her new baby. The bed had been brought down to the living room so she could keep an eye on the children. All the children had red hair. My mother sat and chatted and I just listened. It was tea time and the children were sitting round the kitchen table having their tea. It was white bread spread with tomato ketchup that was it, nothing more.
I knew nothing of being poor but I learnt. Mrs. A. was crying and my Mum told her not to worry and everything would be all right. Her husband would spend the money on drink and she was worried because two of her children were going to the grammar school and they had to have uniforms and she could not buy them. Her children were bright and going to go to the grammar school which was a rung up the ladder. Later my mother brought a big box of food instead of giving money and second hand school uniforms for the children who were going to the Grammar School, and shoes. My mother invited Susan her daughter for tea, she though it would be nice for me to make a friend. The look on Susan's was one of amazement at the food on the table. There were two chocolate blancmanges, sandwiches of all kinds, cakes from the bakery and a big pot of tea. "You have two puddings for tea", Susan said, and all I could say was "Yes". I thought every one had two. We sent Susan home with the leftovers.
Mrs. A came back to work, and some years later she died of a heart attack. Her children were her pride and joy.
I have a friend called Mary and she sometimes came to play and when my father was ranting and raving we would hide behind the coach until he has gone. He was really ferocious and he swore all the time and then say he never swore. Mary did not like to come to the house so I would go to her house. I am not sure if my father knew that her Dad was a lorry driver. Her cousin Elizabeth was the daughter of the Post Office where you could buy stamps. When I was very small they were my baby sitters.
Pictures of Mary and Elizabeth
I loved Mary's father. He has huge hands and once I got a Nurse Uniform for my birthday and Mary wore the hat and I wore the apron and her father was our patient. I gave him an injection and he would go ouch ouch. We bandage his hand up and his head, he had time to play with us. Once we did his hair as hairdressers.With bows and clips, he was a good man.
My father had two personalities. I think he was a psychopath after finding out his traits from a book,"Psycopath in a Suit".
Mrs. R. also had the hair net. Her husband worked for the railway, and they lived in the railway house at first in Matlock Bath, and moved two more times after that. I have many memories of her especially when her husband was in the hospital and had gangrene in his leg and the doctor told him he had to have it off. He said no. I was in the room opposite on one of the many diets, only fruit that time.Of course he died with blood poisoning. We could smell the gangrene when it wafted into our hospital room.
Matlock Bath 1954.Station Master. Matlock Bath Railway Station.
I wonder if this is Mr.R?
I was sent to the hospital to be put on the diet of only fruit 500 calories. When I reached 11 stone Dr. W. said I look just fine and I could leave. Thinking about that now and the way weight has changed to 7 stone as the new weight. What was Dr. W. thinking?
I was the youngest at the Whitworth Cottage Hospital, and I talked to all the patients who were really old and were waiting to be moved to old people's homes. I was not allowed in the men's ward. One lady who was 54 had had a heart attack and was sent from the Chesterfield hospital to the Whitworth to convales I was a teenager and lifted up the bed and she said stop don't give me a fright. I said sorry, not realizing her illness until she told me. Days later she died, and I wondered if it was my fault. The nurse told me it was not and she suffered with heart disease and she was only 54. I shared a bedroom with another patient called Phoebe Blood. A weird name but a nice lady. When she went home a young mother came in and she had had her gall stone out.
Many patients who were old would fall and one ninety year old died. One old lady was bent double sitting up in her bed. Her head nearly touching the bed blanket. As I talked to her she tried to raise her head to speak. She had diamond rings on her fingers and I took her hand and asked her what was wrong, she said" I miss my husband", he had died many years earlier, and she was 94. It always stayed with me that the body may be an old shell but the youth still lives within.
The patients that were old had been dumped there by their families or doctor until new places could be found for them but a lot died while they were waiting and you could here many crying wanting to go home.
The Whitworth is no longer a cottage hospital butabed and breakfasthome now. It looks over the Derbyshire hills. There was other staff I have not forgotten only their names. They knew all about me my name and where I lived and my father. It was strange to hear them speak about my mother and me and I knew nothing about them. My father had a reputation far and wide.
An old picture of the Whitworth Hospital.Newer picture of the Whitworth Hospital.
My mother on the other hand had a reputation as an opera singer far and wide and was in many opera's. She wrote a pantomime called "Old King Cole", sang in Matlock Opera Society, and the Matlock Players. She was the voice over for a fridge, when you opened the door her voice would let you know all about the features inside.
All a part of my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment