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BACK TO 1900 - By
Pearl Green (nee Garnett) 1969
Sent to
Cowlingweb by: Margaret Winifred Green
Yao - Daughter Of Pearl Green. (Sept 07)
Round about the turn of the
century my grandma and grandpa
Stansfield of Preston decided to
make a new life in Nelson, where
there would be more work for
their three young daughters.
Moreover, they had lost their
only son in a fire and money in
a business, so it was the best
thing to do. They set forth on
their wagon of furniture and
made a home in Manchester Road,
Nelson. Mary Jane, the eldest
daughter, my mother, Harriet
Ann, and the youngest daughter
Eleanor all married Nelson men;
mother marrying my father who
lived just across the road. He
was the youngest son of Mathew
and Elizabeth Garnett, there
being four sons and three
daughters, all very tall and a
good-living family. My
grandfather was a tailor and had
a tailor's shop along Manchester
Road. When my sister Ruby was
born mother decided to name her
Ethel, but Grandma Stansfield
said "Oh, don't call her Ethel,
she's much too nice for a name
like that". Of course, when I
was born, she came along to see
my mother and said at once "Call
her Pearl and she'll match 'tother".
I can't remember her but my
mother used to say she could sit
on her hair - all black and
shiny. My grandfather lived with
us for many years so I knew him
better. He reminded me of Lloyd
George. My father went to a
school in Nelson run by a Mrs
Wilkinson. She had three sons of
her own and for years after we
used to visit his old teacher,
spending all day Saturday with
her sometimes.
After I was born mother was ill
and so father moved over to
Cowling in Yorkshire, where my
brother Arthur was born. Then
back again to Nelson, but on the
outskirts as he loved the
country and the long walks. At
that time our nearest place of
religion was the Quakers. Many
happy hours we spent there, and
the long summers we skipped,
danced, played at concerts, then
when it was time for Dad to come
home I would run through the
fields to see his tall figure
coming the short way home.
Mother was ill but even when
father went to the 1914-18 war
she insisted on going to work,
wearing at that time a shawl,
and hat and coat for weekends.
Eventually as we got older we
were sent down to the big
Congregational Sunday school in
Nelson. It was a long walk and
took the best part of Sunday
morning, as many times we would
stand and stare at the Salvation
Army on our way there and back.
They had opened a new citadel in
Nelson and lots of people
joined. To me, the whole of
Nelson was my world, and to
wander off to the market on
Saturday afternoons was a
delight, and to see trays of
home made toffee. I remember
going home one day after calling
at my aunt's, and I came across
a march. Rotten eggs and
tomatoes were flung at the
people trying to talk.
My school in Nelson was St.
Paul's Church School. My
teachers were very kind and did
their best to keep us happy. I
seem to have learned such a lot
at that school although at the
time thought it was wasted and I
was much better off not being
there. Hence my escapades of
going to meet my teacher the
field way when she had gone the
road way. I got many a
telling-off for that. She was
the daughter of a Nelson
dentist, and all of our teachers
came from a long way off. Back
in those days I went to laundry
classes, cookery classes,
swimming, and on Friday
afternoon we had classes on how
to look after babies, besides
needlework, etc. There were big
glass folding doors, only opened
on special occasions. The
headmistress kept the cane.
My father used to take me
sometimes to the Burnley
Hippodrome or down to the
Victoria Palace, Nelson and I
got a love of the music halls so
much that when my cousins May
and Jim bought a cinema in
Briarfield, I often didn't go
although we got in free. I just
couldn't get used to it.
Mother was very outspoken. My
father treated everyone as
equals, with a happy smile and a
"how do you do?". He was always
ready to do anyone a good turn.
He was apprenticed as a taper
and when war came one of the two
apprentices had to go so father
went down to London to join the
R.F.A. but the interviewer sent
him home and said "That garrison
is not for you, with three small
children". So later on he joined
the Royal Garrison Artillery. We
cried and there were terrible
partings, but mother did her
best and life went on, always
longing for the day to go to the
railway station and see our Dad
amongst the hundreds of other
faces as the train steamed into
the station. Father had made
some dumb bells and put rings on
ropes so we could do exercises,
and he made our dolls at
Christmas and a beautiful
rocking horse. He also made most
of our clothes and always
repaired our clogs. He had a
sheep dog he was very fond of,
but my love of dogs came to an
end when, one day, while playing
with the farmers' children, I
got bitten. I walked miles down
to the doctor's surgery alone to
have it treated.
Mother became more frail with
worry and went to Spiritualist
meetings. I went too. One
summer's day Ruby and I had been
over to Cowling and we saw a
house to let. We begged mother
to move, so about 1917 we moved
back to Cowling - a new church
school, the becks and moors and
new friends all helped to make
us very happy once more. We
played for hours and hours down
the beck side and on the moors
and when my wandering mood came
over me to see Nelson and my
aunts again, I would set off and
walk four miles over the Moss
and catch the tram at Laneshaw
Bridge. The trams fascinated me,
jogging you one way and the
other. Everyone seemed to trust
me and I was full of trust in
others. We went to Ickornshaw
Methodist Sunday School and
chapel and joined in all the
concerts and as I got older I
went to a girls' group each
Thursday night. I loved the
Cowling Feast Day, the brass
bands I really admired, and the
processions. The Friday night
visit with a candle in a jam-jar
down into Cowling to the
Yorkshire Penny Bank for a bag
of chips was all very spooky but
we had no fear.
When father came home from the
war we moved once again down
into Cowling to a house with a
shop attached. We liked that
house and garden as there was a
huge greenhouse where we had our
concerts. In the evenings we
played all our games around the
lamp post outside the house
until mother called "Ruby, Pearl
and Arthur, time to go to bed!".
It was in this house that I had
a chance to practice my bread
making and cooking, as mother
became more frail, but always
determined to carry on.
She opened the shop as a sweet
and ice cream shop, and although
only 10 years old, I used to go
over to Colne to the wholesalers
and choose the bottles of sweets
and boxes of Toasted Tea Cakes
and almond paste Strawberries.
Father made the ice cream, but
he also started a shoe business
with some money from the war. We
were happy to have dad home
again, but there was always the
dread of death. I seemed to have
grown up with it and could not
believe people were born to die,
even little children. So I
nursed mother. The teachers were
very kind to me and seemed to
understand that someone must do
it, although they badly wanted
me to sit for a scholarship to
go to Keighley school. But the
country walks and nature rambles
were my best loves. The
headmaster was a Scotsman and
our singing lessons were all
songs of Scotland. He was a
jovial old man and pulled the
rope of the bell when we had to
go in to lessons, always giving
us a pat and fascinated with our
names - Pearl and Ruby Garnett.
My aunts came over from Nelson
every Sunday and our house was
always full. They loved the
journey over the Moss on
Laycock's bus, and after dinner
we walked to Cowling pinnacle in
the summer. Winter was spent
around the fire till Chapel at
night.
Father had been just four years
at war and was gassed three
times plus trench feet. We went
to see him in his blue
convalescent uniform in
Manchester and spent four happy
days there with him. He was
discharged on the day the
Armistice was signed. He didn't
like war and could not kill, but
felt it his duty to go. He told
us often how he let young German
men of eighteen or so go off,
knowing full well he may be
killed by them. He was a
sergeant towards the end, and
his happiest time was cooking
for the officers. His health was
broken from the gas and so we
had a sick mother and a dad we
had to accept as not being so
healthy as he had always been.
I looked forward to the bonfire
nights as all children did in
those days. We had them in the
street and everyone joined in.
They were huge fires and lasted
all evening, even having huge
lumps of coal burning on them
for hours. We had Plot toffee
and Parkin and we roasted
potatoes and ate them with salt.
The snow in winter was also a
delight. Cowling being hilly
there was no lack of places to
toboggan down.
I left school at 13 and went for
six weeks holiday to Liverpool.
A Mrs Knight - who had visited
my father while he was in
hospital there - came to Nelson
to stay with my aunts and
invited me for a holiday before
I started work. Then it was
decided I should go into the
mill and learn to weave. I had
one of the hardest men to work
for and he never seemed
satisfied even though I did my
best. He used to swear at me and
get real cross. So I left and
once more nursed my mother and
looked after the home. I had
seen so many dead people by the
age of fourteen that I really
had a dread of death. If anyone
died who we knew well, we always
went to have a look at them in
their coffin and all we could
say was: "Oh, doesn't she look
nice". And if it were a man they
used to say "It's just like him,
he hasn't changed a bit".
My mother died when I was about
fifteen and I stood at the foot
of the bed, heartbroken. After
nursing her so carefully all
those long years, I felt I had
pulled her through so many times
and like the little match-girl,
wanted to cry "Mother, mother,
take me with you!". My aunts
came over to the funeral and
once more we settled down trying
to comfort my father who missed
mother so much. He went every
week to Nelson to see if his
sisters were alright and our
cousins used to come and stay
with us. My cousin May and her
husband, Jim, still had an open
car and used to come over and
take us for evening runs,
sometimes to Bolton Abbey. I
still went to the Methodist
Church and my brother Arthur
went to the Church of England
because his friends went there.
Later, I started work in John
Binn's mill and settled down
much better, learning to weave
on Jacquard looms. I worked hard
and looked forward to the
weekends, sometimes going
shopping in Colne. Father bought
me a lovely shot silk raincoat
in Preston on one of his visits
to my mother's relations. He was
very smart and always well
dressed, being six feet two
inches tall he carried his
clothes well. I felt sorry for
him, and wished many times that
he had married again. Mother and
I talked over this if she died,
and I knew she did not mind if
he chose a good woman, but Ruby
said she would leave home if he
did. Father carved a cross in
marble and
stood it on a plinth with this
verse:
It would be better
Could we let her
Rest in peace
But memory taught our sweetest
thoughts
For her should never cease.
He used to read the family Bible
every night until 2 or 3 a.m. He
had always been teetotal until
he went to war, and mother was
so proud of him because so many
used to get drunk in those days.
He called in now and again for a
pint on his long walks after
Mother died. We were sent to the
Rechabites at Bar Chapel once a
week and there learned about all
that could happen to people who
drank alcohol.
© Margaret Winifred Green Yao
(Daughter Of Pearl Green) |
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Pearl
Green (nee Garnett)
Credited To: Margaret
Green Yao. Received: Via
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