Cleaning the Town Hall …….. 1967

Now for anyone who doesn’t remember the Town Hall when it still had nearly a century of Manchester soot and grime, here is the picture.

It was taken in 1967, just three years after the City Council had estimated the cleanup would cost £25,000.

And what I like about the image is the contrast between the dark stone, and the two sections which have been cleaned.

As dramatic as the clock tower looks, I rather think it is the section on Lloyd Street which offers up just what the cleaning had achieved., highlighting the detail in the stonework and lifting the section to the eye.

Why they began with Lloyd Street will be on record somewhere, but I suspect it was the trial, which if it went wrong was down a side street.

Nor is that all that the picture has to offer.

Albert Square was still an island surrounded by traffic, with provision for parking opposite the Town Hall, and the underground Victorian lavatories, with their period features and sturdy iron railings.

And for the particularly observant, there almost in the centre of the square, is the statue of Oliver Heywood, who had already been washed in advance of his neighbour, William Gladstone.

Not sure why he got preferential treatment, but someone will know, and a lot more people will pile in with speculation.

And they will no doubt have theories about just what happened to the lavatories.

Were they stripped of their features, just back filled, or just covered over?

Location; Albert Square

Picture; Town Hall clean up, Albert Square, 1967, Courtesy of Manchester Archives+ Town Hall Photographers' Collection, https://www.flickr.com/photos/manchesterarchiveplus/albums/72157684413651581?fbclid=IwAR35NR9v6lzJfkiSsHgHdQyL2CCuQUHuCuVr8xnd403q534MNgY5g1nAZfY

Hardy, lonely outpost on the edge of the township

Hardy is that bit of Chorlton-cum-Hardy that most people are vague about.  

It stretches east from the village and follows the river up past Hardy Lane and was a lonely outpost on the edge of the township.

Across its land were two farms a small hamlet and a little beyond the grand old house of Barlow Hall and the very large and impressive Barlow Farm.

A large part of Hardy was buried under tons of rubbish and the farm disappeared with the development of UMIST playing fields.

Back in the 1840s Charles Wood farmed 60 acres of meadow and arable land and employed three farm servants.


His home at Hardy Farm was on the edge of the flood plain and while he was safe enough the same was not so of the small collection of cottages which were situated a little further south.

In 1841 there were only two of these cottages left which were owned by Samuel Dean who farmed Barlow Farm and they were occupied by John Marsland John Burgess.

Both men were agricultural labourers and probably worked for Dean on his 300 acres.  John Marsland lived with his wife Mary and three grown up sons, Thomas, James and Charley who were also farm workers and John Burgess lived in the other cottage with his wife and son.

I doubt that they were little more than one up one down properties made of wattle and daub with a thatched roof.  A few of these survived into the late 19th century.  Our two had a garden and either relied on their own well for water or used the one up at Hardy Farm.

Sometime in the early 1850s the cottages were abandoned after the Mersey had flooded, but even before then both families had moved on and out of the township, although Charles Marsland had continued working for the Dean family and now lived at Barlow Farm.

It must have been a pleasant enough spot when the sun shone but remained a lonely remote place much favoured by those indulged in illegal prize fighting, but that as they say is another story.

Pictures; Hardy Farm and the land to the east and south from the 1841 OS map of Lancashire, courtesy of

Digital Archives, http://www.digitalarchives.co.uk/ and the meadows before the metro link from the collection of Andrew Simpson

Walking Well Hall Lane in 1843, all fields and not a lot else

I am back in Well Hall, or to be more accurate just north of what was Well Hall House and heading north through what is now the Progress Estate.

What is now Well Hall Pleasaunce is down at the bottom of the map, and our journey up along Well Hall Lane to Shooters Hill would have been a pleasant enough stroll past open fields.

Now what makes this such a fascinating stroll is that courtesy of this tithe map and the accompanying notes, we know who owned this land, who rented it and what it was used for.

All of which makes such a stroll a journey deep into the Eltham of the 1840s.  We can even find out who lived in the cottages in that year and comparing these with census returns, and rate books get an idea of just how long people stayed put in one place.

Location; Well Hall, Eltham, London













Picture; detail of the land to the north of 1843 from the Tithe map for Eltham courtesy of Kent History and Library Centre, Maidstone, 
http://www.kent.gov.uk/leisure_and_culture/kent_history/kent_history__library_centre.aspx

And if you want a station ….. we’ve got one to spare ….. Manchester Victoria

Now that’s a bit unfair because Manchester Victoria remains a busy and vital part of our rail network.

But during the 1960s it did seem eclipsed by some of the other Manchester and Salford railway stations.

Across the city London Road got a makeover at the beginning of that decade along with a new name and with its fast InterCity express trains seemed to stand for all that was new and exciting about the 1960s.

Not to be outdone Oxford Road got that new frontage which with its sweeping bold timber design looked equally an embodiment of a new age.

Leaving Central and Exchange to roll over, give up the ghost and depart the scene.

And by what seemed a cruel joke both became car parks.

Nor did Victoria escape the retreat from the great days of the railways.  In the 1970s it must be said it was becoming a tad shabby, despite its stunning exterior and equally wonderful interior.

We used it get trains home to Ashton-Under-Lyne some evenings and Victoria was the jumping off place for journeys back to Newcastle.

But there was this sense that it was in decline.  

The much-vaunted Picc Vic Tunnel connecting Victoria and Piccadilly had been shelved, many of the services had been diverted to other stations and only a handful of platforms remained with a chunk of the station sold off for the construction of the Manchester Arena.

All a sad end to what had once been a thriving and important railway hub which in 1909 boasted 17 platforms and that grand exterior.

To which in 1929 was added an extension linking it to Exchange Railway Station.

Back in the 1970s I hardy noticed the poignant war memorials including that discreet sign to the number of wounded men who returned as hospital patients during the Great War.  

And only gave a glance to the magnificent booking hall, the mosaic lettering above the First-Class Café, or that elegant glass and ironwork at the front of the railway station.  To which can be added the tall tiled map of the destinations which the old Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway Company served back at the beginning of the 20^th century.

And today I doubt few using the tram interchange to make journeys out to Bury and Rochdale will ever know of those dreary decades or that some of the railway station is built over part of the cemetery at Walker’s Croft which is believed to contain the remains of 40,000 people, many of whom were paupers.  

Or that later the site of the old workhouse on New Bridge Street was also engulfed by another period of Victoria’s expansion.

It remains one of those rarely talked about stories that the development of many of our railway stations resulted in the clearance of some of our worst inner-city slums.  So, while part of Little Ireland vanished under the Oxford Road railway viaducts, Victoria did for properties in Irk Town which was notorious as an area of poor housing and sanitation.

If I was at all fanciful, I might imagine their collective ghosts wandering the platforms, but if such spirits are a foot they will have to share the space with the heave of passengers who today use Victoria, whether it be using Timmy tram or like me out by train to Walkden.

Leaving me to reflect that it was a jolly good job Victoria didn’t go the way of Central and Exchange.

Location; Manchester Victoria

Pictures; Manchester Victoria, 2025-26, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

Lost in memories in Albert Square …..

How easy it is to find and post images of Manchester before now.

But how much better to post an image you took and share it along with the memories of the place at the time.

We are in Albert Square when public lavatories were still a feature of the main island sandwiched between the statues of the great and the good and parking meters ringed this public space.

I think it is 1979 but could be any year up to 1984.  

A clue might well be the construction work on the western side of the square which now houses offices and a restaurant.

Over the years I have sat in the colonnaded space looking out at Prince Albert and the Town Hall beyond and pondered on just when the Victorian urinals vanished under a previous makeover of the Square.

They were not remarkable but were still fine examples of Municipal provision and a century or so after they were laid out as part of the memorial to Prince Albert I remember using them, marvelling at the mix of tiles and polished metal.

Location; Albert Square

Picture; Albert Square, 1979, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

An invitation to the church do and the story of Peter Wakeman

The invitation 

Until a few days ago I had no idea that Peter Wakenham ever existed, but he did and he has left an interesting paper trail for a man who described himself as a labourer.

We know where he lived in the middle decades of the 19^th century, the names of his wife, two children and when he died.

To this we can also add his birth year and the fact that on September 5th 1833 he was invited to the slap up meal in honour of the Rev. J.K. Shaw Brooke who had completed fifty years as the vicar of Eltham

Now none of this is unusual but men like Peter have tended to be forgotten by history.  It is not that they have been written out but rather no one thought them significant enough to be written in.

Peter in Court Yard from the 1841 census 

All of which is a shame because Peter lived in Eltham for 74 years, worked the land as an agricultural labourer and unlike some of his contemporaries could write his own name.

Now this we know because at the wedding of his daughter in 1840 he signed his name as a witness while both his son in law and his father left their mark. 

His signature in 1840

Illiteracy was still a real problem and to get some idea of the number of people who couldn’t read and write in 1851 the authors of  the census on Education fell back on the simple test of how many were able to sign their marriage certificate as against those who put a cross or mark. 

The “test of marriage marks” was not in itself an over accurate form of assessment as the report pointed out “the art of writing is with great facility forgotten by the poor who find no application for it, while for various causes some who can write nevertheless decline to sign the register.”*

It did however show that the number of people signing with a mark had progressively been dropping from 1839. In that year it was 41.6%, in 1840, 42%, and down to 40.8% in 1841 and by 1851 was 38%.

Wedding record for Ann Wakeham in 1840

And while there was a 4% fall in the numbers of men and women who used their mark this hid a disparity between the sexes. Men using their mark dropped from 33.7% in 1839 to 30.8% in 1851 while in women it fell from 49.5% to 45.3%,

But both his children could write.  Ann signed her name at her wedding and his son was to rise to become a farm bailiff.

What is more remarkable is the way that Peter came to my attention.  There were plenty of agricultural labourers in Eltham all of whom have been remembered in some official records but by sheer chance Peter’s invitation to the Jubilee dinner for Shaw Brooke survived and was recorded by the historian R.R.C. Gregory.

The invitation

One side was printed “1833. Eltham Jubilee, in commemoration of the 50th year the Rev. J.K. Shaw Brooke has resided within the parish as Vicar, universally beloved and respected” and invited “Peter Wakemean ... to partake on Thursday , the 5th day of September, of a dinner provided by public subscription in token of the respect and regard entertained the Vicar of the Parish Of Eltham, 1833

N.B. You are quested to wear this card with the other side in front, in a conspicuous manner, to attend on the day in the Court Yard and to bring with you a knife and fork.”

And that was what Peter Wakeman did for according to Mr Gregory “around the card are the needle marks to shew that it had been carefully sewn upon some conspicuous part of his attire.”**

The day went well and the invitation card was kept, eventually being attached to the back of an engraving of the vicar where it stayed for nearly 75 years.

Court Yard in 1844

Peter died in 1852 and for part of his later years he had lived with his son and family.  Before that we have him on Court Yard which was a densely packed row of 17 houses on the east side and another smaller group facing them.

I can’t place him exactly along the row but this was where he was in 1833 and where he was still living eight years later.

But there is still more to do.  Sadly the parish records are incomplete for the period that his children would have been baptised, but the entry for 1815 gives us the name of his daughter Ann and his wife Sarah. 

Now the hunt is on for both Ann and Sarah.  At present I know Sarah married in Woolwich in 1840 and that Sarah had died before the June of 1841, but there will be more.

It is all just a matter of patient research and perhaps another lucky break like the invitation card, which is how I like my history, a bit messy and always full of surprises.

Next; A walk down Court Yard in the June of 1841

Baptismal record of Ann Wakeman 1815

Pictures; of Peter’s invitation card from The story of Royal Eltham, R.R.C. Gregory, 1909 and published on 

The story of Royal Eltham, by Roy Ayers, http://www.gregory.elthamhistory.org.uk/bookpages/i001.htm detail of Eltham High Street, 1843 from the Tithe map for Eltham courtesy of Kent History and Library Centre, Maidstone, http://www.kent.gov.uk/leisure_and_culture/kent_history/kent_history__library_centre.aspx

*1851 Census of Great Britain on Education

**The story of Royal Eltham, R.R.C. Gregory, 1909

Baptismal records and census extracts from ancestry.co.uk courtesy of The National Archives

Looking out on one of our farms from our house on Beech Road

I have always been fascinated by the Bowling Green Farm which stood on what is now the junction of Beech Road and Beaumont Road.

The Bowling Green Farm, date unknown

Part of the reason is simply that we live opposite in the house Joe Scott built who was also responsible for demolishing the farm house sometime in the 1940s.

There is strong evidence that it was there by the 1750s and had a mixed existence.

In the 1840s it was the home of Samuel and Mary Gratrix, who were in their early 70s.  They employed a farm labourer who lived with them.

Mr Gratrix's home and land on the right of the map, 1844

Now that is a little surprising given that they only farmed an acre of land which was located to the south and east of the farm, and consisted of parts of five fields which were a mix of arable, pasture and part of an orchard.

By 1852 the farm had passed into the tenancy of Peter Langford, who a year before had farmed an acre of land by Oswald Field.  The family appear to prosper because just nine years later they have 16 acres and employed two labourers.

And the family remained on the farm until 1909.

With a bit more digging it should be possible to firm up the final date because just two years later the house was home the Mylett family and the connection with the land seems severed.  He was a coal merchant.

Chorlton Row, 1854

I know that Mr and Mrs Mylett had three young children and that their home had six rooms.

And it is that small detail about the house which as ever draws me into the property.

There will be lots more to finds out, but the romantic in me has wandered back into the 1840s, when the Gratrix family had clear views north across the fields to High Lane, south towards Chorlton Brook, and no doubt passed the time of day with whoever was walking down Chorlton Row from Barlow Moor Lane to the village green.

Plan of the farm house, circa 1930s

And there would have been plenty of them, from the itinerant traders in from Manchester with everything you might want, to those wanting to use the blacksmith down by the Wesleyan chapel and of course those wishing to call in at one of the beer shop and pubs.

Samuel Gratrix might well have supplied some of the food eaten by the Holt family who lived just east of his farm in the impressive Beech House which was set in a walled garden.

And I guess will have sold much of his crops at the Manchester markets.

All of which just leaves me to puzzle over the foot print of the house on the old maps which doesn't quite match the plan in the 1930s.

But that is for another time.

Location; Beech Road

Pictures; the Bowling Green Farm, date unknown from the collection of Tony Walker, the plan of the farm circa 1930 from the collection of Andrew Simpson and Mr Gratrix's fields, 1844, from the OS Lancashire, 1854, courtesy of Digital Archives Association, http://digitalarchives.co.uk/