This is the third and last of the three stories of one person’s life growing up in Chorlton in the 1930s and early 40s.
Jeanne grew up off Oswald Road and has in the past vividly described the Manchester Blitz and its impact on Chorlton.
But in these three stories she chose to describe her time at Whalley Range School which she first attended in 1937.
In my second year now called third year, we had to choose a science from Chemistry, Biology or Physics.
We were asked to put our hand up if we thought that cream was heavier than milk. I thought, “Yes, it is thicker” and shot up my hand. I never considered why it floated at the top of the milk bottle.
Clearly I was not a scientist in the making. Biology and History were linked so after first year I didn’t study Geography.
Today’s students take far more subjects but we were limited to eight.
Years later I was glad I had the opportunity to take Geography at Teacher Training College.
I enjoyed French, German and Mathematics the best. Miss Garner gave great encouragement to settle down and learn the Geometry theorems off by heart for they had to be written our fully, data, construction, prove and proof, all 38 of them.
When I think back it was a “No nonsense school” with loads of homework that had to be handed in on time or else!
We were quite obedient, conscientious and keen to do well and get good marks.
At the end of third year with a class of high flyers my marks were only average and from then on I was usually around 14th or 15th in the class of 35 pupils.
War rumours increased that summer of 1939.
The Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain, said in March that if any action threatened Poland, Britain and France would come to their aid. Hitler had already invaded Czechoslovakia and so, when Hitler refused to retreat from Poland, war was declared on the third of September.
I would find it hard to record the events correctly so I’ll just tell my story.
In line with many other schools Whalley Range evacuated its pupils. We went to Stacksteads, near Bacup in the Rossendale Valley.
I can remember my (much older) sister, Kathleen coming to the house the morning I left for (at that time) an unknown destination. She had bought me a black patent leather case for my gas mask and a silver identity bracelet. Mother asked why I needed a bracelet and I said, “It is in case I get bombed or burned, you will recognize my body.” Mother burst into tears and I got a strong ticking off from Kathleen.
I don’t remember much about leaving Manchester, I think it was from Chorlton station but I do recall arriving in Bacup with my suitcase, gas mask in its posh case and a leather school satchel on my back.
We were taken to a church hall and divided into groups each of us having a label tied to a coat button. We were issued with a brown carrier bag containing a tin of corned beef, a tin of sardines and a tin of fruit with evaporated milk. The word ‘evaporated’ always intrigued me for it wasn’t evaporated. .
A woman in W.R.V.S uniform, armed with a clipboard marched us up a narrow street of terraced houses dropping off pupils on the way. I was the only one left and could see no more houses but further up the lane we came to a small farmhouse with an elderly couple waiting at the front door.
Their names were Polly and Johnny Lord and I was to spend the next four months with them.
I really missed my family but the couple was so good and kind to me that overall I quite enjoyed the experience.
It was only a small farm with seven cows, a horse for pulling the milk float, hens in a shed behind the house and a couple of fields. The government made a small contribution to Polly and Johnny for my upkeep.
The arrangement for our continued education was that we attended Bacup and Rawtenstall Grammar School in the mornings and their pupils went in the afternoon.
We didn’t see much of them and I was never aware of any trouble between the two schools. Any we did meet were friendly and curious and a little bit sorry for us because we had had to leave our homes.
I enjoyed helping Polly around the house, collecting eggs and occasionally going round with Johnny on the cart delivering milk to the nearby houses. I used to balance the churn on my knee and tip the milk into a ladle and then into the customer’s jug. Polly rooted out a pair of clogs for me to wear in the shippen.
She told me that they had belonged to her daughter who died of meningitis when she was thirteen. I asked her whether my arrival had brought back sad memories but she said,
“Memories, but not sad, it's lovely having you.”
I felt very privileged. Talking of the cowshed I did try my hand at milking but with little success.
The couple had occasional help from John, a farm labourer who invited friends teachers and me to a moonlight walk on the moors. I remember it well.
The clear sky, the silvery look of the streams running down the hillside and the boggy moss and grass underfoot, all quite exciting for us city folk.
Another time I went with Johnny to fetch the horse from the field and was invited to sit on her back for the journey home.
I’d never sat on a horse before and imagined a gentle trot but Johnny slapped the horse’s rump and shouted, “Home, lass.” The horse shot forward with me clinging to his mane, shaking with fright. It was probably only half a mile away but it felt like forever.
The food on the farm was good, plenty of dairy products, chicken and good casserole stews cooked in the oven on the open kitchen range, better in fact than rations in Manchester.
© Jeanne O'Reilly nee Herring
Pictures; from the collection of Jeanne O'Reilly nee Herring, additional pictures of a barrage balloon on the Rec courtesy of Alan Brown, and Whalley Range School from the collection of Sally Dervan
 |
| Jeanne aged 21 |
But in these three stories she chose to describe her time at Whalley Range School which she first attended in 1937.
In my second year now called third year, we had to choose a science from Chemistry, Biology or Physics.
We were asked to put our hand up if we thought that cream was heavier than milk. I thought, “Yes, it is thicker” and shot up my hand. I never considered why it floated at the top of the milk bottle.
Clearly I was not a scientist in the making. Biology and History were linked so after first year I didn’t study Geography.
Today’s students take far more subjects but we were limited to eight.
Years later I was glad I had the opportunity to take Geography at Teacher Training College.
I enjoyed French, German and Mathematics the best. Miss Garner gave great encouragement to settle down and learn the Geometry theorems off by heart for they had to be written our fully, data, construction, prove and proof, all 38 of them.
When I think back it was a “No nonsense school” with loads of homework that had to be handed in on time or else!
 |
| Jeanne with her brother, 1937 |
At the end of third year with a class of high flyers my marks were only average and from then on I was usually around 14th or 15th in the class of 35 pupils.
War rumours increased that summer of 1939.
The Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain, said in March that if any action threatened Poland, Britain and France would come to their aid. Hitler had already invaded Czechoslovakia and so, when Hitler refused to retreat from Poland, war was declared on the third of September.
I would find it hard to record the events correctly so I’ll just tell my story.
In line with many other schools Whalley Range evacuated its pupils. We went to Stacksteads, near Bacup in the Rossendale Valley.
I can remember my (much older) sister, Kathleen coming to the house the morning I left for (at that time) an unknown destination. She had bought me a black patent leather case for my gas mask and a silver identity bracelet. Mother asked why I needed a bracelet and I said, “It is in case I get bombed or burned, you will recognize my body.” Mother burst into tears and I got a strong ticking off from Kathleen.
I don’t remember much about leaving Manchester, I think it was from Chorlton station but I do recall arriving in Bacup with my suitcase, gas mask in its posh case and a leather school satchel on my back.
 |
| On the Rec circa 1941 |
A woman in W.R.V.S uniform, armed with a clipboard marched us up a narrow street of terraced houses dropping off pupils on the way. I was the only one left and could see no more houses but further up the lane we came to a small farmhouse with an elderly couple waiting at the front door.
Their names were Polly and Johnny Lord and I was to spend the next four months with them.
I really missed my family but the couple was so good and kind to me that overall I quite enjoyed the experience.
It was only a small farm with seven cows, a horse for pulling the milk float, hens in a shed behind the house and a couple of fields. The government made a small contribution to Polly and Johnny for my upkeep.
The arrangement for our continued education was that we attended Bacup and Rawtenstall Grammar School in the mornings and their pupils went in the afternoon.
We didn’t see much of them and I was never aware of any trouble between the two schools. Any we did meet were friendly and curious and a little bit sorry for us because we had had to leave our homes.
I enjoyed helping Polly around the house, collecting eggs and occasionally going round with Johnny on the cart delivering milk to the nearby houses. I used to balance the churn on my knee and tip the milk into a ladle and then into the customer’s jug. Polly rooted out a pair of clogs for me to wear in the shippen.
 |
| Whalley Range School, circa 1938 |
“Memories, but not sad, it's lovely having you.”
I felt very privileged. Talking of the cowshed I did try my hand at milking but with little success.
The couple had occasional help from John, a farm labourer who invited friends teachers and me to a moonlight walk on the moors. I remember it well.
The clear sky, the silvery look of the streams running down the hillside and the boggy moss and grass underfoot, all quite exciting for us city folk.
Another time I went with Johnny to fetch the horse from the field and was invited to sit on her back for the journey home.
I’d never sat on a horse before and imagined a gentle trot but Johnny slapped the horse’s rump and shouted, “Home, lass.” The horse shot forward with me clinging to his mane, shaking with fright. It was probably only half a mile away but it felt like forever.
The food on the farm was good, plenty of dairy products, chicken and good casserole stews cooked in the oven on the open kitchen range, better in fact than rations in Manchester.
© Jeanne O'Reilly nee Herring
Pictures; from the collection of Jeanne O'Reilly nee Herring, additional pictures of a barrage balloon on the Rec courtesy of Alan Brown, and Whalley Range School from the collection of Sally Dervan
No comments:
Post a Comment