One hundred years of one house in Chorlton ... part 134 ….. sounds …. and echoes from the past

The continuing story  of the house Joe and Mary Ann Scott lived in for over 50 years and the families that have lived here since.*

Raking the fire, 2019

Now I know it is stating the obvious that houses change over time, and one example of that must be the sounds that rumble around the place which are worth investigating because those noises help tell their own story of a house.

I was reminded of how they constitute echoes of the past this morning, when just before six I raked out the ash from the fireplace.  It is one of the daily chores which I do from early autumn through to late spring, and in a bad year pretty much through the summer.

And it will have been one of those early morning tasks which Joe or Mary Ann undertook, although I am guessing that the laying and setting going the fire may have waited till later in the day, given that the front room was unlikely to have been used much before the afternoon.

Not so my grandparent's house in Derby which was a two up two down, and much of the “living” was done in the front room all through the day.  This contrasted with our old house where much of the “living” was done in the kitchen and meant that dad racked out the stove first thing, adding fresh coal to bring it back to life and ensure that there was plenty of hot water.

And as the day progressed and the stove heated the water in the back boiler there was always the danger that it did the job too well, and a hissing sound warned that some of the very hot water had to be drawn off.

Listening to the wireless, 1945

As I write I remember that hissing sound, usually in the evenings which accompanied the sounds of the wireless, which was usually tuned into the Home Service of the BBC but alternated with the Light Programme.

My copy of the Manchester Evening News for Friday November 30th, 1945, offers up a variety of things to dip into on that winter’s evening, including a discussion between Michael Foot and Quintin Hogg on “Liberty” proceeded and followed by a selection of light opera, Christmas carols, the news and Today In Parliament on the Home Service and a mix of popular music and drama on the Light Programme.

And nothing much had changed a decade or so later, which was my introduction to a host of classic radio comedies.  So, while I was too young to remember the Goons, and I.T.M.A, there were the Glums, The Navy Lark, The Men from the Ministry, mixed with Hancock’s Half Hour much more.

These were the daily sounds which you could pretty much set your clock by, along with the clink of the milk bottles, and the thump of the newspaper landing on the mat.

Enoch Royle and son, coalmen, circa 1930s

To these can be added the fortnightly coal delivery which will have arrived on a horse and cart and came into the house via the coal hole.  

Ours is at the side of the house, but long ago was blocked up and while I make ritual noises that it would be fun to reopen it and have the coal stored in the coal cellar which is the smallest of the three rooms, I know it will never happen.

The romantic in me remembers the sound of the coal being emptied down the shute.  

It began with a slow rumble which became a loud crashing sound as it shot out of the bag and was followed by a quieter trickling sound as the coal settled, leaving just the powerful smell which permeated the lower house and lasted well into the morning.

Mother was less romantic about the stuff and as much as Tina likes the fire, she is adamant that this dirty, dusty and smelly stuff will never be permeated to once again enter the house through that coal hole.

Manchester Corporation cleansing van, 1938

Happily, Joe had ensured that his house would have a path running along the side of the building where the metal dustbin was located, avoiding the practice of taking it through the house from the back to the front on bin day.

Those bins were smaller than the giant plastic ones, and their emptying made a different sound to that of today’s wheelie bins.

The sound of these giant ones would be unfamiliar to Joe and Mary Ann, as would the sounds of the washing machine, dishwasher, and the mobile phone with its myriad of ring tones and promise of music downloads, along with access to social media and the talking route guide.

But they were both very prepared to embrace the new, so had a telephone by the mid-1920s, and  television set two decades later.

And if they didn’t hear the noise of an early washing machine it was more to do with their reliance on a laundry to collect, wash, dry and iron their clothes and bedding.

Not for Mary Ann the sound of wet washing being squeezed through a mangle or the bubbling sound of boiling water from a copper in the cellar, for while the space is there in the cellar for a copper, there is no evidence that one was ever installed.

Man and van with all you could want, date unknown

All of which just leaves the sounds that would have come from the road, ranging from the noise of horses pulling carts full of coal, groceries, or milk to the cries of various traders including the rag and bone man and the travelling knife sharpener.  

The knifeman always fascinated me.  Most of the ones I remember worked from a handcart with a large stone which was operated by pedal power and gave off sparks when the stone met the metal.

There will have been other street cries, including itinerant flower sellers but these are passing out of living memory, as will the sound of the marching bands which passed the house on Sundays, followed by church congregations, Scout and Girl Guide groups or members of the Boys Brigade.  

Procession of Witness, 1936

These vied with contingents of the Salvation Army, the Band of Hope, and our own Chorlton Brass Band which for a century and more took to the streets just for the joy of playing music.

Today the music comes courtesy of passing cars, some of which sounds like a man banging on the sides of a van, delivering noise but nothing more.  They have little in the way of charm and sit with the loud and insistent sirens of the emergency services which have replaced the gentle ringing of a bell.

And which I suspect Joe and Mary Ann would have preferred.

Location; Chorlton

Picture, cleaning out the ash, 2019, from the collection of Andrew Simpson, Enoch Royle and his father on Albany Road, circa 1930s and Procession of Witness, 1936, from the Lloyd Collection, aCorporation cleansing van, 1938, from Your City, Manchester Municipal Officers’ Guild, 1938,   delivery van, date unknown from the collection of Tony Walker

*The Story of a House, https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.com/search/label/The%20story%20of%20a%20house