'Sixty Years of Hurt with David Baddiel' .... a fascinating story on the wireless today

Despite not being interested in football, here is a series of broadcasts I have been drawn to.

It is available on Saturdays and there after from BBC Radio 4.*

"'Sixty Years of Hurt with David Baddiel' explores the meaning of England and Englishness through the history of the England Men’s Football team. 

This is a social and cultural history as much as a sporting one, examining the story England tells about itself and how it's changed, via the medium of the international game.

Football is singularly the most important cultural institution in the country for defining Englishness” says Historian David Goldblatt, as the series begins looking at the most famous moment in English football – the world cup win in 1966. Comedian, writer and football fan, David Baddiel, sees how the victory adorned swinging London, and yet the characters in the team spoke to a very different kind of England. 

David also travels back to the very origins of the game in England (discovering that Henry VIII had a pair of football boots), checks in with Elis James for a view from Wales, and muses on the meaning of national anthems.

The series delves deep into how national myths are both forged and reflected in the fate of eleven young men with three lions on their shirts. 

It takes in the view from England’s sporting rivals, from Wales to Argentina, and asks what light the success of England’s Woman casts on the story of England’s Men.

Across the series, David Baddiel will be joined by contributors including Stephen Fry, Alex James, Maisie Adam, Elis James, Barney Ronay, Roy Williams, Des Lynam, Stuart Pearce, Jean Williams, David Goldblatt, Pippa Grange, Jonathan Wilson, David Seaman, Omid Djalili and many more.

Sixty Years of Hurt with David Baddiel is produced by BBC Studios Audio for BBC Radio 4, in collaboration with Left Bank Pictures who are producing the upcoming drama Dear England for BBC iPlayer and BBC One.

The producers are Rich Power and David Baddiel."

Location; BBC Radio 4

Pictures; football figurines, circa 1990s courtesy of Ben, Josh and Saul, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

*Sixty Years of Hurt with David Baddiel, BBC Radio 4, https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m002wlk2

Lost and forgotten streets of Manchester .......... nu 13 Old Bank Street

Now I know that Old Bank Street is not lost and has not been forgotten.

It is after all used by heaps of people every day taking the short cut from St Ann's Square up on to Cross Street.

But it's narrow, has been there a long time and so qualified.

Location; Manchester

Picture; Old Bank Street, 2016, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

A bit of nostalgia for the Eltham of the 1960s

In the garden of 294 Well Hall, June 1964

Today I have descended into bit nostalgia for the Eltham of my youth.

Now this is not something I do often, after all nostalgia is a bit of a false trail.

In my experiences the sun didn’t always shine, ice cream was limited to those blocks of strawberry, vanilla and chocolate and you only ventured upstairs on a bus if you wanted to breathe in clouds of tobacco smoke.

And yet there was something special about growing up in Eltham in the 1960s.

I guess it started with the discovery of the woods just above where we lived on Well Hall Road.

Once in there they just seemed to go on and on.  Never underestimate that sense of adventure and sheer freedom that comes from walking the woods which of course is also matched by the knowledge that you can’t really get lost, for eventually if you walked far enough there was Welling while to the north was Shooters Hill and south Eltham Park.

All of which was pretty exciting to someone whose had grown up around New Cross.

© Scott Macdonald

And then there was the Pleasuance which with its barn and moat had a charm all of its own.  Not that I knew of the depth of its history, or of Well Hall House that 18th century mansion or the connection with Edith Nesbit.

But the place still had a magic with its Tudor walls and garden and summer evening concerts which the ever present railway station and trains did not spoil.

Thinking about I spent a lot of my time at Well Hall Station travelling back to school in New Cross for nearly three years and the crowded homewrd jorney in the afternoon rush hour.  Even now I can picture the scene as the train slowed to take the curve into the station and there in the distance was that impressive view of Shooters Hill, all trees dominating the horizon.

Not that the morning rush hour was the best time to take in the place.  For me that had to be late morning on a hot sunny day with just one other passenger on the platform.

There was stillness about the place and the only distraction was the smell from the warm oil which had soaked into the old wooden sleepers and  left its trail on the ballast stone.

© Scott Macdonald

All of which was shattered with that twanging noise from the wires to the signal box alerting you and the railway staff that the train was on its way.

I continued to use the station as a way of escaping back to New Cross and my old friends for a few months, before this gawky ill at ease teenager discovered that apart from the woods and the Pleasaunce Eltham had even more to offer.

That started with exploring the High Street and continuing on down along Bexley Road past Avery Hill Park.  And had I known it to the north was Crown Woods which a little over two years after we washed up in

Eltham was where I would go.

Pictures; from the collection of Andrew Simpson and Scott MacDonald.

Lost images of Whalley Range part 1 the cinema

I am on Upper Chorlton Road in 1960 with A.H. Downes who took a lot of pictures of the area.

In the distance you can just make out the Whalley Hotel and the junction with Brooks Bar beyond.

But what interests me is the Ferodo building which I must have passed countless times over the years and not given much thought to.

It vanished before I realized it was under threat and I wish I knew more about it.

That said I know there will be someone who does and kick myself for not taking more careful note of Derek Southall’s wonderful account of Manchester picture houses because I am pretty sure that he mentions this building.*

It is similar to many which were built in the early decades of the 20th century, and was one step up on the simple wooden huts and old vareity halls which were converted into picture houses as the novelty of cinema caught on.

But then I could be wrong we shall have to wait and see.

It certainly looks similar and  a little grander than the one further up Upper Chorlton Road which has survived as a furniture store.

So I shall just leave it there on Upper Chorlton Road in 1960 and wait for the memories, stories and details of the place to flood in.

Picture, Whalley Range, Upper Chorlton Road, north east side, 1960, A.H.Downes, m40806 and again in 1973, photographer unknown, m40728, courtesy of Manchester Libraries, Information and Archives, Manchester City Council

*The Golden Years of Manchester Picture Houses: Memories of the Silver Screen 1900-1970 Derek J. Southall

Sidney Street …… little valued …….and now forgotten

This is Sidney Street or what is left of it.

Sidney Street, 2025

Once upon a time it ran off Hardman Street, taking a sharp right and becoming Thompson Street before joining Joddrel Street.

Sidney Street, 1974

Later Thompson Street was renamed Tivoli Street and just a decade ago you could still trace the route from Sidney Street following the old street plan.I did it regularly but by then it was pretty much all open land with just the road surface and a remnant of a building to bear witness that this had been a busy place.

I say busy but you would have to go back to the 1850s to find much stirring on Thompson Street which consisted of sixteen back to back houses on the northern side facing nine larger properties which backed on to Ashely’s Silk Mill, Hampson’s Hat Factory and Thompson’s Chemical Works.

Those railings, Sidney Street, 2025

A century later these had all vanished under large warehouses, which in turn were demolished to make way for a car park and a grassed verge.

Sidney Street, 1851

And now they in turn have gone and the site is occupied by a large 21st century building.

Sidney Street, and Thompson/Tivoli Street, 2012

But compare the image of Sidney Street today with that of 1974 and tiny vestiges of it most recent past is there from the iron railings of what is now a restaurant to the tiled rear of Invicata House.

Not so of course 25 dwellings that in 1851 ran along Thompson Street.

They were home to 113 people who made their livelihood in a mix of unskilled occupations, many of whom had been born in Ireland.

Typical were the families at number at 32 which was inhabited by Mr and Mrs Howarth, Michael and Mary Byrnes their son and stepson and Mary Baxter and her son. 

James Howarth was a porter, Michael Byrnes a bricklayer’s labourer, Mary a shoe binder and their sons worked as cotton piecers, while Mary Baxter was a washerwoman and her son a brick layer.

Tvivoli Street, 1968

In time I will explore Thompson Street in 1851and its varied occupants and try to fix when the properties vanished.  They were still there in 1893, but I guess will have been swept away soon after.

Alas nether Sidney Street or Thompson Street were deemed interesting enough to have been included in the street directories for the 19th and early 20th centuries, leaving their only trace in the Raye Books and census returns.

We shall see.

Location; Spinneyfields

Pictures; Sidney Street, 2025, from the collection of Andrew Simpson and in 1974 m5022, and Tivoli Street formerley Thompson Street, M05716, 1968, courtesy of Manchester Libraries, Information and Archives, Manchester City Council, http://images.manchester.gov.uk/index.php?session=pass and Sidney Street, Tivoli Street, 2012 courtesy of Google Maps, and Sidney Street in 1851, from Adshead’s map of Manchester, 1851, courtesy of Digital Archives, http://digitalarchives.co.uk/ 

Just how do you honour a shop with history?.......

Now it’s not a silly question nor is it an irreverent one, but a genuine search for a fitting memorial to a shop that has not only sold its share of baked beans, but been at the heart of local politics and the community for 97 years.

Hardy Lane Co-op, 1959

The shop is the Hardy Lane Co-op on the corner of Barlow Moor Road and Hardy Lane and is the Hardy Lane Co-op.

It was opened in 1929 to serve the new housing estates which were being built along and behind Barlow Moor Road.

What marks it out is that it has a meeting room and has the distinction of being one of the last Co-op stores to retain a community space which can be hired out. Once there used to be hundreds of such spaces above Co-op shops across the UK.

But sadly most have now gone.

And the Hardy Lane Co-op Rooms can boast a rich and diversified series of events which have taken place in its room.

They range from meetings of the Wood Craft Folk to pollical assemblies of the Labour and Co-operative Parties as well as acting as election rooms for the two parties, and a heap of social events from film nights to whist evenings.

That banner, 1937

A favourite story of mine is the regular meetings of the Chorlton and Manley Park Women’s Co-operative Guild which was founded in 1922, and commemorated with a banner in 1934.

I remember looking up at the banner during meetings and events throughout the 1970s into the 1980s and beyond which were enlivened by some of the original participants of the local Guild who did “tea duty” in the interval having contributed to discussions of the Co-op Party on a variety of topics.

And so, I will be returning to all these moments in the story of the Co-op rooms, but for those who can't wait I can recommend that wonderful blog written by Lawrence Beedle on all things Hardy Lane Coop.*

The Hardy Lane store, 2009

Leaving me just to announce the news that a Blue Plaque will be installed on the wall of the Hardy Lane Co-op Store later this year to commemorate its historic and continuing place in the community.

Watch this space.

Location; The Hardy Lane Co-op Store

Pictures; Barlow Moor Road, 1966, courtesy of Manchester Libraries, Information and Archives, Manchester City Council, http://images.manchester.gov.uk/index.php?session=pass the banner of the Chorlton and Manley Park Women’s Co-operative  Guild 1937 and the Co-op Store in 2009, courtesy of Lawrence Beedle

*Hardy Lane Scrapbook, https://hardylane.blogspot.com/

Take one young lad …….. several jobs working by the River …… and you get a bit of history

 Now, even on an August morning with the promise of a hot day ahead, standing at the bus stop opposite the Woolwich Ferry at 5 in the morning could be a grim place.

And when the weather had turned sour, and the wind and sleet swept off the River it was not the best way to start the day.

But then I was lucky, all my jobs along the Thames were indoors, not for me the full force of the weather unloading goods from a tramp steamer or scraping the bottom of a rusty old vessel in one of those small boat yards along the River. 

Instead I spent a time in the old R.A.C.S. food warehouse, dispatching groceries to stores across south east London and beyond.

It was a fascinating place, where its earlier life lingered on in the powerful smell of tea which permeated one floor, and the loop holes on all the floors which gave access to the River, but I guess had long ago seen the last cargoes hoisted  from the jetty water side.

When I worked there in the early 1970s everything came in and went back out by road, and the closest I could get to the Thames was from those loop holes.

And now the building has gone.  Just when this complex of Victorian warehouses was demolished  I have yet to discover, but gone it has.

And so it seems has Glenvilles which was close to the Blackwall Tunnel and stood in the shadow of Tunnel Refineries.  

Even now a full 52 years later I can still remember that pungent smell from the Refineries.

It always won out over the variety of odours at Glenvilles, which made everything from custard and blancmange powder, to Ice Pops and powdered milk.

I say powdered milk but to be more accurate it turned milk powder into granules for a variety of companies from Sainsbury, Tesco to Fine Fare.

The process was a simple enough one and involved blowing milk powder along giant stainless steel tubes under heat, which turned the powder into granuales.

The story was that the process came from Arizona, which is hot and dry, but made for difficulties in a factory beside the Thames where the climate can be damp and cold.

The upshot was that on some days the parts clogged up and production stuttered to a halt, and on a very bad day ceased all together, which was bad news given that we were on a bonus scheme.

Nor was that all, because the outlet valve where the granules left the tube was often faulty, which presented problems.  Ideally it was a simple task, to fill a 56 lb bag of the stuff and shut the tap off.  But 

When the tap was faulty one of the team had to place his had underneath it while the other quickly yanked the bag away and replaced it with another.  Any tardiness on the part of the team could lead to a spillage of very hot granules across the floor and led to a cloud of milk dust which clung to your overalls, mixed with your perspiration and made for rivulets of sticky sweet smelling milk to run down your face.

Later in the cooler parts of the plant that milk powder hardened on your boiler suit forming a crunchy surface, which fellow passengers on the bus home stayed well away from, making you the Billy No Mates of London Transport. But it did have just one perk, and that was the after shift drink in the Cutty Sark pub.

The early shift ran from six till two, offered up the chance of a couple of pints at the end of a very long morning, with the added pleasure of mixing with those who had shot across the River to take in the atmosphere of “that delightful and still genuine watering hole”.

Needless to say their visit was a tad challenged by the two young workers in boilersuits emanating a distinct milk perfume and shedding the occasional crispy white flakes.

It was a childish tilt at “class war”, which I doubt pleased the landlord, and still involved that long bus journey back to Eltham.

All of which is now over 50 years ago. In the intervening decades I have added several other jobs to the portfolio including a builder’s labourer in Blackheath, a scaffolder’s mate, and a brief brush with the post office in Eltham.  This last job hardly counts as a job as it was as temporary postman in the run up to Christmas, and I lasted but two days.

Leaving me just to admit that for 35 years I taught in inner city schools, and now fill out my time as a researcher and a writer.

But I still look back on those first jobs, and reflect that while I have changed so has much of the River that I knew.

Some of what has gone is no loss.  Those dangerous low paid jobs which offered little security can surely not be missed, along with the overcrowded and unsanitary dwelling places tucked away and out of sight.  

Here were strong communities bounded together by poverty and adversity, but lets not kid ourselves that poverty and adversity, are anthing to be nostalgic for.

I do miss the bustle of the River, and the hours I spent as a kid wandering the area, but the past should always be judged with a critical eye.  

I remember my foreman at Glenvilles admitting that he never ate the left overs from the Sunday roast, reckoning it was not a question of wasting food, but just simply it reminded him of growing up in the age of "make do and mend", where new was a luxury, and food remainded something to be grateful for.

Location; between Woolwich and Greenwich along the Thames, in the 1960s and 70s

Pictures; Woolwich and Greenwich, the 1970s, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

On Stretford Station with a bit of our railway past

It is 35 years since the last train ran from Stretford station which means that memories of a time before the tram will be fading

Stretford Station, April 1961

I briefly used the station back in the 1970s and had no idea of its history or the railway line.

It had been opened in 1849 by the Manchester South Junction and Altrincham Railway and was in part designed to transport food grown in Altrincham and Stretford into the heart of Manchester and in time would challenge the Duke's Canal as the main means of carrying heavy goods in to Manchester.

I have no doubt it would have created quite a stir.

The men who built the line were viewed at best with suspicion and at worst with fear.  They had a well deserved reputation for hard drinking and rough behaviour which is no surprise given the dangers of the work they undertook.

Central Station, April 1961

And there may well have been a few of  our farm a labourers who were taken on to do some of the least skilled work while some of our farmers and market gardeners would have taken advantage of the line to move their crops to the Manchester markets.

But its impact was also to start a wave of house building along Edge Lane.

The train offered the quickest way into town and allowed those who earned a living in the city to escape to what was still the countryside.

Of course by the time I used the train Edge Lane and the surrounding area had long lost any semblance of countryside, but the station still looked like an old fashioned railway, which is where my fiend Ann comes into the story.

She “found these the other day, tucked away. Stretford station in 1961, and Manchester Central, probably a similar date. I used to travel from Stretford to Oxford Road Station, spending my time on the journey drawing the other passengers.”

And so after sixty-two years a little bit of what an old railway station looked like is here to see again.

Now that is not so daft given that Stretford has become a Metro Stop with shiny yellow trams and Central having long lost its trains is now an Exhibition Centre.

Pictures; Stretford and Central Stations, April 1961 courtesy of Ann Love

Down at West Point in 1911 before the Seymour Hotel ........ looking for the story of Jonathan Brown .... gardener and expert orchid grower

Now the Seymour has passed into history and soon memories will fade that this was the last pub before the long dry walk along Upper Chorlton Road to Brooks Bar and the Whalley Hotel

West Point, 1911

That said you would be hard pressed to find anyone who could remember when this grand old place was a private residence.

And now only history books will offer up its time as the hone of Samuel Gratrix who called his house West Point at the junction of Manchester Road, Seymour Grove and Upper Chorlton Road.

All of which l was reminded of when Jonathan Brown set me off on a hunt for his grandfather who was the gardener for Mr Gratrix.

Jonathan came across a reference to the both men in an article from The Orchid World published in 1911.*

He grandfather was living in the lodge with his wife Betsy. They had been married for less than a year and in 1914 Mrs Brown had a son. Their home vanished long before I knew the Seymour and l haven’t found a picture of the lodge.  But it had five rooms and was situated on the south side of Mr Gratrix's big property.

Samuel Gratrix, curca 1911

Locating the Brown's in 1911 was easy enough and the story then made its way to Rawtenstall where Jonathan had been born in 1883.

Just eight years later and his mother was a widow bringing up six children and working as a charwoman.

Her husband had been a teacher and while it is unclear yet when he died it will have to be after 1886 when their last child was born.

In time l will track Mrs Brown who had been born in Norfolk in 1855 which made her just 36 when she was bringing up her children.

All of which was new to Jonathan who an hour earlier knew nothing of his paternal father's family before 1914.

And the final twist was the 1871 census which not only revealed that his great grandfather was a pupil teacher but that his great great grandfather farmed 35 acres outside Rawtenstall and had been born at the beginning of the 19th century in Colne.

That might seem a long way from West Point in 1911 so I shall finish with an extract from The Orchid World which having praised Mrs Gratrix for “looking after the wants of these delicate and youthful Orchids” turned to Mr Brown “who has charge also of the 17 acres of grounds and] shows fully his capabilities as an experts Orchid grower, and the many rare and beautiful plants which he is entrusted should act as a great incentive to his ever willing desire to still further improve their good qualities.”*

West Point, 1894

I think Mr Brown would be pretty pleased with that.

Not that he stayed at West Point.

At some time he moved on eventually landing up in Huddersfield where the family settled and along the way set up a business, although Jonathan told me his grandfather was for moving on but his son put his foot down and Yorkshire became home.

And that is about it for now but I remain fascinated at how chance connections open up a whole new set of stories.

So for me apart from making a new acquaintance I have found a picture of West Point before it became the Seymour, discovered that its grounds extended to 17 acres and learnt a little about one of our gardeners and residents.

Location; West Point

Pictures; West Point, Whalley Range and Mr Samuel Gratrix from The Orchid World, Vol 1 nu 1910-1911, from the collection of Jonathan Brown, and West Point from the OS map of South Lancashire, 1894, courtesy of Digital Archives Association, http://digitalarchives.co.uk/

*The Orchid World, Vol 1 nu 1910-1911, pages 154-8

Walking back in time through Eltham, Charlton and Greenwich with the pictures of Llwyd Roberts

Now anyone with an interest in Eltham’s history will have come across the pictures of Mr Llwyd Roberts. *

They first appeared in the Kentish Times in the 1920s and 30s have reappeared in collections since and regularly pop up accompanying  descriptions of Eltham in the past.

My own collection comes from a book published by the Kentish Times in 1966 which was sent to me by Margaret Copeland Gain whose husband like me is an Eltham exile and like me derived great pleasure from Mr Llwyd Roberts’s work.

He was a fine artist and draughtsman and some at least of the pictures will have been drawn from firsthand knowledge while others were inspired by watercolours, drawings and photographs.

What I didn’t know but should have done was that his work extended to other parts of south east London and for that I have to thank Tricia Lesley who came across a catalogue for an exhibition of his “Watercolours and Drawings of Places in the Borough of Greenwich.” from 1976.**

Included in the catalogue are places I never knew existed and which have long gone.

Of these I was drawn to Morton’s Theatre which Mr Roberts’s drew in 1934 and Charlton Village sometime around 1870..

And as you do I went looking for the story of the theatre and found it at that wonderful site dedicated to the music hall and theatre history.***

So I will leave you to follow the link and instead just say that the catalogue lists 168 of his pictures which along with another 58 can be viewed by appointment at Greenwich Heritage Centre.****

Now the Centre is one of those places which if I lived locally I would never be away from, because along with Mr Roberts’s pictures it has an extensive collection of material covering the history of the area.

And as I know next to nothing about Charlton where our Ian grew up I might well look up the background to the picture of the village.

I am not sure when it was drawn but it is based on a source dating from the 1870s.

Pictures; Morton’s Theatre, 1934, Greenwich High Road, and Charlton village circa 1870s, from Watercolours and Drawings of Places in the Borough of Greenwich, 1977

*Llwyd Roberts, http://chorltonhistory.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/Llwyd%20Roberts

** Watercolours and Drawings of Places in the Borough of Greenwich, Llwyd Roberts, Woodlands Art Gallery, December 1976-January 1977.

*** The Prince of Wales Theatre, Greenwich, arthurlloyd, co.uk http://www.arthurlloyd.co.uk/Greenwich.htm

****Greenwich Heritage Centre, heritage.centre@rght.org.uk

Looking out from Barlow Moor Road in the summer of 1960

There is a singular lack of images of Chorlton during the middle decades of the last century.

Look through the collections and you can find plenty of fine examples of what the township looked like during late 1800s and early 1900s.

Most are from commercial photographers who sold their work on to picture postcard companies, and never missing an opportunity also took plenty of photographs of individual streets, which they then offered up to residents for “a knockdown price”.

But by the 1950s the golden age of picture postcards was drawing to a close, just as cameras became cheaper and more readily available, which ushered in “the snap”.

The snap was usually a very personal image, sometimes a little out of focus and in most cases consigned to a photo album, or the back of a cupboard.

Sometimes the odd one gained pride of place on a fridge or notice board, only to fade with the years and become “tired” from much passing around.

All of which brings me to a set of sketches made by my friend Ann of the Chorlton she knew back in the 1960s.

Ann grew up on Barlow Moor Road at what is now 523 , and as part of various art projects she sketched some of the rooms in the house as well as view out across the back garden.

And include three of Chestnut Avenue, which were made in the summer of 1960 and included “The first house on the right which was an Opticians, when I lived at 523”.

Location; Chorlton

Pictures; Chestnut Avenue, August 1960, from the collection of Ann Love

Lost and forgotten streets of Manchester ......... nu 56 the vanished fourteen and the story of the BBC

The lost streets in 1894

There will still be plenty of people who remember the close network of streets and houses that stretched back from Oxford Road to the Medlock, and from Charles Street down to Great Street.

In all there were fourteen streets and countless houses which were all swept away so that the BBC could have a new broadcasting centre here in Manchester.

The lost streets included Pritchard Street, Hesketh, Leigh and Saville Streets and along with the houses there had been a school and a pub.

Planning permission had been granted in 1968 and after a hiccup building began in 1971 was finished in 1975 and the place was home to the BBC until 2011.

The closed building, 2011

And for those wanting to impress a companion, about 800 staff worked there and with the opening of the second studio in 1981 the BBC closed Broadcasting House in Piccadilly which had been there for 52 years.

And now after Broadcasting House has gone the developers, and builders are back.

In the meantime I wonder how many memories of those that lived in that small area can be shared.

Afterall the buildings only began to be cleared in 1968.

The cleared ground, 2014

Location; Manchester







Pictures; BBC New Broadcasting House, Oxford Road, 2011, Andrew Bowden, Wikipedia, and remaining images courtesy of Andy Robertson, 2014,  and map of the area in 1894, from the OS of South Lancashire, 1894, courtesy of Digital Archives Association, http://digitalarchives.co.uk/

Lost and forgotten Streets of Manchester ......... nu 69 on Major Street in 1905

Now as ever there is a story behind this picture.

14 Major Street, 1886

We are on Major Street in 1905 and the building is the Boys’ and Girls’ Refuge which was established in 1884.

It was the second shelter opened by the Manchester & Salford Boys’ & Girls’ Refuges offering food and shelter to destitute young people.

The first shelter had been opened by the charity on Quay Street and later relocated to Strangeways but the scale of the problem was such that one refuge was not enough.

That lack of provision was highlighted “in the winter months of 1871 when three boys applied at the Refuge looking for shelter. 

As the home was already full, they had to be turned away. Seeking warmth and shelter and being unable to afford three pence to stay in a lodging house for the night they had wandered up to the brickfields of Cheetham. 

A few days later a newspaper reported on the demise of a young boy who had been burned to death at one of the brick kilns in the neighbourhood. This boy was one of the three who had, had to be turned away much to the consternation of the committee. 

It was this incident that convinced the charity that they needed another building in which to receive any child in need of help, whatever the hour. 

On admittance, date unknown

The result was the Children’s Shelter at 14 Major Street. Open all day and all night children in need of shelter could be brought and receive food and a bed for the night, whilst their individual circumstances were investigated. It ensured that no child requesting aid would ever be turned away again.”*

The story comes from the excellent blog of the Together Trust which describes the work of the Manchester & Salford Boys’ & Girls’ Refuges during the 19th and 20th centuries and is a first stop forthose wanting to trace family members who were cared for by the charity.

I am always impressed by the extent of their archives and the help offered by the archivist to those who want to know more about an ancestor.

Sadly for anyone wanting to stand in front of number 14 Major Street it has long gone.

To be truthful there is very little left of Major Street which runs from Aytoun Street down to Princess Street

Major Street in 1886**

On the corner with Princess Street there is the old Mechanics Institute where the TUC met in 1868, but walk the length of the road today and it  is dominated by two car parks a whole tranche of huge office blocks dating from the end of the last century and the beginning of this one and stuck in the middle is the bus station.

As for number 14 which was on the right hand side just down from Aytoun Street that is now one of those car parks.

At which point I could I suppose regret its passing but it was just a building and the work of the charity still goes and in the fullness of time I hope the archivist will be able to shed some light on what life was like at number 14 Major Street.

Reading back stories from the blog there is much that would help anyone wanting to know about its work and much to set interested descendants on a path of discovery.

All of which leaves me to point you in the direction of that blog and in particular the rest of the story on the opening of number 14.


Pictures; 14 Major Street, 1886 and one of the young people cared for by the Trust courtesy of the Together Trust, http://togethertrustarchive.blogspot.co.uk/p/about-together-trust.html

*The Second Annual Meeting, http://togethertrustarchive.blogspot.co.uk/

**Slater's Directory of Manchester & Salford, 1886. [Part 2: Trades, Institutions, Streets], page 508, 

The Welsh Marches .... a bit of history to listen to ..... today on the wireless

 Now this is one I listened to and enjoyed.

And of course learned a lot.   It's the latests from Radio 4's In Our Time

"At the Hay Festival, Misha Glenny and guests discuss the impact of the Norman invasion on the people and land of Wales and across the modern border with England in what became known as The Welsh Marches, march being a term for a militarized borderland. 

Hay was one of the first Marcher lordships. Even before 1066, William the Conqueror knew that he would have to subdue the Welsh if he were to control the English and he allowed more and more Norman warlords to establish virtually their own private kingdoms in these Marches. 

Later some of the Lords were to use these bases to invade Ireland rather than conquer the rest of Wales. Marcher Lords built numerous castles such as the one at Hay and many new towns would then grow up alongside these where there was one law for the English and another for the Welsh and, though the Acts of Union under the Tudors brought an end to much of the Marcher Lords' powers, the distinct identity of these Welsh Marches continued.

With Rhun Emlyn, Lecturer in the Department of History and Welsh History at Aberystwyth University, Helen Fulton

Professor of Medieval Literature at the University of Bristol, and Huw Pryce, Emeritus Professor of Welsh History at Bangor University

Producer: Simon Tillotson"

Location; BBC Radio 4

Picture; walking with the woods, RHS Bridgewater, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

*The Welsh Marches, https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m002wt1v

Lost and forgotten streets of Manchester .......... nu 4 St Anne's Alley

Now St Ann’s Alley is one of those little walk throughs that it is easy to miss.

Added to which it is not one that I often venture down.

In my case if I am on Police Street I am on my way to Waterstone’s from King Street and likewise if I have come out of St Anns’ Square the quickest way back is past the church and through the alley without wandering down that narrow space.

But having come across this picture I began to wonder about St Ann’s Alley.  It shows up on Casson and Berry’s 1751 map of Manchester and so has been offering up a short cut to Mancunians for centuries.

And after the first few of the new series Antony suggested "Lizard Street, Scotland (and it is just called Scotland), Trumpet Street, Balloon Street, Four Yards and Echo Street," while
Carole Ann Brown offered up "Tassel Alley, off Albert Square." 


Location; St Ann’s Alley, off Police Street, Manchester

Picture; St Ann’s Alley, off Police Street, 2012, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

Melting tar …… a busy butterfly ….. and a long lost adventure

Now the thing about getting old is that there seems to be heaps more time for the memories of the past to invade the doings of a busy day.

Shallow ponds and lazy streams, 2018 

And once that flight of nostalgic fancy starts to run its course it is easy to reflect on how your experiences of 60 odd years ago diverge from those of your kids or grandchildren.

I say that, but much of what our sons did when they were younger are only now being revealed as in their own bouts of nostalgia, they share stories of daring dos which they wouldn’t dare to have admitted to when they were 10.

Some of those stories do resonate.  Their adventures on the meadows on long summer days, chime in with my own, when armed with just a warm bottle of lemonade and a day stretching ahead of us, we wandered off in search of adventures in some faraway park, or along a stretch of the Thames.

Often it was at the end of a train journey or the limit of a Red Rover bus pass, and it usually involved a quiet suburban spot, unhindered by other people. 

One such place was at the end of a railway line, and rather than explore we just sat on the platform.  

There were no trains, no passengers and the only sound was that of a lazy insect collecting pollen, mixed with that distinctive smell of mown grass, which competed with the equally powerful smell of the oil-soaked wooden railway sleepers cooking in the sun.

We must have sat there for hours before boredom and the empty bottle of lemonade prompted us to move on.

The spot where we played  with the hot street tar in 1958

These of course can be replicated by our kids, but those of exploring bombsites have gone as is the simple pastime of watching the tar slowly melt on a hot summer’s day sitting on the side of the road and carefully making patterns of the black oozy stuff with a discarded lolly stick.  

Today the street surface doesn’t melt, and the lolly sticks are no longer there in abundance.

And in the same way those Clean Air Acts of the 1960s have happily done away with the heaps of polluted air which in turn gave us the smog’s which meant we got sent home early from school making our way along roads devoid of landmarks.

Nor today are there those thick sooty deposits on trees which when you climbed them left your hands and clothes grubby and grimy.

But enough of such nostalgic tosh.

Smog's and fogs, 1953

Our grandchildren I hope will never have to use bomb sites as playgrounds or come home with soot smeared clothes.

These they can leave to their imagination fed by granddad’s tales of aimless adventures on long ago summer holidays in that place called the 1950s.

I might try and pretend this is all about the historical context, but perhaps it is just a nostalgic wallow.

Location; nostalgia land

Pictures; Shallow ponds and lazy streams, 2018 from the collection of Andrew Simpson, the spot where me and Jimmy O' Donnel played in with the hot street tar in 1958, from the collection of Liz and Colin Fitzpatrick, 2015, and Nelson’s Column during the Great Smog of 1952, N T Stobbs, licensed for reuse under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 license.

Scenes from a lost Chorlton, Claude Road in 1964

Now the old petrol pump stood at the point where Claude Road does a right turn before meeting Reynard Road and running off into the Ville.

For almost all the time I have lived here the space just beyond the pump was waste ground but sometime before 1933 a row of buildings stood on the plot.

Now this I know because they appear on the OS map for 1933-34 as large block stretching east to west with smaller units to the rear.

But I don’t know what they were and until I can look at the directories or rate books for the period I have no idea.

By the 1960s part of the plot was occupied by a garage which can be seen in Ann’s picture.

And that is all I know, but someone will come back with more so I shall just leave it at that for now.

Except to say that these little bits of empty land were all over Chorlton well into the 1980s.

Picture; © Ann Love

Lost and forgotten streets of Manchester .......... nu 17 New Brown Street ... the one under the Arndale

New Brown Street from Market Street, 1903

Now I vaguely knew about New Brown Street but it took Matthew Cobham to bring the place out of the shadows.

“New Brown Street, heading east off Market Street and now under the Arndale, was one of my haunts in the 70s. 

The original home of On the Eighth Day and the headquarters of Mike Don's Mole Express underground paper (originally called Moul Express, but no one got the reference or knew how to pronounce it.”

It ran from Market Street up to Withy Grove, and by the 1970s had seen better days but offered up a fascinating mix of shops to visit including as Matthew said the first On the Eighth Day.

Back Cannon Street, 1937

Go back to the beginning of the 20th century and a walk along this narrow and twisty street would offer up the usual range of small textile businesses, some bigger cotton and woollen manufacturers along with the odd small engineering factory.  But above all it was a place dominated by tailors.

Fifty years earlier in  1851 and the directory lists twenty-five businesses mostly describing themselves as merchants, or manufactures.

I can’t remember exactly when New Brown Street vanished and it will have still been there when I washed up in the city in 1969, but sadly for me I have no memory of the place making it truly one of the lost streets of Manchester.

And with its passing also went those small side streets, like Swan Lane, Back Sugar Lane, Back Cannon Street and Peel Street, some of which led off to closed courts and a labyrinth of even smaller thoroughfares.

New Brown Street, 1973

Some of these like Marsden Court were only accessed through tiny entries and once inside you were pretty much locked into a different world.

All gone as is Mole Express which I had entirely forgotten about Matthew.

Location Manchester

Pictures; New Brown Street from Market Street, 1903, City Engineers, m03562,  Back Cannon Street from New Brown Street, 1937, m74955, New Brown Street, A P Morris, 1973 m03619, courtesy of Manchester Libraries, Information and Archives, Manchester City Council, http://images.manchester.gov.uk/index.php

When the tower of tyres ....... left our Rec

So farewell that tower of tyres,

You were a constant feature of the Rec. 

And while some may have castigated your presence

As a blot on the beauty of Lord Egertos’s gift,

You were many things to many people.

You served as a climbing frame, 

A game of rolling tyres

And even a place to hide.

But now you have gone,

Taken on a Wednesday morning

By men of the Council.

No more will Declan in his early tasks

Of clearing the rubbish from last night’s revellers

Collect you up 

For fresh adventures by children of all ages.

Why you went is a mystery

But in your going

A little bit of the Rec has been lost.

I don’t suppose the curfew bell

Will toll the knell of your parting pleasures.

Nor the weary commuter homeward bound

Mourn your passing 

But I will 

Location; the Rec

Pictures; those lost towers of tyyres, 2025 from the collection of Andrew Simpson