Woolwich in 1915, a Manchester soldier and a love letter from Chorlton

The Herbert Hospital circa 1900

“Arrived safely today. No settled address at present.  Best wishes George.”

Now at first glance there isn’t anything special about George’s message to his wife Nellie even given that it was sent from Woolwich to 146 Bedford Street, Hulme in Manchester.

Thousands of young men every year leave the family home in search of work and until things are settled will not have a permanent address.

But what makes the card just a little more interesting is the date and time for George sent it on October 25th 1915 just in time for the late evening collection.

From George at Woolwich  to Nellie in Hulme, October 1915

He was in the Royal Artillery and over the course of the next three years was to serve in Ireland and on the Western Front where he was killed in the June of 1918.

I can’t yet establish when he enlisted but Woolwich may have been one of the first posting after he left Manchester.

And just four days after our post card he sent another to Nellie with the request not “to send any letters to Woolwich until further notice.  Expect leaving this weekend for unknown destination.”

During those few days be bought a number of cards depicting Woolwich but never sent them and they now form part of the George Davison collection.

In all there must be a hundred postcards, letters and official documents from 1915 till 1955.  Many are from George to Nellie and after his death there is correspondence from the War Office, the pensions department and his commanding officer.

Woolwich, 1915

There are also his school reports, details of his first job along with the social club he joined and his membership of the Independent Labour Party.

And if that was not enough there is a series of charming letters he wrote to young Nellie before they were married.

The first dates from 1904 when she was just 16 and talks of his recent proposal of marriage and his wish to meet her parents on the following day.

Others follow during the course of the next two years and are the usual love letters sent in the age before the telephone.

But it would be a full four years before they married and another three years before the birth of their son.

This is a wonderful collection of material spanning the last decades of the 19th century and well into the next.

And for me there is a very personal connection which links me to George.

During the years before he was married he lived just a few minute’s walk away at Barway House on Edge Lane here in Chorlton-cum-Hardy, the first marital home was close by in Hulme and we shared a similar political outlook.

Royal Artillery Barracks, Woolwich circa 1900

All of which then just leaves Woolwich.  He was stationed there briefly in 1915 and I grew up close by separated by just forty years which in the great sweep of things is not much.

I suspect that the Woolwich he knew was still the one I was familiar with in the 1960s and which has now pretty much vanished.

I doubt that he would recognise Beresford Square or Wellington Street any more than I can today, and I am sure would be equally hard pressed to make sense of the area around the Arsenal or for that matter the water front.

Odd that two people separated by those four decades should still have more in common than I would have thought.

But then that is sometimes how history pans out, which is less by grand design and more by a series of hiccups.

Location; Woolwich, London


Pictures; from the collection of David Harrop

A tank, a souvenir, and the soldier far from home in Woolwich

Now the romantic in me would like to think that George Davison bought one of these as a souvenir for his wife Nellie and their son Duncan.

The Woolwich Tank, circa 1918

He was in the Royal Artillery and was stationed in Woolwich during the Great War, first in 1915 and then again in 1917, and 1918 while they were living in Manchester.

That said Nellie spent time with him in “digs” in Ireland and Woolwich so it is very possible that she would have come across this piece of crested china, and took it home from London.

Pieces like this were very popular during the Great War and were turned out in their thousands.

The coat of arms of Woolwich

The porcelain companies, seeing the potential of war souvenirs switched from models of Blackpool Tower and Ann Hathaway’s cottage to tanks, battleships and ambulances.

They turned out identical ones, with just the name of a different town or city and coat of arms to distinguish them.

Sometimes in their zeal to market across the country they got it wrong, so while you could have bought an ambulance or tank with Manchester’s coat of arms, you could also have bought a model battleship, despite the fact that there was no such ship in the Royal Navy during the conflict.

The Davison's, 1916

Our Woolwich tank is in perfect condition, and bears the name Shelley China, which was a Staffordshire pottery company founded in 1862, only ceasing as an independent business in 1966.

What I particularly like about this one is that it has been acquired by my old friend David Harrop, who is the also the custodian of the George Davison collection which is a fascinating archive of letters, personal documents and pictures, spanning the period from George’ birth in 1886, through to his war service and into the 1950s.

Mr Davison was killed on the Western Front in June 1918, but his wife continued to add to the collection throughout a big chunk of the century.

And what makes the collection just that bit personal for me, is that he appears in the book I wrote about Manchester and The Great War, but more than that he was at one point in 1918  living just down from our family home on Well Hall Road prior to embarkation for France.*

This I know because we have his will he made out in March 1918, witnessed by a Mr Drinkwater who lived on what is now the old Well Hall cinema.

And in a letter to Nellie he refers to her stay at the house which was just minutes from ours.

Nor does the connection end there, because before he married Nellie, he lived in Chorlton-cum-Hardy just a short walk from where we live now.

And while there, at Barway House on Edge Lane he wrote a series of courting letters to Nellie.

Shelley China

All of which makes the tank and the story very personal.

When David told me he had the tank the message just said “Tank coming home” and while it is not going back to Woolwich it will be joining the George Davison collection, and was  pride of place in a major exhibition to mark the end of the Great War, which was on show at Central Ref from in 2018.

Location; Woolwich, Manchester

Pictures; the Woolwich Tank, circa 1918, George Davison, his wife Nellie and son Duncan, 1916 from the collection of David Harrop

*Manchester Remembering 1914-18, Andrew Simpson, 2017, the History Press, 

https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-great-war-how-we-remember-it.html

If it wasn’t for the houses in between you could see all the way across the fields to Ancoats Hall*

Smithfield Wholesale Fish Market, 1900

We were in the Northern Quarter recently showing some of the family around this part of the city.

There will be many who remember it as a bustling area dominated by the whole sale markets and lots of little businesses.

But when I washed up in Manchester in the late 1960s it had taken on a more run down and seedy appearance, a place waiting for something to happen but not quite sure what that something might be.

Junk, 2 Dale Street

Today large parts of it seem to have a purpose and function again.  Here are those quirky little shops and businesses you won’t find elsewhere in the city.  It is to quote one review, “a centre of alternative and bohemian culture.”**

And as you would expect it’s also rich with history.

Walk these streets and more particularly the small narrow ones or the even smaller ones which sit behind them with names like Back Piccadilly and Back Thomas Street and it is still possible to get a sense of the city’s past.

More so because a fair number of the late 18th and early 19th century workers home and workshops have survived.

Detail from Green’s map of Manchester 1794

They were built just as Manchester was beginning to grow into something new and exciting on the back of commerce and cotton.

A place Asa Briggs described as “the shock city of the Industrial Revolution” and one that attracted visitors who came to gawp at the mills, the smoke, noise and great show warehouses, taking away vivid memories of the sheer frenetic activity of a new type of city.

Now there is no getting away from the fact that there was here also a lot of sorrow, blighted lives and a sense that for those working in the mills, living hard by the canals and factories and existing in awful housing conditions Manchester was no easy place to inhabit.

It was also a place of overcrowding, poor sanitation, and long hours of work which were recorded by Kay, Engels and others.

My old friend Richard Buxton’s family had moved to New Cross from rural Prestwich in the late 18th century and exchanged fields for those narrow mean streets and courts.

But during this period it was possible to walk just a few minutes from Piccadilly or New Cross and be in fields, with fresh streams and endless expanses of open countryside.

Richard Buxton is a case in point.  The family home may have been in a crowded little terrace off Great Ancoats Street but where he began work was just where the city met the country.

Port Street, 1960

In 1798 he was apprenticed at the age of twelve to James Heap in Port Street “to learn the trade of bat maker; that is a maker of children’s small leathern shoes.”

At that time Port Street was still on the edge of city.  On one side there were houses and workshops and open land on the other.

Standing with his back to the built up street Buxton could have looked out east on fields and the occasional houses with an almost uninterrupted view to Shooters Brook and the farms beyond.


Twenty years later you could still have followed the river Medlock or the Rochdale Canal out past Ancoats Hall and be open countryside by the time you reached Beswick.  Had you chosen to head west instead, once you had cleared Cornbrook with its dye works and chemical plants you were fair set for the field and farms which would eventually take you by degree to Chorlton and beyond.

Junk, 2 Dale Street

All of which would have been familiar to Buxton who was a botanist and often walked out of the city in the early to mid decades of the 19th century.

Now I know that is a long way from where we started in the Northern Quarter, so perhaps we should end where we started.

I think any one fascinated by the history of the city should just wander the area, and I suppose if you want a guide there is nothing better than Claire Hartwell’s book, Manchester, Penguin, 2001.

Our Jill and Jeff did.  The following day they were back there and in one of the shops on Dale Street Jill bought a very nice little red dress.  One of the memories and for showing off back in Eltham.

Pictures; Smithfield Wholesale Fish Market, 1900, now the Craft Centre, m59592,Port Street, 1960, H. Milligan, m04850, courtesy of Manchester Libraries, Information and Archives, Manchester City Council, Junk, 2 Dale Street, from the collection of Andrew Simpson, detail from Green’s map of Manchester 1794, courtesy of Digital Archives, http://www.digitalarchives.co.uk/

*apologies to Gus Elen and his music hall song, If it wasn't for the houses in between
Oh it really is a wery pretty garden
And Chingford to the eastward could be seen;
Wiv a ladder and some glasses,
You could see to 'Ackney Marshes,
If it wasn't for the 'ouses in between.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n1GmDA8FU9w

** http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Northern_Quarter_(Manchester)

History on the corner of Chorlton Green ….. chips ..... flowers .... and pasta

 I am a great fan of "floral affair" on Chorlton Green which is the go-to place if you want to shop locally for fruit and veg as well as other groceries and of course flowers.

floral affair, 2025

Added to which I think it has the largest range of pasta in Chorlton.

Some will remember that for a while the shop was occupied by an antiques business around 2012 to 2014.

And before many will have fond memories of the place as a fish and chip shop which stretches back to at least 1909 

Back then it was run by William Richardson who was listed simply as “fried fish dllr”.

During my visits it was the "Chorlton Green Supper Bar" and we have a wonderful picture from Bob Jones of Mrs Jones and “Chippy Madge” doing the business of offering up fish suppers.

And I will not be alone in remembering that tiny room with the tiled counter and steamed up windows with the bright lights and promise of something good to eat.

Mrs Jones and "Chippy Madge", undated

Even now nothing is quite like going into a chip shop on a cold winter’s evening.

It starts with that wall of heat and then the distinctive smell, along with the noise of the chips in the deep fryer and the rustle of paper.

And there is also the conversations which are a mix of the humorous, the mundane and usually a little of the village gossip.

Of course most of what is said might well be repeated over the counter of the newsagents and in the pub but waiting in line for your supper offers up plenty of time to listen to what is being said and an opportunity to add your own contribution.

Chorlton Supper Bar, 1978

Now I am old enough to remember getting your chips in newspaper and then walking home on dark nights with that double pleasure which came not only from eating the chips but from holding the bag which kept your hands warm.

So Bob’s picture is just that bit special, more so because on the right is his mum and on the left “Chippy Madge.”

All too often photographs like this one get lost over time and with it go a tiny but important record of how things were.

And it is the little often trivial things, like the name “Chippy Madge” and “Blind Bob the Barber”, which say something about the time and the place.

The nicknames were rarely meant to be cruel and were just one of those things that you said.

Madge worked in the chip shop and her name was Madge so “Chippy Madge” it was, and more often than not there would be a raft of such names for everyone from the milkman to the chap who came round to sharpen your knives.

Inside floral affair, 2025

I may not get out as often these days or visit as many places but I rather think such names are no longer as common and that is a shame.

I rather wonder if Mr. William Richardson had a nickname, but then despite his occupancy of the place at the start of the last century, he also held down other jobs.  

In 1901 he described himself as a “general warehouseman” and a decade later as a “Domestic Gardener” and later still as a coal carter a job he was still engaged in at the start of the Second World War.

I suspect the fish and chip business was a sideline, which was run by the whole family.

Dave at floral affair, 2025

It wasn’t the first business to operate from the site because in 1903 the shop was listed as a greengrocer which of course is a nice lead back to floral affair which in this age of supermarkets and online deliveries is a local gem.

I have yet to discover just when the building was constructed, but there is a presence of a property on the site in 1881.

But that offers up a mystery because the rate books suggest that this was owned and occupied by the Wilton family which I ad always thought was part of the complex which is now the Horse and Jockey.

The pub got a license in 1793 and was only one of four cottages facing the green.

So more to find out.

Location; Chorlton Green

Pictures; floral affair, 2025, from the collection of Andrew Simpson, Chorlton Supper Bar, 1976, Tony Walker,  Mrs Jones and “Chippy Madge” from the collection of Bob Jones, undated

Days across old Chorlton*

 October in Chorlton.

When dry January stretches to October, 2025

The holidays are fast fading, the school run takes up more time each month and the shops are stocking up for Guy Fawkes, Halloween and Christmas.

When the cars chose to leave Chorlton, 2025

And Eric is already looking for Easter eggs to hang on the Christmas tree.

So with all that in mind l took off yesterday and wa dered Chorlton.

Face at floral affair, Dave, 2025

There was much to see and a note to myself to go off and research that wonderful little shop which was once a chippy and then an antiques place and now serves up flowers and a heap of veg, fruit and groceries.

And has the best selection of pasta in Chorlton.

So one day walking across Old Chorlton, with the task of researching floral affair.

Location; Beech Road and the village Green

Pictures; October days, 2025, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

*Old  Chorlton the name which arose in the late 19th century to distinguish the green and Beech Road from the new development at the junction of Barlow Moor and Wilbraham Roads

The drab street ......the museum ...... and ....... the mural

 There are some parts of the city that even a bright sunlit day in the middle of a perfect summer  will always be drab and uninviting.

And so it is with Grosvenor Street which cuts its way across Upper Brook Street to end at Oxford Road.

There is of course the former Grosvenor Picture Palace, along with The Deaf and Dumb Institute Building, that pub with an interesting alternative past, and the former Oddfellows Hall.

As for the rest, the buildings are mix of 19th and 20th century properties, some of which hide themselves under rather ugly signage, and a carpark of sorts.

When Andy took a stroll down, there wasn’t even a ray of bright sunlight, instead on a grey wet day in February the place did little to sell itself.

But there are always things to clock and wonder at, and so it was with the Oddfellows Hall, whose history can be discovered on line at Historic England.*

And also, at the University of Manchester’s site, Manchester 1824, “The ‘Oddie’ history of MECD’s Oddfellows Hall”.**

Now I have no intention of lifting the information from these two sites, so you will have to follow the links, but together they reminded me that once a long time ago the Oddfellows building was the temporary home of the Manchester Museum of Science and Technology, and I remember walking around the machines on a few occasions in the 1970s.

At the time what fascinated me more was the mural outside on the gable wall, which lingered on after the museum moved out in 1983, beginning to fade and peel, until it was finally painted over.

Back then I never took a picture and I have fallen back on one from Manchester University 1825,  which I have asked permission to use. 

Even back then in the 1970s Grosvenor Street was drab but,  that bright and happy murial always cheered me up.

Location; Manchester

Pictures; Grosvenor Street, 2021, from the collection of Andy Robertson, and that mural, taken from The ‘Oddie’ history of MECD’s Oddfellows Hall

*Historic England, https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1200840

**The ‘Oddie’ history of MECD’s Oddfellows Hall,  https://www.mub.eps.manchester.ac.uk/science-engineering/2020/03/04/the-oddie-history-of-mecds-oddfellows-hall/

The lost Eltham & Woolwich pictures ...... no. 35 ..... the spot with the view

Now it is easy to over romanticise the River.

Our bit was smelly, noisy, and grimy and at times dangerous with none of those idyllic scenes you get up river.

But this was our stretch from the ferry at Woolwich down to the Naval College and on to Deptford.

I spent hours on the ferry just going back and forth, played on the beach in front of the Cutty Sark, and on a whim went for an adventure in the two foot tunnels just to see what “the other side looked like”.

And sometimes when we were older we just took ourselves down to the water front and watched the busy river do its business.

This was one of the pictures I took of Eltham and Woolwich in the mid ‘70’s which sat undisturbed in our cellar.

But all good things eventually come to light.

They were colour slides which have been transferred electronically.

The quality of the original lighting and the sharpness is sometimes iffy, but they are a record of a lost Eltham and Woolwich.

And these two are from a lost day out with our Jillian and Stella.  I have no idea where Liz or Theresa were and I have no idea what we did next.

Location; Woolwich

Picture; Woolwich, circa 1978, from the collection of Andrew Simpson