1945 – 1950 Part 4
Halfway down Station Road Godley
there is a tunnel under the line which in my young days led through the back of
Wall’s Ice Cream factories. On the back road towards Godley Hill War
Memorial you came to the pie factory. The smell of pies cooking and the view
through the window of all the operatives preparing the pies would have me
slavering like a dog! My mother worked there briefly but never came home
with samples! Some of my contemporaries had holiday jobs at “Walls”
but I remember Unilever as a mean company towards its employees and their rates
of pay were not good. I found other more lucrative work!
Those were the days
when one could pick and choose – even for temporary jobs.
Godley Hill, with
its old Inn and cottages was a quaint and
interesting place. In one such I had a friend whose mother ran the Ice Cream
Kiosk at the foot of Godley Hall Road.
The War Memorial was our last stop on the Whit Friday
Church Procession and I
see from the Blog that it is still there.
Godley War Memorial
There was another
track from the “tunnel” which led to Godley Golf Club where both my
parents were members. Both were active “athletes” and excelled at
golf and other sports. Although I learn to swing a club and play reasonably
well for my age, sport was something that my parents did not pass on to me. I
preferred to follow the wisdom of Winston Churchill who is reputed to have
said, “When I feel like sport, I lie down until the feeling wears off”.
But the Golf Club was an interesting ramshackle affair until it was re-built
and the source of veal sandwiches, pork pies, home made scones and tea after
matches. I became friendly with the Professional, Alan Brown, who let me share
hair raising rides with him on the old jeep as he mowed the fairways and the Greens.
The 9 hole course was really an assault course with no need for artificial
hazards – the terrain provided that – like the similar course on
Werneth Low. Sand bunkers were for the flat lands! I cannot imagine what it
looks like now because the Club closed in the early sixties to make way fore
the Hattersley Overspill.
Our milk was
delivered by horse and cart from Osborne’s Farm at the back of Godley
Reservoir. This farm had the lovely name “Tetlow Fold” (“tetla
fowt”) and was quite an old construction, 16th century in
parts, with the farmhouse, a second home, the byres and the shippon
constructed in the form of a square with a cobbled yard. The kitchen always
smelt of milk for that was near to the cooling room. Hay barns and cattle
stands gave that lovely sweet aroma that one associates with the rural
setting. There was a “copper” in one of the barns where we would
sit and eat freshly boiled pig potatoes with hard margarine. Harvest time saw
us stooking and riding the hay cart back to the barns. Mrs Osborne’s
mother was a Highland lady with the lovely old
surname of “Christiansen” so there must have been Nordic roots in
the family. She was famous for her soda scones which I love to this day! I would
accompany Farmer Osborne and/or his strapping son, Ian, on some Saturday
mornings with the milk deliveries around Godley, Hoviley, Cheapside
and Mottram Road.
I learnt about jills and quarts and pints as the appropriate steel measuring implements
would brings the milk out of the cool churn and into the waiting milk jugs of
the folks standing around. The approach of the milk float (and indeed the Co-op
Horse) would have gardeners ready with shovels, gambling that the rich brown horse
muck might fall at their doors!
Nowt was wasted
then!
I became a choirboy
after my sixth birthday. Under the tutelage of Fred Whyatt, the head
chorister, I learnt how to pronounce the Latin tags of the canticles and “point”
the psalms. Discipline was strict and a clout at the base of the neck from a Psalter
was standard practice if we misbehaved. Fred was a lovely kind “older
brother” to me and I recognised him immediately some years ago in a “You
Tube video” of Hyde
Grammar School, where he
is seen playing football. I gather he returned to the school as the PE
Teacher. Godley
Church was big for the
size of the village but was well attended and it was the scene of the ministry
of Canon Samuel May who was Vicar of the parish for over thirty years. He
had a huge influence on young men, had a wonderful preaching style and a
powerful delivery and was full of fun. I have an abiding memory of standing at
the Lych Gate in 1947 for the Armistice Day Remembrance, watching the villagers
standing silently, some of them weeping profusely, as 1100.a.m. struck, the
Last Post and Reveille was played and the Fire Station siren went off and all
the mill chimney hooters of the town blared a Remembrance Day sound I shall
never forget.
But choirboys are
not little angels and that topic starts the next chapter.
The Lych Gate at St Johns, Godley.
Thanks to Carls Cam for the photos and Roger for another great account !!
Much appreciated !
