Being nearly ten pounds and my first child, Steven was a very difficult birth, and though we didn’t realise it at the time, I think this was the cause of a lifetime of abdominal problems for me, resulting in about 30 operations. Later on we had a baby called Leslie, who was born on my dad’s birthday, 23 May. Unfortunately, he only lived 48 hours. The year after that we had Kathryn on 17 May 1968.
Mum and Dad brought a fish and chip shop in Birkby, and when Steven was one year old, I worked there as shop assistant. Steven sat in a children’s rocking chair in the corner of the shop. When my little brother Nicky came home for lunch from school, he used to play with Steven, Nick being only six years old at the time. The rocking chair is still in the family.
In 1973 I went back to Brook Motors, a company with a 2,500 workforce. I was interviewed by David Holmes the financial accountant, which was the start of a friendship with David and his wife Cynthia. I got the job as assistant chief cashier, and I later became chief cashier when my boss Ben retired. I left due to ill health in 1979.
A lifelong rugby fan
In 1978 we moved to Scissett when John got the job as caretaker at Scissett First School. We really liked living in the Dearn Valley. I was a volunteer worker at the Huddersfield Rugby League Club at Fartown. The Director of Rugby was Mel Bedford and he and his wife Ann became lifelong friends.
I had watched Huddersfield Rugby League Club from being five years old; I remember Dad lifting me over the turnstiles, so he didn’t have to pay for me. I really believed in the “magic sponge”, which was the treatment given to the players for their knocks and bumps – a dirty sponge dipped in a bucket of dirty, cold water that magically cured their injuries. I still watch Fartown, who since the beginning of the summer game in 1996, are known as The Giants, although I can now only watch them on television.
A memorable toast for Peter’s birthday
Although I prefer whisky, I’m drinking wine here, possibly due to an incident at my brother Peter’s birthday party the year before.
Peter had entrusted me with one of his birthday presents, which happened to be a Bruichladdich Octomore whisky worth £75 at the time. He said that I could have a taster while he was socialising, so I did, and it was very, very nice. In all the time that we have known each other, John said that I had never been as tipsy. I learnt my lesson that night. Peter was very good about it and nowadays he occasionally omits to mention it at all…But even on those rare occasions, he will ‘casually’ drop into the conversation that Bruichladdich Octomore is not the sort of whisky one should glug down like an American gangster.
It was very nice though.
The happy escape of childhood holidays
We had many happy holidays at Blackpool when I was a child. This is Dad pretending to be asleep again on Blackpool beach in 1953, when I was eleven years old and Peter would be six. Dad pretended to be asleep a lot, probably because he didn’t want to be bothered by us.
Both Mum and Dad were very hardworking people and would have been ready for a well-earned rest during the Huddersfield textile summer holiday. Dad worked as a mule spinner at the Heath House Mill and also worked on Israel Newton’s farm adjacent to our home at Headwall Green. Mum also worked full time as a weaver or sometimes a mender in the local mills, as well as having the equally full-time job running the home with a husband and two young needy children.
We had moved to Headwall Green in Golcar but didn’t like it much. For one thing, the neighbours were much less friendly than those at Scapegoat Hill. Mum thought that they were jealous because we had our own transport, albeit a motorbike and sidecar. The photo shows the family proudly showing off our BSA Golden Flash and double-adult sidecar in 1950. It’s difficult now to imagine anyone being jealous of someone owning a motorbike and sidecar, but any sort of personal transport was very rare in those days. It was because both Mum and Dad worked so hard that they could afford it.
Grown-up holidays at home and abroad
John and I have enjoyed many holidays both at home and abroad. This is John after possibly one too many Sangrias in Spain in 1968.
We have favoured Blackpool for our holidays for the last ten years, although John’s health is such that I can’t see us having another holiday anywhere for the foreseeable future. Our holiday days are probably over now. Both John and I find it very difficult to get about. John has lost most of his strength in his arms and legs, and my hip is crumbling away. They won’t operate because of my previous abdominal interventions, which they say would cause a hip replacement to become infected.
Luckily, we are happy and contented in our own home now anyway.
A different life now but still a wonderful one
Both John and I have had many operations over the years, it seems that hardly a week goes by now that we don’t have an appointment at the doctors or a stay in hospital. Our son Steven is run from pillar to post trying to organise our medication and/or medical appointments. He is wonderful and does it all without the slightest complaint.
Looking on the brighter side, I have had a wonderful life, and even though John and I are stuck in the same room all day now, we can still have long and meaningful conversations about anything. I’m sure not many can say that after 62 years of marriage.
I can honestly say that we have been the best of friends all the time we have been together.
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