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My father's mother, always known as Granny Gerry, was a tall, slender Yorkshire woman, with long grey hair that she wore in a bun at the back of her head, wrote Kath O'Sullivan.
Her skirts were long, her blouses fastened high at the neck with a gold brooch and her dresses invariably had a lace jabot at the neck. In her ears she wore drop earrings of gold, set with rubies or diamonds.
She wore either black lace-up shoes with a small heel or black lace-up boots of the ladies variety. She had been born Mary Halliday, the daughter of Joshua Halliday and his wife, Ruth Child, she was second youngest of eight children. Joshua was a woollen textile worker who had a part share in a Pudsey Mill.
In the 1930's she lived in Garibaldi Street, Thornbury but later she moved to 989 Leeds Road, which was opposite the Thornbury Tramsheds. Both were terraced houses.
The one at Garibaldi Street had a stone-paved back yard at the bottom of which were two stone sheds, one being the water closet, that had originally housed a 'tin can' lavatory.
Consequently, at the street side, it had a wooden door. This was the door that the night soil men opened weekly when they came around in the night to empty the 'tin cans.' The smaller shed alongside was for ashes and rubbish and this too was emptied weekly.
Both houses had a scullery, a living room and a sitting room, two bedrooms above and an attic under the roof. The scullery sink was made from a large slab of stone, the sink sculpted out of it.
There was a slatted draining board on which to set the newly washed dishes. Beside this there was a table, which held a gas ring. On the draining board was a large soap dish holding a bar of Sunlight soap and piece of damp flannel.
The latter were used to wash my face, hands and knees whenever I spent a day with Granny. The clean smell of the flannel liberally coated with soap was to stay with her for the rest of her life.
The living room held a large wooden table, four kitchen chairs and a horse-hair sofa. The latter was spread with a tartan rug, but this often slipped when I fidgeted about on the sofa and my legs were well and truly prickled by the horse-hair.
The fireplace had an oven at one side and a fire-side boiler at the other. The metal surfaces of these shone with black lead and reflected the flickering flames of the fire. Surrounding the hearth was an iron fender topped by a fire rail. This rail provided a good place on which to air damp clothing.
Over the fireplace and hanging from the ceiling was a wooden clothes rack which could be raised or lowered by means of a rope. Not only did Granny Gerry dry clothes on this, at times it would be decorated with oat-cakes hung there to dry
I loved the front room, sitting room or parlour, all these names referred to the one best room. Children were not allowed in here unaccompanied, nor was the room used, except on a Sunday, unless there was an important visitor.
In this room was a beautiful mahogany table covered with a wine coloured chenille cloth from which dangled the most adorable silk tassels. On Sundays, Philip, my young brother, and I would hide beneath this table and peep out between the tassels as if they were in Aladdin's Cave.
Against one wall was a mahogany sideboard, on top of which stood a golden clock........ a magic clock...... for it did not have an outer case, instead it rested under a glass bowl allowing the observer to watch all the intimate movements of the wheels and cogs that drove it.
The sofa and two chairs with carved wooden arms were covered in wine-coloured velvet material which matched the table cover perfectly. In front of each armchair was a small wooden foot stool, the top each decorated with petit point embroidery.
A large Persian rug edged in tassels covered most of the floor. The fireplace was faced with smooth green tiles, whilst the fender was of heavy brass, polished until it shone.
On Sundays, children were expected to climb the narrow staircase and carefully place their Sunday coats and hats on Granny's big bed. In doing this they had to pass the large grandfather clock, which stood in a corner of the landing.
This clock was as tall as their father. Its front was glass through which could be seen the big, brass pendulum which moved from side to side in steady time to the tick, tick tock of the clock.
The living room table was covered by a crisp white table cloth, on which sat the blue and white willow pattern plates. A salad bowl held lettuce and sliced tomato liberally dressed with sugar and vinegar. Other dishes held finely sliced cucumber and thin rings of raw onion, also floating in vinegar, and Granny's speciality, cold potato salad.
Gerry, my Dad, was ordered to carve the cold roast beef or lamb, for this was never a woman's job. At such times it became clear that he was a butcher's son for, after sharpening the carving knife on the ivory handled sharpener, he carved away at the meat, producing slices of even thickness every time.
The main course was always followed by strawberries and cream, jelly and custard, or banana custard, depending on the season. Finally the meal would be rounded off by a slice of fruit cake, curd tart or currant pasty and a cup of tea. The tea was poured from a large teapot which sported a knitted overcoat to keep it warm. Granny was a dab hand at knitting these 'tea cosies'.
Granny was also an excellent 'tatter'. Tatting was an ancient way of producing a lace edging which could be sewn on underwear or around handkerchiefs or jabots.
It was accomplished with a small bone shuttle which held a long length of thread. The shuttle was passed up and under the thread which was spread between the first finger and thumb.
This produced knots and loops which could be fashioned into delicate lacy and floral patterns. Granny taught me to do this and, although my small fingers were clumsy, I did succeed in producing a length of lace.
Unfortunately, by the time it was finished, the thread was no longer white, the perspiration from my hands had left its mark, but I still felt a sense of achievement.
Kath O'Sullivan, 2002, New Zealand
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