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My early married life as recalled by Allan Huntingdon, who got spliced at the age of 29:
The wedding took place on January 23rd l960 at Holy Souls R.C. Church at Brownhill, Blackburn. The Rev. Fr. Reynolds officiated over a very moving wedding service and a lady sang for us. Afterwards, we held a reception at the Castle Hotel in Blackburn where everyone enjoyed themselves.
I have already explained elsewhere what happened after that with the disastrous car journey so I don't need to go into that again.
After the honeymoon we set up home in the flat above the baker's shop, which consisted of a lounge, one bedroom and a bathroom. There was no kitchen and when we wanted to cook, we had to go downstairs into the bakery kitchen. We got quite used to it and enjoyed our time there.
The main problem was when my wife had to work very late at night to fulfil orders for wedding cakes or hot cross buns or party pies for works parties or some other functions, because it was a difficult for me to sleep through the noise of the large mixers.
Then came a big shock. The council, who owned the building, decided that the whole area had to be re-developed and put a compulsory purchase order on the whole block of shops. As simple tenants, we were given three months notice to find alternative accommodation for both the business and the living quarters, They did offer us a flat round the corner on Montague Street, which had just been built, and we had no alternative but to accept.
My wife decided that she couldn't cope with the hassle of starting up again elsewhere, so we settled in the flat and peace while quiet reigned.
But did it? We hadn't been in the flat more than a year when my wife had a massive heart attack. Fortunately, I was at home when it happened and I immediately phoned her doctor, whose wife answered the phone to say he would come as soon as possible. When, after one hour had passed, he hadn't been, I phoned again only to be told that I would have to be patient as the doctor was just finishing his meal.
Needless to say, I was pretty desperate at this time and, as my own doctor's surgery was just round the corner, I rushed to ask him if he could help. He was holding surgery at the time but came immediately to see her. When he examined her, he immediately gave her an injection and said he would call back after surgery to see if her own doctor had been.
He did come back after one hour and, as her own doctor had still not arrived, he 'phoned for the ambulance himself.
This was 1960. I am sure there would be a different story today, anyway, my wife was in a critical condition for some time and it was a month before she was allowed to come home. Perhaps now we could have some peace.
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