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My father was the second youngest son of the family, another sister and youngest brother being his junior siblings, wrote Barry Lindley, who was born a few years before the outbreak of World War II. All the children attended school in Barlborough, which was the decision of their father.
Being located in the then outskirts of the village, the family home was a remarkable two-up two-down, with an attached scullery acting as a kind of 'catch-all', which served as a laundry (a posh name for a washhouse) and doubled as a washing room (domestic ablutions).
This annexe also housed a cast iron tub (referred to as a 'copper'), which sat in a brick construction with a firegrate underneath and small ash can. There was a very shallow stone sink, unglazed, which was a throwback to the days(recently passed), when water had to be pumped by hand, using the cast iron pump fastened to the side of the sink.
The water came from a well which was about ten yards from the outlet, and located in the back-yard. The rows of terraced houses which lined both sides of the unadopted road were then called 'New Barlborough'.
The houses were still there when I last visited the village, but are now called 'New Barlborough Close' according to the name plate strategically placed at the entrance ajoining Barlborough Road. Oh, and the road has now become 'adopted', and boasts a finished surface instead of the natural stone rough cart-track from grandad's day.
It always seemed strange to me how so many people, who comprised dad's family, fitted into this small residence. My question, 'Where did everybody sleep, and how,' was answered by dad, 'In shifts!'
The truth was that the younger members of the family were seldom in the place during their leisure time, but low betide anyone who was late for the 'Scrubbing Session' which preceded bedtime.
Mains water had been 'laid-on' by the time dad left school, but water still had to be heated by the boiler, located in the old 'black-leaded' kitchen range, which took up a good proportion of the adjoining wall (with the next cottage.)
This of course was situated in the 'Living Room', becoming the main source of heat in the winter and cooking facility all year round.
Grandma died in her forties, no doubt being hastened to an early grave by her frequent and often traumatic childbearing experiences.
After quite an eventful and interesting youth, during which he earned the nickname 'Wham', father met and courted my mother, who was quick to point out that if he expected the relationship to go anywhere, then he would have to change his volatile nature.
His reputation for fisticuffs, with all-comers had preceeded his involvement with Miss Mary Edna Smith. Her quiet manner and slight frame masked an inner strength. So according to dad, during a conversation I had with him in my teens, she completely controlled the relationship by stating, 'It's me or your temper!'
To be continued.
Barry Lindley, Leicestershire, 2002
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