|
 | |  | |
Phil Bell was born in 1949 in the Ancoats district of Manchester.
Our family the Astbury's and English's were as close as any family could be, and as rock-solid as any kinfolk needed, the glue that seemed to hold all the family together was my Grandparents.
They cherished each member of the immediate family as if they were their own. My grandma's sisters and brothers became my granddads sisters and brothers and the same in reverse
My childhood until the age of 11 was magical, I grew up with the strength and comfort of an extended family unit. Nothing was too much trouble for anyone. We would weather any storm together, for a little boy life was as good as it could get then.
My grandma looked aged and worn out, when in actual fact she was only fifty, she had suffered ill health most of her life, she had severe asthma made worse through working in the damp conditions in the Beehive Cotton Mill on Jersey Street in the Ancoats district of Manchester.
My relationship with her was that of absolute trust, unqualified love and affection. I cherished her with a passion and still miss her arthritic chapped hands rubbing Vick on my chest even today.
I miss the sad and tender eyes she had, I miss the smell of linctus, the pinny (apron) she wore, the smell of snuff on her hankie and the red flannel sewn in her vest, 'to keep the chills away'.
She valued all the children in the family and she never separated or segregated anyone.
During this portion of my life I decided to become a Cub. You could learn to tie knots, use a phone, and cook food and various other mundane chores that seemed exciting at the time. You also walked in the procession at whit week. The Albert Memorial was the headquarters of the pack and they had a huge following.
I can't say I really enjoyed being in the cubs, the regime of learning to march in line and all the other various rules and regulations was too much for me to take in and I would have left but I was picked to carry the 'Wolfs Head' (on a pole with tassels).
This was because I was the tallest cub in the pack. It was the responsibility of the cub that carried the 'Wolfs Head' to take it home during the school holidays. With pride I carried the Wolfs Head home with all the other kids running after me trying to touch it.
I got home opened the door and took it straight to my bedroom. I positioned it in the corner and sat on my bed staring at this fearsome sight. It was scary in the twilight, its teeth were on show in a terrifying twisted smile, it eyes looked wild and intense, it looked like a werewolf!
Would it scare a grown up I wondered? With no thought of the consequences I went into my gran and granddads bedroom and pulled the sheets back, I lay the Wolfs Head (on the pole with tassels!) in the bed.
The time came for bed, I went upstairs and got my comics, The Beano and The Dandy, and slid under my flannelette sheets in my own bedroom and pulled my candlewick bedspread up to my nose. My grandma followed up the stairs a few minutes later.
I waited until she had entered her bedroom and positioned myself near my door. I heard her close the curtains. I listened intently as she pulled the sheets back ready to climb into bed, seconds past and then a shriek! 'Jesus Christ Almighty!' was the terrorised cry from my grandma's bedroom.
My mother legged it up the stairs and with panic in her voice she yelled, 'what's wrong mam?' 'God bless me, but there's a big bear in me bed!' my grandma replied. I stood on the landing looking at the chaos in the bedroom.
I sensed the look before I got it. My mother turned to me 'you daft get' she said 'you nearly gave your grandma a heart attack, you stupid, stupid boy, you've got no brains!' Not a slap, not even a raised hand, just lethal words and then the silent treatment.
It was only a bit of fun, honestly, I reflected as I sulked back into the safety of my bedroom. My mother went down stairs but my grandma followed me into my room, 'you should try that on your granddad!' she said with a beaming smile on her face,
With a look that said she had forgiven me she said 'come on get in bed with me, I'll tickle your back'. That was my gran, all forgiving all loving and full of compassion.
Phil Bell, Greater Manchester, 2001
| |  | |  |
To add a comment you must first login or join for free, up in the top left corner.
|
|
