Mapperley History

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My Memories Continued, David Frost

I well remember when staying with my cousins as a child at Wharf Cottage fetching the water from a tap in the yard. Being terrified of the dark and running up to the top of the garden at nightfall for the last wee in the pan toilet, after which it was a pot under the bed which I was reluctant to use as I would have to empty it in the morning. Evenings there were spent beneath the light of a paraffin lamp, whilst listening to a radio which was powered by accumulators which we carried weekly to the shop next to the Newdigate for charging. At bedtime we changed in front of the black range fire before being lit to bed with a candle. A far cry from the way we live today.

Our childhood spent around Mapperley Brook and Wharf Cottage was idyllic. Our time spent running wild around the fields and playing in the brook and the canal, fishing, building rafts on the ponds. We were certainly never bored and our parents never feared for our safety although perhaps they should have if they realised some of the things we got up to.
We often used to go to climb the towers situated upon the top of the Shipley tips dodging the huge buckets which were suspended from wires which they supported and which carried waste from the pit. We also used to climb up to the big wheel called Old Nellie which stood on the top of Manner tip, where we also spent many happy hours sliding down on corrugated iron sheets. It was very fast and I still bear the scars to prove it. Now there is no trace of these huge tips which I think were removed to form the foundations of the M1

High Lane East
I was born on High Lane East, to my father whom I have already mentioned, and my mother an Ilkeston girl named Gladys Aldwinkle. Yes and there are not too many Aldwinkle’s around.

At that time this part of the High Lane East was known as Co-op row as many Ilkeston Co-op employees lived there, and almost all of the remaining male residents worked at one of the local pits. (Very few married women went to work in those days). My father was a pit fitter, next door an electrician, a few houses down the road a shot-firer, then a chap who looked after the horses at Mapperley, then a face worker and so it went on.

My father worked at the Manners, Mapperley and Shipley pits. His brother Ernest worked as a shaftsman at Shipley and the other brother Dennis worked in the coal-board offices. My father frequently had to go to work on Sunday mornings I think to carry out safety inspections and sometimes as a small boy I was allowed to accompany him.

The pit was a fascinating place, occasionally I would be allowed to go down the pit which was very exciting. However mostly I stayed on the top talking to the man in the lamp cabin, or watching the man in the winding house raising and lowering the cage down the shaft. He used to tell me that the cage was run at two speeds. Very fast for coal hauling and more slowly for carrying men although occasionally he would give the men a bumpy ride by making it travel quickly then breaking so that the cage bounced on its cables. I remember father coming into the winding house and saying. “You bugger, you gave her some back steam this morning” This apparently was the way the winding engine could be slowed down very quickly. On other occasions I rode on the loco as it trundled around although this did not seem to be working very often at weekends. Sometimes my father and I then went to the pub for a drink where he would report on what he had been doing, to Mr Blood who I think was the colliery manager. The pit was strictly off limits during the week and I am sure that the health and safety brigade would have had a field day had they been around then and knew what we got up to at the weekend.

I was born in 1942, so grew up just after the war. Although we children had very little as there just was not very much to have, for the most part we were happy making do with the few things we had together with the very few sweets we were given courtesy of the ration book.

The things I remember most was the lack of traffic, as the High Lane was virtually empty other than for the buses and coal lorries which passed by. There were virtually no cars, and insofar as I remember, there were only about four or five car owning families between the cross roads and Firs Farm. (Near Swan Lake) There were a few more motor cycles but nearly everyone travelled on the buses which ran a fifteen minute service.

In those days virtually everything was either bought from the local shops or delivered. At that time West Hallam had eight general stores, two butchers, a hardware shop and a cobblers. Furthermore there were innumerable delivery men. I can recall three green grocers, two bakers, three milk men, two butchers, a fish man, and then there was the Co-op who delivered the weekly orders and not forgetting Paraffin Williams who supplied soap, paraffin, brushes and buckets and chicken feed etc. We also had two garages both of which sold petrol although I cannot imagine who bought it because as previously stated there were hardly any vehicles.

And last but not least there was the Packie Man. This I hasten to add was not a derogatory term but was I believe a derivation of the term peddler, or pack-man. Our particular man was named Mr Scott who would measure you for a suit, or supply the utility hairy shirts and trousers we kids wore at a few bob cheaper that those you bought in the Grand Clothing Hall on Bath Street or the Ilkeston Co-op. He would come around every week as would the insurance man to collect his money.

At that time we also had a railway station. In the winter holiday we High Lane kids regularly walked across the fields to the West Hallam Village and then passing through Cock Orchard which actually had a rookery then, hence the name of the house which stands nearby We then used to go on and sneak into the station waiting room for a warm, as it was always nice and cosy with its coal fire burning in the grate. However we were usually quickly thrown out by our enemy the Station Master although in retrospect I think he was not so bad as he always let us stay there long enough to thaw out.

The other thing I recall is the lack of colour. Everything was very dull. All the houses were painted mostly green or brown; remember brilliant white paint had not yet become available. Also most of our clothes were pretty dull too. Utility clothes for which I think you needed coupons so they were effectively rationed. Those horrible grey itchy shirts, and black or grey flannel trousers and blazers. The girl’s clothes were also not much better.

At that time the West Hallam Pottery, now The Bottle Kiln shop and cafe was derelict. It was owned by Mr Stevens the milkman, and I and one or two other boys worked there during one of the summer school holidays clearing it out. The main building was full of partly finished unglazed pottery. I particularly remember the hundreds and hundreds of teapots which we carried out and threw into the clay hole. The clay hole was a huge pit from which clay for the pottery had been excavated. This was the local dumping ground even one of the local garages which will remain nameless, used to dump old cars into it, and the council used it for a short time for tipping domestic waste.

My family used to have so much local memorabilia, including photographs and local pottery together with many other bits and pieces all of which were sadly thrown away. So I hope that whilst this note is somewhat short I hope that it will inspire others to write down there memories, or dig out there old photographs etc. before they are lost forever.

David Frost, West Hallam

April 2012

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