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| Clog Irons |
Michael's and Rob's mothers became friends. Mrs Matthews would leave Rob at Michael's while she went shopping. Sometimes, Rob's mother would stay at Michael's and look after the four children, while Michael's mother went up-town.
Michael knew all about Robin Hood and King Arthur and the boys played pretend games and acted the stories. Michael had some lead soldiers which his Dad's mate at work had made for him. Only one soldier was in a coloured uniform. The others were just plain lead.
"Don't suck them! They're poisonous!" warned Michael, repeating what his Dad had told him.
When it was Michael's turn to have the painted one, he imagined it was his heroic Grandad Eli, the one he had never known, the one who had been killed in the war, in 1915. One day, Rob said, "There's going to be another war."
Michael responded with, "Who says so?"
"My dad. He says if we don't listen to Churchill, we'll be in big trouble."
"Who's Churchill?
"I don't know. I haven't asked him."
Another time, the two boys were playing out the front and a passing neighbour, Celia Wilkinson, gave them a bobbin with thread on it. Michael knew her friendly face well. She was one of the workers who waved to him when he was watching them all go to the mill on Moor Lane.
She'd nicked it from work, and Michael said, "Coo, it's got miles on it. Let's tie up the houses." So they did.
It was quiet in the street, a mild, spring afternoon, and nobody about. They tied the end of the thread to Michael's front-door knocker and unravelled it carefully down the side alley. They turned left down the back alley, under the shadow of the throbbing mill, and went back into Edward Street from the far-side, near the little shop, which was closed for the afternoon.
Finally, they made their way back up the street, keeping the thread taut across windowsills and across doorways as they went.
They did not snap the thread once. Their mission was completed back at Michael's again. Then they both laughed. They were always laughing. They just saw the funny side of things in the same sort of way.
Another time, Michael said, "Let's go and see my Nan."
"Where does she live?"
"Not far, I know the way," said Michael. "We'll go on our scooters."
"What will our Mams say?"
"Don't worry! It'll be worth it. My Nan always gives me some sweets."
"All right then."
It was a bit steep up Friar Street so they had to stop scooting and pushed their scooters up the slope. They stopped to peep in at the shire horses, which were kept on the left hand side, just across Moor Lane from Mitchell's, in Brewery Lane. The strong horses were used to pull heavy loads all round the town.
Some of the horses were in the shed which acted as their stable. One huge horse was tethered to a post in the middle of the yard. The boys peered at the animals through the spaces between the bars of the wide, high, iron gates.
"See that white one," said Michael, "My Nan's neighbour, Mrs. Wilson, used to own her, when she lived on a canal boat. It's called Florrie and she used to pull a barge."
"Big, aren't they?" said Rob.
"Yes, and they can hurt you," replied Michael. "Mam says I should never try to touch them or stroke them."
"That's all right," said Rob, "I don't want to really anyway do you?"
"No," said Michael, as one of the huge beasts stamped a heavy hoof. The ground shook beneath their feet and the gate they were leaning on rattled. That horse was a real giant.
On an impulse, Michael bent down and picked up a small stone. He threw it at the big horse but missed. It turned its head slowly towards them, more in curiosity than alarm Just then, by coincidence, a man emerged from the shed.
Michael thought he might have seen him throw the pebble. His heart stood still. His stomach turned over.
"Run!" he shouted at Rob. "He's after us!"
The man was only fiddling with the horse's tether but Rob needed no urging. The pair of them hurtled up the hill, dragging their scooters behind them.
There was a perverse pleasure in feeling they were being chased and escaping their pursuer. They liked having adventures together.
They crossed Dalton Square. In the middle of the square they took turns to climb up onto the few-inches-wide edge of the plinth, which supported Queen Victoria's statue. They both managed to go all the way round, rubbing noses on the way with the carvings of eminent Victorians, before they climbed down again to safety. Michael didn't tell Rob that was the first time he'd done it, without his mother helping and waiting to catch him, if he slipped.
They managed to cross the main road without any problems because there was hardly any traffic, even though it was one of the main roads, north and south, through Lancaster.
They passed the end of George Street. They paused and watched a clogger in a leather apron working near the window of the clog repairers in Thurnham Street. The man smiled at them and went on fitting strips of iron to the wooden sole of a clog. The boys turned into Marton Street. Nan's was at the near end and she was really pleased to see them.
She gave them some sweets from the tin which she kept in a cupboard. They sat quietly next to each other on her settee while Nan went on with what she'd been doing.
They watched her take some bread out of the oven at the side of the fire. She turned her bread tins upside down on the well-scrubbed, wooden table and lifted them. Under each one was a fresh loaf.
"Done to a turn. Risen nicely they have!" Nan declared, wiping her hands on her apron, after inspecting her baking for flaws. The aroma from the bread made the boys' nostrils twitch. It smelt lovely. They had an unexpected bonus, when she laid some butter on thickly and gave each of them a bit of the crust off one of her still-hot loaves.
"Just a taster each," said Nan. "Tha mustn't spoil tha teas or I'll have your mothers after me."
They still sat close together on her settee contentedly, eating the bread, sucking the sweets, swinging their legs, talking to Nan.
Then Michael's and Rob's mothers arrived, both frantic, after searching all over the place for the two boys. There was a terrible row. Margaret blamed Nan for the boys' going missing.
"I didn't know they were coming. It's nothing to do with me," Nan protested. "I thought you'd let them come."
"Course I didn't! Would I do that, with that main road to cross?"
"Well it did cross my mind that it was a bit funny but you young ‘uns are always doing funny things."
That did it: they had a real set to.
Michael was smugly pleased. Any anger at what they'd done was turned away from him and he felt satisfied that he was the cause of the commotion. Nan was secretly happy because her grandson had had the urge to come and see her. And she really enjoyed having a go at the silly young thing who had married her Gordon. It was about time that she was put in her place, brought down a peg or two.
Only Margaret lost out, especially as she'd had to beg Next-door to keep an eye on the babies' prams in the yard, while she and Sheila Matthews went looking for the missing boys. Only that morning she had vowed to herself that she wouldn't talk to her unfriendly neighbour again, after further complaints, this time about Margaret overfilling her dustbin and letting rubbish blow about the shared yard.
When Gordon arrived home that evening, Margaret's eyes were still red-rimmed because of all her crying. She poured out her troubles to her husband.
He felt aggrieved. He didn't want to be greeted with all that nonsense. It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last when he felt like piggy-in-the-middle between his wife and mother. He said as little as possible in response to his wife's moaning. "Least said, soonest mended!" he thought.
Web Links of interest
• The English Clog Maker or Clogger
• There are only a very small number of clog makers left from the many hundreds who traded in the late 1800s and early 1900s. Cloggers still trading include Jerry Atkinson, Mike Cahill, Walter Hurst, Trefor Owen, the Turtons, and the Walkleys
• Opened by Samuel Greg & Company in 1826, the steam-powered
cotton-spinning Moor Lane Mill, where Celia worked, was taken over (and fireproofed) by Storey Bros.,
one of Lancaster's leading firms, in 1861. Storeys ceased trading in 1982, and after a period of dereliction then
Council-funded restoration the Grade II Listed mill became the UK
headquarters of Reebok, the sports and footwear company, in 1990. More
recently, it has become NHS offices.
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