An Illustrated History of Old Sutton in St Helens, Lancashire
Part 76 (of 95 parts) - Memories of Sutton Part 26
‘Cycling, Tennis and the 8-15’ by Rita Woodward (Kenwright)
Compiled by Stephen Wainwright ©MMXX
’Cycling, Tennis and the 8-15’ by Rita Woodward (Kenwright)
‘Cycling, Tennis and the 8-15’ by Rita Woodward (Kenwright)
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Left: Factory Row in Ravenhead; Right: Rita Woodward as a young girl on her bike
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Factory Row in Ravenhead and Rita Woodward on her bike
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Factory Row and Rita Woodward
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Left: Ice skating in Liverpool; Right: Rita Woodward pictured during her cycling days
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Left: Ice skating in Liverpool; Right: Rita Woodward taken during her cycling days
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Ice skating in Liverpool
I loved cycling from an early age and treasured my first bike. Later, when I received a larger bike, Jean and I travelled many places and I often went with the boys to Winwick where they were trainspotting. Perhaps my greatest trip with Jean Yule was to London. At 15 with Jean we planned a long cycle to London staying at youth hostels on the way to visit some relatives of Jean who had a fish and chip shop there. It seems a long way – 200 miles – to go for fish and chips! One would think that two young girls cycling to London would be very brave. Looking back I think it was foolhardy but I suppose youth just has enthusiasm.
The bikes (Raleigh and Rudge) were heavy by today’s standards and had only three gears. We walked up the steep hills but were often lucky to get lifts on lorries by kind drivers. (Would one do that today?). However doing thirty miles a day we made it in a week. I hated the punctures and had three. After a week in London we cycled all the way back to our parents who were happy to see us and on return we were much fitter, lots of extra muscles; brown from days in the sun and had a great memory. We never did it again but the memory is still strong.
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Rita Woodward camping with the Sutton cubs and scouts at Hawkshead in the Lake District
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Rita camping with the cubs and scouts at Hawkshead
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Camping at Hawkshead with cubs & scouts
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In winter we played table tennis at the club and if we had a good crowd we played the card game “Chase the Ace” around the table with matchsticks for “lives”. There were dances too and the most popular ones were on Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve, usually compared by Jack Haycock, the singing bar steward. On Christmas Eve the dance finished at 11-30 pm so people could head up to St. Nicholas church for the first communion of Christmas morning after midnight.
Best wishes to all the friends I met in my Sutton days. I would love to hear from you even though I am far away in New Zealand, where my husband Norris Kenwright and I have just enjoyed our 80th birthdays.
’An Early November Day’ by Norris Kenwright
The day was a typical early November day in the mid 40’s, cold, damp, misty and not the day you wanted to head off to school. The hoar frost on the hawthorns along Sutton Park indicated an overnight drop in temperature. This final year at Robins Lane Primary was different to the many years at the main school. Suddenly due to overcrowding in this final year we were sent down to the Chapel in Sutton Road where we would study for the 11 plus exam which would determine our secondary school education.
Norris and sister Iris at the bottom of Sutton Park with cottage at 81 Robins Lane owned by Thomas & Maggie Abram and Charlotte Heyes
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Norris and sister Iris at the bottom of Sutton Park with cottage at 81 Robins Lane
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Norris and his sister Iris on her bike at the bottom of Sutton Park
Heading across the road I remembered how my friend, Mike Melia, and I came home from town on one of those buses. Mike had this idea: clever at the time: that if you jumped off the moving bus outside Mrs Heyes’s cottage you could save the walk back to Marina Avenue. He had this flash of inspiration that if you jumped and ran fast enough it would be OK. On the bus platform I watched first in anticipation and then in horror as he jumped, legs pedalling, and then did this amazing tumbling act rolling after the bus.
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Norris Kenwright pictured left and his friend Mike Melia, along with Norris’s dog Flash
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Norris Kenwright (left) and Mike Melia, along with Norris’s dog Flash
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Norris (left) and his friend Mike Melia
Heading on to Baxters Lane the old chippy on the corner looked old and deserted and a couple of people headed to Ashton’s general shop a few doors down. Ashton’s was small, crowded but a wonderful emporium of jars of confectionary, bread and everything a small local shop could be. Mr & Mrs Ashton never changed and were permanently old. Not having sweet coupons I often bought liquorice sticks to chew to satisfy my hunger for something sweet or savoury. My endearing recollection of them was their fireworks club. Six months before the glorious fifth you had a card and added the odd penny here and there; often from returned bottles; and on the 4th you had enough for the two shillings and six pence box of fireworks. (Another story to tell).
Back heading along Baxters Lane the small narrow humpback bridge appeared; an amazing construction to test one’s skills of self-preservation against oncoming traffic.- way before traffic lights were installed. To the left were the engine sheds, with smoke and steam rising from those grimy engines. I loved those smells and was soon a devoted Ian Allen train spotter spending hours at the Junction and Pudding Bag, as the local trains dashed past imprinting their wheels on the pennies I put on the track. (Days at Winwick, Crewe and Lime Street stations were to come).
Turning right into Webb Street which was a rough unpaved road I was sometimes hassled by a gaggle of white geese. I don’t know where they lived or came from but they were guardians of the street. At the bottom of the street was the chapel and a large rough area in front, which was our playground. To the right was a large fence behind which was Crone and Taylor’s works.
Monday was when we entered the hall to see all the cast iron desks pushed back against the walls after the weekend Chapel and with heavy scraping and pulling we soon had the desks with our books in all in place. I had a crush on one girl, Rona Brocklebank, a quiet shy girl and super clever. I always angled to have my desk next to hers. Our Class teacher in the big room was Mrs Courtman with 4A. In the smaller back room was Mr Shaw with 4B, a rather portly stiff man in usually a blue grey suit.
Mrs Courtman was strict and terrifying and had a bamboo cane. Her style of piano playing could more nicely be put as “heavy handed” and the room often resounded to the hammering of the keys. She taught us every lesson from Maths, English, Nature Studies, Art and P.E. and with our class of 48 it must have been far more stressful than today’s small classes. The lines of kids stretching from her marking desk waited in silence. It is a credit that 25 of that class passed the 11+ to go to Grammar school, a remarkable achievement. We practised a small Operetta, “The Merry Peasant” to put a show on for parents – my first and last venture into this genre. I had a passible voice and found a subsidiary role as a messenger of ill news. Those lines are still in my memory as I rolled onto the stage on my hobby horse:
Football with Mr Shaw was taken on the waste land below Sutton Nation School alongside “Stinky Brook”. Pollution seemed to be very acceptable in those days for our football often rolled into Stinky Brook which bore the colour and smells of whatever Sidac was colouring its cellophane rolls. It was noxious and horrid to collect the ball.
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The Lancots Lane bridge and map of the schoolroom of the Sutton Road Methodist Church
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Lancots Lane bridge and map of the schoolroom at Sutton Road Methodists
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Lancots Lane bridge & schoolroom map
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Saying goodbye to Beryl Miller, Olive Fairclough, Anita Ramsdale (pictured here a few years later) as they headed down Robins Lane to the junction and to Albert Bain in Waterdale Crescent, Louis and I cut across Irwin Road, down Highfield Street across Robina Road and into the Crescent. Anticipation of a dark smokey evening of fireworks, baked potatoes and fun was uppermost in our minds.
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Olive Fairclough, Anita Ramsdale & Beryl Miller
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