MEMORIES OF LEEDS

by LILIAN DAILEY (Nee Dixon)

PART TWO

The War years rumbled on and my friendship with Hughie Dailey blossomed. He worked long shifts, mostly nights, and I worked with the St. John Ambulance Brigade three evenings per week, so there was not a lot of spare time. Even so, we managed short trips at weekends, sometimes on the motor bike to the Dales when we had petrol coupons to spare. Otherwise any of our friends home on leave would join us and we would take the 'bus to Otley, where we would telephone our order for Yorkshire Puddings to the Timble Inn and then walk there in time for lunch. The petrol did spin out to allow Hughie to run round to Tower Works in his lunch-time and meet me for a ten minute chat, which needless to say caused much amusement and teasing from the girls in the office.

Those later days of the War were very hard to bear - endless black-outs and shortages and just about everything was rationed. There were not many grumbles as it was the general feeling that the many friends we had serving in the war zones needed all our support. I remember quite vividly the night the Ambulance Brigade and the Red Cross were called out to the City Station to help support all the medical and nursing personnel available to meet the hospital trains bringing the wounded from the Dunkirk evacuation. It was a terrifying experience, transferring the casualties from the trains to waiting ambulances en route for local hospitals. The smell of burnt flesh and the sight of broken bodies remained with us for a very long time. We were so inadequate and not well trained enough to do much else but offer comfort, tea and sympathy and blankets to those poor lads. We felt so useless and more than ever realised the futility and waste involved in fighting a war. There can never be any winners ..

In the Spring of 1945 Hughie and I decided we would marry when we could find somewhere to live. No houses were being built during the war and looking for rented property was like looking for gold. However Uncle John Dailey and his wife Daisy were caretakers for a property agency and came to the rescue with a terraced cottage in Armley - No.18 Prospect Grove, which was a quiet little unmade road. The cottages had served the workers at a large Hall since demolished - they were very picturesque, had a large kitchen and one bedroom (one up & one down) , were built of local sandstone with walls 2-ft. thick, had deep window seats and a neat little garden, and the weekly rent was thirteen shillings and sixpence.

This lovely little postcard type cottage had no washing or toilet facilities, the toilet being a shared establishment at the end of the terrace. Washing of clothes was done in the "set-pot", a large brick built affair next to the sink having a small grate underneath to house the small fire which would heat the water which had first to be drawn from the antiquated tap over the sink. Nevertheless it was either living in Prospect Grove or waiting for goodness knows how long for something better to turn up.

John and Daisy helped with lots of second hand items bought in their Saleroom at auction and plans began to develop. I recall the time we went to the saleroom and bought at the auction lot No. 17 - a peggy tub, a wooden clothes horse or 'winterhedge' as we called them then, a wheelbarrow, a washboard and a KB radio with a faulty valve all for the sum of thirteen shillings, but how to get them home? Petrol was still rationed and taxis were only used for emergency jouneys so we decided to use the wheelbarrow.

By about 11 p.m. the streets had cleared and we set off for Armley, along Wellington Road and up by the railway to Armley Road - John with the clothes horse over his shoulder, Daisy and I with bags of pegs and Hughie pushing the barrow containing the wash tub and the radio. It was quite dark and we had to keep stopping for a rest. Suddenly a policeman stepped out from nowhere wanting to know what we were up to. I suppose we were unlikely burglars, but out came the little black notebook. Luckily Hughie had the sale room receipt in his pocket. About a week later the same policeman beckoned to me on Town Street and asked if the radio was working and if so he was prepared to give me a pound for it. The whole incident seemed a big laugh to him.

My mother was a dab hand with wallpaper and though it was still in short supply she did a wonderful job of the kitchen/living room - the open stair case and bedroom were colour-washed, lino from the saleroom was laid to cover the stone flagged floors and rugs were put down to add warmth.

We were married in the October at St. Patrick's Church. It was a happy affair in the long run though I know my mother wished me to be married in All Saints' Church where I was brought up. In those days Church rules were very strict and it was a great disappointment to me that 'mixed' marriages were kept very, very simple - no music and I did want Uncle John to play the organ for me. There were several rules which had to be observed and vows to be made... Would any young people stand for that sort of tyranny today? - I think not. Thank goodness things have changed out of all recognition.

Grandma Dixon, with her usual tact and diplomacy, voiced her opinion by admonishing me;

"You've been to College and now marrying a greasy-arsed engineer and him a Catholic an' all".

Clothes rationing was very much in force, but my dear colleague at work., Margaret Hornby, loaned me her own beautiful water-marked taffeta wedding dress. Iris, Uncle John King' s daughter, made lovely bridesmaids' dresses for herself and Hughie's sister Margaret. A lot of our very close friends were still away in the armed forces and were not able to be present - we moved the ceremony on a fortnight so that my brother Alan could attend. Again. rationing was a problem in that you were only allowed to provide food for small parties but everyone contributed either food or coupons and a good time was had by all. We then spent a week in Blackpool, not my favourite place, but we could not go to our friends in Scarborough as the East coast was a high security area with barbed wire barricades right along the coastal roads. Anyway Blackpool was very nice if a bit isolated in October in wartime. Then we went back to take up residence in Armley.and the beginning of a very happy marriage though like most people we had our ups and downs....

Hughie and I continued our shared interests in swimming, walking. and a love of the countryside. I often think of Grandma Dixon's words though when at the end of each working week usually Saturday lunch time Hughie would bring home his greasy overalls (overalls were not provided by employers in those days and certainly not cleaned) and we had to boil enough water to fill a great bucket in which to soak the offending garment, over and over again. We good naturedly shared the scrubbing process - if the weather was fine the scrubbing was done on a board in the garden.

The cottage did not come up to scratch at all but in many respects we loved it. My Dad had given Hughie the urge to take up gardening and together they created a lovely patch and a lifelong hobby. However, plumbing was non-existent, and the very thick hollow walls housed hordes of mice which had the run of the whole row of cottages. Whenever the fire was allowed to go out the mice came out of the chimney and invaded the whole house - to my extreme terror when Hughie was on night shifts - and I used to walk the house rattling ornaments etc. in a futile attempt to scare them away. We decided that a cat was essential and a neighbour offered us the bonniest of bob-tailed kittens, which we made immediately welcome.

Right from the start the kitten proved a real champion in the mouse catching game, suddenly darting about and bringing the prey as a present to whoever was nearest. However our little pet was not very popular with the other cats on the row and often came home very battle-scarred. In my ignorance I thought it was probably a part of the mating process and decided that neutering was the answer, taking my growing kitten to the R.S.P.C.A to make an enquiry about possible surgery. After examination, the visiting Vet. very amusedly asked if I had not realised that the cat was a natural neuter, neither a he nor a she, and that was the reason for other cats' aggression towards her ( I always thought of the cat as a 'her'). She settled down very contentedly and learned to avoid her aggressors.

A year or so went by and, having waited so long for a house to turn up, we were very delighted when a baby at last was expected. I was in great form, never experienced any morning sickness or any other adverse symptom of which I had been warned, and was, to coin a phrase, disgustingly healthy right through my pregnancy. Considering the family record of difficult deliveries, I opted to go into Hyde Terrace Maternity Hospital when the time came. The National Health Service had not yet been put into force and I was charged for my monthly check-ups, according to our income, at £1.11s.6d per visit and a possible £11 for the confinement time in hospital which was estimated to be in May 1947.

The winter of that year (1946/7) proved to be the worst we had ever experienced or indeed were to experience in later years. Snowfall followed snowfall until Prospect Grove was covered with hard packed ice and snow to a depth of 4 feet. Hughie and a neighbour shovelled a way to the toilet area each day - the snow plough only managed to clear half the length of the Grove so getting out every day was a gruelling task. Spades and shovels were, of course in great demand.

Six weeks after the estimated time for birth, I was admitted to hospital and, true to form, after a long and difficult confinement, to our extreme pride and joy, and like all the other mothers in my ward, the most beautiful boy in the world was delivered by Caesarian section on the 4th July 1947. After being one of a large family of girls, Hughie was so unbelievably proud of his son. He had always joked that a girl would be sent back by return of post but I know she would have been equally welcomed.

We had discussed names for the new arrival and as it was the done thing to use family names - my brother still being in the Navy - we considered perhaps Alan.....Some weeks before I went into hospital I was walking by City Square where there was a news vendor with a large placard bearing the words 'WORLD GOLF - ALAN DAILEY WINS'. I decided I quite liked the sound of that, if indeed we produced a boy.

During these waiting months, I had decided that I just couldn't bring up a child in the conditions we were putting up with and I made many many requests for better housing to the City Council. Eventually, an official called - it was pouring with rain and as you needed a large umbrella when using our toilet I took him up the street to see for himself. I had been baking that morning and I plied the fellow with scones and home-made jam, hoping he would be suitably impressed, but weeks went by without reward. So I came home from hospital in late July to the hottest summer I can remember.

We christened him Alan and enjoyed the presence of an ecstatic family gathering. Hughie's sisters Margaret and Katie had bought a brand new pram, my parents a cot and bedding, all of which were very much appreciated. Hughie's weekly pay was £3. 11s. 6d per week of which I took three pounds for rent and housekeeping. Perhaps it was as well that everything was still on ration, at least we could manage but there was little left over to save for a house.

I became quite domesticated and just loved pushing my pram along Armley Town Street to queue for my three bananas when they were available, and my two rations per week at the butchers - probably two chops and two slices of Corned Beef. One good thing coming out of the War years was the Government-issued National Baby food which was wonderful value at a shilling (5p now) per tin and also the free Cod Liver Oil for children. I think it was an admitted fact that the Nation was healthier under rationing. Alan loved his spoonful of Cod liver oil as he grew into a sturdy little bundle of joy.

After what seemed an age, another housing official called, by appointment, and I made certain that some of the daily mouse droppings were shown in the empty pram. I was a bit disappointed that I had no tit-bits to offer , just a cup of tea, but imagine my surprise and delight when at the end of his form-filling he asked if we would be prepared to accept a house on a new housing estate in the process of being built, but on the outskirts of the city - in fact between Cookridge and Horsforth to be called Ireland Wood.

I couldn't wait for Hughie to return from work and give him the news. With his usual caution he said it would mean paying a lot more rent and there would be fares to travel to and from work. Nevertheless, he was as excited as I was at the prospect and grudgingly said "well, so long as they will give me a large garden" (which they did). It was months before the estate was completed and even then the houses had to be equipped - I was pleased to be expecting my second child and during that time I was asked if I could go back to Harding, Rhodes to work again for Mr. Rhodes.

It had previously not been the done thing for the office staff to return to Tower Works after marriage, you were given your cheque and table lamp and that was it. Anyway, it was a Godsend and I went back part-time which enabled us to save towards our new home. Aunt Emma came to my aid, as always, and collected Alan from the City Bus station in the mornings and she and my mother looked after him on alternate half-days. Alan was such a good natured child, every friend we had was eager to look after him, but still I wanted to be at home with him.

All round we had a good year. Hughie was offered a job with Chas. F. Thackray, the surgical instrument makers, in their small instrument department. The pay was marginally better than the usual rate, the work was not so heavy and very much cleaner. The firm was experimenting with the manufacture of stainless steel ball and socket joints in collaboration with Mr Charnley, an eminent consultant in Orthopaedics who as well as his medical qualifications had a degree in Engineering. Hughie did the turning work on the very first steel hip joint and was very proud of its success. He was quick to notice on a recent visit to St. James' Hospital a department labelled The Charnley Suite. It was not until the end of that year that we finally received the keys to our brand new council house at No.20 Iveson Road. We moved in on New Year's Day 1951 and thus opened up a new chapter in our way of life.

Lilian Dailey (nee Dixon)

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