Earliest Ever Memories - The Nursery Years

For me at a young age, life may not seem all that exciting, but then I did grow up in this old Northern mill town in the 70's and early 80's. So, from birth to ten years old, everything I understood about the world and my environment was all about this microcosm that was my understanding of the world at that time.

I was born on a housing estate called 'The Summit' in a small Lancashire town called Heywood and from my earliest memories of attending Millbank Nursery, my life revolved around my home, the people that came to visit and visiting other people's houses. I vaguely remember going to my Auntie Thelma and Uncle Bob's House, who I thought were amazingly kind people and Bob allowed me to play with his Sooty and Sweep Puppets. (Thelma was my Nana's cousin. I don't know what happened to her and one day, I think I need to try and find out).

Then there was visiting my Uncle Terrence and Auntie Pat, who always seemed to have a house full of people, or we simply went round when they were having a party. (Terrence was my Nana's Nephew and they had four children, Diane (second born) was my mum and Dad's Bridesmaid and I was hers when she married (see Party Blog!) I loved going to Pat and Terrence's too as they seemed extraordinarily kind as well. In fact, up until they both passed, they never changed.
My Nana and Granddad were super cool and if we slept over on the Saturday night they would take my brother, David and I to to a country pub called Owd Betts on the moors because back in the 70's it was rare to allow children in pubs and if they were allowed, they were expected to be quiet and well behaved, usually made to sit in a corner or in the games rooms. Owd Betts had such a room with a game of skittles that kept us amused. So, whenever I stayed, I'd be like "Are we going to the pub?" Loved it. )Nana outside her bungalow).


My Great Granddad Ferguson was my Granddad's Step Father. My Granddad's real father, William, died after the first World War from Pneumonia. Sad really, he survived the entire war in the trenches only to die when he got home two years later. So my Great Grandmother Elizabeth Linley remarried, and he too fought the full WW1 in the trenches, which is why I have two Queen Mary/Alexander Christmas Gift Boxes! (Picture) I know he lived on a council estate in Bury with the address of a tree in the name. His house was always hot and stifling, like you couldn't breath. He still had a coal fire and smoked a pungent smelling tobacco in his pipe, which is probably why I can't stand the smell of pipe smoke to this day.

He too seemed a kindly man and always gave me some pennies from a blue glass bowl cupped in a silver leave holder he kept on his dresser. I don't really remember much about him, because he passed away when I was just four years old.

Afternoon naps were a serious bug bear for me and I hated going to bed in the afternoon, which my mother always insisted upon. One day I must have decided I didn't want to go to bed so I began to kick and scream in a rage. I remember being defiant and determined not to go to bed, but I couldn't say these things as I was too young to articulate my feelings in words. My mum handed me to my father and he took over my discipline from then on. Strangely though, the afternoon naps from then on ceased.
(Picture of Me, my brother and three cousins, always hung on my Granma's lounge wall.)

I think my mum wished for me to be a graceful Prima Ballerina because she insisted for years that I attended ballet lessons. I was clumsy and heavy footed and felt ridiculous most of the time, but my first memory of dancing classes was at the Heywood Civic Centre in one of the little side rooms. I remember the "point point change foot and point point" and then there was the tap dancing. ... I just remember feeling completely bemused by it all. I didn't last very long at that dance class and moved on to the Salvation Army hut where I enjoyed dancing much more because we danced to a proper routine about Thumberlina. We dressed up in pretty Victorian dresses and made peg dolls who were meant to be Thumberlina. There just seemed to be a logical point to the dance routine and we performed it in front of the parents. Plus my friend Debbie and I would dress up in our costumes when we got home and practice our little routine, which was fun. Just wish I'd had a picture of the dress. This is as close as I could find. (Never understood why my parents didn't take pictures of these events like parents seem to do these days).

I was a curious child and my brother had lots of toys and games I wanted to explore and play with. I was always a light sleeper and remember waking up much earlier than the rest of the household on most occasions. However, this didn't bother me, nor did I play the game of 'Bagpuss' and wake everyone up, sometimes this was the best time of the day, where I could creep in and our of bedrooms and nosy at things I probably shouldn't nosy at. On one particular morning I decided to snoop around my brothers bedroom whilst he slept. I found a game called "Dinky Doodles". There was a board with lots of holes in and a packet of multi-coloured pegs and I think the object of the game was to make pictures by sticking the pegs in the boards holes.

However, I thought I'd found a much better place to stick a dinky doodle and that was up my nose! Don't ask me why, even I cannot always rationalise my behaviour as a three year old. Now any sensible person would block the other nostril and blow hard to push the offending game piece out of the hooter, but instead I tried to forage the damn thing out with my finger and pushed it further up my nose! I do remember going into my mum and dads bedroom and waking up mum, (It was always mum, dad would grump and moan at me if I woke him) and simply said, "Mummy I have a Dinky Doodle up my nose." This episode of my early life has brought years of mocking, hilarity and entertainment from the rest of my family. If anyone's concerned, I had to go to A&E and have it picked out with tweezers...

I got a lollipop for my audacious effort in shoveling inanimate objects into a human orifice and no doubt was the laughing stock of Bury General Hospital!

I never really looked where I was going or who I was talking to for that matter and found myself walking into lampposts, post office pillar boxes and talking to strangers thinking they were my parents. One such occasion we were in a supermarket (Leos in Bury) and my dad was wearing a tweed jacket. I walked straight up to this arm with a brown tweed pattern, held the hand dangling from the sleeve and began walking along chattering to the arm without a care in the world until my mum and dad turned the corner of the aisle pushing their shopping trolley. I gasped and looked up in horror to see the very old, white haired man looking down at me and who smiled. (this seemed okay in the 70's!)

I screamed and ran to my dad. My parents did speak to the old man and what was said, I can't remember, I was just too traumatized. One thought came to me as I was writing this, as an adult, why didn't he say something straight away like, "Hello there, but I think you've got the wrong hand..." Or something of that ilk, instead of letting me wander about nattering to this complete stranger! Odd.

Before I began Nursery, my mum always used to put my clothes on the bed and then helped to dress me. One day I decided I was a big grown up girl who could dress herself. My mum was like, 'ok you dress yourself'. I decided a lovely little trouser suit/dungarees number. Please be warned, this was the 70's and flares on trouser legs had reached extreme proportions.

I stood at the top of the stairs and whilst trying to pull the straps up over my head began to walk down the stairs. As you can probably guess, I missed my footing completely and tumbled from top to bottom, hitting my head on the radiator for an extra good measure of pain. I think I screamed; - It's highly likely I did. But to this day, I can't stand banging my head or getting a headache.

And I'm so careful around any doors or window joints too. Yes, I trapped my fingers in a car door, bathroom door, and a window! If I see someone with their fingers to close to a hinge now, I tend to lurched towards them in slow motion shouting "Nooooo!!!" I can always tell when an adult has never experienced the searing pain of trapped fingers in doors!

Gran and Granddad would pop over whenever they felt like a visit and tap on the living room window to be let in. David and I would go mad jumping up and down in delight, in fact, I think I did this when most visitors came to our house, or when dad came home from work and David and I would fight over who sat on dads's knee and steered the car onto the drive. (I beleive frowned upon today!)

Gran used to come over once a month or so to get her hair permed. My mum was never a hairdresser, but I guess back then people used to save money by doing it themselves and I loved the smell of the blue perming solution and I'd sit watching mum put thin rollers in Grans hair whist they gossiped about people in town...

Maybe that's where I got my fascination with hairdressers from and wanting to cut Patrick's hair whilst hiding behind the back of the sofa. (My mum was a registered childminder, so we regularly had kids around the house, especially during school holidays. Patrick was one such child my mum looked after during these holidays.) My mum found us and I can still see the shocked look on her face when she saw my handy work. I beleive he had clumps of hair missing with a zig zag fringe! Hahahaaaa! I also used to play hairdressers on my grandparents and parents if they came over for tea. Everyone would get their hairbrushed into a ridiculous style then a newspaper over their heads to dry their hair out... (newspaper being the hairdryer, of course!)

Going to Milbank Nursery was a great experience for me and constantly seemed to be in trouble for something. I remember telling a boy he was stupid because he couldn't count properly to 20 so he hit me over the head with a firetruck! Another girl was so obsessed with this wicker basket bag and wouldn't let anyone else play with it, so I hid it and I think I may have traumatised her for life... sorry! I popped my head around the head mistresses door and discovered a playmobil Hospital playset so decided if I was going to get in trouble then so could loads of other kids, so I went and told a bunch of them I'd found this new toy. I showed them and we all started playing with it. When the head came in and shouted at us, we had to sit cross legged on the office floor with our hands on our heads and our mothers were informed of our 'naughtiness' when they came to take us home. Apparently, the toy for next years new entrants once we had gone up to infant school.. And!

I still ask that question now... Why couldn't we road test the toy and see if it was suitable for the new kids coming to nursery? My friend Claire, who was so lovely and kind, asked me to stay for tea at her house and I was amazed that she lived on the same street as me. How tiny our worlds are at 3 years old! Anyway, I was really excited because she had her own Playmobil hospital and so we played with that one all afternoon. Another boy was always getting into trouble... He was naughtier than me. One day he was carrying lots of boxes (cereal and food boxes) and he asked if I'd help him pick up the ones he kept dropping, so I said yes. Ten the 'tail tit; of our class (and you know there always was one) came round the corner, saw the two naughty kids carrying boxes and shot her arm in the air and accussaed us of stealing and she was "going to tell Miss" Stomping off with her finger pointing high in the air.

Now, I must have had a ticking off from my dad about my behaviour because I suddenly felt very afraid, dropped the boxes and ran off crying, then hid in a corner sobbing my heart out and claiming I wanted to go home because I missed my mum! (Aww!). Talking of being wrongly accused of something,  I was also accused of weeing in next doors garage and the kids who tattled on me, ganged up on me because I was the youngest, but I know to this day I didn't do it. I'm convinced it was the girl (stood in Pic) who lived there, because my mother told me she didn't like me and thought she was jealous of me, because I was just too cute for my own good. Mum caught her slapping me about one time. (Thankfully I must have been too young to remember that incident), but it does make me wonder if she lied to her parents on purpose to make me look bad! Hmmm!

Barry and Ness were close friends of my mum and dad and they would come round for the typical 70's dinner party and I was allowed to stay up long enough for them to arrive and see what amazing clothes she was wearing, (I thought she was so pretty). We sometimes went to visit them, which I loved because as I've said before, as a kid, I used to love nosying around other peoples houses. Barry had just started his own upholstery business and was living above his shop, so I had to climb this steep set of stairs to the flat above and remember finding this cute little child size Chesterfield chair to sit in when I reached the top. Naturally this became known as my chair and when they moved to their new bungalow I was deeply disappointed that my chair didn't make the move with them.

Dad's (opposite) mate Pete and Linda from work who lived in Sale had this gorgeous Pre-war semi, which to me seemed the size of a mansion. His daughter Debbie had this shopping trolly and till and plastic fruit etc, so we played shops for hours. Naturally, I wanted these toys when I came home, but alas, I got the till and had to pretend with everything else. Except, I do remember mum buying those tubes of jelly tots and playing shop with me, asking me to bag the sweets up and charge for them.

Here is Tufty (the silver fox rabbit), he could be Tufty 2, 3 or 4 as we had a lot of Tufty's. My dad knew a rabbit breeder who thought he was giving us a duff rabbit, then would change his mind and ask for it back and try to palm off another duff Silver Fox onto us so he could show and breed the last rabbit he'd given us! 

The Lab is Bonnie, which was my first dog. I was only four when we got her from a pub my dad had worked on. Another freebie! My dad worked for Bass Brewery as a property maintenance guy and this puppy (they originally called Muppet) was wreckning the landlords home and all their stock, so dad took her off their hands. I remember going to get her from the pub (another thing I loved doing, going in pubs, because as I said before kids weren't usually allowed to go in there). She came bounding out, the clumsiest dog ever, knocked over every glass and bottle in the place then puked and pooed all over my mum on the car ride home! Hahhaaaa! Happy days!