Written By Ellen Rosindale, My Grandmother in 1972. Born in 1914 into the terrible troubles of the First World War, my very first recollections of life was the great steel works which dominated our tiny homes. The blast furnaces would light the whole street as it cast its giant flames to the sky, The thick grey dust that covered everything was the shedding gloom from the works. The community was mixed, but mostly Irish, who came to this island and our town for work, little Ireland they called it back then. Pepper Road, the Road, as our piece of the district was named, had the entrance to the great works and a huge dark wall, which surrounded most of the works. To us as children it was natural and unquestioned to see the strangers looking not only for work, but also a meal and sometimes a bed, all this was part of every day routine to the children of the road, so arriving home from school, to find a stranger at the table was never a surprise to any one of us. My father, along with many others, came home from his work at the furnace with one or perhaps two men looking for work and a place to rest their heads, hoping to settle in little Ireland. My mother, like the women of most families was the sufferer. Daily the steel works would sound the dreaded blower, the one that told the tale of yet another tragic accident. Men would wait in line for the work of the same victims being carried out on stretchers before them. Surrounded by all this, and the poverty besides for most, my childhood looking back was strangely a happy one. our home was a home in every sense of the word, and the young would gather together at nights, mostly where the greatest attraction was, our wonderful piano. For the children to learn an instrument was a great thing, and almost all the lads and lassies learnt how to play something eve if it was only the comb. All would gather together and the concert of learners would begin. My mother who would be baking and getting ready for another day, would join in singing along to the songs and letting open the house to all with the "come in, you are welcome, they are all here". The coal fire would burn in the well-polished grate, which was a pride to all the women. If the baking was in progress each would take home a teacake or short cake for breakfast the next morning. To ride to work was only for a seldom few, almost everyone walked great distances in those days. The bicycle was one way of getting the worker to the outside world; one could borrow the bike for special errands or emergencies. Almost anything could be borrowed, anything. from a hat for a funeral to a penny for the gas. And if the necessity rose, I have seen bread freshly baked, stew or a joint, handed over to the most immediate cause. But everyone knew, they must leave enough for the man of the house, the worker. The pawnshop was the bank for most people, not for luxuries but for the Day-to-day necessities to live. Through no fault of their own, but the condition of the times in which they lived and the large families. The Pawnshop was the only bridge from one week to another for most families. some had nothing to pawn, so the neighbour, who was a little better off, would loan what garment, ring, or shoes that would fill the need until another week. The man of the house sometimes knew, often not, of the great trucking that was going on all around him. But should anything special occur or he decided to take himself to the pub with his few coppers, he would be going I his working clothes.. No suit, no Sunday boots until Friday, often Saturday when they were collected from the pawn shop, often to be taken back on Monday. As I write this I the prosperous year of seventy-two, it sounds so unreal that anyone should suffer the unmanly indignities that they all did. Weddings christenings and deaths were shared by all, regardless of the religion. The house was the place to be born, the wedding reception hall and the funeral parlor. Everyone would help to make each event a success; if the one house was full the next would take the overflow. Many the bed, sofa, or large chair that had a strange face in it the next morning, but always welcome, for he or she had come to the "occasion". Religion played a large part in out lives, we had all denominations amongst us, and we each respected the others routines and reasons for what the believed. As one left school at fourteen, your first job was not what you would have liked, but where the weekly wage was the highest. This large amount of perhaps, twelve shillings was handed over to mam to swell the family funds and you maybe would be well off and greatly pleased to be handed half a crown spending money. This often was shared with the pals, or lads to go to the local dance hall. So dance we did, the waltz, foxtrot, and all the time the master of ceremonies in the middle of the floor saying, "move all round the hall please". Dancing shoes and long dresses we're must for you to be top of the bill. The best dancers would wait for the competition, which would bring the lucky couple the large amount of ten shillings. This big win,would be everybody’s passport to a tram ride home instead of the usual long walk. If walk we did, it was a happy walk, with laugher and songs and "how much have we between us for tomorrow?"  the funds would be raised the next day by a raid of each house for milk bottles, beer bottles (if any), and vinegar bottles, for in those days all were returnable for a few coppers. If not a work day the morrow, the lasses and lads would return to the house with the mostest. Music, a cup of tea, the rugs taken up and a dance, Loads of laughter and all sent home at a reasonable time. Church Sunday morning, regardless of what time you got to your bed. Apart from the religious side of it, one was I competition with all to look your best, and this was also another way of showing your smartness, every effort was made by am to show her family off. Just one of the pleasures she had from all her hard work and planning. After church we would come home with some "stay" to land him o the household for a meal, wash and perhaps finish up taking him to the dance at night, leaving him always with a copper in hi pocket from among us, to see him on his way. The next day, in most houses, the finery of the weekend would be in the Pawn shop, so it was the pictures with a pass and very little to pay. the darkness covered the old suit, and who cared, it would soon be Friday. With all this we were happy and never thought about the "jones". Out of work for so long and tired of street corner debates, with the promise of "perhaps a job tomorrow" some of the lads joined the Territorial Army, some joined the regulars to at least feel like men. Some went to other towns looking for work; some even joined the fair as it visited, to be boxing bait in the ring for the crowds. But all were sadly missed in every house that knew them. Among all this the clergy of that time and the local doctors were the giver and adviser to the people in trouble. The bailiffs were kept from the door, jobs found, and even to the boots to see the man to his new job, were provided. I remember to this day, one young man, honorable, no work. Dependant on sisters, mother, and friends who by all their efforts got a new suit. It was green serge as was the fashion then. What an occasion, everyone had to see our lad as he left for the dance in his new array. A copper in his pocket, even if it was your last, to wish " God spare your health to wear it" was the usual comment and custom. Young and old would mix together around the fire, and good education we got in song and in the story of "my father used to say" or my auntie Nell" or " remember the man" and so on. Looking back as I am now, as I guess most of my generation does there is little thrill in the suit we get, colour television, being on the phone, Wall-to-wall carpet, and all the conveniences of the day. How did my generation manage without the slippers, dressing gown, carpets, cardigans and central heating? I look today at men, and I mean men who ran the Road, without boots in all weather, but are now better off, yet still able to remember all the indignities of childhood. "Hello", and "do you remember?” "guess whom I saw yesterday" Even today it is a thrill to us to see so prosperous the friends of the road who have survived the poor days, and mostly none of them forget or ignore you. I wish, please God, they could all live years longer, to see the so-called wind of change. Friends and companions pass on and leave us and one thinks, if only they could share this or see it, that we could all be together. Francis although much older than us, was our confider, power and moral support. Often by the light of the lamp at the corner he would settle our love life by his knowledge, tell us of the saints, and one would leave him thinking; tomorrow is as Francs says, good. To tell anyone today that children waited outside the works to ask, "have you got any bread left mister” would not only amaze them but also make one feel they live in the middle centuries. There was the case of the time my father, god rest his soul, who never ate his "snap" but saved it to give to the ones who asked "any bread left”. My father like many other men, would cry only when he spoke to the children who met him to ask for crumbs. In all this we were full and plenty, but everything was shared, even too the ring on my mother’s finger, to pawn for the most immediate cause.  We had fun, love, and one could not explain the affection we had for each other. Regardless of age, man, woman, we loved each other without getting into bed and knowing tomorrow I can still look at you with the same affection. To have anything modern, up to date, or posh as the word was then, we had it, but it was shared by all. If anyone broke, spoiled or spilled it, it was my mother who would remark "Its no ones blood so not to worry" Others of the Road who I still remember a good, humane people, and houses without even the bare necessities, but still a home, "come in you are welcome" always the greeting. Today the story is so different, "mind the carpet" "mind the suite” don’t do this and don't do that, thepoor fools that make a mansion that no one can be happy in, but why? We all came into this world with nothing and some have forgot they can’t take anything out. I am going away from the Road, which I loved, and all who lived in it. Men women and children with who I shared sorrows, joys and things to numerous to mention. I will miss the people, but the heart stores up memories through the years and plays them back like old records. I have so many old records.

To My Mother, Because she understood the words.. *but i know though i may age, my mind become a shadow of its former self, Some things will remain alive within my thoughts, and of a surety i know, you will be of these.*