An extract from my memoir…which will probably never see the light of day…..except this bit.
An extract –
My Grandad Ernest’s sister,
Bessie,
lived with him and Nellie; I didn’t know much about her except that she had never married.
When I asked her why, she said that it was because she had caught Polio when she was a child.
Polio had left her physically disabled. One of her legs was always heavily bandaged; it was swollen,
much larger than the other one. I used to ask her about it a lot; it used to fascinate me.
She would always answer my questions, though, and they didn’t seem to bother her.
If they did, she hid it well.
Aunt Bessie always had sweets, usually humbugs or chocolate limes, and she used to smoke like a chimney.
I think the brand was Players number six. They came in a white pack with a mint green and black stripe.
On occasion, she would send me to ‘Mrs Warrington’s shop’ to pick up her ‘fags’ and a quarter of sweets.
Bessie Clayton in Market Square, Tideswell
My grandparents’ house, up Whitecross, was always thick with tobacco smoke.
I don’t think people realised the health risks as much back in the 1970s.
Ernest and Bessie Clayton visiting our house around 1976
After the death of my mum’s sister, Pat (Martha Doreen Carson, Nee Clayton), in 2014, I found an album with 100s of postcards in it.
These postcards were all from or to her Aunt Bessie, and a great number of them had been written on.
I have scanned them all. Here’s a lovely example, sent from Blackpool, 102 years ago.
Dear Bessie, the Sun is very hot this morning. Good holiday weather; Blackpool is crowded with people. I hope you are taking care of the piano for me. It should suit you well, the quiet. W. G Hopkin
Dear Bessie, the Sun is very hot this morning. Good holiday weather. Blackpool is crowded with people. I hope you are taking care of the piano for me. The quiet should suit you well. W. G Hopkin
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