Don Barnes

Sunny Sundays

That then was life during the working week. Sunday was altogether different: everybody and everything breathed a sigh of relief at the prospect of a day’s rest. Sunday was a well deserved lie-in, bacon and egg and fresh oatcakes fetched still hot from the little oatcake shop in Chatham Street where they would have been baking from two or three in the morning and after that a whole different day.

If the weather was good it often meant a morning visiting relations. Billy my father was popular with his aunts and it was to these as a toddler I was walked and carried. We usually went around them clockwise that was Emily, Maude, Florrie, and Sarah Anne, a round trip of some three miles. For me that meant two or three fizzy drinks and perhaps the odd copper. On the way back sometimes a call at the allotments for a bunch of mint, a few sticks of rhubarb or runner beans if in season, then back home for Sunday dinner.

the allotments in Wellesley Street
'a call at the allotments for a bunch of mint, a few sticks of rhubarb'

As this was the day of "Best Clothes," I was made to wear an apron to protect them; I remember the embarrassment on one occasion when sent out with a basin to buy ice cream from the cart when the boys from the street saw me.

On a fine Sunday afternoon the place to be for families was Hanley Park.Walking along WellesleyStreet towards the main gate you could hear the faint sound of the Brass Band playing and as the sound grew so did the anticipation and excitement; by the gate a bandsman in uniform took voluntary contributions which you tossed into a large canvas receptacle supported on a three legged stand, you were then handed a leaflet showing the band’s programme.

A view of the bandstand and pavilion

The park would be thronged with people all in their Sunday best, drawn by the sound of the brass band to the great terraced area in front of the pavilion; every seat around the band stand would be filled and the grassed slopes between the terraces occupied by families. The pavilion, its cool interior lined with glass cases filled with giant pike caught in the lake, busy selling tea and cakes and more importantly ice cream and lemonade. In front of the pavilion stood two great cannons, relics of some distant war, their great black barrels aimed at Stoke Station and polished bright by the trouser bottoms of countless small boys who had climbed on them.

the bridge over the Cauldon canal - the tower of Stt. Peter's church in the distance
the bridge over the Cauldon canal - the tower of Stt. Peter's church in the distance

Beyond the bandstand a bridge took you over the Cauldon canal, which divides the park, to an elegant terra cotta staircase to a lower level and the great circular bowling green. We would always stop here for a while and watch a few ends of bowls and applaud a good delivery. On the far side of the green an elegant drinking fountain with its iron cups secured by chain was just about reachable to a small child and we never passed by without a drink. Today’s generation with its obsession about health would shudder at the thought of standing in line to all drink from the same cup! Two further flights of steps took you down to the lakeside and the wooden landing stage where the rowing boats were hired from. A half hour in a rowing boat on a Sunday afternoon would be the highlight of the week.

^{the lake and
boathouse 'A half hour in a rowing boat on a Sunday afternoon would
be the highlight of the week.'
We always returned home by
way of the smaller floral park with its large fountain. We walked along the
terrace where the Conservatory displayed the exotic plants and two further
smaller fountains. "Keep off the grass" signs were everywhere and
of course we had the ever-vigilant Parky to enforce them.
^{the smaller floral
park with the terrace where the Conservatory displayed the exotic plants

The scene I describe
would be repeated in parks across the City on summer Sunday afternoons,
and each park had its own programme of events.

The principal ones in
Hanley were the May Day horse parade and the Carnival of the Queens. On
May Day all of the traders showed off their horses and carts in their
finest livery. The most spectacular would be the huge shire horses
belonging to the local breweries, notably Parker’s Burslem Brewery and
Joules Stone Ales and the magnificent turn out by London Midland and
Scottish Railway. Not to be outdone the Co-op dairies and bakery and
scores of smaller traders competed for the coveted rosettes awarded for
the best in each class. At the end of the parade were the horses that were
everybody’s favourites: the small pit ponies washed and dressed for the
occasion. In the early 1930’s horses were still in general use for local
transport, and as late as the early 50’s were still used by the railways
until they were replaced by a three wheeled vehicle pulling a trailer.

We waited with some
anticipation for the Carnival of the Queens. From all the towns and
surrounding villages came their locally chosen ‘Queen’ and her retinue
to parade around the horse ring. They displayed all the ingenuity and care
that had gone into their costumes, presumably made by their Mums and sundry
Aunts. Again, there were prizes to be won and borne home in triumph with
tears of disappointment to be dried by Mums and Aunties.
Finally the great Park
Fete was a two-day event, with flower tents, exhibitions by local
children, brass bands, and a very popular fancy dress parade which was often
won by a character that lived in Wellesley Street and had a pet goose! She
always took it shopping with her around Howard Place and naturally she was
the perfect Mother Goose! I can’t remember her name but she was part of
the Shelton Street scene for many years. The two day event always ended with
a great firework display, for which a special admission fee was charged. As
we could never afford that we gathered along with hundreds more at the back
of the park by the old electric works and got a pretty good view for
nothing.
We had a lot to thank our
Victorian Councillors for in having the foresight to plan and build this
park on what had been 80 acres of derelict land. No doubt they heard the
same dissenting voices we hear today when money is to be spent on what is
considered to be non-essentials; thankfully, they were built and today one
hundred and twenty years later, although not in their prime, are still used
by families on sunny Sundays.
By Don Barnes}}