Memories of Stoke-on-Trent people - Alan Chell

Alan Chell

As I write, more and more memories come to mind, as though it was yesterday. During that particular time, British Rail used to have flat horse drawn carts which used to carry large crates full of pottery packed in straw around the city. One such regular run was from Newhall Pottery in Hanley (now Tesco’s) up to Ridgeway Pottery at Cobridge via Windermere Street and Derwent Street. We used to jump onto the back of the cart and ride to the top of Derwent Street. The driver of the cart was a kindly old gent who always took great care and would shout if he saw us at the back of the cart. He would stop for a short time to rest the horse and would allow us to feed the horse with a crust of bread, making sure we held the bread flat on our hands so as not to get bitten by the horse. The old man was the typical granddad type with grey moustache, twinkling eyes, pipe-smoking, peaked railway cap and uniform. It is with regret that happy memories like these cannot remain with us as more than thoughts in today’s troubled world.

 It has to be seen to be believed the amount of effort that went into the presentation of the goods, in particular of the horses and carts that travelled the streets. Today of course the services of a professional window dresser are called upon. The one window display that was always a credit to the owner was that of Mr. Cartlidge the greengrocer. The balance of colour and variety was second to none: Cox’s Russets, Granny Smith’s apples, Jaffa oranges, Fyffes bananas, grapes, tangerines, and dates were all to be seen. Sadly some years later Len Cartlidge, son of the founder of the shop, retired with his family to North Wales, so another chapter came to a close.

building an Anderson Shelter

 On reflection, although there was very little money about, the wealth of community spirit made up for any financial shortcomings. Another area in which the community spirit showed itself was the care and attention that was paid by the residents in each street in looking after the communal air raid shelters. In many cases they had chairs and some type of floor covering. These were of course supplied by the residents. The children were allowed to play in them on wet days, but woe betide any of them if they did not behave. Any such digression was met with a smart clip around the ear which in my opinion is sadly missing from today’s society. Vandalism was almost none existent. If a house had its own garden, it was more than likely to have its own air raid shelter called the “Anderson” shelter. These were often buried in the ground to afford a little more protection for the residents, of course these were only designed to protect against shrapnel, and blast shock wave. They would not protect against a direct hit. More often than not, they would end up as a garden shed, and what a job to get them out of the ground. They usually had a concrete or brick floor, as the months went by they filled nicely to about a foot or 18 inches of muddy water. People tried to disguise the hump in the garden as a rockery.