BarnsleyandFamily

During the war years I was constantly with my cousins and we would get up to all kinds of mischief, one thing we did and received a well deserved smack for doing it, was to go down some of the streets off Sackville Street, push our fingers into the cardboard top of the full milk bottles and drink the cream from the top of the milk.      Fitzwilliam Street, Barnsley, was the scene of the crime.  We used to poke our finger through the milk bottle tops, this one looks as if we have been attacking it. This was soon stopped when we were spotted and our mothers were told. We were confined to barracks for quite a while for that one. When my Dad was " called up" into the army, as young as I was, I thought it was the end of the world,   for over 4 years I carried the dread that I would never see him again. I was one of the first children in Barnsley to have the whooping cough inoculation and remember my mother taking me to the Town Hall to have the injection. We went into a room on the first floor and we were seated on some very tall chairs.   (I didn't find out the reason for these chairs until I started working there. The accountants used to sit at very high benches with huge ledgers into which all the accounts of the Borough were entered, therefore they had to have very high chairs.) My mother had worked at Hickson, Lloyd & King, at Redbrook as a weaver before I came along, and when my Dad went into the army, because they hadn't any debts, she only received the basic army pay of about 22/- per week. It became necessary for her to return to work, she did this very reluctantly, and I was looked after by Mrs Brown of 2 High Street, Westgate. Sometimes I would be taken down to the mill and allowed to watch the weavers, it was very hot and noisy. This Company was famous for weaving Barnsley Linen, I still have a tablecloth which is about 63 years old. I became spoiled by Mrs. Brown and when my mother came home from work, I was a horror, so after a while she gave her job up. I can remember falling one day, landing on a rusty nail, I had to go to Beckett Hospital for 3 stitches in my forehead, and I still have the scar to prove it. I screamed the place down, no local anesthetic in those days. Beckett Hospital was situated opposite the top of the ginnel, where we lived. There used to be a very narrow path between the hospital and S. Mary's Church burial ground,    The path can be seen under the over hanging trees by the side of Beckett Hospital. this lead to Fairfield House at the top, which was to become the School of Art. I played for hours with my cousins in the Burial Ground, hide & seek and dobby amongst the tomb stones, monuments and graves. It never occurred to us to be scared, we just enjoyed ourselves. Above this photograph was taken in front of the old "School of Art" and overlooks the park, which used to be St. Mary's old burial ground. The building which is now the Cooper Gallery,   originally was Barnsley Grammar School - no, I cannot remember that, but I do remember it being an annexe of Beckett's, for patients who were getting better. By the way there is still a path between S.Mary's Church and the Cooper Park.   On Saturdays we were allowed to go to the "pictures", usually the Princess at the bottom of Racecommon Road, affectionately known as "the Prinny". "Old Mother Riley" was our favourite and Frank Randall. Sometimes we were allowed to go to the "Pav", Pavilion.   Old Mother Riley with Kitty McShane My cousins Jack & Tony used to try and go without me, but I would always catch up with them, they muttering under their breath, why has our Marty got to come every time. Churchfield had streets running from it, Roper Street, North Pavement (where the Spiritualist Church was), School Street, where my Dad's local pub was "The Black Boy".   V.E. Celebrations, a street party which was held in Roper Street, outside my dad's local, "The Black Boy". Mrs Stanley was the landlady and she used to hide me under her kitchen table if my Dad had gone in for a sneaky pint. (this was just before he went into the army. When I was just turned five years old, I had a big change in my life, my mother had been trying to get a Council House for a long time, the cottage had been condemned just before the war, but all new building ceased once the war started. Eventually she managed to get an exchange and we went to live in Lang Avenue, Burton Grange, I had to leave S. Mary's Infants' School and go to Littleworth. We were both very unhappy at this time, it felt as if we had emigrated, the buses were so infrequent, and I felt isolated from my cousins and aunts. However, on my first day at Littleworth School, I met my friend Pamela Fisher (nee Thorpe). She drew me a little dutch girl to try and stop me from crying and a friendship was formed which has endured ever since. I soon settled down, after this, but still fretted for my Dad to come home.    Pam Thorpe           Pam Thorpe and Mary Feeley - 1948 We used to write to him nearly every day, and I still treasure the letters which he sent home to me. I have also in my possession most of the letters which he sent to my mother, and there is a wealth of history contained in those pages. Letters from overseas. My Dad was a prolific letter writer, I have said earlier that I have letters which he wrote to me whilst he was on Active Service, overseas, which I treasure. My mother received lots of letters from him, and it was the highlight of the day, when we received some. Whilst we living in the cottage in Church Lane, I would stand at the top of the ginnel with my mum, and if the post lady was smiling, then we knew that she had a letter (letters for us). As an aside, they were nearly all post ladies, because, the men were either in the Forces or working down the pit. Sometimes it would be a single air mail, where Dad used every inch, writing down the side and his writing was so small. Some days there was the bonus of the Green Envelope (pictured), it is obvious why they were called Green Envelopes, because of the colour of the print. These envelopes were strictly rationed in the Forces, because, a). up to three letters could be included, and b) they were uncensored, the sender signing on his honour that they were private and to the effect that there was nothing in them which the enemy could use, against the allies.We used to receive more than the normal ration of these Green Envelopes, Dad was so keen to write to us that he used to swap cigarettes for other soldiers' allocation. Sadly some of the men had no-one to write to, for a variety of reasons. Dad used to have his leg pulled by some of the men, saying "we know that you can't be married, because you are always writing home". I wish I could extract some of the experiences that Dad had during the war, from his letters, but there are so many of them, that it would be an enormous task.  Below is a picture of the front and back on one of them.  The front has the censor's stamp, which meant that the censor had read it, to make sure that it contained no information which would help the enemy. The back has the declaration, which all service men had to sign on every letter, which was sent home, it read, "I certify on my honour that the contents of this letter refer to nothing but private and family matters" Signed J. Feeley

One night I was fast asleep in bed and I felt a tap on my shoulder, and heard my mother say "Mary, do you know who this is"? I opened my eyes to see this soldier standing at the side of the bed, I can remember so clearly, flinging myarms around him, saying "It's my Dad". The war had just finished and he had been allowed a months leave. He had fought in the North African Campaign and then in Italy and was at the Battle of Monte Casino . The month flew by, and when we went to see him off, ( he had to go back to Italy for another six months), I was carried kicking and screaming from the Railway Station.  The Court House Station (which is now a pub), in Regent Street, Barnsley. This was the Station known as the "bottom" Station, the other one being Barnsley Court House, which was accessed from Regent Street.   He was demobbed under the Class 'B' system, which meant that if the need arose, then he would be one of the first to be recalled back into the army. It wasn't long before I heard the exciting news that I was to have a new sister or brother, but before this big event in my life took place a trauma was heading our way. My mother was seven months pregnant, and I awoke during the middle of one night in November 1946 to the sound of rushing water, and people shouting outside. I could here my mother and Dad struggling to get something up the stairs, it transpired later that it was their precious radiogram, which they had bought just before the war had started. It had been kept at my Aunt's until we could have a house with electricity. My mother used to send "The Melody Maker", music newspaper to my Dad, whilst he was overseas and he would write and ask her to try and buy certain records for him, for when he came home. I am digressing a bit now, but this love of music which was shared by my Mum & Dad was passed to me, and many's the time Mum & I went to Days record shop, to see if the ordered records had arrived. By the time he came home, Dad had a fairly good collection, mainly jazz records and Bing Crosby. ( He wasn't too thrilled when he learned that I had made a plant pot out of one of his prized jazz records). To return to the flood, it was a miracle that it had happened when it had, if it had been a few hours later, then all we children would have been on our way to school. the flood in Burton Grange in 1946, The flood was caused by the canal at Monk Bretton, bursting it's banks and the water gushed down to the lowest point, which is where we lived. There could have been a real tragedy, it was bad enough all of our furniture being ruined, all the baby clothes, which my mother had so lovingly knitted were ruined and most of my clothes as well. They were always kept downstairs, where it was warmer. Help came at last, and I climbed out of the back bedroom window, with the help of a fireman and I was rowed across the back garden I recently found a notebook, which contained some of my mum's memories, which she had written in 1992, she writes about the flood and how it affected her, I have put it into another chapter of the website.   to the railway embankment, where people were standing, eager to help. All I had on, in the form of clothes, was my nightie and a hat, which I had been given, I looked behind and saw my mother being helped out of the window, and I learned afterwards (about 10 years) that Dad had whispered to the fireman that Mum was pregnant and she was too shy to mention it herself. That was the last they saw of me all day, notices were posted in all the shops in Lundwood, "Has anybody seen Mary Feeley"? A very kind lady called Mrs. Hayes had taken me in and dressed me in her daughter Enid's clothes. We were re-united in the early evening of that very distressing day. My mother ended up in St. Helen's Hospital with bronchitis, and shortly afterwards my brother John was born on the 20 February, 1947, this was the year of the big freeze, the winter to end all winters. I adored my brother from the moment I was allowed to hold him in the taxi, when we brought him home, and I still do. Three years later my sister Elizabeth made an appearance, and once again, I was thrilled to bits to have yet another new baby in our midst. It had always been my Mum & Dad's ambition to live at Wilthorpe, where my mum had lived for 4 years before they were married. On the 5 May 1951, this ambition was achieved, by this time, I had passed my 11+ exam ( that was a miracle) and was attending Barnsley Girls' High School. We lived at 27 Wilthorpe Crescent, and life jogged along, very pleasantly for the next few years, I left school two weeks short of my 16th birthday, and then I was to find out what life was really all about.                                   music "As Time goes Bye