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Hilda Frost
North to South
Northern Mill Girl to East Anglian Land Girl
Early childhood in Bradford.
I was born on the 30th November 1928 at Paisley Street, Bradford, Yorkshire. I had two sisters called Doreen and Olive and my mother was called Olive and my father George, also my Grandad lived with us. We also had a little brother who was called Sonny Boy. He was only 2 when he died and I can remember little about him. I can remember his funeral was a horse drawn hearse with
glass windows. I can clearly remember it being drawn away from our door along the cobbled street.
Towering above our old houses stood tall black mill chimneys, pouring out thick black smoke in the air. We were brought up in one of the biggest textile towns; being a very poor family my parents did what they could, my mother would sit up many a night to make us clothes to wear. Her old treadle sewing machine was never still, turning out clothes for us.
We lived in the same yard as a rag and bone man and we would have great fun pushing his old cart around the streets collecting old clothes, in return he would give a few pennies or a goldfish in a jam jar, which were always a favourite to the small children. When the cart was full back to the yard we would go, then he would separate the clothes and weigh them on the very large scales which was great fun to the children. After that my sisters Doreen and Olive and myself
would help him sort the rags and he would sort out some decent clothes and give them to my mother to wash our for us girls to wear. His wife also made toffee, she would break some up to share between the children. We would run to the corner shop to do her shopping.
It was a friendly street and although we were poor there was plenty of home baked bread and big flat cakes our mother used to make. We had an old open fire, the oven was kept hot by heat from the fire, it also gave us hot water. We were lucky because a lot of the old houses lacked a fireplace like the one we had, so we thought it was posh. In the very cold weather my mother would stand a long tin bath in front of the fire so we could fill it up and have a bath. It was hard work pailing in the water to fill the bath, then we went in one after the other, a good wash with fairy soap or red carbolic, then we had to take it in turns to have our hair tooth-combed over newspaper.
Family life, school days, gas masks and a pink sugar pig.
Our mother was poor in a lot of ways, no money. My dad was always poorly so he had to stay at home. He had lots of kind ways towards us. I can’t remember him being unkind to me or my sisters. Although he hit our mother, she never left him. We had lots of happy times, we went for walks together. One hot day we went to the park and got our dresses full of tar; our mother had to take our dresses off and leave them in the litter bin and we went home in our knickers, a good thing it was summer, also we got a good telling off.
We used to love school holidays the weather was always nice, so it was a treat when out teachers would arrange days out. We would all meet at the school with a packed lunch of bread and jam, also a bottle of lemonade crystals. We would then walk in line to catch the tram-car and would ask the teacher if we could sit on the top deck because it was open. It was great to feel the tram going fast on the line and the warm breeze blowing in our faces. In those days we had straw hats and many’s the time the wind would take them off our heads. We would shout and scream to see our lovely hats fly out of sight. We all enjoyed our outings.
We used to do Maypole dancing, lots of games, climbing trees and we would gather arms full of bluebells. I remember our teacher saying we could take some home; as I stepped in the tram-car I tripped and fell, my bluebells went everywhere and I was made to pick them up so I still had some to put in jam jars on the window sill at home, nothing to me smelt nicer than bluebells in the woods.
My sisters and myself always looked forward to school dinners. One day during the 1939 war I remember standing in the dinner line holding my dish waiting to be served jam and blancmange. I was told by the teacher to take my gas mask to be fitted with a special piece at the bottom. I said can I eat my jam and blancmange first because I was hungry, no I had to wait till I had my new piece of my gas mask. I was given a bag of cold sultana pudding to take home to my mother, she would heat it up and it would soon be eaten up.
Christmas was like a fairy tale to me and my sisters, it was a very special occasion for us poor children, we were given free tickets to see a pantomime and also a party. It was in a large room all trimmed up and a tall Christmas tree. We would sit down to jelly and cakes, we each had a pink sugar pig, red apple and a shiny penny to go home with.
Granddad passes away; and I go to work at the mill
I myself had a weasy chest so I was sent to an outdoor school out in the country away from the smoke. It was a lively house stood on its own with lots of gardens and fields. A lot of children slept at the school. I always remember how my teachers wanted me to stay. They said it would be like a holiday. Never having had a holiday I always wanted to go home to sleep. I worried about my mother so I always wanted to go home. Our mother worked hard, she could put her hands to anything to earn a few pennies to feed us and to pay the rent man who would call every week. Sometimes mother could not pay.
My mother also looked after my Granddad who also lived with us. He was a large man and was always sniffing brown stuff. I used to see it taken out of a tall tin and put in a piece of paper, then the shopkeeper would put a twist in the top of the paper to stop it falling out.
My granddad must have taken so much that he had a very bad nose bleeds. I used to feel so sorry to see him with blood pouring everywhere. He died of a stroke and we missed him because he had always lived with us. He would spend a lot of time sat in out back yard on a chair. Many’s the time I have taken a jug to the pub to be filled with beer. I would sip the froth off the top on the way home to give it to granddad, poor old boy he never went anywhere.
As time went by things were getting better, we had left school and had jobs in the woollen mils, also our mother was working in a factory, it was lovely to see her making new friends and going out. Our father had died too. The war was going on and it was hard work at the mill. We were turning out parachute silk, Army and Navy stuff with all the fluff from the bobbins played on my chest. I was always going to the doctor with my weasy chest complaint. He would advise me to leave the mill and get another job.
I join the Women's Land Army
While walking home one evening I saw a poster in large letters, it had the words "JOIN THE WOMEN’S LAND ARMY and have a healthy life". Those words stuck in my mind for days. I mentioned it to my sisters and friends who worked at the mill. Even my mother told me to please myself so I sat down and filled in a form and posted it, then just had to wait for a reply. It seemed ages before I got a letter back, then when I got home one day there it was on the table. I would be going to Stowmarket in Suffolk. There was even a railway warrant for the journey.
I was over the moon with joy, I was nearly nineteen and had never been away from home except to see Aunts and Uncles nearby. I gave my notice in at the mill where I had been for five years, they were all sorry to see me go but inside of me I knew I was doing the right thing.
When the time came for me to leave for the station I had a stomach full of butterflies. I set off with suitcase in hand to walk to the station, my thoughts full off all the things that would be happening while going to Suffolk. I met several girls at the station, we asked each other where we were going, it was lovely to know we were all going to the same place, Stowmarket, so we made ourselves comfortable and put our things on the rack and settled down to what was going to be a very tiring journey. We told one another our names, the journey seemed such a long one and we told one another what kind of work we had left behind us, so by the time we reached Stowmarket we had got to know one another. I had sat with another Bradford girl like myself. We were all from Leeds, Wakefield, Doncaster and we called ourselves The Yorkshire Gang.
Two taxis were waiting to take us to our hostel, it was dark when we go there. Two wardens made us welcome and showed us to our rooms where we were to live. We were all very tired after the days long journey. We shared iron bunk beds they were all ready made up for us, so we soon got in to have a good nights sleep.
To be continued |
