Childhood memories of Skelmersdale by Betty Davies (nee Greenhall)

Memories of Old Skelmersdale

Childhood memories
By Betty Davies (nee Greenall)

I lived in Skem until I was 10yrs old at which time we moved to Southport. My home was 47 Liverpool Rd, opposite the paths to Ormskirk Rd and a couple of houses from White Moss Rd where my maternal grandparents lived.
I went to the Wesleyan school that had three classrooms and taught children from 5 to 14yrs. Mr Proctor was the headmaster and taught the older children. Usually the older children didnít see too much of the Headmaster, only if they had done something bad enough that staying after school or a crack on the palms with a ruler didn’t suffice, then it was in to see Mr Proctor for a slap on the rear with a cane. I only saw him once for that, honest! and I don’t remember what for.

I remember the refugees coming to the school to be sorted and picked up by their host families. We had a refugee named Phyllis Thwaite, we lost touch when she left and I often wonder how her life went.

I remember the Saturday morning pictures at Shaw’s, it cost sixpence and was great fun. We watched Deadeye Dick and other westerns where the good guys wore white hats and the bad guys black hats, also Tarzan of course. The cinema was full of screaming kids booing at the bad guys and cheering for the good or giving the Tarzan yell as he swung on the vines. I’m sure the adults in the cinema must have had to wear earplugs

Then there were the long spring and summer days, when with a bottle of pop and a sandwich, my friends and I would head for the moss to collect birds eggs or butterflies or frogs eggs to try and grow into tadpoles in a jar, or just to roam around. Some days we would sit on the Railway Bridge or go to the White Moss crossing and collect train numbers.

Then there were the tops, the jacks, the tennis balls, the marbles etc, all of which came out at certain times of the year. The dates and times weren’t marked on any calendar but we all seem to know by instinct just when it was time for each to be brought out.

One summer during the war years, my grandfather William Ashurst, a carpenter, made me a wooden Tommy gun with a cogwheel ratchet and handle, it made a most satisfying rat-a-tat-tat. I was very popular with the boys in my area at that time because they all wanted a chance to play with my Tommy gun.

Well, once started the memories come thick and fast and there are more but enough is enough. Although there were some sad times, my Dad died when I was 8yrs old, in memory for the most part, it was a magical time. The freedom and feeling of safety that children had from life in a small village, where everyone watched out for each other, seems to have long past and that is sad.

Oops one last thought, we also used to play Tip Latch (knocking on doors and running away) in the early evenings, the kids had a lot of fun but the adults, for some reason, didn’t seem to like it. So if anyone reads this and remembers I apologise. Its not too likely that they will since I’m now officially a senior citizen myself.