Fond Memories of Stormy

Fond memories of Stormy

Mrs Annie Wilkinson of the Good Companions, Church Farm wrote this essay as an entry in the over 60’s rally writing competition and was published in the Skelmersdale Advertiser.

I was born in Skelmersdale over 80 years ago, so I have seen many changes and a lot of old customs die (not for the better in my opinion).

We don’t seem to be living in the country any more. Gone are all the nice walks and little dingles and all the charm of Elmer’s Green has vanished. So has Stormy Corner, which is a part of Skelmersdale that I want to write about.

It was a grand little place; I thought when I was young. Spending many happy hours there, I remember it when there were the three public houses, three shops, and infants’ school and a Wesleyan Chapel.

The very first carnival that day had a very tragic ending as a resident entered a race and she collapsed and died (Mrs Nightingale).

It also had its own policeman but not for long, as people were law abiding in those days – thugs, violence and stealing unheard of.

Stormy had its own football team (Stormy Albion) with changing rooms at the Bee Hive Inn. Next to the Bee Hive was Draper’s stores run by Ted and his Family. He gave his customer’s divi and a free day out to Blackpool every year.

There was Charlie Webster’s little cobbling shop. He made most of the children in Stormy their clogs with red leather round the toes and little brass nails. He was my uncle and many’s the time I’ve gone in the shop to say that supper was ready and the men having patches and irons on their pit clogs ready for the next day. They couldn’t afford two pairs in those days. They would sit smoking their pipes to the smell of resin and wooden soles and the paraffin lamp, chatting about so and so’s chance in the fishing match or the bowling competition.  The prizes for fishing were usually copper kettles, brass pans or clocks – very few homes hadn’t a copper kettle.

Next to Charlie’s shop was Albert Mayor’s with his waggon-ette and landau. He used to take people to Ormskirk market every Thursday and you had to book your seat. He went hail rain or shine picking up the farmers wives on the way through Lathom, up Crosshall Brow to put up at the Golden Lion while the women did their shopping and find the bargains and there were bargains to be had in those days.

Many homes I know had lovely pieces of china in their cupboards, picked up cheaply at  Ormskirk market, some valuable today and to see Albert’s landau got up for a wedding was a treat, lined with pale blue and the outside polished like a mirror, two bay horses with coats like satin and their brasses gleaming. All ready for the bride and bridegroom, who went to the church together in those days (no nervous bridegroom waiting at the church).

When I see Silcocks Fair today I think about the times I’ve seen them on a bit of waste land by the Seven Stars Inn in Stormy when I was a girl, four swinging boats, one coconut shy and a little organ and lamps that kept going out every time there was a gust of wind and how they smelled. It’s grand to see them as the big concern they are today for they worked hard in those days. They used to paint the swing boats themselves.

I remember Captain Dawber of the Church Army coming to Stormy several times. He would stay a few weeks at a time, pitching his tent at the top of Summer Street. How we enjoyed those rousing hymns, “Oh to be a Daniel” and “yes we’ll gather at the river” to the music of his concertina and he would show us slides of local beauty spots taken during the day.  How we enjoyed them as there weren’t any cinemas in those days.

So we have had to say goodbye to Stormy and there is only the Lathom Brick Works to give people an indication of where it used to be. The brickworks was a colliery when I was a girl called locally, the Tuppeny Pit as they were only paid their wages every two weeks. It was owned by the Earl of Lathom who I remember seeing laying the foundation stone of St Pauls Parish Church in Skelmersdale and after the ceremony there was all the fun of the fair on Mr Gregsons field across the road.