The Parade of the Enamel Buckets

[Moggie Moo]

The steps had been donkey stoned yesterday and last night was my first at number 7 Greenfield Place. I don't know why it had acquired this name because there were no fields of green, there was no road, just beaten down rubble from years of horse traffic. At the other end of the street a railway yard where plumes of black smoke would fold over the wall into the cellar head kitchens every 15 minutes. I'd been sent out of the one up one down to get from under grans feet. It was the Mumps that had exiled me here. Two whole weeks of swollen glands, where ever they were, and strict instructions to keep that extra long scarf on. They had developed a ritual to wrap it around my neck twice and tie it at the back. Ok it was March, so it wasn't hot, so I must put up with it, Oh! and the squeezing and probing around my neck every morning from gran. What I did like was the boiled egg and toast for breakfast in the morning, but sent out from under feet was so boring.
Sat on the step I would find myself watching the comings and goings of the neighbours. There was Mrs Hargreaves sweeping out her doorway, the smell of bacon and eggs wafting up the street. Laddie her jack russel was laid waiting by his enamel dish in the gutter for any bacon bits that Harry had left. Harry had set off for work as Mrs. Waggstaff called across "has he gone then, he was in a state last night." " hey Lilly I tell ye' If he gets with your Burt in drink there's hell on, but they won with the pidgeons so that 'll settle 'em down till Friday night", laughed Mrs. Hargreaves." My bugger is nursing his head this morning but I sent him off with half a pound a black pudding. he couldn't do it all so I put it up in his pack" cackled Lilly Wagstaff, following quickly with " have you a couple of woodbines 'til I get down to the shop later". " Aye lass here" replied Mrs. Hargreaves popping another toffee into her mouth as I wondered why Mrs. Wagstaff would pack half a pound of black pudding in a case for Mr. Wagstaff. Had he gone away on holiday or something? All I had packed in my case was a pair of pyjamas and a clean shirt, underwear, and short pants.
I'd been sat on the step for about 30 minutes watching the workers leaving getting their orders as they stepped out of their door ways. "Straight home," "keep out of the White Swan," " get some coal," "Don't be late," The reply often a sheepish "Yes Dear ", seemed to be the common denominator.
There was a lull of about 10 minutes then the door of house number 1 at the bottom of the street opened and the lady came out as though there was some great secret to hide. She checked no body was about then leaned back into her door way and brought out an enamel bucket and proceeded up the street to the other end. I assumed she was going to the dustbin area up there. A few minutes later she was back quickly scurring inside and shut her door. Then it happened again but from number 4 only more bashfully this time. Before she had come back another door opened and The fat lady from the bottom at number 3 peered out then set off with another enamel bucket. I thought it must be dustbins day, are they getting rid of their rubbish before the cart comes round? Then behind me shouting " Eh up! shift yourself, let me through" as my grandma pushed her way through with her enamel bucket. Now it dawned on me as I saw the contents in gran's bucket. They were getting rid of the night soil as it was called, brown and smelly if it wafts passed your head and nostrils as you sit on the step. The housewives scurried about ashamedly one by one for most of the morning. There were two exceptions that being Mrs. Hargreaves who had two buckets to empty down the toilets housed at the end of the street and Mrs Wagstaff who shouted across to Mrs Hargreaves " I'll drop in those two woodbines when I've emptied this bucket of pee.""Right Luv, I'll get t' kettle on" she replied. That seemed to be the end of the enamel bucket parade. Laddie gulped down the bits of his breakfast from his enamel dish then he growled and snapped it up between his teeth and ran up the street with it.

 

[dick]

The 10-o-clock horses as they used to be round here !! Around 10 every night a large cart used to patrol the streets . Emptying the large pans at the end of the gardens because there were no flushing toilets and main sewers in those days. It was rumoured that the council made money from treating this human manure and sold said manure to some farmers to mix with horse and cow manure ! For years mothers used to quieten their kids by saying "the 10-0-clock horses are due,otherwise you'll be on the cart "

 

[captain clutterbuck]

The steps had been donkey stoned

In my neck of the woods there is a famous song about Cushie Butterfield which is a bout a real woman who apparently each morning dug up clay and made Donkey Stones with it flogging them around the doors for her beer money which she spent every afternoon. She apparently had hands like shovels , quite handy of you are digging up clay. As the song says

She's a Big lass and a Bonnie Lass
and she like hur beer
and tha cal hur Cushie Butterfield
and ah wish she wus here.

 

[Moggie Moo]

She just told me to tell you about Tex! Just above Halifax a place called Northowram her Aunty and Uncle had a farm. They only had a midden but they got it modernised to a chemical toilet. On certain days the council would come and empty it. The man who drove the cart was called Tex a bit of a country and western buff. One particular day Uncle was sat on the throne whilst reading the Yorkshire Post when his son bellowed at the top of his voice " Tex is here". All panic let loose as he pulled up his breeches and got in the house out of sight. His son hiding behind the wall laughing at the curfuffal let things settle down awhile before he joined him for breakfast to inform him he was pulling his leg. To avoid this embarassment every time Tex should come up the yard whistling the good the bad and the ugly, Aunty bought some biodegradable chemical from the mart. So when the carzy was full she said just throw it on the flower beds it will do them good. Well the problem was that she did not consider to buy biodegradable toilet paper and what a lovely mess there was with the geraniums wrapped in white toilet tissue blankets.