Uttoxeter Online Magazine

In the mid-thirties, our family consisted of my father, John, my mother Olive, - times were tough.

No money for wasteful activities. We had one advantage, my fathers, eldest sister, Mary, had married, James Worth, a large arable farmer, in Cheshire. Uncle Jim had always wanted to be a publican, although he did not drink. He bought the Red Cow at Willslock, Nr Kingstone, and soon had a thriving business.

My father visited his sister, every Sunday night, usually with his brother Harry, always called “Dan”. Both my father and uncle, had farming experience and helped Uncle Jim with his small holding attached to the pub. We had a large tea, the men had 2 pints of beer each. Thus was a routine until 1938, when my Uncle and Aunt, sold the public house to the brewery.

With the arrival of war, and troops, including many Americans, the successive publicans made a fortune. Aunty Mary expressed her regret until she died.

I enjoyed going there on a Sunday, as my school friend Barbara Rowe, from Westland’s Road, attended with her parents, and we all walked back together, we children on our adults, backs. My Uncle and Aunt, lived at The Firs, New Road, Uttoxeter until death.

My mother, was  a Redfern, originally from Cubley. Her father, John lived at Woodruffe Cottage, Marching ton Woodlands. She has two uncles, residing in Uttoxeter. Uncle Wilfred, he was the licensee of the Plough Inn, we usually visited there on Saturdays, once a month. Uncle Wilfred had large family, so we had many get-togethers.

My mother, had a Uncle Edmund, he lived at The Cock Inn, Beamhirst. His wife Aunty Florrie was a wonderful relation. Kind, but strict. She permitted no one under 18 in any room, except the sitting room. I first visited to play with her children, and her Manchester domiciled relations. Uncle Edmund had old tram at the back of his premises, it was there for 30 years. A child's delight. I played in there until I could “drive” no more.

My father, spent a lot of time at his family home Park Hill Farm, and in two instances when my mother was ill, we stayed there for several weeks. In the winter, the weather curtailed visits to the Red Cow or The Plough. It was then to the Cock, that we went.

When I was about 17 years, we were all around the piano, listening to Aunty Elsie and Aunty Mary playing, when the men, at 8pm prompt, put on their coats. I knew were they were going. My father indicated that I should put my coat on. I had arrived, I was a man. I was permitted to have two mild shandies. I felt 7foot tall. I still had to sit in the sitting room, till I was 18. How quaint !

John Mellor