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This is Mary Paterson's story. It was recorded in 2004 by Eric Beechey

Harry and Claude Metcalfe

Binder cutting corn in Kellington in the early 1920s

Everyone looked forward to the annual chapel anniversary, a lot of people attended this function. My dad used to go every Sunday to chapel whereas my mother went to church. A platform was set on trestles at the end of the chapel closest to Mrs Fox's property and singing took place on this structure. A choir sang hymns (members of this included my father, Aunt Jessie and old Mrs. Dixon) as well as solo participation. Mrs. Annie Wallis used to sing solo but she wasn't a very good singer! It really was pleasant because all the hymns were sung in a happy and swinging style, so different to the singing that you used to hear in the church. I much preferred chapel to church.

Sometimes trips were organized from the Red Lion, a charabanc (with solid tyres and no roof) would take the men folk to wherever they were going. My grandfather used to go on all of them, he was blind but he always managed these trips. He was a rum old fellow. He used to say to my grandmother, "Thas been rattlin'pots for a bloody hour and we haven't had a cup of tea yet." He was always swearing. He used to say that if he had a snecklifter, he could get drunk. A snecklifter was three halfpence, an old penny and halfpenny. Of course, people used to buy him his drink and then they would have to walk him home afterwards.

The Lane we know as Ings Lane was once called Water Lane. The building now numbered 30 served as the village post office. It was run by Mrs. Deplidge who also sold a small variety of goods, sugar, tea and cheap sweets etc. If you had a halfpenny you could buy some of her sweets and if you'd somebody with you she would also give them some sweets whether they had any money or not. Later Mr Patterson ran the shop. I suppose today you would call it a convenience store.

The Doctors surgery was sited in the small cottage (one of two at that stage) which is adjacent to Mrs Fox's side garden. Mrs Brearley once lived in it. It was used by two doctors from the surgery in Knottingley, Doctor Keely and Doctor Murphy. They were good doctors but they did seem very old to me. I remember one Good Friday when Doctor Keely visited my Grandfather down Clogger Hill. He came into the house saying, "Isn't that old bugger dead yet!" He was a rum fellow that Doctor Keely.

The butcher's shop was run by Mr Cuttle in Main Street adjacent to the village green. It was in the backyard of his house as was his abattoir. Mr Cuttle's four sons used to work for him. All the killing took place on Monday when enough animals were slaughtered to provide meat for that particular week. They used to sell the meat by doorstep sales using a couple of vans. My mother used to work for Mr Cuttle in the house, keeping it clean and making meals for the four lads. One thing about it they were never short of meat!

I remember once when we had a bad storm and lightening hit the electric post which was at the end of our yard by the water tap. The current went along the wires, cut off the supply in our house and ended up by collapsing the roof of Mr. Longbottom's house at the far end of the green. It was really frightening.

Before the Corner Shop sold papers Mr Herbie Bland, a coal merchant from Whitley, distributed papers on his travels. He'd bring papers and deliver coal. When he delivered at our house my mother used to say to him, "Now let me look in that bag, that bag isn't full you know." He used to reply," It is Lily you know 'cos I've weighed it."

I remember when there were no houses along Bird Lane, there used to be trees there which all the children used to swing on. The four pairs of semi-detached houses would have been built in the mid thirties.

The farm on the corner of the junction opposite the Red Lion, Low Farm, was owned by John Rhodes. He didn't like to work very much. He moved into a cottage in what is now Mrs Fox's garden. There were also two cottages on Main Street near his house. Old Mr. Moore who kept the pigs down Clogger Hill lived in one and Hilda and Tommy Moore lived in the other before they became our next-door neighbours at the top of the village.

There was a joiner's shop adjacent to the present Corner Shop sited roughly where Keith Wilson's bungalow is now being built belonging to Poskitt builders. There was also a big banking at the rear of the shop the builders used to store their wood and other materials.

When my mother was young the Corner shop used to be a little dark place where you could buy sweets. Later Mrs Richardson converted it into a wool shop where you could purchase patterns and knitting accessories. The entrance to the shop at this stage looked down towards Marigold Terrace. Later Mr and Mrs Swallow converted it into a general store providing the service we are used to today.

The post office used to be down Water Lane where Mrs Deplidge had her shop. When this closed it was sited at Ash Tree House along Main Street. Mrs Poskitt ran it for quite a number of years. There was only one post box in the village and this was adjacent to the post office.

The old pinfold was located at the side of the green where the bungalows have been built now. It belonged to Scholey's who had the Home Farm where the present elderly persons' residence is now. It used to stink awful because they kept cows in it.

I was five years old when I started my education, all the children in the village used to attend Beal school which was then known as Beal Council School and pupils would leave in order to take employment when they were fourteen years of age. Miss Blanchard who lived in Goole took the youngest children in the classroom which was opposite the staff room at the eastern end of the school building. She was very nice and everybody used to like her. There were about twenty-five children in the class and each had their own small desk and chair. We didn't seem to learn a lot in this class. We were expected to be able to read a little before we went to school and obviously this improved with her prompting. We were expected to learn all our letters and as many number tables as we could manage in this class. We left this class when we seven or eight years old and moved into the hall which was partitioned down the middle to form two classrooms. I cannot remember the name of my next teacher but in this class we learned how to put a sentence together and write, we also had to learn all our tables up to our twelve times. In this class we used to paint and draw pictures and the best ones were put up on the wall. There were never any of mine pinned up because drawing wasn't my strong subject but Ernie Smith was just the opposite, he was a smashing drawer! My teacher would also pin up pictures that she had cut out of magazines showing different animals and suchlike.

When we moved out of this class we went into Mrs. Sharpe's form.She taught in the classroom nearest the village hall. I didn't like Mrs Sharpe, in fact nobody liked Mrs Sharpe! I don't know what she really was apart from her being strict and keen - I suppose Sharpe by name and sharp by nature! I honestly don't think she had any feelings for any of the children. She used to throw the blackboard rubber in all directions and I remember one particular occasion when it hit Bernard Smith. We sat in desks for two and in the centre there was in inkwell. When Mrs Sharpe bent over to pick the rubber from off the floor Bernard knocked the inkwell from underneath the desk and it spilled all down her clothes. She didn't know what to do so she reported it to Mr. Wilson, the headmaster. I don't know what happened to Bernard, he would probably have had a good hiding with the cane but knowing him he would think it was worth it. And then there was Maurice Smith, his speciality was spitting on the pages of the book before he closed it. It wasn't very nice but I suppose it was daring at the time. Nobody mentioned it to Mrs Sharpe although they knew what was happening. Poor Maurice, he's dead and gone now, he joined the RAF during the war and was lost whilst flying over Germany

It was in this class that some of the more able children sat for their eleven plus examination. Mrs. Sharpe didn't seem to prepare us specifically for the examination which we sat at Ropewalk School in Knottingley. All the candidates were given a "prep. paper" before the actual examination. I was lucky and passed this examination in order to attend the Girls' High School in Pontefract. Margaret Norton and Dorothy North were also successful and I remember John Tree passed to go to the King's School also in Pontefract.

Mr Wilson, the headteacher, was horrible, and I mean really horrible. He was the person who used to teach the oldest pupils in the school. He never sympathised with anybody and he was forever handy with the cane, using it for the least excuse. He used to say, "Hold out your hand," and then whoosh, down it would come over the palm of the unfortunate person. Jackie Wright used to put Mr. Wilson's cane down the grate so that it was lost. Everybody knew that he'd done it but nobody would split on him even if it meant staying in whilst Mr. Wilson attempted to find it. Unfortunately, he always seemed to have an endless supply of canes!

Mr. Wilson lived in Brotherton and each morning his wife would come to school with him and she was just as bad as her husband. I don't know what she did but she seemed to have her nose in everything that happened. During playtimes he would be watching you like a hawk and if he saw anybody doing anything wrong he would send the unfortunate person inside to suffer a predictable punishment, if he could find his cane!

I was really pleased when I left Beal School, it meant that I didn't have to face Mr. Wilson again but I still feel a lot of affection for Miss Blanchard, she was very nice.

During the war we had to put blackout curtains over the windows so no light could escape at night. Mr Smith, the ARP, officer was very keen about that indeed, you had to be careful when opening the door at night. Bicycles could only have lamps that cast the light directly on to the floor in front of you. White circles were painted on the trees adjacent to the village green to make them easier to see and stiles over fences were given the same treatment.

We had dances in the Parish Hall each weekend and these were very popular indeed, people used to come from quite a distance to attend them. Men stationed at RAF Brayton and Burn used to cycle to these dances or were transported by liberty wagons to and from their station. There was no live music, once again this was provided by George Sykes on his radiogram. I well remember an airman called Derick Baker, I suppose we had a special relationship but suddenly he stopped coming to the dances. I kept asking his friends where he was and they always replied that he'd gone to such and such a place, they wouldn't tell me anything. He came from Norfolk and was a wireless operator/air gunner. I suppose he must simply have gone missing.

I well remember taking a whole flight crew back home one Christmas and my mother cut up the Christmas cake and shared it amongst them. That year we didn't have any!

I served in the Women's Land Army and worked at Huddlestone Market Gardeners from eight in the morning until five in the each weekday. The farm was located in Whitley on the Doncaster side of the Horse and Jockey. Rhubarb was grown in forcing sheds and when cut they were carefully packed in long boxes to stop them from bleeding. We also cut and trimmed lettuce and onions before being taken away to market. We were helped by both German and Italian POW's who were transported from their camp at Brayton. They were alright but I preferred the Italians to their counterparts. The Germans were far more serious, it was as if they were ashamed of being POW's. Both groups wore a grey battledress but there was a large orange circle stitched on the back of the German's garment. I suppose it would make them easier to spot if they attempted to escape.

There was a searchlight unit located by the old windmill and another was placed in Beal, these were manned by soldiers. My father was in the Home Guard and his unit had to lookout for enemy aeroplanes. They went to the top of the old windmill and looked out over the skies using binoculars. When his shift ended he always used to go "the bottom way" home. My mother used to ask him why he went this way home when it was quicker to use the "top way." He used to tell her that he was walking home with his mates. "I know why," she would respond, "because you pass the pub." "Well, Lily," he would reply, "I've only had one glass" which would bring the response, "But how many times was it filled?

There wasn't much food at this time because it was strictly rationed, every body had to be registered with a certain supplier. We got our rations from a Mr. McDonald whose shop was located in Aire Street, Knottingley. He would keep our ration books and would visit us on a certain day and take our order, a couple of days later our provisions would be brought to the door by van. Clothing was also rationed and people had to improvise to supplement their allowance. I suppose I was lucky because my cousin Phyllis who lived in Pontefract was a marvellous sewer, she used to make dresses from curtains or blankets. I also used my father's allowance of coupons because as far as he was concerned he said, " I want nowt!"

We used to enjoy going to the cinema in Pontefract especially on a Sunday. A group of us including evacuees from Hull would catch the something to four bus from the village and return on the quarter past eight bus from Pontefract.

At the High School in Pontefract precautions were taken against a possible air raid. All the windows were covered in brown sticky paper crosses. This was to prevent glass shards from flying into the classroom in case of an outside explosion. Shelters were provided in the playground, these were underground tunnels and the only form of lighting was provided by candles. We used to have air raid practices just in case we ever had to do it for real. We always had to take our gas masks to school.

There was a village party to celebrate VJ night, a street party on the green followed by a dance in the evening. I went with a few friends to the Plough and we went mad, absolutely mad. I daren't tell you what we got up to. My father used to MC the dances in the village hall. Music again was provided by Eric Sykes with his familiar radiogram. When my father gave up being an MC his position was taken over by Charlie Patterson. He was a Norfolk man and people had great difficulty in understanding what he was saying. These dances were very popular, they used to start about seven o' clock and would go on until after midnight, nobody wanted to go home. It cost sixpence or maybe a shilling for a full evening's entertainment.