IT was a totally different kind of life when Irene M. Cook was a girl. Tired farm-hands climbed into bed at 9pm, after having worked the land and tended to the livestock from five in the morning. Energetic husbands - keen to supplement the family budget - dug, raked and fertilised blocks of large vegetable allotments which abounded in the St Helens of the 'thirties.

And Irene is proud of a special 'childhood landmark' which she cultivated when a junior schoolgirl. It's a sycamore tree, grown from a winged seed, which still stands stout and tall in the garden of the Sutton Heath cottage where she lived between the two world wars.

Irene takes a toddle down memory lane after picking up on my recent piece about gentle giant Ernie Kirkman, fondly-remembered cinema doorman from the great age of the silver screen.

"I remember Ernie, the cottage he lived in and the nearby Goodison's Farm," she says. "For, as a girl of about 15, we moved into what was known as No.1 Smallholding on Sutton Heath Road."

There were a couple of dwellings built on a field opposite the old terrace houses in that location. "Each was allotted three acres of land as smallholdings," recalls Irene.

These and six other similar homes further down the road were built by the Corporation. They stood on a block of reinforced concrete so that, if they started to sink because of subsidence caused by mining activity below, they would move en bloc and not tip up or crack.

THE smallholders were told not to erect anything substantial on the top acre of their land as this had been earmarked for roadmaking.

"So dad kept pigs up there, together with four goats and a pony. On the remaining couple of acres he put up several sheds and chicken runs, where he kept between one and two hundred hens and ducks."

The rest of the sprawling allotment was occupied by three greenhouses and land set aside for growing vegetables - all the delving, weeding and fertilising done by hand. "There is still a tree at the front of the house which I grew from seed when I was about nine. I picked up the 'twirler' (the winged seed of a sycamore).

"I planted it in the garden where I then lived and later brought it with me when we moved to the smallholding. It was then about four or five feet tall and dad re-planted it where it stands now.

"So I do know how old at least one tree in St Helens is! I will be 79 in November, so I reckon that works out at 70 years old."

All the family was expected to lend a hand at the smallholding . . . "because dad had a job as a rent collector for Lomax, the estate agents.

"My job was to feed the fowl and collect their eggs, help in the greenhouse and, at planting-out time, rise at 5.30 in the morning to help dad set cabbages and other plants before he went to work."

It was a hectic season. After returning home for his tea, Irene's father would immediately return to his smallholding and slog away until 9pm.

"The two houses are still there," reports Irene, "but there are streets and houses where the land once was.

"I sometimes went to Goodison's Farm and was always amazed that the menfolk there would be in bed by 9pm." The reason was that they had to be up at dawn to do the milking by hand.

"How much has changed in my lifetime,"sighs Irene, "I spent most of my school holidays in Taylor Park and on the Mushroom Field beyond Dorothy Street at Thatto Heath."

Another favourite childhood haunt was The Downy. This sloping, open-land feature was said to have been the start of a clay-hole. But as it did not yield much it had been abandoned to become overgrown by grass and weeds.

"It was a great place for us children to play . . . until we returned home caked in clay," says Irene.

"They were happy days, when children were safe to roam, only returning when we were hungry and mam would smilingly say: 'I thought your bellies would bring you home!'"

WHAT a lovely look-back. Thanks a million, Irene.

ANOTHER who remembers big Ernie Kirkman with deep affection is Terry Marsh, now living in Bamber Bridge, Preston. A freelance outdoor and travel writer and photographer, Terry reports: "I read with interest the Star cutting my father sent me. I used to deliver newspapers to Ernie when he lived in his cottage on the bend in Sherdley Road."

He was then working for Sammy Taylor, the Elephant Lane newsagent.

"It was ever a joy to go to Ernie's. He always had time to talk to me, a mere lad of school age, and he showed me around his garden with pride and enthusiasm.

"He also let me see some of the numerous watercolour paintings he had done, many of flowers and even more of sunrises. I remember him saying that no-one ever believed the colours he put into his sunrises - because they were never up in time to see them.

"But his fine, detailed works of art were a wonder to my young eyes, especially as they had been painted by hands as big as spades."

As Terry moved on, he lost touch with Ernie and with his Thatto Heath birthplace. "But when I did return, and saw what had happened to Ernie's cottage, I despaired. Someone must have gone into Ernie's lovely garden with a bulldozer and simply ploughed through everything."

Our Preston correspondent signs off: "Progress, eh? And whatever happened to Ernie's paintings, I wonder?"

IT would certainly be interesting to know if any of his little art collection still existed, perhaps treasured by relatives or old friends.

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.