John's a 'stickler' for tradition THE ancient art of walking-stick carving is in safe and skilful hands. Equipped only with a sharp knife, a few small nails and his own fertile imagination, John Lavin turns out brass-handled masterpieces, each of which can take anything up to 100 hours to complete.

Coiled snakes run down the length of the novelty walking sticks, encircling mottos or slogans picked out in sharp and precise relief.

Swans, shamrocks, thistles and Irish harps are among symbols which punctuate these unusual works of art. He has a steady stream of requests for samples of his work.

But one who scoffs at the idea of having a walking stick is John's mother Catherine who will be 95 later this year.

She occupies a flat just above him in the splendid Patricia Court sheltered accommodation in Albion Street, St Helens.

Catherine, who brought up a family of eight sons and two daughters after being widowed in her late thirties, is still light enough on her feet to pop out for a stroll down town or to do a bit of shopping.

Son John is carrying on a tradition started by his dad more than 70 years ago.

Jack Lavin, a big raw-boned Irishman, had hit on the novelty walking-stick idea during the 1926 General Strike which brought so much distress and poverty to the working classes.

"Not many folk had two ha'pennies to rub together at that time, and time hung heavily on their hands," explains John, now in his early seventies.

"So dad decided to carve out these ornamental walking sticks and raffle them off at a penny a ticket. When he'd collected ten bob, the draw would be made." Beer then cost fourpence a pint in old money, so that those raffle takings (50p in today's terms) would buy a total of 30 pints.

Jack, possessor of a prodigious thirst, would share a few pints with a couple of mates who helped sell the raffle tickets . . . and the rest would go back home to supplement the family's meagre budget.

With a family of 10 growing kids, every penny counted.

John Lavin treasures a 72-year-old silver-topped sample of his dad's wood-whittling art. Smothered with various neatly-carved illustrations, it also bears the legend: 'A Present from St Patrick's, Newton Common 1926.'

In times of less industrial upheaval, Jack was a big earner as a colliery contractor, setting up teams of pitmen for the local mines. Sadly, he died at the age of 46 in 1940, leaving his widow facing the solo challenge of bringing up their big, but mercifully healthy, brood.

All the brothers and sisters bear testimony to the fine job she made of it . . . and nimble-minded Catherine is happily still here to tell the tale.

She had made good use of a plot of land behind the family home in Derbyshire Hill, raising chickens in two sheds. "So we were never short of eggs, even during the war," says John.

And the Lavin family certainly played their full part in the defence of the Realm. Brothers John and Paddy served with the army and the other six were in the RAF, all at the same time - Peter and Jim completing 24 years' service, and the others doing National Service, two of them for extended periods of five and seven years.

There was once a case of chronic overcrowding when the brothers all arrived at the Reynolds Avenue family home for Christmas leave one year - each bringing along a mate with him!

"We had to ask our neighbours on the council estate to put some of the lads up," recalls Catherine with a smile. There was a very special moment for her when she was 90. The then Mayor and Mayoress of St Helens, Councillor and Mrs Jeff Molyneux, visited her. This was to highlight the fact that she was the only one on the estate who had lived there since the pre-war houses were built.

Catherine, who enjoys a regular flutter on the horses and still does her own housework and baking (she regularly provides a meal for John downstairs) now has the distinction of being the oldest resident in Patricia Court.

"She still makes the most delicious apple pies, jam tarts and beef pies," says John with obvious pride.

And Catherine, who began work at the age of 13 as a live-in cleaner at Blackburn Infirmary, has no intention of bowing to old age.

Brought up in Haydock as the eldest of nine children, she's wonderfully well-preserved (looking 20 years younger than her actual age). She enjoys popping to a nearby supermarket for minor items, while a member of the family tackles the main shopping for her.

She's now a proud grandmother of 39. And at the last count she had more than 70 great-grandchildren.

Married at the age of 21, Catherine looks back with amusement to a time when money stretched a very long way - although it must be admitted that it was also in short supply.

John delights in recalling the tale of when his mother optimistically set off in 1937 to visit her hubby's folks in the West of Ireland. She'd a little over a couple of pounds in her purse. But this just about covered her, with the Liverpool to Dublin boat journey costing 13 shillings return.

John can claim another talent, in addition to stick carving. Now returned to his hometown after 20 years in Redcar working for British Steel, he's also a skilled band musician, having been a kilt-swirling drummer with the acclaimed Teesside Pipe and Drums outfit.

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