ALAN WHALLEY'S WORLD

A READER with fond memories of genuine horse power dips back into the past - to his time as van lad on the last nag-drawn railway delivery vehicle to rumble around the streets of St Helens.

Terence Leech, who describes himself as an ex-Clocker, tells us, in his bright and breezy little letter, that he now lives in Runcorn . . . "on the sunnier side of the Mersey."

He goes on: "One of the bright spots of the week is when I call on Uncle Grumpy, ex-miner and former resident of Clock Face, now living in the shadow of Victoria Park. He has the Star open on your page for me."

And following that nice little compliment, T.L. adds to my insatiable appetite for nostalgia. He flips back to the days of Peggy, the faithful Shire horse who hauled the local railway delivery van.

The St Helens morning round took in Shaw Street, the main shopping drag of Church Street, Bridge Street, Liverpool Road, Westfield Street and Cotham Street, then back to Shaw Street base.

In the town centre there was plenty of off-loading at Woolworths. And while this was taking place a lady assistant would routinely step out from Waterworths, the greengrocers next door, to feed Peggy with a large carrot.

The greengrocery was bought out so that Woollies could expand. And this caused utter confusion for the faithful beast of burden. She refused to budge until her usual treat was produced.

"How could you tell a horse there would be no more carrots?" asks T.L. A solution had to be quickly found. "Vinty, the driver, had to go and scrounge a carrot from somewhere else before Peggy would complete her round."

Every fourth Saturday, Peggy had to be taken to a smith in the town centre to be re-shod. "The smithy," recalls T.L., "was in or near to Tontine Street." It had a big, barn-type door with a large keystone over the opening, bearing the life-sized model of a horse's head.

"We had to get there early," he adds, "or queue behind the Corporation's muck-cart horses."

T.L. was working with that horse and van on its very last day in service - though it was not planned to dispense with it on that particular date.

Our Runcorn chum explains that after delivering to Tyrers, the outfitters, then based in Liverpool Road, the nearside van wheel began to disintegrate. First, the metal rim parted company, then the wooden sections collapsed.

"Vinty left hot-foot for the station to raise help," explains T.L., "leaving me and the now three-wheeler waiting for the rescue."

For ages, he had to face the usual unhelpful banter from passers-by, such as: "We had one like that, and the wheel came off!"

Following the long delay, Vinty returned in a van with a spare wagon wheel which had been finally located in Bolton. "There was one small problem - that wheel happened to be six inches bigger than the remaining three on the van. So we made a slow and lop-sided return journey to Shaw Street."

After that, Peggy was retired to the Blue Cross horses home in Widnes.

"We were provided with a large articulated lorry - but life was never quite the same again without Peggy," says our ex-Clocker.

"For one thing, you couldn't slap an articulated lorry on the backside, knowing it would find its own way home while you nipped into the Alfred for a well-earned shandy!"

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