ALAN WHALLEY'S WORLD

EVER wondered why so many of the old terraced houses around town have a distinct dip in their stone front-parlour window sills?

Well, the ancient mystery is now solved for us by veteran reader Phil Reid. He explains that this bow-shaped phenomenon was caused by succeeding generations of dads sharpening their carving knives on this useful block of stone. Front doorsteps were also commonly used for this cutlery-keening ritual.

Phil, from Scholes Lane, Thatto Heath, can clearly remember the swishing of the knives immediately before the carving of the Sunday joint - for most working-class families the eating highlight of the week.

And he also touches on other sights and sounds from his long-ago youth when trams rattled through town.

Colourful characters and pre-war haunts also spring to Phil's mind.

"Long gone is the unforgettable sound of the Pilks' works buzzer, telling nearby housewives that sons and hubbies were on their way home for a quick dinner. Then the recall blast, warning workers that they had just five minutes in which to make it back to their jobs again."

There was once an old saying that, just as genuine Cockneys must be born within the sound of Bow Bells, a true Sintelliner had to be born within listening distance of Pilks' buzzer. Much has since changed in the ancient glass borough - and not all for the best !

Phil has fond memories of the old traditional open market with row upon row of stalls, hawking fruit and veg, crockery, clothing, linoleum, second-hand goods, cakes, comics and many other lines. "You could buy anything there, from a hat-pin to a brown linnet," says Phil. He fondly recalls Burkhill's tea and biscuit stall "before they took off to open their cafe at Carr Mill."

The sound of the Salvation Army band giving Sunday evening performances on the spot where the Savoy Cinema now stands, rings back from Phil's childhood.

He also recalls the Savoy cinema organ, rising majestically from the stage to provide musical entertainment before the film show started. "And if you didn't care for the particular film, Riley's billiards hall was close to hand - next door, where now stands the main post office." Inside were about 20 full-sized snooker tables and the place was run by two fellows, Ike Duncan and little Peter O'Rourke who had only one arm but kept the tables in pristine condition.

"I've seen many a wager won and lost inside that hall," adds Phil, "especially by one by the name of Len Johnson, the legendary boxer and promoter who ran a boxing booth on Silcock's fairground." Among his pugilistic stable were local hero Kid McQueen and Kid Chocolate. They'd take on all-comers and were never short of a challenge from the likes of Jonty Pilkington, former Saints front-rower, and his mates.

The challengers' courage was rewarded by half-a-crown (about 12p in today's money) provided they could survive for three rounds. They also received a free pass for the following boxing show . . . "though how they could watch this through two black eyes beats me!"

Another scene which springs to mind features dads and lads following cart-horses with buckets and spades. The streets were well punctuated with horse droppings in days when carts well outnumbered cars and lorries. "And believe me," says Phil, "it was just the stuff for growing gradely rhubarb"

Nowadays, this would be categorised as 'organic' produce and you'd probably have to pay through the nose for it. "But we'd never even heard of that term 60 years ago," says Phil, who promises to write again soon with further glances back to that glorious lost age.

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