Memories of Childhood
by John Appleby

~ 2 ~

Our cement back yard sloped upwards to the far wall, abutted by the coalhouse and the netty, a whitewashed cubicle with a scrubbed seat, a wooden lid, a nail in the wall holding squares of newspaper. On the right was the midden door. Central was the green-painted backyard door. The back street was unpaved, and this was at the root of a drama.

In summer the packed earth provided a firm footing for people and the horses and carts of the tradesmen, but in winter was rendered somewhat of a quagmire by the latter. So, you walked up and down keeping close to the walls. Then big heavily lorries began to use our back lane en route to the main road, and the resulting waves of liquified mud (clarts) would spill beneath the backyard doors and flow down the yards. It seemed that great consternation, then collective anger arose. I think that an appeal to the council failed to put a stop to it. These trucks came from Siggins sandstone quarry. There were whispers that the name might be German, hence the uncharitable response to a decent English request to re-route his lorries. Enter the spirit of fortress Britain. A few volunteers with spades erected posts to foil enemy. The council soon put a stop to that. Then the men including my apoplectic father would wait in ambush behind their doors to spring out and try to hurl spokes in the wheels. I do not know how it was resolved, suffice it to say that a new road was laid to lead the traffic from the quarry directly to Newbiggin Road.

© 2003 John Appleby, New Zealand

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