Silsden Stories

The ‘Silsden offcumdun’, the subject of this article, is my mother, Ethel Maud Galvin (nee Neate and known as Maud). She was born in Enford in 1894 later living in Collingbourne Ducis, both of these very small, rural villages being in Wiltshire and she died in 1972. She married my father, Lawrence Galvin, in the Parish Church of the latter village in 1915, dad doing his basic training in the Duke of Wellington’s Regiment nearby. Soon after he was shipped off to the horrors of the FWW in France and Belgium, being one of the first to volunteer from Silsden. She left school at twelve or thirteen years but stayed there in order to help with the teaching of the very young children at that school claiming to her own children that ‘they couldn’t teach me any more’!!!! Needless to say she always retained her Wiltshire accent but more of that later.

What follows is in no way intended as an adverse criticism of Silsden or its inhabitants. Had there been a native of Silsden moving into a Wiltshire village I am sure the circumstances would have been hardly different - remember we are talking of 1920-1945. I love the place myself, so much so in fact that I returned to live here to retire after forty years away.

The year of mum’s arrival in Silsden I cannot be sure about. She may have stayed with either of my grandparents in Collingbourne Ducis or Silsden until after the end of the FWW but must have been living in Silsden by November 1919, which is when her first child, Renee, was born. In fact her first four children (of seven), Renee, Gladys, Frank and Jack were born at 1, North St., Silsden. This was a small ‘one up, one down’ house with no hot water system and an outside toilet, has been completely refurbished to more modern standards in very recent years but remains a ’one up, one down’. Tragically, Gladys died at just under two years and Frank at under one year, both at North St. Mrs Atkinson at 22, North St. remembered dad carrying the tiny coffins to the churchyard of St. James’ church where they are buried in unmarked graves.

From the few accounts I heard from mum’s lips it was apparent that her life in Silsden, West Riding as it was then, was very difficult at the beginning. Silsden, a village of about 4,000 people in 1920/30, was a place where a fairly broad Yorkshire dialect was spoken and where a very close community existed. There she was then, wife of a local man, speaking with a VERY FUNNY ACCENT, which few could understand. Acceptance into the local village life cannot have been easy and her own problem of understanding local speak was probably never considered!! It was a situation, which I would guess existed over many parts of the country.

The combination of the tragedy of losing two children at such an early age and so close together with the above problems of dialect clashes did make for a very trying time for mum. However dad was posted nearer Wiltshire soon after Jack was born and mum lived near Devizes, where Edward (Ted) was born. There were other moves, which I have not been able to trace but around 1928/29 dad was posted to Egypt and took his family with him. I was born here. A further posting took dad to Gosport, where Roy was born and about late 1933 the family moved back to Silsden since dad was posted back to the Middle East.

After a short stay with my grandmother Galvin (I am amazed she had the space) we moved into 13, Bridge St. This was another ‘one up, one down’ hovel. Again no hot water system and an outside toilet. I believe mum kept a few hens at the back to supplement food supplies - money at this time was VERY tight! Same problems as before existed - funny accent, no friends and culture clashes. This time, however, mum was befriended by a married couple and two spinster sisters (all locals) and they were all a great help in easing her into this close community, though it did take time.

I mention this solely to associate it with the problems she had integrating into the Silsden population. She was often called on to care for the sick, pregnant women and children whose parents were ill and she was even known to ‘lay out the dead’!!! The local doctor was known to say to a woman about to give birth “if Mrs Galvin is coming you will be in good hands”. I well remember her caring for a very sick farmer’s wife (just below The Nab) and occasionally would stay overnight at the farm if she felt it warranted. The rest of us were fortunate in having a sister to look after us.

Times were very hard and she took in washing, looked after children when their parents were indisposed and was always game for a good gossip! All in all a real credit to her home county Wiltshire.

Gradually, with the help of her four friends she became better known and it was because of the help she was able to give to just a few people that gradually aided her acceptance into the Silsden population. Renee gaining work in a local mill also widened both her and mum’s contacts and more people would stop her for a chat Although she would never be able to claim to be ‘a Silsdener’!

As for her children, we were brought up in relative poverty, by a strict, loving and caring mother. We were told to be true, honest and take our share in the running of the family and the punishment for failing in any of these could be painful - a severe reprimand or, for more serious misdemeanours, a length from a ‘picking strap’ ensured this! Today, of course, in our ‘nanny state’ she might well have had her children taken away and herself jailed(**). Rubbish! The fact is we all loved her dearly to her end. A lady of strong character, moral values and dedication to the upbringing of her own children. An ‘offcumdun’ in Silsden she might have been but Silsden could be proud to have her as a co-opted Silsdener.

What follows is not a fabrication on the writer’s part, being actual experience over a period of about fourteen years. It is, however, ‘down to earth’ and very indelicate in part and a reader should stop here if this would cause offence.

A terrace house, small front garden and backyard. A cellar, a back room (living and dining) with an open fire and fireside oven, a front room (posh for visitors), two bedrooms on next floor, a bathroom and a bedroom (sort of) in attic. A sloping roof the length of the backyard covering a tiny kitchen, the back door and three outhouses, the middle one of which was the one and only toilet for up to seven of us.

Construction was of wood the full width of the outhouse and against the back wall. From my poor memory it stood about seventeen inches high and the cover had a central hole in it about eight inches diameter. From the top level of this construction a hole of somewhere around four or five feet descended into the ground to a water level. The reader of this will doubtless have guessed by now that the toilet was of the tippler variety.

This meant that the water waste from the kitchen sink and/or bath went into a container which was hinged with a counter weight at the other end, this being located near the bottom of the above hole. When the weight of the container plus water waste exceeded the counter weight the content of the container was tipped into the bottom of the hole and, hopefully, flushed away the human waste therein.

(Reminder see warning at beginning of this article!!!!)

There was no light apart from a small space left in the front stone wall of about four/five inches square and top right of the door. It was always cold, even in summer so it was an ideal place to sit during a heatwave.

A hot spell or a reduced use of the sink in the kitchen or few baths (fairly rare events really!) would result in a lack of flushing. The resulting smell emanating from down below would mean further visits meant a brave soul venturing therein would need to steel himself/herself before entering inside. During darkness this courageous/foolish decision could be eased by leaving open the door - not always recommended, particularly during cold weather.

The first act on entering for a visit was to check the availability of newspaper (NB. no toilet rolls). Failure to do this the reader will realise brought with it severe and drastic consequences. There was no hope that plaintive calls for help would ever be heard in the house. Results of this situation are left to the readers’ imagination.

Next, is the lack of lighting. If a visitor was very fortunate he/she would be issued with a candle but this required much pleading with ‘she who must be obeyed’. So, imagine darkness, no light and a male visitor in the standing position when accurate aim was the imperative. If it wasn’t use your imagination!! Complaints or even a slap in a painful location from the next visitor would ensue.

The reader must, by now, be weary of this account but one more item crossed my mind - if there had been a technical problem with the system (fortunately there never was) how would it be repaired/resolved? This occurred to me only in very recent years. Would it have been necessary to demolish the toilet building and its contents and dig down to the cause? Perish the thought!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you have managed to read this far and, hopefully, found a little humour in my memories you are person after my own heart.

Written by one who does not wish to be named but does confirm the above was ‘real life’.