I was born in Froghall in 1947 in grandparents’ house. Two up, two down, no bathroom, no hot water. My uncle had left to marry and live with his wife’s family, my Dad replaced him by marrying my Mum. 

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All my relatives worked at Thomas Bolton’s at some time, my grandad for his whole working life. When I was about 2 or 3, we moved into a new council house at Kingsley Holt - you could see Alton Towers from the back bedroom window. 

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Monday was washing day and my mother took her washing back to her mother’s each week. In a lean-to at the back, my Nan had a boiler, dolly tub and mangle. I used to love turning the mangle. 

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At 12.15, the dinner time blower would sound at Bolton’s and I would look out for my grandad coming home for his dinner. It was only a short walk.  

At around 5 o’clock, I would watch the PMT buses arriving. I’m not sure how many there were, it must have been 12 or 15. My auntie worked in the wages department and, at its height, she said around 2000 people were employed at Bolton’s. Each week, her manager would go to Leek to collect money from the bank for wages. He travelled in a chauffeur driven car, she told me, and always carried a loaded gun. 

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In the early 50s, there were two shops and a post office in Froghall. Mrs Sheldon’s was a grocery shop and there was a sweet shop alongside the canal on Ipstones bank. There were two pubs, the Navigation, also on Ipstones bank, and the Railway by the station. 

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Froghall had a primitive Methodist Chapel. My grandparents held the key. I remember going in with my grandad to set mouse traps. On cold days, he would also light the stove. It could get quite warm and the smell from all the wooden pews was quite intoxicating. 

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I got dragged along to chapel every Sunday at 6 o’clock. If half a dozen people were there, it was a good turnout. My mother played the organ and my Dad pumped the bellows. My Nan sang the loudest and then twiddled her thumbs in the sermon. The chapel was knocked down in about 1964 so Bolton’s could expand their car park.