Tottington Life

A few weeks ago I researched information about Tottington, but never got around to writing about it as other things came up. When I called at my mum's this week John had bought me a Lancashire Magazine, complete with a Tottington feature. I could have written the article myself it had so much of my info in it. However, mine is better (See, Lancashire Magazine....take me on your books!).

View from my bedroom window today

I've lived in Tottington for 22 years, and as you'd expect after that long, I do like it. I loved my last little house on Holly Street, and although I've never quite got this house to my liking, you can't beat it for where it is. I'm at the end of a cul-de-sac, and the living room is at the back. We can't see any other houses from the back of our house or the front door - it is all fields and trees. We can go out of the back of the garden straight onto the Kirklees Trail. On our first night here we were amazed by how dark and how quiet it was, and I wouldn't have it any other way now.

Tottington is a nice little village. We have a library (once Tottington Manor and then the town hall), playing fields, tennis courts, a playground, bowling green, 3 pubs, an Italian and a Chinese restaurant, 2 chippies/Chinese takeaways and an Indian takeaway. We have our own health centre, pharmacist, florist, 3 hairdressers and a barbers and a bakers. We even have an opticians, accountants, travel agent, interior designer, dry cleaners and knitting shop. The strangest feature of the village must be the old Tottington Dungeon that can still be seen. One of the commercial highlights though is The Village Butchers in Tottington. If you go there on a sunny Saturday be prepared for a wait while the BBQ packs are prepared. I'm funny about my meat and I love it there. The homemade sausages are the main reason I could never be a vegetarian. Mark, who set up his business over 20 years ago, has even got me to try lamb (he had to tell me what to do with it!) and I liked it.

However, behind the shops, the village is steeped in history. The first found mention of Tottington was in the early 13th century. Charles the 2nd gave it to the Duke of Abermarle in the 1600s as part of his reward for services to the House of Stuart. In 1831, following the recently established parliamentary decision to mark the boundary between Bury and Tottington, The Lamb Inn was built. This is where Tottington Road, Bury changes to Bury Road, Tottington. Although this is the official border is doesn't stop estate agents getting confused and classifying houses further down the road as being in Tottington. The population of Tottington increased greatly in the first half of the 19th century with the industrial revolution. Tottington did comprise of the 'lower end' and 'higher end' but in 1894 the lower end became part of Ramsbottom and Tottington became a township (Tottington Urban District). It stayed like this until 1974 when it formed part of the Metropolitan Borough of Bury.

There are 3 'in use' churches at the moment. St John's Free Church of England was built on Kirklees Street in 1867 at a cost of £1500. This is out of use, and a local group is campaigning for grants to bring it back to its original state (it is a Grade 2 listed building). The Methodist Church was built in 1829, and a school built next to it soon after. The school was sold to developers in the 1990s, and the proceeds paid for urgent repairs to the church. Despite the concern of nearby residents, the building was made into apartments in keeping with the area. We have St Hildas, a modern looking church on Turton Road. Finally we have St Anne's Church (C of E) which was consecrated in 1799. This is also a Grade 2 listed building. It has the appearance of a warehouse from the outside, and it was one of the churches I went in for the first time the other week.

Opposite St Anne's Church there used to be a row of terraced houses. These were destroyed on Christmas Eve 1944, when every window in St Anne's church except the one behind the alter was blown out. Forty-five V1 rockets were launched at Manchester and fifteen fell short of their target. The first one landed in Chorley, and Tottington took the second at 05:50am, when 6 people were killed. A seventh died from her injuries in the February. The Whitehead family paid for a memorial plaque, and this is now in the Whitehead Memorial Gardens that is where the houses used to be.

Tottington is the birthplace of Henry Wood, born in 1603 at Brookhouse Farm, who founded the city of Woodbury (Wood Bury, get it?) in America. He was persecuted over here for his Quakerist beliefs and spent time in Lancaster prison. In 1682 (so at an old age) he escaped the persecution  and sailed to America. In 2000 Woodbury was twinned with Bury - the only town it is twinned with. We have a blue plaque for him, and there is a stained glass window in St Anne's Church celebrating his life.

Martha Wood's house

Not long ago my dad was doing some more family tree research, and needed to go to Huddersfield to find information about a Martha Wood. Off he went with my brother for company, and I got a phone call during the day to say they'd found Martha, and she had lived in Tottington (I thought it was hilarious that they'd gone so far and found someone who lived 5 minutes walk from me). They got a photograph of the house she lived in, and it got me quite excited. Being a bit of a blue plaque bore I'd been looking into Henry Wood, and now made the connection between Henry and Martha, both Woods. Brookhouse Farm is directly across the road from where Martha lived. My hopes were dashed though when I looked at the dates. Henry went off in 1682 and Martha (my great great grandmother) wasn't born until 1849. I was a bit disappointed!

The 9 arch viaduct

Back to the history lesson. Tottington also had one of the world's first DC electrified railways. In 1876 the Bury and Tottington Railway Company was formed, and the line opened in 1862. It took a while to build, and one reason must have been the magnificent 9 arch viaduct that goes over Island Lodge. The 3.75 mile railway journey went from Bury to Holcombe Brook with 8 stops (most were stops, not stations). This line became the first line in the world to be converted from steam to electric. Work began in 1917 and was completed in March 1918. The remains of Tottington station can still be seen in the small triangular field under the Kirklees Street bridge. This land can now be used by The Friends of Rhine Close, and when we decide what to do with/on it I'm sure I'll share it. Holcombe Brook station was where the precinct car park is now.

In 1951 it was decided to close the line to save the £12000 annual running costs. Protests and petitions followed and it got a reprieve. However, British Rail wouldn't invest the money to replace the overhead lines so steam engines were reintroduced until the line did close. The last passenger train from Bury to Holcombe Brook left at 10:26pm on 4th May 1952. A freight service continued until the last freight train between Bury and Tottington ran on 17th August 1963. Hundreds of people worked at the Samual Knowles Dyeing Factory in Tottington so it was used for 'commuters'. The Two Brooks Valley Trail takes in the reservoirs where the factories were. The old railway line is now the Kirklees Trail, running behind my house and much more appealing than steam trains going past.

The Kirklees Trail last winter

I'm off to a MacMillan Coffee Morning with a difference now, so that's enough for one day!

Bibles and Black Puddings.

I normally go to church once a year, to the school Christmas concert held at Christ Church in Walshaw. I always unfortunately have prior arrangements for the other school/church events. This week however I have crossed the threshold twice, and both times to new churches. I went to St Anne's church in Tottington on Tuesday, for the funeral of a neighbour. I'd never been in before, even though I've lived here for over 20 years. It is lovely inside, and there was standing room only - even the balcony was full. H has joined cubs at the Rector of Bury's own Troop (ROBOTs), so we had to go to Bury Parish Church for church parade. Again, I'd never been in, and that was beautiful.

There was a lot of ceremony, and it was quite complicated. We had a hymn book, a booklet, and 2 other leaflets full of instructions, so if you happened to be looking at the correct sheet you had an idea of what was going on. The audience had to give lots of responses, and some of these were sung. They must have been going for years to know what tune to reply in. I had given H instructions about what it would be like, and he coped very well (I don't think he has ever been to a normal service). I had warned him about what goes on with communion, and he just copied everyone else and did OK. I was surprised though. Communion was really organised. Two people carrying big sticks took half of the congregation each. They stood at the end of each row to control when people could make their way to the front. When the man with the stick got to our row he took one look and missed us out! I was amazed (it isn't very welcoming is it?) as he let everyone else go up. I had my posh silk colourful jacket on (£7 from Cancer Research) so I'd made an effort. I thought they would want everyone to get blessed. We decided that perhaps we didn't put enough in the collection to have a share of the wine.

As we had been being holy we didn't get to the Ramsbottom farmer's market until a bit later than normal. This will happen from now on as both events are on the 2nd Sunday of the month. This Sunday was a bit special though, as Ramsbottom was host to the Official World Black Pudding Throwing Championship. Legend has it that during the War of the Roses both armies ran out of ammunition and threw food at each other instead. The championship is some light Lancashire v Yorkshire rivalry. It used to be held at The Corner Pin pub in Stubbins, but when that closed down the championship was saved and now takes place on Bridge Street in Ramsbottom where it has been since 2003. Yorkshire puddings are piled onto a plinth 20 feet off the ground, and the object is to fell as many as possible by throwing 3 x 6oz (competition weight!) Bury black puddings at them. Until 1954 any throwing action was accepted, but after something prompted the rules to change and now only underarm throwing can be used.

The marker for competitors to throw from is 'The Golden Grid' (yes, really). This is where competitors from yesteryear stood, and there are all sorts of stories about its origin (I doubt any are true). The Golden Grid is kept at a secret location in Stubbins, but on the 2nd Sunday of September every year it leaves its hideaway and makes the journey to Ramsbottom by steam train on the East Lancashire Railway. When it embarks at Rammy it is 'piped' up the road to The Royal Oak and placed the correct distance away from the plinth. This year Rammy was quite quiet, but it had been raining. When it rains the Yorkshire puddings absorb water making them heavy and difficult to dislodge, so they have to be changed more often. In 2002 frozen ones were used, but they froze together and some of the lowest scores ever were recorded. Bridge Street is closed for a few hours, and anyone of any age can compete. Running alongside the championship is Pudfest, a festival of (usually) local bands that this year sounded OK. The TV cameras are normally filming. This year though it was CBBC so I don't even know the names of the 'celebrities'.

Talking of celebrities, official summaries of over 6 million wills have recetly been released, and the wills of some of Manchester's historical figures are interesting. Emmeline Pankhurst is classed as havig died poor, in a nursing home in 1928. She left just £86 (about £4000 in today's money), which I didn't think was too bad! In contrast though John Rylands left £2.5M (about £250M today) so that was more than enough for his 3rd wife to build the library as a sign of her love for him. Sir Charles Halle left £8459 (£830,000) in 1895.

I'm trying to change, but I have definitely got to that age where I think about pensions and wills! I'll try to find some excitement to write about for next week.

When in Turkey...

Well, I have just returned from my first trip to Turkey and I had quite a few 'firsts' while I was there. I didn't buy much, but I insisted on bringing a fez home. I didn't want one of these ornate embroidered things - it had to be a proper Tommy Cooper one. I also smoked a nargile - a long tube attached to a steam thing that you suck and it gurgles, then you puff out the smoke. It wasn't very authentic (thank goodness as I have no intention of starting smoking now) but I could go through the motions and at the same time show FB that she isn't the only one who can do things like this.

By far the most memorable Judith Kelly first was my visit(s) to the Turkish baths. Both my visits fit the criteria, and I'll be careful not to be too graphic as I don't want to be kicked off Blogspot!

I had my first visit to the Turkish Bath in the hotel on my first day, after being told it would prepare my skin for the sun. I'm partial to a bit of pampering and thought I may as well go the whole hog. I put on my little tea towel thing and went in. There were 2-3 rooms to pass through before going to the main bath. It was a big marble room with several alcoves going around the edge. The marble was hot and I sat on a marble bench in an alcove while pouring hot water over myself. I then went into a different alcove with a young girl who was about 4 foot tall and didn't speak much English. First of all I had a body peel, then she brushed mud over all my body except the bits covered by my bikini bottoms. This got rinsed off after a while and I had the soap massage. I'd seen this on Blue Peter years ago and there really is froth everywhere. When this was rinsed off I got put to relax next to the indoor pool while mud was brushed onto my face. Finally I was taken to another room for an aromatherapy massage, which was very thorough if you get my drift. I had never had such a full full body massage, and considering the girl was so little she had plenty of strength. This all lasted the best part of 2 hours, and she had to wake me up at the end. It was incredible and very relaxing, and as it was being done by a female there was nothing to be self-conscious of.

Towards the end of the holiday Paul booked me in again for my last day. This time it was for the Harem Therapy treatment, recommended at the end of the holiday to get rid of all the sunscreen etc and help prolong the tan. While he was booking it H went to the loo in the spa. Afterwards he shared with his dad that the little boy who had been in before him had left it in a terrible mess (everywhere) so he had used the next door toilet. I was bothered in case they thought it was Harrison. Now I think I can safely say I was right to be bothered.

On my last morning at the hotel I made my way to the spa and put on the obligatory tea towel. A different girl took me into the Turkish Bath and this time she stayed with me for a while pouring water over every bit of me. She then left me to carry on myself. While I was relaxing a big man with a beard and moustache (goatee style) came in carrying a cup of coffee and also wearing a tea towel. He went into an alcove and started preparing it, getting the bed ready and the water things filled etc. At the exact moment it dawned on me that it wasn't coffee in the cup, he poked his head round and said "Come here lady". Now I'm open minded, and when in Turkey etc etc, but I really didn't like the idea of a man doing the treatment. My mind went back though to Basel. I was with my mum in the healthspa at Swissotel and we were being shown around. We walked into the sauna and a stark naked well oiled and very well toned black man didn't bat an eyelid. It was explained to us that the sauna was mixed and clothes were forbidden. I had to stop being a prude.

The first part of the treatment was an oats peeling session (hence the coffee cup). This involved this man smearing me all over with porridge oats. I was covered in a Ready Brek consistency and it was really everywhere. I think I've only just got rid of all the bits. He left me for a bit then came back and started chucking buckets of water over me. I love a long relax in the bath, and I like swimming, but apart from this I'm not a water person, and it felt like I was drowning. I had Quaker Oats in my eyes, and I wasn't in the slightest bit relaxed. The man then got to work preparing the lather. A long towel is put with the lather and when it is messed about with it sort of expands all over the place. Before long I was covered in suds and he got to work with the massage. He took great delight in touching my feet, which I hated. It didn't take me long to realise that if I didn't make a fuss he wouldn't do it for long. He did my first foot for ages when I was letting him know I didn't like it. I was fine until he bent my leg so my foot was flat and my leg in an inverted 'V'. The bed was so slippy there was no way my leg could be relaxed - I had to keep it tensed to keep it up and he really went to town with me. He then started rubbing my stomach. My stomach is prone to making very strange noises at the best of times, and he was practically playing a tune on it he was pushing me in so many directions. He wasn't very gentle and it was completely different to my first experience. Having him wash my hair was strange. He hosed me off then gave me a towel (my dignity was already destroyed by then though) and led me somewhere I hadn't been before. He took me through a door that led to a cave. I gave him an uncertain look and he said "Spooky" then shut me in! The hotel was built in the side of a cliff and this was at the back, and was an actual cave. There were a couple of loungers to 'relax' in so I settled down and tried to think of nice things. He returned quickly and painted my face in mud, then left me again. I was laid on the lounger looking up. The rock formations were fabulous - a petrologist would have found it very impressive. I didn't. I was terrified that one of the stalactites would fall off the roof and kill me. I had already decided that if I got out alive Paul would get it, and I half expected the whole fiasco to be being filmed for some sort of Candid Camera show.

After about 15 minutes of me thinking I wouldn't escape the man came back, to take me for my aromatherapy massage. I did try to relax, but couldn't! I was anticipating his every move, yet he still surprised me every time he moved his hands. He did my back first and covered me in oil. He must have had a death wish as he started on my feet again. He covered every millimetre of my legs and feet, then he put my leg on his shoulders and carried on. He progressed up my body and without going into too many details nothing was missed. He even did in my hair and my ears. Just when I thought he'd be turning me over to do my front I felt him ease himself onto the bed, so my head (facing down, don't panic) was inbetween his knees. This meant that he could do sweeping movements up and down most of my body. To finish off with he did karate chops all over me.

I had to turn over for part 2, and he was just as thorough. I was cringing and just wanted it to be over! He eventually finished by pinching me all over, then left me to relax. I glanced at the clock and it was 11.15am. I had to leave the hotel at 11.55am so I was in a panic, wondering how rude it would be to just leave. In the end I decided I didn't care and left in a hurry without waiting to see if he had a finale for me. I had to get back to my rooms, which weren't near by, then wash the oil out of my hair that was stuck up all over the place, finish packing and get the bags to reception. I can honestly say that there was no relaxing all morning, but I was ready in time.

The Turkish Bath was certainly an experience, but probably not one I would repeat in a hurry. After the first one I wouldn't have said that, and I think you should have one if given the opportunity. Just make sure that you, or anyone you know, hasn't done anything to upset the therapist first.

Where there's a will there's a rich solicitor

I had a will years ago that was fairly simple - basically First Born got the lot. When I got married again nearly 10 years ago I knew that I should write another, but I avoided it as it was so difficult. H being born 8 years ago didn't make things easier in the will department. Although I knew that if I popped my clogs 'Im Indoors would be worth knowing, and FB could well end up with no inheritance, I still buried my head. My financial advisor came again this year and couldn't believe I had still not got a will, and I decided action was needed.

I had to see a solicitor for something unconnected, and while I was there I asked about wills. Apparently mine was a bit more complicated than normal so it would cost a bit more too. I didn't really want to pay a lot as I'm not intending this will to be used; it is more of an 'interim' will, a 'just in case' will that I can change in a few years time. I made my appointment and came away to think about what to put in it. Having just a husband and 2 children you wouldn't think it would be too difficult, but it was! How could I do this fairly?

If II was father to both children it would be easy as presumably he would get the lot and then pass it on to them when it was his turn to push up the daisies. If I left everything to him though, he wouldn't be under any obligation to leave anything to FB. Indeed, she could be out on the streets with nothing to her name. Then, just because I'm married to II doesn't mean I want him to have all my worldly goods, especially as I accumulated a lot of them before I knew him, and he was able to move into my modest but fully furnished and equipped house with nothing but a set of Matalan pans and some market towels (and I made him give all these to his mum as I had much better quality ones already). Next to consider was all my jewellery and the like, most of which are family heirlooms. I had ended up with a lot of these items just because I was (and still am!) a girl. It therefore seemed unfair for them all to go to my children when they should really be divided between my brothers' children too.

I got my ideas together and went to see the solicitor, a elderly portly gentleman with an office that mustn't have changed since he started practising. I say practising, but seriously he was either past his best or needed a bit more practice. I thought I would be given advice, but the only bit I received was that I should treat my children identically. We cobbled something together and I left him to put it all into legal terms. Off I went, but before I'd even got home I had an awful thought. In theory, I could pop off, II could remarry immediately, drop dead straight away, and some gold digging total stranger would have my hard worked for house, money and goodness knows what else. The solicitor had to make amendments before the ink was dry.

The final version (there have been several) of my will has now been signed and witnessed, and I've made it as fair as I could. II will have enough money to manage and will have use of my house which will have no mortgage. He won't fully own it though so I don't have to worry about it getting into the wrong hands! Both children will get something, plus their share of the family jewels, and will have the house proceeds to look forward to, and my brothers' children also get their share too. I'm sure there will be something I haven't considered, and apparently it is too much for a solicitor to think of these things. I came up with all the snags myself and I am certain I could write anyones will for them now, in the correct format, and it be legally binding. After all the stress working it out I think that my initial 9 1/2 years putting it off was completely justified.

The shock I got when the bill arrived almost meant it would have to be actioned. It was twice as much as a 'simple' will, even though I felt like I'd done all the work! It is locked away now though, and even though I normally like to get my monies worth from things, I hope this is something that doesn't have to be used.

If anyone needs a will doing I available to give advice (the first bit being choose your solicitor carefully!)