Manchester, Bolton & Bury Canal

Ringley Lord Mayor's Show.

I shall never forget the day when I was a small child hearing people talk about the Lord Mayor's Show of the village of Ringley, which was held every twelve months. My parents lived in the village of Prestolee, just a stone's throw away from Ringley. The meeting was held in the Lord Nelson pub; the men who gathered together were real tough guys and of a certain working class, mainly colliers from the local pits. They would choose whoever could drink the most beer! Six or more were then chosen for their strong build, to carrv the Mayor shoulder-high through the main streets. They would borrow a long wooden form from the Lord Nelson pub, so that the Mayor could sit on it with his legs dangling on each side. The day was fixed - the first Sunday in May; this was also the opening day of the fair, which was to be held on a large piece of spare ground, very near to the banks of the River Irwell. It was also Sermons Sunday at Ringley Parish Church, which indeed attracted large numbers of people to the village. It was an eventful week for the villagers at Ringley. The men from the pub engaged a band for the day. It roused the people to let them know that the Lord Mayor and his followers were on their way through the village, and what a procession it was! With the band playing, the men set off, shouting and making a terrible noise.We children were frightened by the scene, but we watched the procession as it made its way through the village. When they had drunk beer to their heart's content, they made their way back in a somewhat disorderly procession. People who came to watch roared with laughter at the men and the shocking state of the Lord Mayor of Ringley. The fair organ started to play, when he passed the Lord Nelson pub, to the canal bridge. The Clerk of Works, as he was called, read the rules and regulations of the Lord Mayor of Ringley. From shoulder-high he was thrown into the canal below and with the splash and shouting and people laughing and singing "For he's a jolly good fellow," you could hardly hear yourself talk! The price he paid for being Mayor was that every Sunday he had to visit the pubs dressed in his best clothes and clean shaven, clean muffler and clean clogs. He did this for twelve months. In return he received from each licensee of the seven pubs, a pint of beer, a clay pipe, a box of matches and one ounce of tobacco. But now this has passed out of sight but not out of memory. Ringley is a very historical village with green fields and trees along the canal embankment. The bridge which spans the river was built about the 17th Century. There are still stone blocks that were used in the olden days. Ringleyites were all very clannish. If you had not been born and bred in the village, you were always strangers in the camp. That is life in a village. I was born in Prestolee, and when I was a child, before the roads were paved, men bringing cotton to the mills on lorries had to pass our house with great heavy loads of cotton. With the weight of the lorries, if the roads were wet after heavy rain, the wheels would sink into the ground and they had to bring chained horses to pull the wheels out of the mud. Our living room windows would be splashed with mud. At the end of our road were two mills and we worked there. We were given a free party once every twelve months. This was a dance for all the work peoples and it was talked about for weeks. We had no village transport, so we hired a cab. This took us in our finery to Farnworth. It was sixpence return including man, cab and horse. We thought we were aristocrats for the day!! The wages in those days were different from today. I went half-time for 2s.6d, half a day at school and half a day at work. I started full time work when I was 13 and received 5s.6d per week. I started at 6 o'clock in the morning till 5-30 at night, including Saturday from 6 o'clock till 1 o'clock. We had to leave everything spick and span before we left our work. No extra time for that was allowed. I have lived in five reigns*, so I am no chicken, but I am happy in my old age. *Implies that the author was born during the reign of Queen Victoria (1837-1901). Extracts from I shall never forget the day by Elizabeth Whittaker.