We have been privileged to record the reminiscences of one of
the grand old ladies of the village, Mrs Emma Peaker (née Reed) of
Chapel Lane. She recently celebrated her 90th. birthday but she is
as active as many who are years younger and her memory is still
incredibly sharp and accurate. Her reminiscences have provided us
with lots of information about past years.
She was born on Easter Sunday, 1900, so depriving her mother
of the opportunity of attending the opening of the new Methodist
chapel, which occurred that day. Her parents were Fred and Annie
Louise Reed (née Perkin), both members of large families, so that
she was related by marriage to many people in the Village. She
had an older brother, William, who was killed in the First World
War, an older sister Annie, and three younger brothers, Fred, who
died aged four, Jack and Alfred. They lived in Potterton Lane
where Fred Reed ran the horse transport business described by his
son Jack in 'The Barwicker' N0. 3.
She started attending
Barwick School when she was
three years of age and went on
to Standard VII. Mr Booth was
the headmaster and the other
teachers were Miss Antcliffe,
the head of the infants, Miss
Shi11ito, Miss Grimshaw and
Miss Turton. The school was
very crowded at that time with
one classroom and the large
room divided by a screen.
When she was in Standard VII,
Mr Booth taught her class and
Standards V and VI on one
side of the screen. She was
taught needlework - sewing and
knitting - two afternoons a
week by Miss Turton, whilst
the boys had drawing lessons.
Mr Booth loved music and
singing lessons so much that
be neglected teaching grammar,
which he always hated. An
inspector's report drew
attention to this failing.
So Mr Booth took the class for a grammar lesson - just one -
and then returned to his musical ways. Once a year some of the
scholars were taken to York by Reeds' wagonette. The school
children were involved in the May galas. On one occasion, she was
a member of a group on one of the wagons dressed in Japanese
costumes. Like countless generations of Barwick children, when her
turn came she plaited the maypole.
After leaving school, she worked in Leeds for a while but then
bad health kept her at home. When she was 21, her mother died so
she took over the job of running the house for her father and two
brothers, Jack who was then eight and Alfred six. It was a fu11-
time job. There was no mains water. Rainwater was collected for
the sink in a huge barrel. A well in the yard was used for the
animals and other purposes but she had to bring/drinking water in
cans from the Town Pump off Aberford Road. It made 'the best tea
in Barwick'. On washing day, the water was heated in a large,
fire-heated copper in one of the outhouses.
Cooking was done over the fire and in a fire-heated oven, later
augmented by a gas ring when Barwick was connected to the mains
supply. One day was set aside for baking bread, tea cakes and
pastry. A cow ('not milked by me') was kept for milk for the
household and a few friends. Any left over was used to make
butter in a hand-turned barrel churn. They kept a pig or two, like
many in the village, and these were sent for slaughtering to
Butcher Hewitt in Main Street. The meat was brought back to the
house and the bacon was cured in salt and saltpetre before it was
hung from one of the ceiling beams.
She did not work on the farm but she liked driving and from
time to time she would take people in a single-horse trap to
Scholes or Garforth station or to Killingbeck for the tram. One
horse was her limit but her sister could drive the two-horse
wagonette. Threshing involved extra work. The two men with the
thresher arrived at 6.30 and had breakfast, dinner and tea in the
house. The whole team of about a dozen men had their 'drinkings'
at about 10.0. Pint pots were borrowed from the Black Swan and
tea was carried out in buckets. The threshing machines were owned
by Armitages from Scholes and Coopers of Syke House Farm.
Her eldest brother, Wi11iam, volunteered for the army in the
First World War and was called up into the 251st. Siege Battery of
the Royal Garrison Artillery, where his knowledge of horses was put
to good use. His letters home from France were censored but he
managed to let the famlly know where he was by code. 'Remember me
to Mr Harris' told them he was at Arras. One of his officers who
lived in Garforth told the family that after the battery had been
under fire all day, William was sleeping in the dug-out when a
stray shell fell and killed him. This was only six weeks before
the Armistice. He is buried at Arras. War however was not the
only cause of death in those days. His wife had died in
childbirth, followed by their young son in an influenza epidemic at
the age of two, a short time after the end of the war.
The family were strong supporters of the Methodist chapel.
Fred Reed as a boy attended Sunday School at the old chapel, now
the Institute in Chapel Lane, and sat in the gallery during the
services. Her mother and aunt rented seats in the first pew an the
right hand side in the new chapel. The young Emma and her younger
brothers went to Sunday school there. The leaders in those days
included her uncle Harry Bramley, William Silvey from Back Lane and
John Robinson Brown from Woodhouse Farm. After Sunday morning
school, they all had to go to the service in chapel, where the boys
were kept in order by George Hewitt, one of the Sunday school
teachers. He was deaf and couldn't hear the boys talking, but he
could see their lips move and he clipped their ears to silence
them. William Gough and his sister Caroline were strong
supporters of the chapel at this time. They lived in Bank House
behind the Black Swan and the young Emma would buy bunches of
camomile flowers, from his long immaculately-kept garden, to be
dried and used to make camomile tea for headaches.
During the First World War, rationing did not pose much of a
problem with so much farm produce available, but Barwick was
bereft of young men who were away in the forces. It was an
unnatural situation and she says that 'I was never a teenager'.
She cannot remember any troops billeted in Barwick, but later in
the war, there were American soldiers camped near Headley Bar on
the road to Tadcaster. One day, she and her cousin cycled over to
have a chat but the news of her escapade got back to Barwick
before she did. They had been spotted by the postmaster Fred Lumb
who had cycled over to deliver a telegram. That put an end to the
excursions.
James Walker, who was known by the village as 'Uncle Jim' was
her uncle in fact, as he had married her mother's sister. They had
a furniture shop in Leeds but he was advised to live in the country
for health reasons. Troubled by quinsies, he grew the beard which
was so well-known to Barwick folk. She remembers him as a nice
quiet man. He had a shop in some very old property in Main Street
on the site of Poppy's and he sold and repaired bicycles. He had a
cupboard full of musical instruments though they were rarely used.
He also sold flowers which he grew on his allotment.
When her father died in 1932, she continued to run the house
for her brothers and when Uncle Jim died in 1935, she took aver
his shop. The properties were so old that they were condemned but
she refused to move out as she wished to continue her business
there. Eventually, the Second World War intervened and the plans
were shelved. After a while, she moved the business to a lock-up
shop just inside the rectory gates on Aberford Road.
Main Street in the 1940's. Uncle Jim's shop is
just to the left of the car. The newsagents
and post office were built in 1939.
By this time her brothers had left home. She met and
ultimately married Stanley Peaker, a policeman, who had come from
the south of England and was lodging with the Kirk family in
Chapel Lane. Subsequently they moved to Poppleton, where they
lived until his death when she returned to the village to live in
Chapel Lane. Here, with a vigour that belies her years, she keeps
in touch with her acquaintances and entertains relatives, friends
and neighbours. In between, she keeps her memory green for the
lasting benefit of future generations of Barwick folk.