Coal Miner

 

 

I’ve been thinking about my father both recently, and over the years. I feel I’m come to understand him a lot more than I did; firstly as an adolescent forging my own identity and secondly as a young man too busy to reflect and perhaps too arrogant to attempt understanding. One salient fact which seemed perfectly natural at the time but I now realise was rather odd. This was that from the age of 10 onwards until I left home I never saw him from Sunday evening until the following Saturday. To explain I need to  return to my fathers back story.

My father became a coal miner in about 1920 as soon as he was old enough. Before that he had been a vicars groom and houseboy and then worked on a farm. Where he lived in a village north of Atherstone the alternatives for a young fit man with no skills was either mining or agricultural labourer. I don’t think he hesitated long before mining which was relatively well paid. In fact as a young man he was fairly well off for a labourer, certainly enough to have a motorcycle.

After marrying fairly late in life ( he was 34 ) the motorcycle went but he still had a decent lifestyle for his neighbourhood. Then during the war with extra shifts and a relative reduction in wage compared with factory workers things worsened slightly. He was still affluent enough to buy another motorcycle this time with sidecar. He was finding heavy work increasingly difficult reaching a point eventually that he just could no longer manage it. Seeking an explanation he was diagnosed with fibrositis. Essentially he had damaged his back muscles so much that rather than natural repair they were permanently replaced by scar tissue.

This led to about 2 years off work. The family finances became increasingly strained falling from adequate to really rather poor. After unsuccessful treatments he eventually was given a job as a haulage hand on the afternoon ( 2pm-10pm ) shift. The pit worked 24hours on a three shift basis with nights and days producing coal and afternoons devoted to repair and maintenance. The job involved loading, unloading and controlling the underground railway from the shaft bottom to near the coalfaces. Although paid less than a faceworker the job was much less strenuous.

This regular shift pattern meant he arrived home shortly before 11pm when I was in bed and he would still be in bed when I left for school. Very occasionally I was allowed to stay up until he came home. First priority was a dish of tea. A cup of tea was too hot for the thirsty man so it was poured into a steep sided saucer and drunk from that as it cooled more quickly.

The fibrositis meant that although he could walk and cycle fairly normally, bending was an effort and lifting any significant weight impossible. He was very conscious of not being as good a provider as he wished. From about 1950 until retirement I can only think of one holiday he took away from home. Weekend and holiday times were set aside for recuperation. We still had the motorcycle combination but trips were to see relatives.

All my holidays and trips were with my mother only. We went to London both on a day trip and to spend a week. One trip was to see the D’oyly-Carte opera company in Birmingham where on other occasions we went to museums. I realise now mother was making an effort to see that I had as wide an experience as she could provide from limited resources. From about the time I was 14 she also made sure we took a “quality” weekend newspaper in addition to  the family Sunday Express. I enjoyed the Observer and I think she did also.

My father had left school at 12. He was a reasonably fluent reader, certainly good enough to enjoy reading for pleasure. Writing was another matter. Any serious writing demanded thorough preparation including a rough draft plus frequent appeals to mother over spelling.

Careful preparation was fathers watchword in his hobby of gardening and also in preparing for work. His work boots were carefully prepared with long laces so that he finished normal lacing with a knot and enough to spare to pass a couple of times around the boot top then with any remaining excess tucked into the circular boot top turn..

His jacket was always modified with a very large inside pocket to carry his “snap tin”. This lidded metal box carried a small snack to be eaten underground at break times. This was accompanied by a bottle of cold tea.

As he grew older father was quite bitter about his job choice. He was very conscious that in the social hierarchy  miner came close to the bottom. In general although always affable he didn’t particularly choose to associate with fellow mine workers. There were a few he liked as individuals  but he avoided joining things like miners clubs.

I have thought since that he was rather suspicious of higher education. He consented to Loughborough College because my cousin John had attended there previously. I have often thought he would have been more comfortable if I had become a skilled tradesman ( plumber, electrician or the like ) and lived in the same village. The only careers advice he ever gave me was “I don’t care what you do as long as you don’t go down the pit”

I was very pleased at the end of my school life when I was 18 I went with my fellows down a training face at a West Midlands colliery. Tolerable enough for a day but not for a working life.