Wigan Album

What a fantastic photograph, considering the lighting down the mine and the fact flash light would not be allowed, or available, I just wonder how this scene was captured. My father, grandfather and elder brother all worked down the mines in and around Wigan and Westhoughton a valuable job. I have only been down a museum mine for a guided tour and that was quite an experience.

Brings back memories, coal dust, instead of salt,and pepper, on your meat paste sandwiches. When you tried to be hygienic, and wrapped paper between your black hand, and your sandwich, in some bites, you were eating more paper. Happy days. Miners', all wonderful workmates.

Thatcher,& her mates should have done a shift down pit ,then they would have found out how hard the miners had to work to get a days wage.Most of my Family worked down pit.would not have got me down for a Gold Pig.

Reminds me of times eating our sandwiches down the Dairy Pit, there were lots of "s--t" flies silently flying around getting in your drink and on your buttie, after eating we would spend the last ten minutes of our break just resting without any lights on, the blackness was so intense that you could almost feel it. You were lucky if you didn't eat a few "----" flies.

It may be appropriate to put this poem on once again, as a reminder of the arduous, dangerous, and unhealthy working conditions that existed down the pits. I don't believe that any exist any more, I may be wrong.

The Miner, by Bob Richardson, a Durham miner.

They have no workers' playtime, no music while you work. Theirs is but long hard labour, that all but heroes shirk. Yes a miner is a hero, and should any doubt my word, let me mention just one danger, though of many you have heard. Have you ever lain in a confined space with a constant water flow, a broken roof above you, a sodden floor below. Heard the voice of tortured strata, as the earth gives threatening growls, to the puny helpless humans hacking at her bowels?

Have you ever sat in the gleam of a lamp, and heard the timber creak, like the hinges on the gates of Hell, and you dare not move or speak. Have you watched a comrade dying as stones have crushed his frame, praying for the sunlight he'll never see again. Yes, it is easy to die with the sun on your face, while the gifts of God surround you, than to die in slime, and dust, with no family beside you.

So when you speak of heroes, and speak of them with pride. Give some thought to the miner, and how many of them died. They have no place in history, no glory to their deeds, but Britain gained her national pride because of men like these.

no hats on must be old photo

Does anyone know where the pit Messrs Cross,Tetley and Co was. My grt Uncle worked there before being killed in the Grt War? He was a 'drawer'.

vb according to website the pit was in bamfalong

I will hazard a guess as to why they have no hard hats. They used them as light for the camera, all the hats and lights where behind to photographer.

Thankyou E Bradburn much appreciated.

Excellent deduction, Ken.

Vb. If you go on google for bamfurlong pit it tells you of men that died and what their jobs were

I have taken pics down Parkside, using the cap lamp for illumination. Open the shutter, move the cap lamp across the scene as if painting it, and then close the shutter. you can find some of the pix on the Parkside site

Hi E. Bradburn, any relation to Alfred Bradburn. Many years ago, he lived in Cemetery Lane, Spring View?.

Reminds me of a tale our old teacher told us. The story goes that a miner was on an early shift and his wife was up in the gloom of the early hours to prepare his "snap". Only when he had left for the pit did she realise that she'd spread cat food on his sandwiches. Dreading his return that afternoon, she sheepishly opened the door. "What was on them butties" he says, and before she could offer an explanation ... "thi were't best butties 'ave 'ad for ages". A special recipe she explained, and guess what - it wasn't the last time he had them!

I did a spell at Nook Pit,it was 100+ degree's,and there were lots of mice (moggies),it was a contest who got the butties first,us or a moggy,we hung the butties on a wire,but sometimes we were too late,it's Jackbit by the way.

Albert l married a Bradburn from Spring view most of the family were from Abram

Thank you E Bradburn. I went to school with Alfred in the 1940s. His photograph may be shown on Spring View school photographs.

Hi E. Bradburn. He is on one of the photographs, put on by Graham Worthington. He is third from the left, back row.

I've still got my snap tin - and other mementoes of my year underground in Kent. See: https://www.flickr.com/photos/falconer41337/24629739743/in/album-72157665024401546/
I don't remember having 'Breakfast time' down below - only 'snap time' - whatever hour it was.

Reverend. In posh Kent, it would be snap time, up here it was, jack bit time, and every bodies butties were carried in a tommy tin.

These lads where the true grit of the north.

In 'posh' Kent the miners came from everywhere - many driven out of other coalfields by employers because of their militant trade-unionism.
I worked with Scots, North-easterners, Welsh, Somerset, Lancashire & Yorkshire men.
I've still got the letter Jack Collins wrote wishing me well in my future ministry. Google him for what that meant.

If this photo was taken before 1958,which looks like it was,miners did not have to wear pit helmets

Reverend. No way was I decrying, nor making any adverse comments, relating to any miner, that worked in the Kent coalfield. I have no doubt whatsoever they were as hardworking, courageous, and the "Salt of the Earth," as any miner in any northern coalfield. The phraseology used in Kent is what I was referring to, compared to the phraseology used by the people of the north. I have some experience of the difference in phraseology, as I lived in Kent for twenty four years, both East Kent, and North Kent. I have used the past tense were, as there are no coal mines, now in Kent.

I would say this photo was taken before 1947 pre NCB,I started in 1955,and had to wear an helmet.

Bi reets tha should bi daen here Jem
Tha should bi daen here wi' us
But tha turned out last neet fer o pint Jem
Un this mornin' tha missed bloody bus
Wi geet daen tert bottom awreet Jem
Un I started out fer mi place
But then come a bloody big bang Jem
Un a blast of hot air in mi face
Now I'm daen on mi back in the dark Jem
Un mi lungs are fillin' wi' dust
So I'm writing a note in mi yed Jem
Un a thowt ad write ter thee fust
I've hidden mi cigs un mi matches Jem
in a tree hawf road up t'lane
if tha finds um Jem tha con 'ave um
Cos I won't bi smookin again
Tell t'wife un kids it were quick Jem
Un tha dunt think a geet any pain
Tell um i'm sorry fert leave um Jem
But God willin' wist meet up again
Now tha knows I'm not one fer moaning Jem
Un I'm not one fer makin' o fuss
Burra wish ad turned out last neet wi' thee Jem
Cos this mornin' wi might both o missed bloody bus!

Don't know where you unearthed that one Dennis, but it's a guddun.

My dad wore a pit helmet during the war years. I used to use it in the annual May queen procession.

Dennis who takes credit for the poem? It's not Brian Clare by chance?

Dennis. This is excellent. With your permission, and if it is permissible with the guardians' of this web site. Can I take a copy?.

Vb, I'm afraid that if there is any credit it goes to me, I wrote this myself.
Albert, by all means take a copy.Glad you liked it.

Dennis,your poem is brilliant,maybe only a pit mon will understand it.

Dennis. It is quite difficult to write explicitly the words of the Lancashire dialect into understandable everyday usage. You have succeeded. Well done.

Its a brilliant piece of local dialect with an 'earthy ' sense of humour and pathos Dennis. It's very much something In the vein of Brian Clare's writings. He was a Westhoughton poet and speaker of Lanky Dialect. Don't know if you have ever read any of his work.

I was fortunate enough to meet Brian Clare on many occasions and listen to him read his own poetry of which I have two books signed by him. If you read "Jemmy Lad" you will be filled with the thought of just what these old miners went through. Dennis, brilliant I love your poem.

Dennis, congratulations on your emotionally charged poem.