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Aunty Elsie
July 1966
There must be many Readers who, having been charmed by the articles written under the heading of
Thoughts from the Fourth Floor,"
would be intrigued to know the identity of this writer with such a genuine gift for vivid description of past days, modestly hiding under the initials " E.S."
These are the initials of Mrs.Elsie Swinton, who does, in fact, live on the Fourth Floor of the block of flats known as Leafield Towers."
The title she has chosen for her feature is even more apt than you might think, for Mrs. Swinton has for many years been confined to a wheel chair, and " The Fourth Floor" is very largely her physical world. But it is certainly not her prison.
There is often a disparity between one's mental picture of a writer, and the actual character which one meets, but not so in this case.
She is as alive and vivid a person to meet as her writing suggests.
I know of, no one who has ever detected the slightest sign of bitterness in her because of her confinement.
Because of her patience and, sweetness in adversity, she is truly a power in the Church.
I have no idea ? what means of communication St. Stephen's has in mind if any ?as a future alternative to " The Sceptre," but there must surely be room in it for more of this lady's. Delightful Articles.
Leeds Weekley Citizen Obitures
21-2-1969
MRS ELSIE SWINTON
THE Death of Mrs.Else Swinton
(a sister of Bertha Fozard) of the Moortown Ward which occurred last week will cause a gap in the Hearts of her Relatives, and Friends and those of us who were, privileged to know her.
Pursued by ill health for many Years latterly she was immobile almost completely,
yet she was in spite of. all this possessed of a great cheerfulness that passed all understanding.
It was a great experience to have known such a brave person who though for many years suffered a crippling disability yet remained a lovely being with laughter and joy in her eyes to greet you,
it was a Tonic to visit her and see the love in her eyes for her Family who cared for her with devotion.
Elsie who at one time was a member of the Women's Advisory Council, regretted that she was unable to assist the movement that she had great faith in but she always encouraged everyone to keep faith with the principles she held so dear.
She had the great ability to bring out the best in those she met, truly a noble soul.
With the passing of Mrs. Elsie Swinton the Labour Party ha lost a staunch socialist.
She had a very sweet unassuming character and bore her long tedious illness
With great fortitude and cheerfulness, no doubt helped by the devotion and care of her Husband Edward along with her Sister Bertha Fozard who 1 know must have been
tower of strength to Elsie for man years, by being near when needed
A special thought for Lily who wanted so much to he with Elsie and Bertha during a difficult period but with her family in Australia could only be united in thought and
understanding with the family of Brothers and Sisters in Leeds.
Sincere condolence to Edward, Bertha and all the Family from many socialist friends, and particularly .from Women Section members
EVELYN BELL.
THOUGHTS FROM THE FORTH FLOUR
BY Elsie Swinton nee Fozard
1896-1969 Leeds Yorkshire
You will understand that articles for this paper must be in early for each month's publication, so it is just after Christmas as 1 write, and in this morning's post comes a line from my
Sister Lily Petty living in New South Wales. Australia.
. She writes This is one of the Happiest Christmases I. have known since leaving England over Eight years ago. My homesickness was so acute that I resolved that 1 would be near you in Spirit at least, and learning that a Holy Communion service was to be held at 7 a.m. on Christmas morning in our nearest Church, I made plans to attend.
This entailed a journey by rail and a long walk at each end, and a fear that when I arrived 1 should be the only one. As 1 drew near the church it was to find it packed to the walls with people kneeling in the aisles, children sitting cross legged on the floor, babies in carrycots and an all pervading sense of joy. Every window was open as were the doors, for the temperature at that early hour was 100 degrees in the shade".
It is hard to realise it can be so Hot when we in this country don't see much of the Sun at this time of the year, but in spite of our Cold winter we have some recompense.
For Instance, my Sister misses the long Twilight and the dawn light as we know it in England. The same in the morning; she finds nothing to compare with our sunrise and the first gentle cheep of the waking birds swelling into the full dawn chorus, as we know it in the spring and summer.
She misses the gentle English Rain as, N.S.W. being subtropical, their downpours are so dense that in some parts the children cannot go to school during the rainy season.
But when it stops, however, the vegetation grows so rapidly, it covers the ground in one or two days however burnt and dried?up it was formerly because of the drought.
It is very hot, of course; 105 degrees in the shade during the Height of summer (around our Christmas) and a 'fridge is a necessity in every home. The Christmas cards from 'down under' are influenced by their climate and invariably show flowers or beach scenes as their theme.
Flowers and flowering bushes and trees grow all the year round and many, including Roses, have a second blooming.
But here again, my Sister misses the lovely reawakening of our English Spring.
However glorious and colourful their flowers and trees, they never actually die and the people of Australia never know the joy of a spring resurrection.
Colours are gorgeous flaming reds and yellows, and their spring begins around late August and early September. The Jacaranda blooms a heavenly Blue wherever one looks. Then the Yellow Wattle, a larger form of Mimosa; the Scarlet blooms of the Warratah which calls for its own special festival when 'Warratah Queens' are chosen, much as our May Queens. And another tree, the Illawarria, Flame has glossy green leaves all the winter through with flame?coloured blossoms all the summer. They all grow in profusion as also do the lemons, oranges and peaches, etc., in one's own garden.
Australia is a young country still, and apart from the large cities distances cannot be judged by ours, as you will see from my introduction. To get to church means an effort on the part of the Communicant, but the sense of belonging to one big world family when one does arrive. makes this effort a worthwhile one.
Think of this when you can so easily slip into our church of St. Stephen, and spare a little prayer of blessing for those so very far on the other side of this world of ours.
E. SWINTON
THOUGHTS FROM THE FORTH FLOUR
BY Elsie Swinton nee Fozard 1896-1966 Leeds Yorkshire
MARCH 1966
I do hope all my many friends who have suffered from the prevalent coughs, colds and 'flu' are now picking up again. I know the depression which follows 'flu' is often worse than the ailment itself, but cheer up, everyone,
the Spring cannot be far away although the wind is still cold and scene a wintry one.
It has been sad to see so many empty places in the coach which calls to take us down to Hanover Square. Last week there were only two chair cases and six occupants of the seats; normally the coach will take five chair and eight to ten sitting cases.
Each week we anxiously watch for comrades returning to join our journeys and there is great joy when one of them once more joins our little group.
You see, a great comradeship has grown up amongst us as we share the same kind of aches and pains, the same frustrations; we have learned to laugh where we can with each other and to love each other, which is most important for the lonely and disabled.
Sometimes our friendly driver will vary the route to the Centre to give us a glimpse of what is happening in our City, and on Thursday this week he turned along Meanwood Road.
Oh dear ! What a mess it looked; like a bombed out site and almost unrecognisable.
1 shut my mind to it and enjoyed a childhood memory of the Trams which used to sail so majestically on that Road between Meanwood terminus and Morley.
Iknow to modern eyes, the tram is as outmoded as the Dodo and became an impediment to the flow of traffic, but at least they were dependable and held more passengers than the buses,
to say nothing of all the prams and packages they could accommodate too.
They were invaluable in Foggy Weather, having the guiding lines, and many a motor?car was 'thankful of their guidance even ?if they did end up in the depot at times !
These old trams were a never ending joy to the Children on holiday.
To sit as near as possible to the driver and watch him swing the great control handle and jump on the contraption which clanged the warning bell.
Then to watch' the Conductor pull the cord which signalled to the Driver in his little cabin to stop or start.
There was a peculiar contraption which travelled along the interior of the tram which left little loops here and there so the conductor could still give the signal to stop or start without dashing back to his platform.
There was also a bell on his ticket punch, so his progress down the tram was accompanied with a little tingling and a 'Ta Luv' as he gathered in the fares.
Then there was the exciting performance once the tram had reached its destination and had to travel the other way.
Out came the driver or conductor (or both) for the tricky business of pulling down the trolley which connected with the overhead wire, running round the tram with it to the other end and connecting up again, releasing a shower of blue?white electric flashes in the process.
Then they calmly resumed their positions in reverse, as starting handles, etc., were supplied at both ends of the train.
In the very early days of my childhood the tram?car tops were open and passengers were swept by wind and rain if they were brave enough to be up there in inclement weather.
Even the driver's cabin at one time was open to the elements.
What a contrast to the present day luxury buses which, 1 am told, are heated and air purified, many of them without the need of opening windows.
But it was a thrilling adventure for the child of my generation to board a tram, especially when we were on a picnic to Roundhay Park.
Little imagination was needed for it to become a ship sailing to foreign lands.
1 had a book many years ago which 1 treasured. Written by a Leeds man it was known as
The history of Button Hill.' The names were disguised of course, but one couldn't mistake
he had taken the Chapeltown Road area for his subject.
1 forget the author's name ?and 1 cannot obtain a copy as it is out of print, but if any of my readers have a copy tucked away in their bookcase
1 would be grateful for the loan of it so 1 _could renew my acquaintance with the characters, particularly the little boy who dwelt in those parts. and whose real passion was, for trams. One day he was taken to a match at' Healingly and His astonishment was profound when he discovered the tram he was especially fond of was up there too, same number and everything. He was astounded that it had got so far away from his own home place.
1 tell this little story just to illustrate the joy it was to be taken out for the day in, a tram. Mother Would,: collect us and our friends, pack in her big bag a loaf of bread,
the 'dripping' jar and the necessary knife (or perhaps we would have . butter and jam if it was a special occasion).
It always seemed to be fine on these outings and we scrambled on the tram, upstairs of course, and away we went right into town and up Roundhay Road to the Park gates at the cost of a *.penny each child.
Another lovely run from Town to Guiseley or up to Lawnswood when we dismounted, walked through Adel Woods, on to Meanwood, and so again to the' tram route and home.
Leeds people are fortunate to still have Beautiful Countryside so close to their doorsteps.
New, roads and great buildings haven't spoiled it; the planners of our city have been very wise and like many of you I am just waiting for better weather to recapture some of the
happy childhood memories even if my speed is cut down to one? an power and
1 am dependent on his willingness to push.
Hope Springs Eternal and: therefore 1 am looking forward to a REA.L Summer: this time.
THOUGHTS FROM THE FORTH FLOUR
BY Elsie Swinton nee Fozard 1896-1969 Leeds Yorkshire
Greetings friends; everything seems to be stirring. "Now that April's here''as Robert Browning in his Poem wrote when he was longing for an English Spring during his enforced stay in Italy.
Elections too are in the Air and by the time this is in your hands the people of this Country will have decided the Government for another period.
But local Elections are still to be decided. Such a lot of ground work will have been done by this time by the faithful; all the paper work, the earnest discussions will have taken place and, depending on your politics, the result will be declared either a triumph or a disaster.
Much importance is attached during this preparation work to what is known as doorstep work or canvassing on behalf of your candidate. Having had my share of this chore, 1 thought you might like to hear some of my experiences both grave and gay.
First it's left me with a profound respect for Postmen and door to door salesmen.
Letter boxes loom large in this field of work. Placed so high in some instances that those responsible must have thought we bred a race of giants, so low in other cases, that dwarfs must have been in the mind of the designers. One doesn't need 'keep fit' exercises after a session on the doorstep; one's waist line is automatically taken care of during election time. Then there are houses whose appearance would evidently be spoilt by anything so common or garden as a letter box, so one must wander all around the back, through various gates in order to find where the mail is usually deposited by those in the know.
There is also an additional hazard where letter boxes are concerned; fiendish spring traps await the unwary, resulting in mutilated finger tips, to say nothing of the little pet dogs on the inside whose hobby evidently is to await anything coming through the letter box, giving any exposed digits a nasty nip.
Then garden gates. tied with every known device from common string to electric wire and leather thongs with an infinite variety of latches. Gates with springs to them so strong that one nips in and out pretty sharply trying to beat them on the 'draw' as it were, otherwise one is helped on one's way with a smart rap on the rear. And garden paths designed to go in and out and around about, adding miles to the travel area.
So, having negotiated the preliminaries one advances further and taking courage in both hands one knocks on the door with a view to ascertaining the occupant's political leanings. Take my advice?never do this on Saturday afternoon if then should be a football Mate on. You'll spoil your candidate's chance for sure if you drag the sportsman away from his 'goggle box' merely to ask him to register his vote for your candidate.
Alternatively one occasionally gets a hurried?"Of course I'm going to vote for . "oppitt". Take the vilifying of each party you read in the press around this time, with a pinch of salt. It's all part of the set?up and after a particular bout of sparring, it is quite usual to see both parties having a friendly chat on the state of the canvass, and friendly bantering goes on with many a snippet of information acquired regarding who to approach and who not.
Your list of voters is divided into 'fors', 'againsts' and 'doubtfuls', the latter being mostly those not wishing to offend or those who 'couldn't care less'.
1 feel indignant about those last ones when 1 think of the suffering which has been
endured just to enable people like them to have a vote at all.
Funny things happen though and one 'smart alec' who was organising a certain
canvass told me to go to a house and ask for Mrs. Haddock. 1 blissfully trotted up
the path, knocked, and when the lady of the house presented herself said, as 1 had
been instructed: "Good evening, Mrs. Haddock, will you . . .
". 1 didn't get any further, she indignantly shouted, "The name's Fish" and banged the door in my face. That was one vote lost and it didn't help to find the organiser hanging onto the gate almost in hysterics. He had never dreamed I would take him seriously.
Then there was the dear old lady who was abjectly sorry that she couldn't promise me her vote as her Parents, Grandparents, etc. had voted for the other side and therefore would have to vote for them too. She was terribly sorry however and couldn't, see what such a nice person as myself was doing to be mixing with those 'dreadful as she called the 'iron party.
Then there was the time when I encountered one of the dwarf variety letter boxes mentioned above, and as the person behind the door would not unlock and, unbar it, we spent some time on our knees at each side of the door talking politics through the letter box.
What passers?by thought is anyone's guess.
But I also found many dear old things in distress and loneliness, living on the very border line of existence.
1 was able to bring help to some of them so my doorstep work was worthwhile. 1 only hope that whichever party gets into power it this election will remember these senior citizens and see that they are reasonably rewarded for being good citizens in their working years when they helped to build, to quote another poet?"This other Eden;. this Demi?paradise." . E.S.
THOUGHTS FROM THE FORTH FLOUR June 1966
By Elsie Swinton Nee Fozard
1896-1969 Leeds Yorkshire
IT is surprising to note that In spite of the past long and hard winter how hardy the birds are and how beautiful the trees look In their spring freshness.
I can see hundreds of sparrows busily nesting In every joint and cranny of this block.
Each pair lays claim to a particular spot and woe betide any Intruder, for a leg Is seen
for a moment as the enemy Is ejected.
Our cars are assailed by this ceaseless traffic and still we hear the blackbird and the thrush, and 1 have spotted a pair of Mallard Ducks, Wagtails and Magpies, and Heard the Cuckoo and the Woodpecker. Larks, Robins, the Finches and even a Hawk, and, of course, the Crows and Starlings.
1 am glad our City planners have saved the Trees wherever possible; it would be a Dreary Place without them.
As 1 talk to you I can look across this estate and see a symphony in greens of every shade.
1 am fortunate In having the time to stand and stare," as it were, even If 1 don't actually stand.
Fancy It Is only sixteen years since the first tenants moved In at the top of Deanswood Drive. The Tynwalds, Blackmoor Rd., Aldertns and Saxons were only at foundation level.
No Crammer Bank terminus, our only buses from town being the 35 and 34 which ran at
interval of an hour at first, changing to half' ?hourly an more tenants moved In.
Passengers alighted or boarded buses at Nursery Lane.
The nearest post office was Alwoodley Parade and one letter?box just round the corner from
Nursery Lane, where also there was one shop, a temporary wooden affair to supply our needs as best It could. The same conditions applied to the Eastside.
When you think of the lay?out now with the East and West shopping parade complete with post office and letter and phone boxes, the numerous
Blocks of flats and three Primary Schools, the Churches, the two Pubs,'
the Moor Haven Home for the Blind, the Social Club,
you realise just what has been achieved In those sixteen years.
And, speaking of Churches, 1 think With pride and pleasure of our Vicar of Moortown,
the Rev. J. Cooke, who joined In the ceremony of the laying of the foundation stone when the Methodist Church was begun. He brought nearer, In that gesture, a dream of mine that one day all Denominations would be united.
our own Church of St. Stephen's soon followed, but, even before that you will remember we were meeting In each other's homes for Holy Communion and discussion and the cementing of friendships In a new community.
There still remains a lot to be done; the building of a Library and a Sports arena for our young folks, s but as 1 mentioned at the beginning, let us keep the Trees for all to enjoy.
And now I strike a sad note, as 1 must say goodbye to all my readers who have encouraged me to go on writing. 1 had made this decision last month before I learned that our paper was to cease publication.
But for the past months It has been more and more difficult to hold, my pen and it meant enduring pain, so 1 had come to the decision to stop and live In the hope that some day my hands will get better' so 1 can talk to you all again.
Until then 1 will say God bless you all and include my thanks to all those who have so bravely carried on our excellent little paper, the "Sceptre."
1 have long admired those colleagues, because 1 realise what a lot of unseen work has gone Into Its production.
I hope Its message will linger long In our hearts and that whatever succeeds It will have the same unselfish devotion that has been shown by those who served the Sceptre."
E .SWINTON
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