EVERYONE is influenced by their parents but Alan Bradford’s memories of his dad captures the essence of Huddersfield from long gone days.
It’s a fascinating tale of dealing with hardship and tragedy and one that will strike a chord with many Examiner readers who had a similar upbringing in the 40s and 50s.
And Alan, of Meltham, was so moved by the impact his father has had on his life that he has written a poem in his honour in Yorkshire dialect.
Alan’s dad, Eric Bradford, was born in 1906 in Upper Clough in Linthwaite and attended Clough School.
But tragedy struck early in his life.
In 1912 his father left in search of a new life in Canada but died before he could send for them and six years later his mother died from consumption, leaving Eric, his brother and sister orphaned.
He was then brought up by his grandparents in Linthwaite and worked on Fleming’s farm and would drive the cattle down to Hoylehouse on his way to school.
He married Hilda Quarmby from Linthwaite and they set up home in Hazel Grove, Cowlersley, as Eric had started working at Johnson’s quarry. They later moved to Banks Road in Linthwaite.
Alan – a member of the Huddersfield charity Caritas and Honley Male Voice Choir – said: “My greatest thrill was to see him arrive home in his Johnson’s lorry because sometimes he would let me sit on his knee and drive it on Banks Road all by myself. I thought!”
They had four children but sadly Hilda died in 1952 leaving eldest daughter Margaret to become the matriarch until Eric remarried a few years later. Margaret now lives in Netherton.
Alan has another sister, Christine Denton and a brother, David Bradford who both live in Crosland Moor.
Alan added: “Dad liked his sport and played cricket for Linthwaite. Later on he took up bowls and played for Linfit Hall, all the time having to put up with me, this little urchin snapping around his ankles.”
Eric was so typical of Yorkshiremen from his era.
Alan said: “So what would he think of this fast changing modern psychological world where words are now cheap. I know he would not like it because he was too straightforward and would never use two words when one would do.
“He was also strict and, looking back, maybe a bit too much on occasion but he had a lot to put up with and he did what he thought was right.’’
And Alan never had a problem with the way his dad disciplined him.
“If what I had done deserved punishment I would be brought back into line with a quick clip round the lughole or a full blown clout,” he said. “It was a better than a load of shouting because it was over quicker and it registered far better.
“I have also been asked on more than one occasion if dad ever told me he loved me.
“My reply was that he did better than that. He showed me.’’
Eric died in 1982 aged 76 after a long illness.
Alan said: “When I went to say my last goodbye I looked down at him and saw a peace and contentment on his face that had been missing for some time.”
Alan Bradford’s memories of his dad Eric
TRIBUTE TO A MAN
Well owd lad thas gone t’rest,
And in all thi time tha did thi best.
Tha wor quick i’temper but just as quick t’smile
And thi temper didn’t last a while.
Tha had a hard start, aye that’s true
But that just went t’make a man o’you
And lahke missen thi mum wo tain
And just lahke me tha felt the pain
But tha carried on and made a life
And later on tha took a wife
Tha begat four children that loved thi dear
And through their life tha did steer.
For tha taught us what was reight ‘n’ wrong
Tha taught us how we must be strong
And face what’er came each day
in a simple straight forrad way
tha gave us all there wor t’give
and showed us the kind o’life t’live
but now that’s gone and we’ll ne’er again see
the twinckling eye that was a part o’thee
or hear agen that laugh ring out
which we will miss there can be no doubt
during his life a man might aim
t’mek his way int’ hall o’fame
through politics, commerce or a reight good deed
sometimes at a tremendous speed
tha can have thi power, wealth or great feat
the thing that’ll make my life complete
is when it come my time t’leave
and sons and daughters come to’grieve
I hope they look dahn at me
And feel the way I feel fo’ thee
Goodbye fatther. God bless
