Florence Ashforth (née Florence Flowers) 1876-1973
Hillsborough Park, Sheffield 6
I recently came across a christening date for Florence Ashforth (née Florence FLOWERS) 1876-1973, my maternal great grandmother. Flo, as my grandfather would call her, lived to be just a couple of months short of 98 years.
Husband: George FLOWERS
Wife: Harriet FLOWERS (née Harriet LAW)
Children: 1. Florence FLOWERS, Female Christening: 28 February 1877, Sheffield, Yorkshire, England
I remember her as a wonderful caring lady, whose elixir for life was an old corked bottle of Yorkshire Compound, an evil looking mixture that could be easily mistaken for tar or pitch. At the first sign of a cold or broken limb, she would reach for a bottle of this evil mixture. Not content with a teaspoon she would overload a battered old tablespoon with this viscous fluid, and with a well practised sleight of hand a magician could be proud of, proceeded to force it down one's throat before a single objection could be emitted.
Notes:
This photograph which I took with my first brand new camera was taken at the south-eastern corner of Hillsborough Park, Sheffield 6. In the background of this photograph is a block of (then recently built) flats, adjoining Park View Road. In order to build the flats, a row of, I think 3 storey, stone cottages was demolished. I remember they were very old and we often, in order to retrieve a ball, had to scramble over the 2 metre high boundary wall, though no one on the other side seemed to mind, that is except for the huge Alsatian dog that seemed to wander the gardens, untethered.
This meant we would all be rather reluctant to go retrieve the ball. Either the smallest kid would be bullied into going over, with a leg up, and if they spotted the dog, a push over! Otherwise lots would be drawn amid shouts of cheating. Either way it was a risky business!
To the right of my great grandmother, just out of shot, was the grassed area where we would play ball games, very much to the annoyance of the park keepers and powers that be. One day we arrived at the park to find newly planted trees; presumably this was to deter us using this neglected area of the park. Of course the exact opposite happened. The young trees made remarkably good goal posts or coat hooks and we carried on regardless. No way were we going to walk 500 meters to the other end of the park; anyway that was alien territory.
Located in the cottages was an off licence and on a Friday evening when most of the family had gone dancing or to the pub, my great grandmother would send me round to the off licence with a jug to have filled with stout. On my return we would play dominoes, patience (solitaire), or numerous other games since in those days we had no television.
Looking on Google Earth, the trees are now, some 50+ years later, quite mature and it is good to see the old horse chestnuts that line the path have survived.
Happy times.