‘Did you fly in World War Two? Were you a Spitfire?’ ‘During World War Two! I was a Doodlebug!’ A—U told him. ‘You couldn’t have been. We didn’t have them. They had them.’ He couldn’t have misunderstood Eric that much.

‘Well!’ explained A—U, attempting to let Joe down gently. ‘We had them, but you didn’t have them.’

‘That means you were on their side,’ accused Joe. ‘You were one of the Bad Guys.’

‘Wars don’t have Good Guys and Bad Guys. There’s just guys on opposing sides but it’s difficult to see that at the time.’ ‘Well I just hope you didn’t land on Stockport,’ sniffed Joe. ‘I just hope you didn’t kill anyone.’

‘Those primitive rockets just landed where they landed. It was very hit and miss,’ admitted A—U.

‘Well! Where did you land?’ Joe was afraid to ask, but felt compelled.

‘Er! In a cess pit,’ mumbled A—U.

‘Serves you right,’ said Joe. He felt that justice had triumphed.

‘Forget war. Look at the view.’ A—U was clearly embarrassed by his misfortune. However, the view was no longer there. They had moved into cloud.

Joe crossed to the other side of the car, brushing against the anchor as he passed. Then it happened. He started to see double.

‘I’m getting light headed,’ he complained to A—U. ‘I’m seeing two of you.’

‘Nothing to worry about. You’ve just released him from the anchor. This is my best pal. We’ve -been friends for centuries. He was runner up to me in the Chairmanship vote.’

‘A—U,’ said the second genie, ‘get off of my cloud.’

‘I hate a poor loser,’ muttered A—U, and Joe found himself standing outside the Parish Church.

‘I hate a poor loser,’ repeated the genie.

‘That was a joke,’ explained Joe ‘Hey You Get Off of My Cloud is a record by the Rolling Stones. My Mum’s got it. It was a play on words!’

‘Joke! Joke! The last time he told a joke three Wise Men came out of the East,’ grumbled A—U.

‘Was that before or after City won the league?’ enquired Joe innocently.

Pretending not to have noticed the Biblical implication.

‘You need more religious tutoring,’ said A—U, turning into St. Mary’s.

It felt colder in the church and Joe shivered. The roof was lofty with massive stone pillar supports.

‘There’s been a church here since 1190,’ explained A—U. ‘The priest at the time was named Matthew or Matteus rather.’

‘Same name as the saint.’ Joe was trying to redeem himself by showing he wasn’t completely ignorant where the Bible was concerned. ‘It doesn’t look that old,’ he added.

Joes's Magic Badge   part  14

‘it isn’t. Some of the vestry is very old, but for the most part the church was rebuilt in the early 19th century. It replaced one built in 1310. Between 1810 and 1813 the tower had to be pulled down. It was in a state of collapse due to the lengthy period of bell ringing after Nelson’s victory at Trafalgar.’

‘When was that?’ Joe already knew but wanted to impress A—U by asking questions that seemed relevant.

‘I think it was 1807,’ A—U told him.

‘No!’ corrected Joe, falling into the trap. ‘It was 1805.’

‘Don’t ask questions you know the answers to,’ he was reproved. ‘There’s lots of other things to notice.’

Joe was embarrassed and for a while just walked around not noticing anything.

A-U took pity on him. ‘John Bradshaw was baptised here in 1602,’ he said. Now here was someone Joe had never heard of and his query Was genuine.

‘Who’s he?’

‘He presided over the court which tried Charles I and his signature heads the death warrant, someone has written traitor against his name in the church records. John Wainwright’s buried here. He wrote the music to the Christmas Carol, Christians Awake! He was organist here for a while. There was also an unknown soldier buried here in 1644, when Prince Rupert captured Stockport from the Cromwellians.

Joe was beginning to take interest. ‘I like the pulpits,’ he told A—U.

‘Yes there are two. One is 19th century and the other 16th. There’s some great carving on the older one, don’t you agree?’

Joe had moved on and was looking at a crucifixion.

‘I wonder if it was really like that,’ he mused. Christ looked weary. There seemed no nobility of purpose, no serenity. Just pain. A—U glanced to where Joe was looking.

‘Yes! It was really like that. He suffered. When the Bible says he suffered for our sakes, he really suffered.’

‘Were you there? Did you see it? Had you been recycled?’ Joe was agog.

‘Yes I was there.’

,)‘What were you? A centurions helmet.’

‘I was a nail.’

Joe gulped. ‘Not one of THE nails.’

‘Yes!’

Now it was A—U’s turn to show embarrassment and Joe wished he hadn’t asked the question. ‘I’m sorry. Try to forget. It wasn’t your fault.’

‘I was forgiven,’ A—U told him, ‘and I forgive you. Come on let’s go back to the Market.’

Joes's Magic Badge   part  15

Eight years from now, the Court Leet will try to open a new market at Hillgate for the sale of potatoes but the charter didn’t cover this. The sign where it would have been is still on the wall.’

‘What’s the Court Leek,’ asked Joe? ‘Do they control the sale of vegetables?’

‘Court Leet L-E--E-T. They govern the affairs of the town and have done for hundreds of years. The lord of the manor appoints the steward who acts as president and the members are burgesses of the town. They are also market overlookers, tax assessors and toll collectors. They deal out punishment to wrongdoers too. The dungeon was at the top of the Mealhouse Brow.’

‘What sort of punishments?’

‘Well! There’s the whipping post. Only five years ago a man named Brown was whipped for stealing an apron. Also the stocks and pillory. I’ve some very unfound memories of the Stockport pillory.’

‘Were you a criminal?’

‘No I was the irons that fastened the prisoner to the pillory, which was a wooden framework. If you was in the pillory or the stocks you had rotten fruit and veg thrown at you. Most of it seemed to hit me. Eggs too!’

‘I see,’ quipped Joe, ‘the yoke was on you.’

‘Very funny! Most of the time I was like a salad that’s past its sell by date. The market traders wanted the whipping post and stocks moved from the centre of the Market. It caused too much disturbance and distracted people who were shopping.’

‘It sounds as though they relied on it for entertainment. Like an early form of TV or video.’

‘That’s a good description. People did find it entertaining.

I’d have preferred it if they hadn’t. No one throws rotten eggs

at TV.’

‘Have you ever seen the Des O’Connor Show,’ asked Joe? ‘They might start throwing some at him.’

‘I like him,’ protested A—U. ‘I think his humour is really up to date.’

‘It would have been in 1827,’ replied Joe. ‘Mealhouse Brow looks narrower.’ he noted.

‘It is. It was widened but not until after the tragedy in 1860.’ ‘What happened then.’

‘Well — Vernon Park had opened two years previously and celebrations were held in the Market. The buildings were illuminated, there were marches, a balloon ascent and a firework display. When the fireworks finished people left the Market by way of the Brows. A woman carrying a child fell on Mealhouse and people pushing forward from the back created havoc. Many were injured and six died. The youngest was not even one year old. His name was George Worthington. A week later one of the injured, a girl of 15 named Letitia Wilson, her friends called her Lettuce, died in hospital.’

Joe was shocked. ‘It couldn’t happen now,’ he claimed.

‘It still does at football matches or any place where crowds panic.’

This talk of death depressed Joe and the mention of football reminded him of the promise A—U had made that they would return to Lancashire Bridge to look at the Liverpool Blues. Whoever they were. The genie agreed to go but knew something Joe didn’t -

Joes's Magic Badge   part  16

Joe and A—U stood beside Lancashire Bridge. Or they would have stood beside Lancashire Bridge if Lancashire Bridge had been there. It wasn’t.

‘We’ve missed them,’ admitted A—U.

‘Missed them! How can we have missed them, and who were they anyway?’

‘It’s not easy to move instantly over a hundred years. Backwards! There’s just been a slight hiccup. The Liverpool Blues were a Militia regiment recruited to combat Bonnie Prince Charlie’s Rebels. Five hundred of them cane to Stockport and blew up the bridge to slow down the rebel’s advance. This is 1745.’

‘Forget the rebels,’ Joe was piqued. ‘If you can slip up moving us how are we going to get back on the right day?’ Joe was concerned. Not about the Local History lesson, which he now felt more confident about, but the fish and chips he would be having for his tea.

‘Don’t worry, we’ll get back OK. As it is we’re in luck.’

‘I see nothing lucky about arriving at the wrong time. What if we’d landed on the bridge and got blown up with it? That would have been bad luck too I suppose. They could have named it Joe’s Last Farewell, on the Bridge of Sighs or something. My Mum wouldn’t have been pleased - I’ll tell you that.’

‘Stop rabbiting on,’ interrupted A—U. ‘We’re lucky because it’s December the seventh.

‘How do you know that? A moment ago you admitted we hadn’t arrived in time to see the non—footballing Evertonians blow up the bridge. Now you’ve got the date fixed to the exact day.’ A-U was being patient, but with difficulty. ‘They’re the Liverpool Blues. See the four men riding for the ford? Their names are Deacon, Bradshaw, Holker and Syddall. They’re officers in the Manchester Regiment.’

‘What is the Manchester Regiment,’ asked Joe?

‘The rebels recruited them as they advanced through Lancashire. $o they’re on the retreat. Bonnie Prince Charlie only got as far as Derby. Just watch! The people of Stockport will fire on them.’

Sure enough! As the men approached the ford there was a rattle of musket fire and one of the horses fell, throwing its rider. The fallen man was picked up and the four won through to the ford and safety.

‘They’ve made it.’ Joe was getting excited now. ‘That was lucky!’

‘Not for the horse it wasn’t,’ commented A—U, ‘and they won’t live till a ripe old age.’

‘Do they get shot on the retreat?’

‘Well they’ve got longer than that. What’s happened is - the Manchester Regiment sent them back to raise more men. The regiment were outraged when they discovered how the four officers had been treated and took some prominent citizens, including the constable, to Manchester with alters round their necks.’

‘Were they hanged?’ Joe was agog.

‘No! They were let off, but they got a bad fright.’

‘Serves them right!’ Joe was beginning to take side ‘What happened to the four?’

Joes's Magic Badge   part  17

‘The Manchester Regiment retreated as far as Carlisle. There they were left as a garrison. They couldn’t hold out long and eventually surrendered. Most were taken to London to await trial. Take Thomas Syddall for instance. He’d been a barber in Manchester before he joined the Stuart cause. He was in his thirties and had a wife and children. At his trial he was found guilty. He was hung, drawn and quartered.

‘What does that mean,’ asked Joe? It didn’t sound pleasant. It wasn’t.

‘The condemned is hanged, but taken down before he’s dead. Then his heart is ripped out and thrown into a fire. Finally he’s Cut into pieces which maybe exhibited by putting them on spikes.’

‘That’s barbaric,’ Joe protested.

‘It gets worse,’ A—U admitted. ‘Syddall’s head was sent back to Manchester and placed in such a position his widow could see it from her bedroom window.’

‘Disgusting!’ Joe felt sick.

‘They’re you’re ancestors not mine,’ A—U reminded him. ‘Syddall’s father was hung, drawn and quartered too. He supported the Stuarts in 1715.’ A—U tried to lighten the melancholy atmosphere that had developed. ‘Sometimes it could be funny. Do you want me to tell you about when I was recycled as the Chevelier Johnstone’s shoe buckle and we were being chased across Scotland by the Redcoats?’

‘No thanks,’ said Joe, who didn’t feel like laughing. ‘Let’s move on to the next century. There’ll be more to laugh at then. Let’s meet some children.’

‘How naive can you get, thought A—U, shaking his head.

Joes's Magic Badge   part  18

‘That’s twelve hours a DAY! and there are prosecutions. They can fail though. The magistrates are often millowners themselves. One way round the law is to have a child in one mill for say seven hours, then send the same child to another mill for another seven hours.’

‘Would that be legal?’

‘No! But it would be difficult to spot. See the two girls at the back of the group chatting? Their names are Elizabeth Brooks and Sarah Goulding, and they work at Jesse Howard’s mill. Their employer will be prosecuted by Charles Trimmer, who’s the Superintendent of Factories, for working children longer than the Law allows. They begin work at 6 in the morning and finish at 8 at night.’

‘Is he hung, drawn and quartered like Thomas Syddall?’ Joe was taking sides and his previous revulsion for the punishment seemed to have vanished.

‘In this instance the case will be dismissed,’ A—U informed him, ‘but some prosecutions are successful. Later this year Thomas Hunt will be summoned for the same thing and fined.’

‘Children didn’t seem to have much fun in the 1830s.’

‘You can never stop children enjoying themselves, but times were hard with not much leisure. However, some people admire the factory system, believing it brings wealth and discipline. They don’t have to do the work, of course.’

‘I see,’ said Joe. ‘I’m beginning to cotton on now. I suppose they’d tell each other stories. Spin the odd yarn, maybe with a twist at the end. It would be too early to watch County though.’ ‘Yes, there was that to be thankful for,’ replied A-U. ‘Living conditions were bad too with not much sanitation and a great deal of overcrowding. See the little girl in the doorway, Joe?’

Joe noticed a rather plump little girl who had been sheltering. She had pressed back against the cold.

‘Is she on her way to work too,’ he enquired?

‘Her name’s Mary Stafford and she’s been abandoned by her parents, who’ve left the area. She’s living rough on the streets.’

This horrified Joe. Things were getting worse and worse. ‘Will She freeze to death,’ he wanted to know?

‘After a couple of months Sergeant Hough, of the Stockport police, will find her and she’ll be placed in the workhouse.’

‘What’s the workhouse,’ Joe asked?

‘It’s where the destitute can be housed. At the moment it’s at Daw Bank, but a new one will be opened in 1841 at Shaw Heath. Whole families are sent there sometimes, but kept separate. Husbands and wives in different dormitories.’

‘At least Mary Stafford won’t freeze and it sounds no worse than having to work.’

‘Of course she’ll have to work, Why do you think they call it a workhouse. You’re right though. She won’t freeze. She’ll be housed and fed. She’ll have clothing and given a certain amount be of schooling, but some people liken it to being in prison and there’s a social stigma attached to it that won’t fade for a hundred years.’

‘I’ll never criticise school again,’ exclaimed Joe, who was feeling glad that he’d not been a child then.

‘Bet this week’s spends on that?’ A—U was quick to take advantage of any hastily made promise.

Joes's Magic Badge   part  19

‘No!’ Joe back peddled, ‘but I quite like school anyway. I don’t mind going.’

‘Right you are,’ said A—U.

Joes's Magic Badge   part  20

I fall for another one of their tricks,’ thought Joe. He turned to the second genie. ‘How would I have carried an anchor around anyway,’ he asked?

‘Carrying a bed isn’t exactly going to be easy either.’ smirked

A-U.

That was something no one had considered up to now.

‘I’ll try and hang around here for another 80 years until you start school,’ Joe was told. ‘I’ll aim to get recycled as something else. They’ll consider building a swimming pool here in 1964, perhaps I can be part of that.’

‘There’s no swimming pool at our school,’ observed Joe.

‘Perhaps they never took the plunge,’ slipped in A-U, glad to prove his sense of humour was equal to his friend’s.

‘Don’t worry Joe,’ the other genie said. ‘Just keep walking round the school touching metal and I’ll find you.’

‘That doesn’t sound like a soft touch either,’ interrupted A—U, ‘pretty tiring in fact.’

‘I’m tired now,’ admitted Joe. ‘I wouldn’t mind a rest on one of these beds.’

Joes Magic Badge by Eric Sturmey