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The “Twilight” Children Of Castleford

(Specially written for “The Press” by LEICESTER KYLE) /■'’ASTLEFORD is one of the dingiest towns in England, George Borrow’s description of Cordova could well apply here:— “Little can be said with respect to this town, which is a mean, dark, gloomy place, full of narrow streets and alleyways”. Add to this a smearing of soot, cold, dull weather, and occasional flurries of foam from the detergent-laden canal, and you have the picture.

There is a population of about 45,000, in an area about equal to that of Ashburton, so there is good reason for the long rows of terraced houses, narrow streets, and crowded brick alleyways.

The town is a soot-begrimed black jungle, still partly gaslit by night, smoke-hazed by day. and—like the miner’s car in the Coal Board staff

advertisements—it runs on coal; coal for heating, coal for firing, coal for electricity, coal for chemicals, and coal for one’s wages.

Which is a black picture, but of a black subject, that is yet curiously and attractively alive, for though the town, to an outsider, might seem hardly worth living in, it has —like other Yorkshire industrial towns —such a curiously strong and vigorous character, that it is overcrowded with people who refuse to think of

living anywhere else. Historically there is good reason for this overcrowding, but now there is no reason for accepting it; those who live here have little but dirt and disorder to look forward to, with debt and faint depression in the borough economy, yet no-one thinks of leaving, not even the young couples that I interview before marriage. Big Families Consequently, the town is crowded with children; families of six are quite frequent, particularly in the poorer homes, and as the council generally puts the poorer families in certain streets, these streets have become overcrowded, squalid ghettoes, rubbish-strewn, with pretentious names such as Park dale and Kershaw avenue, and swarming well into the night with the oddest children I have ever seen. Though hardly sinister, they are much like the slum children of any crowded city, and as they grow older, they quickly gain the sharp shrewdness of the typical street-urchin, which so usually turns to vandalism and then to crime. However, these local urchins have at least one striking habit; at night there is nothing for them to do, there being no room for them inside or outside their homes, so they have taken to coming to church. They first began to visit us during the evening services, and we found their visits most embarrassing, for they come partly out of genuine interest, and partly out of a desire to make the mischief in which they are so well practised, and they came late. Bells On Slacks A few girls usually arrive first; they have little bells sewn on to their slacks—a popular fashion amongst the under-fifteens—and they jingle their way down the centre aisle to the front pews. While they take their places —with muttered exclama-

tion’s of “Tha’s got five kneelers” and the like—some others arrive, and everyone changes places to be near their closest friends. By the end of the psalms there is a more or less stable congregation, sometimes of nearly fifty children, all wriggling, giggling, and whispering, and loudly joining in the service according to their own habitual speeds of speech. Chaos results, of course, especially when we begin to read the lessons, for then those who came in first become restless, and begin to jingle their way out of church in twos or threes. Others, more shy or more mischievous, crawl under the pews to the back of the church, dislodging kneelers as they go, to much mufiled amusement. Welcomed Detention It was hard to know just how far to let them go without protesting. On one occasion, when they were particularly naughty, I warned the children that if they continued to be so difficult, they would be made to stay behind after the service, and be taught to say the psalms properly. Such a threat would have quelled most New Zealand children, but to these a novel experience was promised, and they all began to misbehave, and all stayed behind, and yet more came in, until there were 40 or 50 grubby little urchins gathered together to say psalms for three-quarters of an hour. In order to cope with this unusual congregation in ways more suited to its interests, we have stablished two weeknight clubs for the children, and through these have come to know the children very much better, and have become acquainted with their backgrounds. Parental Depravity Most come front two types of home: those in which there is some sort of poverty, due to parental illness, thoughtlessness, or low income; and

those in which there is parental depravity of a greater or lesser degree. Lice-Infesled The children of these latter homes are usually dirty and smelly, and not infrequently infested with lice, while those of the former class are often clean, though ragged and often rickety, and have some light of intelligence and curiosity in their eyes, with some chance of eventually surmounting the various obstacles of their mean environment. Those of the worst home cause us the most sorrow, for so little can be done to help them. These children show their suffering in their spiritless faces and listless manners, and even if one should be cleaned up and dressed well, he would still show many of the smyptoms of being mentally handicapped, for the will and ability to live has been tortured out of him by his wretched home and brutish parents. Call For Inquiry Sir Arthur Clegg, the Chief Education Officer for the west Riding of Yorkshire, advises a national inquiry into this world of what he calls “twilight children,” and advocates an extension of the present boarding-school system to provide for these children of incapable parents. Perhaps this would be a working solution to this widespread, but not very obvious, problem, for it would salvage at least some of the wreckage of these vicious homes, and tend to discourage the perpetuation of the follies and vices associated with them.

Following Is the solution to the crossword puzzle printed on another page: Across: 5, Apace: 8, Retailer: 9, Money: 10 Spinners; 11, Sport; 14, Web; 18, Salver; 17, Airing; 18, Yet; 20, Flare; 24, Feminine; 25, Tonic; 20, Pulled up; 27, Other. Down: 1, Crash: 2. Staid; 3, Tinnyj, 4, Degree; 6, Prospers; 7, Clearing; 12. Fails out; 13, Overtime; 14, Wry; 15, Bat; 19, Erebus; 21, Me; 22, Windy; 23, Weep*.

Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/CHP19660702.2.58

Bibliographic details

Press, Volume CVI, Issue 31101, 2 July 1966, Page 5

Word Count
1,097

The “Twilight” Children Of Castleford Press, Volume CVI, Issue 31101, 2 July 1966, Page 5

The “Twilight” Children Of Castleford Press, Volume CVI, Issue 31101, 2 July 1966, Page 5

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