大象传媒

When I finally came home for good toward the end of 1944 things were much improved, the news was more cheerful and optimistic, the V2s were fewer, and everyone was beginning to relax, and instead of hymns I was listening to Glen Miller and silly songs like 'Run Rabbit Run' and Mairsie Dotes and Dozy Dotes' which were part of the plan to cheer us up and they really did. We listened avidly to the radio for news of the latest Allied advances through France and ltaly, knowing that victory was only a matter of time. As children we looked forward eagerly to oranges and bananas, the taste of which we could not remember, only that they were delicious. I had the dreaded Scabies again; it was very persistent and hard to shift so 1 was sent, along with my spots, to the cleansing station for treatment. On arrival I was greeted by a giant Irish nurse who ordered me into a bathroom, told to strip and get into the bath, and she would be along shortly to commence the torture, er medication. Twelve years old boys do not argue with giant Irish nurses so I meekly did as I was told and sat in the bath to await my fate. She came in and looked at me as though I was some sort of heathen to be guided back on to the right path, and then she started to scrub me all over with a stiff brush, even in my most intimate places, intent on taking the tops off every spot while inflicting the maximum pain to my tender skin. I was yelling in agony but my torturer was immune to my pleadings for mercy. At last the ordeal was over, or so I thought, and I was told to get out of the bath and dry myself. When I was dry nurse came toward me with a jar of white cream which she proceeded to spread all over my body and into every unprotected spot, this felt like a thousand tiny fires being lit on my already raw skin. By now I was screaming for her to stop but she just glared at me and said "don't be such a baby; we have to get rid of these spots, don't we?" I would rather have kept the Scabies than go through that and I have had a fear of giant Irish nurses ever since.
At twelve years of age I was a little wiser, probably the war was beginning to have a sobering effect on me. I got a job in the Arlington cafe in Seven Sisters road, which was run by a very nice lady named Eileen Westmacott, whose husband Les was serving in the army somewhere in France. My job started at 7 30 am when I helped Eileen to prepare the rolls and sandwiches, then back again at lunch time when I collected a cardboard box from the cafe and went by bus to Holloway to collect cakes from lass's bakery. Then I went back after school to clean the pine top tables and sweep the floor. On Saturday I would spend the whole morning helping and finish after close with a grand clean-up, the pine tables had to be bleached and the display cabinets polished. When we were finished we would sit and have a nice cup of tea and the pick of any cakes and rolls left over, I loved this part, then came the moment I had been waiting for, pay time, when I would collect my weeks wages, 6 shillings (30p), then off home to mum who took 4 shillings off me toward the family finances, (I didn't like this part). I really enjoyed working for Eileen and kept the job till I left school at fourteen.
My education had been badly disrupted owing to my having been shunted back and forth between various schools so the teachers faced an uphill task, I soon knuckled down though and in my first years exam I came 31st out of a class of 34 pupils, obviously I had some catching up to do so thanks to a lot of help and encouragement from the teachers I progressed first to 21st, then 13th and finally 3rd.

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