大象传媒

Below are documented various happenings that I recall. Dating from around about 1936 to after the war.

Before the war my mother and father and I lived a fairly good life in the city of Kingston Upon Hull, (that was the 鈥楴orth East Coastal Town鈥� that was heavily bombed but never named). In his younger years my father had been in the Green Howard鈥檚 serving in India, during his service he had been wounded, how, I never knew or asked. His family came from Hessle Road area this was the middle of the fishing community. My fathers father had for years worked on the Hedon Road area docks as a Pit-Prop carrier, (that was unloading barges that transported the wood Pit-Props from Norway), that were used in the coal mines for propping up the roof of the mines, as I remember most of these were stacked on the place called 鈥楽ammys Point鈥� opposite the Corporation pier, on the other side of the River Hull. This is the site where 鈥楾he Deep鈥� is now built.
I do remember that when I was about six or seven years old I ran away from home, why I don鈥檛 recall, but I do remember my father finding me on the pier and taking me home, (how he knew I was there I don鈥檛 know), mother was not too pleased about it but never said anything. It was a Friday afternoon and about six o鈥檆lock was bath time, mother had the old tin armchair shaped bath in front of the fire filled with hot water from the 鈥榮et-pot鈥� that she normally boiled the washing in on a Monday, but was lit to heat the water for Fridays bath. So I got undressed for my bath, she then asked if the water was hot enough, and put her hand in to feel the water, but it was not the reason at all, the next I knew was a very sharp smack on my backside with her wet hand, I remember being out in the street naked screaming 鈥渕e mothers hit me鈥� but I was soon back inside the house and all was forgiven. 鈥楩ather gave me sixpence,鈥� and told me to 鈥榞o and buy some sweets,鈥� he rarely ever hit me. Once my mother told him to take his belt off to me, the old Green Howard's belt (about 2 inches wide). He put me across his knee raised the belt, I bit his thigh, he stopped, they had an argument, and I was told to go and play with my Meccano Set, end of chastisement. Those days we were naughty at times but never dared to be cheeky to our elders, respect was the order of the day.
My father was an Engineer on deep-sea trawlers sailing from Hull, for some years before the war, usually away from home for about three weeks or more. When he came home my mother often took me down to the fish dock to meet the ship in. I was only about seven or eight, but I do remember the times when we clambered over two or three or more other trawlers in the dock to get on board my fathers ship, and he took me down below into the engine room. He would sit me on his wooden tool-chest that had his name on a brass plate, and always gave me a jelly to eat. It was the kind you buy in the shop in a box all little squares that was concentrated really, but it kept me quiet for a while. When we were ready to go home we had to climb back over all the trawlers again, usually everything was wet and slippery, me holding my mother鈥檚 hand and father helping us over the rails etc. Once when we had not gone to meet him he came home with a half a pig on his shoulder, how he got that off the dock we don鈥檛 know. In the days when trawler men had done a three-week trip, they collected their settlings that could be two or three hundred pound or even more, so we often had a room completely redecorated or a room refurnished after a trip. Some trawler men just spent their money in the local pub, if any was left after three days the wife would get it, and the man was off to sea again. Luckily my father was not like that, we lived in our own house that my father had bought it from all the money he saved from the many trips he had done.
One day my parents thought it would be a good idea to go on a country wide tour, and that father could have one or two trips from each fishing port, I would have a varied education, and mother would see a little more of the world. Our first stop was Grimsby, then Lowestoft, on to London, Cardiff, Swansea, and Milford Haven, he did a trip or two from each port, again usually of three weeks each trip, the three week trips brought the most money in I think. We lived in Milford Haven for about a year and I went to school there. The main thing I remember was it seemed to be sunny all the time, and some friends of my father took me most week-ends to Fishguard they taught me to swim, seven years old and its been my favourite sport ever since.
On my fathers last trip from Milford Haven his best friend fell overboard at the fishing ground in rough weather off Bear Island one of the crew pulled him out with a 鈥榞af鈥� (a big hook on a long pole), father said that the hook killed his friend and he would not sail from Milford Haven again, so we moved on to Fleetwood.
We lived there for about a year, father did his usual three-week trips, and then War was declared, and my father volunteered for the Royal Navy. As a family we now had a problem, because of new war regulations we were told we could not travel from west to east, but due to father and mother explaining the situation we did eventually get back to Hull and our home, of course my father had volunteered for the Royal Navy so he departed to do his duty, and mother and I returned to our old home.
We lived down a little passageway in Cogan Street that opened into an area with five houses, with five small gardens in the middle, one for each house. After we had been back a few weeks we were told that a brick air-raid shelter would be built on our garden, it was built, then we remembered that our new tortoise had hibernated a few weeks before. He could not be found but we often wondered about him/she?
One night after a heavy air raid we came out of the shelter and found that our house had been severely damaged and it was no longer fit to live in, so we had to rent a bed-sitter, most of our clothes were gone, nearly all the furniture that had been saved put into storage until we found a new place. This we did eventually, but that was after about six months of living in one room.
Of course during all this my father was away in the Royal Navy down at Lowestoft as engineer on a trawler that was converted to mine-sweeping duties in the North-Sea, so that bombed out or what my mother had to manage and organise any and everything herself, no counselling then, and not much help from anyone. The Navy allowance was not very much so life was difficult for my mother. I did get a pair of hob nailed boots from the Mother Humber Fund, and mother got a Grocery Voucher for 10 shillings. The Council informed my mother that she could put her name down on the housing list, so she did, they said we should have about eight years to wait!!!
These of course were hard times and eventually the 鈥楶ublic Assistance Board鈥� informed my mother that it would be easier if I could be evacuated. My first place was Goole, but I did not like the people and when my mother visited I said I was always hungry, that convinced her to take me home, but it did not solve the problem so next I was sent to a house in Withernsea the lady there must have been about twenty five stone and ate, slept and did just about everything from her couch in the living room, I ran the errands for her and played out. It was a good time for me until, while playing bows and arrows, my arrow went through the front wheel of a passing cycle club rider. He was not too pleased about this of course, and complained to the large lady, and asked my mother to take me home and that was the end of my being evacuated any more.
Eventually we did find a house through a private landlord that was not far from our last house, so I went back to my old school.
My father came home on leave from Lowestoft and he took my mother and I into town, and next to Sidney Scarborough鈥檚 record shop in Victoria Square was a gents outfitters, my father took me in and bought me a Raglan overcoat. The first overcoat I had ever had, was I proud of that coat? The next day was a Sunday and I asked if I could go out to see my friend, and could I show him my new coat. 鈥淵es, but no playing鈥�. So OK, away I went, my friend and some mates wanted to play football so we did, with my overcoat as a goalpost. All of a sudden of course it got late, coat on, run the shortest way home, through some ones back garden, new overcoat catches on barbed wire, rip in coat. Arrive home, slyly hangs coat up behind door, mother immediately asks, 鈥淲hat is wrong with your coat鈥�. Mother tells father who is in bed as its Sunday I stand at the side of bed saying, 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know how it happened鈥�. Through some unknown force I end up on the other side of the bed, father gives me a shilling tells me off for lying, and told to go out and play, (without over-coat, of course). These little pieces of life as I knew it then, make happy memories, those were happy days.
So about 1942 after getting back to my old school between Upper and Lower Union Street (that was near to an old peoples home, called 鈥楾he Mansions鈥�) we settled down to normal life in wartime again. On the way to school I and my school friends used to stand and watch outside the slaughter house, to see the slaughter men killing cattle with a bolt gun and a long cane, boiling pigs alive, the pigs sometimes jumped out of the vat and the men had to catch them and put them back in, not nice to hear about today, but it does not seem to have done us any harm.
During this time nearly all of Porter Street was destroyed, leaving on one side the Post Office, and on the other side a large bombed area where they built the Porter Street Flats, the first ones, then Gallons, Meadow, a Pork shop called Eubells who sold Chittlings, Tripe, Udder, and Hot Penny-Ducks, they actually cost a 鈥楶enny鈥� too. There was also a Sweets and Tobacconist, I had to go there every week to order the cigarettes for the men at Wm. Broady鈥檚 of English Street later on in life, when I was an apprentice Electrical Fitter & Turner, starting in 1944 to 1950 鈥榠sh I then joined the Royal Navy as a Stoker Engineer as they called them then, for twelve years.
At the end of Porter Street just before Midland Street there used to be a cinema I don鈥檛 recall its name, as a six or seven year old I remember it cost two jam jars to get in on a Saturday afternoon. Next door on the corner of St. Lukes Street there was a drapers shop, the name of the shop was the same as ours, it was in fact a relation of my fathers that owned it, but due to family squabbles mother would not go in the shop. The point of mentioning this is that on the opposite corner of St. Lukes Street there where some old peoples flats, and many years later in 1990 to 1997 my mother lived in one of those flats, before having to go into a home with a deteriating mental condition. That flat was within a couple of hundred yards from the homes we had lost during the war, mother had been full circle around Hull.
Now back to the days at my old school and settling down again, this was again short lived, once more we came out of the shelter to find our house in Waverley Terrace on Waverley Street wasn鈥檛 there any more. This time we lost every-thing except what we stood up in, (my pyjamas) plus a heavy beech wooden kitchen chair with a piece of shrapnel in the bottom (about 6 inches square) the chair I had to hold over my head when I ran to the shelter because of falling shrapnel, (kept the shrapnel for ages). After the 鈥楢ll Clear鈥� we were told to get out of the street, as there were unexploded bombs every-where. We had to walk over a plank that was stretched over a large hole in the ground, the air raid warden standing guard there said 鈥淏e care-full its a land mine, listen and you can hear it ticking鈥�. We were and it was. Once again mother had to find a place to live, we lived over a shop for about a year and again mother found a house, that was Zion Terrace, Bean Street, and I went to Bean Street school for the last two years of the war.
My mother was from Barton upon Humber and her parents lived there, so from an early age she used to take me on the Humber Ferry to New Holland. That was when you boarded the ferry from off the Horse Wash at Hull pier. My mother would have me out of bed at six in the morning to catch the eight o鈥檆lock ferry, winter or summer and it was rather cold round Hull pier, we usually had to wait for the ticket office to open at about Eight o鈥檆lock 鈥榦utside in the cold on Hull pier front鈥�! ! We walked all the way through where the Bond warehouses used to be, and see the dozens of Scammel Lorries (three wheelers) collecting and delivering. Many years before my time my mother had fallen off the boarding ramp to the ferry and had been taken to H.R.I. on Prospect St. then, and was pronounced Dead. The next day a nurse went into the mortuary and saw a movement from my mother and they took her back into the ward. She had a major operation to her head and lived to tell the tail. She died last year of Alzheimer鈥檚 disease but had lived to the ripe old age of ninety-four.
Going to New Holland was of course a major event, the ferry鈥檚 were paddle steamers (Wingfield Castle was one) so rather a slow trip, round all the sand banks that stretch down the middle of the Humber, plus fog, it could take a couple of hours before we arrived at New Holland pier and boarded the train. That then took us through to Barton Upon Humber and a short walk to my Grandma鈥檚 house. Granddad killed a pig every year so we would go just before Christmas and we would have pork pies, brawn, pigs-trotters and a leg of pork to bring home. They were rather heavy! Once we had to go and visit my cousin in hospital, while my mother and her mother sat talking by the bed I went outside in the hospital grounds and collected a big bag of conkers. I carried these all the way back to the ferry at New Holland. Going down the steps to the lounge on the ferry, the bag burst open, hundreds of conkers all over the ferry lounge, I think I got every one back, in those days people were helpful, maybe I was a nuisance that day, but I don鈥檛 think I complained about the conkers being heavy.
The parents of my father lived most of their lives in Scarborough Street, and in the war granddad was an Air-Raid Warden. One night during one air raid he was helping a family to cross the road and a parachute mine exploded, it destroyed most of the street but it also took the top of granddads head off and killed him. My fathers brother would always stay in bed during the raids, that night the roof was blown off and he got a splinter in his eye. It took nearly a year but he died from complications arising from that wound. Grandma had to find a home for herself and her daughter, luckily she found one the other end of Hull away from the docks, it turned out to be safer.
As the war progressed through the years it would be about 1943 and the air raids got to be fewer in Hull that was about the time when London was having the V2 bombing.
I do remember going to see the fire of Blundels Paint Factory (at the corner of Beverley Road), and on the river Hull I remember the Ranks Flour Mill burning. Once when my father was home we watched a Spitfire and an enemy fighter having a dogfight over the river Humber, but I cant remember the years of these events.

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