Prunes - The fruit of all evil?
- Contributed by听
- 大象传媒 Open Centre, Hull
- People in story:听
- Mrs Kirkby
- Location of story:听
- South Ferriby, Hull
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A8411807
- Contributed on:听
- 10 January 2006
Early in 1942 dad arrived one Saturday morning in South Ferriby and announced to mum and I that we were to return to Hull with him that day. He had managed to find us a new home and, interestingly, Granny Violet and June would also be returning to Hull with us. So we packed up our few belongings and, with mum carrying Colin and myself proudly holding Dads hand, we rode away on the bus after waving goodbye to the many friends Mum and Gran had made in the delightful village of South Ferriby; our temporary evacuation home of one and a half years. I was even given a smoky kiss from Mrs Kirkby.
Father had managed to rent a front house with two bedrooms down Clyde Street, off Hawthorn Avenue, only about two minutes walk from his mother's house in Ringrose Street. I was enrolled at Wheeler Street Infants School.
One of my main pre-occupations was to crouch over the grill on the pavement, in front of the school, which was positioned over the cellar which accommodated the cinders stock which fuelled the school's central heating system.
I had quickly learned to read and I was rewarded with my first School book prize for reading out to my infant classmates that charming book, "The Little Red Hen". Every day or two mother would ask me to walk to the Bakers on Hawthorn Avenue to purchase a fruit pie. I would lake the money and hurry off to the Bakers to gaze expectantly in the window and smell the delicious aroma of the pies being baked. Into the shop I would go and make my purchase and off I would return home with the still warm pie. Into the house and hand over the pie to mother. I would stand there crestfallen whilst mother would unwrap the pie and cut it open. "Tex, whatever will we do with you? You have brought me yet another prune pie. The next time you must remember to choose another type of pie; there must be other nice flavours such as raisin.鈥 Anxious to please I would always promise to do that the next time.
Next door lived the Fish family and I became firm friends with lan Fish, the son, who was my age. Father was working at Amos and Smith's, the engineers at the bottom of Neptune Street, as a marine engineering turner during the day. In the evenings he was reporting for Home Guard duty a couple of nights a week, but still managed a pint or two of Hull Brewery Mild several times a week.
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