大象传媒

Part 6
BLACKPOOL AGAIN
After about two weeks we were returned to our house, which had been patched with tiles on the roof, roofing felt over the windows and the exterior doors re-hung. Living conditions were not good and flying bombs were frequent. So my mother made the decision to send a telegram to the family we had stayed with in Blackpool asking if we could come back to stay with them again. As soon as we received their affirmative reply we again travelled north.
By this time I was 13 years old and should have already sat the 13+ exams, so my mother soon arranged for me to do so. This meant I had to sit an entrance examination to Blackpool Technical College so I could attend school as a fee payer having missed out on a scholarship due to enemy action. Our family finances were fully stretched with all of us living on a RAF Sergeant's pay the RAF Benevolent Fund agreed to pay my school fees. I passed the examination and so I entered the junior section of the College to study mechanical engineering whilst at the same time completing my full time schooling. Before starting school I found the local scout troop and joined up with them. These scouts were quite different to those in Ewell. For example, they had drums, which they beat when going on church parade to the Methodist church to which they were attached. Try as I might I could not get the hang of how to play a drum and eventually I gave up, a decision which pleased not only my family, but also close neighbours. Their annual summer camp was in Brighouse Woods, Yorkshire, and I went with them. This involved a very complicated journey by train with several changes of train, going via Manchester and Todmorden. The rain started during the journey and there was no sign of it letting up, nor did it. No doubt it was competing with the floods that caused Noah to build the ark. I think it was the cold and damp, which caused me to suffer an attack of homesickness for the one and only time in my life, and I felt really miserable. The Scoutmaster showed great insight and talked to me with the correct mixture of care and toughness. This put me back into the right frame of mind. During this camp I decided to take the test for my cooks badge, this I passed with flying colours. The following day we cooked our midday meal as a joint effort by several boys. It was a stew. During the preparation I went to add some pepper and salt, which were contained in some nondescript containers. As I was about to add the pepper one of the other lads said, 鈥淒on't do that! It鈥檚 the pan shine.鈥� 鈥淣o it isn't鈥� I disclaimed 鈥淚t is the pepper I put in the test meal for my Cooks Badge yesterday and you said how good it was.鈥� The Scoutmaster confirmed my mistake and suggested that I keep 鈥淢um鈥� on this one considering I had passed the exam with such aplomb.
Scarcity of equipment led us to improvise and we had all become quite adept at this. 鈥淢ake do and mend鈥� was another slogan, which had entered our vocabulary. The suitcase needed to house my camping equipment was made of compressed cardboard. Though not ideal for the outdoor life it had to suffice. However, the torrential rain attacked my case, which soon became soggy and started to disintegrate. My challenge was to arrive back at our lodgings in Blackpool with clothes and suitcase intact, to mean feat and no badge awarded for a job well done.
Once more I found myself in an educational establishment ahead of its time. Blackpool Technical College had a fully equipped machine shop where we did metalwork and a proper joinery shop where we did woodwork. There was a fully equipped gymnasium and a luxurious refectory where we were served first class school dinners.
My social life began during my time at this school. The North / South divide existed even then. There was a great deal of prejudice both from the staff and students against evacuees. Though this was not oppressive, it certainly bound together us 'Southerners'. When Christmas came the students put on their own school entertainment and the evacuees were left to put together their own separate sketch. We performed a Ralph Reader sketch from the scout gang shows; this seemed appropriate, as over half our group were either scouts or guides. The Physics teacher led the way in prejudice. He was keen to remind us 鈥淪outherners鈥� that we were soft and academically weak, but when the exam results were published, it was the evacuees who had stolen the limelight occupying the top nine places in the class. I had learned another lesson from my teacher; prejudice is a fool鈥檚 game.
Despite all this there were many good things at this school. We were taken to the theatre to see the ballet 'Copelia' as part of our education. This is about a toy maker who makes a life size wooden doll. The doll appears quite life like when seen though a window. A young man on passing the window falls in love with the doll, and sadly forsakes his real girl friend for his imaginary love. The girl friend jealously destroys the doll. At thirteen I was not very taken with the dancing, but it did cause me to recognise and enjoy a wider range of music. Thus the seed was sewn to my life-long appreciation of music. Of course, I also liked the popular music of the day, which was Glenn Miller. His music still remains a firm favourite with me. Another performance we were taken to see was Shakespeare's 'Merchant of Venice'. This again opened up a new interest for me this time in literature and theatre. Many years later I found that memories of my school days came back to me when as a School Governor I accompanied a school party from Blenheim High School, on a visit to Sam Wanamaker, the actor and producer鈥檚 reconstruction of Shakespeare's Globe Theatre in Southwark, built on what is believed to be the original site. During this visit the children were shown and encouraged to act out Shakespearean drama, as it had been performed when the playwright was alive.
In February 1945 my mother鈥檚 concern for my health especially my breathing saw us once more visiting the specialist. The diagnosis was that whilst the previous operation to remove my tonsils had been successful my adenoids had re-grown. The specialist鈥檚 opinion was that I should submit myself yet again to his skill and his scalpel and have the offending adenoids removed once and for all. A three-day inpatient stay at the Victoria Hospital Blackpool was an end to the problem. Or so we thought. Two days after leaving hospital in the evening I was out with my friends playing a casual game of street football. Later on when I went back home and went to bed I had a nose bleed which took a little time to quell. However I went off to sleep feeling the bleeding had stopped and I felt settled. During the night the bleeding started again and all my efforts to stop the flow of blood failed. When my mother came to call me in the morning she found her son bathed in congealed blood and immediately sent for an ambulance, so the Victoria Hospital welcomed me back. A wheel chair conveyed me to the operating theatre where I was abandoned to my own thoughts. In the half-light of that quiet room the instruments glinted back at me with stories of their sharpness and dexterity. The sight did very little for the confidence of this brave young scout. Eventually a team of white coats appeared and much discussion ensured. The wound was cauterised and I was given a blood transfusion. I slept most of the remainder of the day awakening in the early evening, with an appetite. In response to my request for sustenance I was served a large helping of Lancashire hot pot. It was one of the best meals I can remember in the whole of my life. This time I was kept in the hospital for a full week before being allowed back home.

HOME TO SUTTON
After my period of rest and recuperation we decided to come back to our home in Glenthorne Close, Sutton in April 1945 where I was to complete my full time education. My mother was not able to get me into Wimbledon Junior Technical School so I was sent to Kingston upon Thames Junior Technical School, which was a much longer and more complicated journey. This was and still is the site of Kingston Technical College. The main part of the school was housed in the old buildings of Tiffin鈥檚 Girls鈥� School and I always thought it quite quaint to enter each day through the main pupil entrance under the inscription 鈥淭iffin鈥檚 Girls鈥�. This was in many ways the most ill equipped of all the schools I attended during my boyhood. The main hall was also the gymnasium and the refectory with a solid unyielding floor, which was more than a little hard on the feet and legs during physical exercise especially when using a vaulting horse. I suppose I felt this more acutely than the other boys having for the past several years attended schools with purpose built gymnasiums. Many of the classrooms were ex-army huts left over from the First World War and erected in the school grounds. Arriving at lessons on rainy days was not a lot of fun as we boys had to line up outside the hut/classroom and would get decidedly damp whilst waiting for the signal to enter. I doubt little has changed with this system with the passage of time. School boy graffiti inscribed on the aging paintwork of the corrugated iron walls informed you of the names of old boys who had long since left the school and gone out into the world and of one individual who claimed to have 鈥淒ied, waiting in the rain鈥�. The school was organised in six forms. Our stay in the JTS was for two years and each term we progressed to the next form so that the group which came into the school as Form 1 finally left as Form 6. One of the jobs for Form 6 was to put out the tables and forms for school dinners in the hall/gymnasium and then to put them away in the store afterwards. I do not remember what the reasons were, but one lunch time we were feeling in a rebellious adolescent frame of mind so we went on strike and having taken our lunch we went into town for a mooch round the shops and instead of coming back to put the tables and forms away after the College crowd had finished their lunch. This did not earn us any brownie points and may have contributed to my not being recommended for a job by the school.
The end of the war was now in sight and the general mood was one of weariness and a little relief that the end would be soon. The daily war news told of our soldiers getting further and further into Germany and more and more of the German soldiers surrendering. Then the morning papers told us that Hitler was dead and that Admiral Donitz had replaced him. The question that went through my mind was would the Germans now surrender or fight on to the bitter end. On May 8th 1945 we were informed that the Germans had surrendered and the war in Europe had come to an end on what instantly became known as VE Day. For a day or so everyone go so excited at the relief from the stress and strain of constantly having to be vigilant, not quite knowing what might happen next, and living in fear of that dreaded telegram informing of the loss of someone close due to enemy action. It was all over. Inhibitions were thrust aside and many wild and foolish actions took place. British reserve was abandoned. Celebrations on VE day went on all though the night and into the next day until all were spent. It was an excitement I have never since experienced.
The blackout came down and lights shone everywhere. People got happily drunk on what ever they could find. Bonfires were lit to dance around and fireworks exploded in the night sky, many constructed from knowledge gained whilst undergoing military training. Street parties were hastily arranged and held a few days later when the whole process of celebrating the end of the war was gone through a second time. I do not have any special memories of this event beyond a wild excitement and happiness at the defeat of the Germans. There was of course still the war with Japan. There would be the dropping of the atom bomb to come, but we knew nothing of such weapons at that time.
The best bit of news for me was that within a few weeks of VE Day, I learnt that my father was coming home from India to be demobilised. He arrived home in late August. VJ Day August 15th the defeat of Japan being declared during his journey home. VJ Day was a repeat of VE Day although the celebrations were not quite as frantic as with VE Day. The war with Japan being further away and seemingly more remote, compared to the war with Germany, which had turned us into targets. This had marked the first time in history when a civilian population had been in the front line. The war with Japan, as with the later wars with Korea, The Falklands and the Gulf, was too remote and removed from our personal lives. The experience was via the media, the impact less immediate, and the view depersonalised. My father finally returned to us having served his country as a member of the so named 鈥淔orgotten Army in India and Burma.鈥�

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