大象传媒

This story has been submitted to the People's War site by Christopher Hall for Kent Libraries and Archives and Canterbury City Council Museums on behalf of Jean Parker and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

1941 -We arrived at Glasgow Station in Scotland. As the train pulled into the station, I was amazed how large it was and it seemed full of smoke. I can't remember how we got to my Grandparents ' flat, but we did. 22 Golspie Street, I suppose, is what is known as a tenement building. The flat was up about six flights of steps and on each landing there was a two room flat. When I think of how my Grandmother brought up a family of six, I'll never know.

In the kitchen was a large old- fashioned stove, which was on the go day and night, winter and summer. There was a table and chairs, an easy chair and a bed in the wall where my Grandparents slept. In the front room there was another bed in the wall, where my Aunt Jean was to sleep, an open-out settee where my mother and I slept and a single settee for my brother. My Grandfather would use this room every day, sitting by an open window with his cap on, looking out at the traffic. Muriel had to go to an Aunt's to stay and shortly after arriving in Scotland she obtained a job.

To remember my Grandparents -he was quite a big man always wearing a waistcoat with his watch and chain and his cap firmly on his head. I don't think he ever spoke to me, I don't remember anyway, but he had this sort of whistle hum, quite distinctive, with his hands in his pockets. When he felt the need to stretch his legs, he would work from the room to the kitchen and back again. We always knew when he was coming because of the whistle.

Now my mother and Aunt Jean smoked, which Grandfather did not approve of, so if they were smoking they would throw the cigarettes in the fire. Well, this particular day they heard the signal, Mum threw hers into the fire, but Aunt Jean was no-where near, so she stubbed it out in her fingers, slightly burning herself, only to turn round to find Bill, my brother, mimicking Grandfather (he was a bit of a joker). I can tell you, the air was blue and she chased him round the kitchen, but we had a good laugh afterwards.

Now my Grandmother was very sweet. She was always in a long black dress with a high collar, very slim and very hard working. Even with my mother and her daughter there, she would still do the shopping, carrying it up the six flights of stairs. She did the washing for herself and Grandfather in the flat, but my mother used to take ours along the road to what was called "the Steamy", a huge washhouse where people could take their washing. There were big tubs everywhere and once the washing was done, there were big racks which slid into a sort of wall that dried your clothes.
About six months later, my sister Peggy arrived. She had been engaged to a man called Len. However, she had broken her engagement to him and my father thought it best if she came up to us.

I, of course, had to attend school. I had a male teacher who was very strict. I remember seeing a boy getting the strap, which was like a 2-inch leather belt that had the ends split. The boy had to hold his arms out straight in front of him with one hand across the other. I think he had only three strokes, but I could see by his face how he was holding back the tears.
During our stay in Glasgow, my mother was called upon to deliver twins, although she was not a nurse. She was well known in Folkestone for helping people that were sick and she had delivered babies before; she was a natural.
My mother was beginning to miss my father very much, so she decided to go back home taking me with her. We arrived back at Linden Crescent only to learn that my father's boss wanted him to move up nearer to his works in Christ Church Road. He had found a flat at 5 Ingles Mews, it was above some stables, and Mum and I went to view it. We liked it straight away. Three double bedrooms, a very large lounge and a small kitchen. It was not long after that that we moved. It was good for my father for his work was just a few steps up the road.

1941 -The Pleasure Gardens Theatre was in full swing by now, the town being full of soldiers and sailors. If you were in uniform you could get into the shows for 6d (sixpence), out of uniform it was 1s.0d. (one shilling) or 1s.6d. (one shilling and sixpence). My dad worked on the lights and sometimes he would take me with him to his little box where he would sit. The shows were wonderful. The stars would come down from London to entertain the troops. I saw Michael Redgrave, Lionel Blair, Pat Kirkwood, Roger Livesey and I have an autograph book to this day that my dad would get signed for me.

After the shows my dad would visit a pub called the West Cliff Shades (now Happy Frenchman), two minutes walk away from our flat. Here he would meet many soldiers and sailors whom he would invite back for coffee and a chat. It was always open house and they would call my mother Ma. One or two kept in touch after the war .

About one month later, my sisters and Aunt Jean returned to Folkestone. My brother by this time had joined up in the Scotch Guards; he looked so handsome in his uniform. Anyway, I remember going to the Central Station to meet them and Len came with us. He was still very much in love with my sister, Peggy , and I think he was hoping that they could resume their relationship, which they did. They became engaged once again. A couple of weeks later Len had his calling up papers and they decided to get married by Special Licence. On April 4 they had a white wedding with three bridesmaids, a pageboy and a little girl - Len's niece. Unfortunately the marriage was not to last. About six months later she was pregnant and came home to stay with us.

On Sunday 9th May 1942 my mother, who had never washed on a Sunday, decided to do her washing. She had an old fashioned washing machine with a handle that you had to twist backwards and forwards. Muriel was working this and I was in my bedroom when all of a sudden the siren went off and soon we heard the bombers coming over and bombs started to drop. One came very near to the flat; it dropped a direct hit on Christ Church demolishing it completely. We think they were trying to get the church full of troops, but thank goodness they were just too early.

My father was told not to light the boilers that Sunday, so he was not in the church, but the lady caretaker was killed. My father always had a little chat with her and she would bring him a cup of tea. He was very upset when he heard the news. All that remained was the tower, where it remains to this day. The tower at the time was proved unsafe, so it was boarded up, but my father's boss said to him, "Do you know Jock, it's the first time in all these years that St George's flag has not flown from the tower". On St George's Day, Mr Otto Marx saw that the flag was flying. My father had got up early and climbed the tower to raise St George's flag.

In June 1942 my sister gave birth to a son whom she named after my father, Thomas. Being the first Grandson he was thought a lot of.

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