大象传媒

D. O. B. 3/2/33

My first memory is that of looking up from inside my baby carriage and seeing baubles bouncing and big faces looking in at me, I think I remember feeling comfortable and safe. I must have been about two years old, maybe less.

The next firm memory, not some occasion remembered for me by grown-ups, was being outside a shop during the Coronation of the King and Queen in 1937. This happened to be in the City of Oxford and I was crying for my mother to buy a tea mug that played 鈥淕od Save The King,鈥� when full. We were poor and mum bought a cheap one, but it still had a picture of the royal couple on the side. In 1937, I was four years old.

Next I remember cutting off the top of my finger while turning the pedals of a bicycle that was upside down on it鈥檚 saddle and handlebars. My father tried to attach the severed tip to my finger with a spider鈥檚 web (old wives鈥� tale). It didn鈥檛 work and I have the scar to prove it.

I can remember drawing at our dining table, not that we had a dining room. Actually the table was a kitchen table, living room table and dining room table all rolled into one, because the room was all those at once. Anyway I could always draw. I do remember that my father would not allow me to use an eraser. I had to first think about what I was going to draw, then I wouldn鈥檛 need to erase. We didn鈥檛 call them erasers, we called them rubbers, which means something else these days in America. I still have to think twice when I go to buy them nowadays. Erasers that is!

Mum used to to cook our dinner in that rolled-into-one-room. The cooking was done on the hobs on either side of the fireside. These were cast iron ovens kept hot by the fire. I can see the fireplace now and smell the marvelous baked rice pudding Mum used to make, it seemed as though it used to take most of the day to cook. The cast iron was kept clean and polished with a black liquid called 鈥榋ebo鈥�. It鈥檚 amazing how the name of a polish remains in one鈥檚 memory over the space of sixty or so years.

The fireplace was the source of a small heartbreak when I was about seven years old. Mum gave me a ha鈥檖enny to buy a sweet (candy). I ran all over the neighborhood trying to find a shop that would sell me a sweet without much luck. Finally, old Mrs. Bricknell at the coal merchant shop took pity on me and sold me a toffee. I ran all the way home to show Mum my prize. I then proceeded to unwrap the toffee very carefully. Next I popped the wrapping into my mouth and the toffee into the fire. You can imagine how I howled.

When I was aged about ten, my pals Pete Baiden, Dixie Mason and myself had a gang called the 鈥榃hite Willies鈥�. To be in the gang we had to run around the block with our willies hanging out. Dixie鈥檚 real name was George Edward Mason, his family called him Bob, we never knew where the 鈥楧ixie鈥� came from. His initials spelled GEM, which I don鈥檛 remember him being.
Our family lived halfway down a mile long street called Howard Street, at number 150. Dixie lived with his mum and dad,his two sisters, Kath and Mary, at number 148. Next to us at number 152, lived Mrs. Miller who was bald, wore a wig and who all the married men on the street fancied. She was the first woman down our street to wear pants, which when stretched over her bicycle seat must have been the source of the married mens鈥� fantasies. She was very kind to me, taking me to her mother鈥檚 house up by the army barracks on Sundays for tea and cakes. I never told her that I hated her mother鈥檚 caraway seed cakes. Ugh!! I can taste them now. Next to the Millers lived old Mr. Bill Baiden,his red-head Australian wife Kath, my pal Pete and his young brother John. Then at number 156 came the Gardners and their daughter Joan, who was always had green goo around her nose but grew up to be good looking. The Astons lived in the next house. The Astons were posh because Mr. Aston was a business man and his daughter June played tennis. Jack Aston was a chimney sweep and he had a placard on his bicycle to say so.

Houses on Howard Street were all small terraced houses, most of them measuring about twelve feet across the front and about forty feet from front to back. All of the houses were two storey with a twelve by ten feet front yard. The back yards were all about fifty feet long by twelve feet wide. Separating the front yard from the sidewalk was generally a small brick wall, two to three feet high topped with wrought iron railings and an iron gate. During the second world war all of the railings and gates were cut up and used for scrap iron for the war effort. The walls are still bare to this day.

On the fifth of November English people celebrate the capture and execution of Guy Fawkes, a catholic zealot who tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament in London in the sixteen hundreds. As children we made stuffed dummies which we called the 鈥楪uy鈥�. We would pull the guy around the streets on a trolley or cart, knocking on doors and asking for 鈥� a penny for the guy鈥�. We would sing, 鈥渋f you haven鈥檛 got a penny a ha鈥檖enny will do, if you haven鈥檛 got a ha鈥檖enny, God bless you.鈥� Then on Guy Fawkes night there would be a big bonfire built in the middle of the street and we would burn all the guys, light fireworks and generally wreak as much havoc as possible.

One Guy Fawkes night, or Fireworks night, as we called it; Johnnie Godwin had his jacket caught alight when some fool put a lighted banger in his pocket. Johnnie, along with Royston 鈥楯ammy鈥� James and little Stanley Godfrey were later all to contract meningitis and go deaf because of it. Jammy and another kid called Tommy Elliston were two tough guys I palled around with. Tommy was from London, had lots of big good-looking sisters. He wore white socks pulled down over his wellington boots because when he grew up he was going to join the merchant navy and go to sea. One of the kids in our school (St. Peter & St. John鈥檚 boys鈥� school), was a skinny black haired boy we called 鈥榗ockerel鈥�, because we would beat him up unless he crowed like a cock.

I once cut the tops of a lot of fireworks, put all the explosives into a wooden matchbox which I then wrapped with many layers of masking tape while
leaving an explosive firework sticking out for a fuse. The resulting bomb was then placed on the little wall outside of our house and lit. It was a good job that all the kids watching stood way back, because the resulting explosion totally demolished the wall.

As I said I could always draw, I could also make up pretty good stories to tell my brothers while laying in bed before going to sleep. The problem with that was my father thought that we shouldn鈥檛 talk once we were in bed. So after a couple of shouted warnings he would come up the stairs with his belt and whip me for not going to sleep immediately. Needless to say, he and I didn鈥檛 get along too well.

I had two brothers. Tony was four years older than I and Brian was four years younger than I. We were never close as brothers or friends.

The only thing I remember that I liked doing with my father was fishing. He would tie the fishing rods on the crossbar of his bike, and with a couple of sandwiches and a flask of tea in a bag over his shoulder, off we would go to the river Thames, with me riding on the crossbar and him pedalling away. The biggest fish I ever saw was a thirty-six pound pike caught by Ernie Whitman from across the street. That really brought out the neighbors.

When I was six years old the second world war started. With it came rationing, queues and evacuees. Evacuees were kids from London who were taken from their families and sent to safer towns and into the countryside, away from the German air-raids and bombs. One summer鈥檚 day all the mothers on the street were standing outside their front doors. From the Iffley road* end of the street came hundreds of kids from London. Brothers and sisters hand-in-hand, gas masks in card-board boxes hung on strings over their shoulders. Streams of frightened five to fifteen-year old kids. Our mum said to the volunteer who was herding them along 鈥淚鈥檒l take those two,鈥� and so we had two more kids in the house. They were called Peggy and Leonard Lamb. All I remember about them is that they cried every night.

We had some great times during the war, even though it seemed we were always hungry. At the bottom of our back garden, over the hedge, was a large area of land divided into hundreds of allotments. Allotments were plots of land, about 20ft by 50ft, which were allotted to members of the community so that they could grow their own vegetables. Our dad had an allotment; of course, because it was run by the government, he had to ride his bicycle about 2 miles to get to his plot. We would climb over the hedge and steal rhubarb from the man who had the plot behind our house. Then we had to also steal sugar to dip it into.

Because of the danger of air-raids every house and business was blacked out. It was called the blackout! The pubs all had a shelter over their entrances to

*Note. Iffley road had the famous cinder running track where Roger Bannister ran the first sub four minute mile.

prevent light escaping when the locals went in for their pint. These shelters were perfect for letting off smoke bombs. We would get a roll of old Kodak film, which used to be very flammable, roll it in newspaper, light it then quickly stamp out the flame. The film bomb would then pour out gobs of fantastic stinky yellow smoke, which when let off in the shelter would empty the pub really fast.

The blackout was great for our gang because we could pull off lots of tricks and not be caught because of the cover of darkness. We would tie the door-knocker of a house on one side of the street to that of one on the other side of the street with thread, then wait for someone to ride by on their bike. The bike would break the thread and knock both doors at the same time Then the home owners would come to the door to find no-one there. We were hiding behind someone鈥檚 wall to watch the fun. That was a big deal to us at age 9 or 10.

We would go scrumping apples, by climbing over 8ft high walls topped with broken bottles cemented in place to stop us getting over to steal the apples. We threw a couple of our coats on top of the wall then stood on Dixie鈥檚 shoulders, up and over the wall. One more tear in our coats didn鈥檛 matter. I don鈥檛 remember how we got back over the wall.

There was a dump about 3 miles away, up by Morris Motors where my dad worked from when he was 15 years old till he died at age 52. They had some German airplanes on the dump, we would sit in the planes and pretend to be pilots. The windows of the plane were made of what we called German glass. It was really Perspex or Lucite, but it was good for making rings to wear for our gang. I made the rings then and I鈥檝e been able to make anything ever since. Dad could also make things, he made us a great castle once for Christmas, he also mended all our shoes and did any sewing on our treadle sewing machine. I don鈥檛 remember ever getting a hug from dad. I didn鈥檛 like him anyway.

Mum had rheumatic fever as a young girl, which affected her heart. She died at age 36 from what I remember as being called 鈥榤etallic thrombosis鈥�, but I鈥檝e probably remembered incorrectly. I was 13 years old and mum was gone. My relatives didn鈥檛 allow me to go the funeral, I was sent to Bluebell Hill with a cousin to pick flowers.

I was very depressed at the time and one day used my bus money to put in the gas meter so it wouldn鈥檛 run out of gas when I put my head in the oven. Then when I changed my mind I had to ask Mrs. Mason next door for money to get to school.

When I was thirteen I passed the exam to go to the School of Technology Art and Commerce in Oxford. One of the tests in the exam was to illustrate a nursery rhyme. I drew a picture of the farmer鈥檚 wife cutting the tails of the mice as they ran up the clock. (Hickory Dickory Dock). I did very well at the Tech. probably because we had drawing or sculpture every day.

While I was at the Tech. dad got married again to a strange woman named Mabel. She, her mother and sister moved in to 150 Howard Street, then the trouble really started for me.

Mabel had black hair, a white face and black eyes. England had food rationing at the time. Each person was rationed to one egg every two weeks and one pat of butter. Mabel gave all the eggs and butter to my father; what鈥檚 worse, he ate them! When I complained she would call me an ugly camel, and I would call her the same right back. One time during an argument she picked up a knife and came at me, so I picked up a bigger one and there we were, sword-fighting around the table, just like Errol Flynn in the movies. Of course I got the strap when dad got home from work.

Ghosts were the subject one winter鈥檚 night during one of the only times I remember that we talked or were allowed to talk. Afterwards we were sent to bed. I put a sheet over my head and called out Mabel鈥檚 name. She came to the foot of the stairs and I let out a loud wail that nearly gave her a heart attack. That night I really got beat up by dad, then I was locked in my room. That was when I escaped through the window and down the drainpipe. I didn鈥檛 come back for a couple of days but for the life of me I can鈥檛 remember what I did or where I went. I do know that I got it good when I got back.

One of our teachers at the Tech, was Miss Musto. She was a really big woman, not really fat, but big. She sat up on a platform at the front of the room. One day Roy Bunce put a mirror on the floor under her desk. It took her a while to understand why all the boys were coming up to her desk with questions. We were all having a look up her skirt. She found out who did it and told Buncie to report to the head-master, Mr Wiggins. Buncie said 鈥渘o鈥�, so Miss Musto picked up the desk with him in it and carried him to the door and called for the headmaster. Roy then got caned, which was the custom.

Our art class was quite small, just 22 of us. On Wednesdays we had English lessons which took place in front of the engineering students behind a curtain just in front of the stage. On the stage, which was used for assembly and other functions, was an old wind-up gramophone with a record on it. One morning early, I tied some strings to the controls and led them off the stage down under our desks. It caused an uproar when, just after prayers, when it was really quiet, I pulled the strings. 鈥淲ings Over The Navy鈥� blared out over the assembly. I escaped punishment for that because the teacher thought it was funny , although she said that it had better be the last time that trick was played.

I had to leave school at fifteen because I had to pay my way in the house,so it was goodbye to the Tech, and artwork. I went to work at Axtell & Perry, Monumental Masons. The teachers at school said I was good at sculpture so I was to be a stone-mason鈥檚 apprentice. I learned how to cut names on gravestones and how to make stone bird-baths etc.. I was apprenticed to a letter-cutter named Jack, he had one eye, the other had been hooked out by a German bayonet during the first world war. We went around all the different
cemeteries in Oxford laying the gravestones we had made. I could always tell which ones Jack had cut, even though it was all Gothic lettering, his way of cutting was as distinctive as handwriting. I quit that job because a lot of stone-masons eventually died of silicosis and also I saw a movie where convicts were breaking stone; I wasn鈥檛 even in prison and was doing the same thing!

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