´óÏó´«Ã½

Isolated Memories is a contribution of ‘bits’. It may flatter it to liken it to an incomplete jig saw, possibly with pieces from elsewhere..

This addendum is of several items which have come to me.

(A) Perhaps I should explain to readers about these submissions of mine.

The ´óÏó´«Ã½ had invited Wartime Stories for some time. I felt I had nothing to say. I was not in the wartime forces as were my brothers and sister and some of my schoolmates. In 2003 or thereabouts I had resisted contacting ‘Titch Wilburn’ of ‘Oulton High School’ on ‘the Friends United web page’, or people on that web page who had been to ‘Pleasance Street’ (Oulton) after ‘Oulton High School’ had gone.

I have done no ‘research’ feeling ‘wanderings’, rather than ‘contrivings’, are important.

I felt ‘Neddo’s’ story was worth the telling and offered it in hard copy to the ´óÏó´«Ã½ in September 2005.
Then I felt, as I had lived through those war years, ‘Even if I have nothing to say I should attempt to say something’.But when I went to the ´óÏó´«Ã½/WW2 page there was a mal-function.
I created ‘Isolated memories’ whilst questioning the ´óÏó´«Ã½.
In due course I asked Wolverhampton Library to put ‘Neddo’ and ‘Isolated memories’ into the ´óÏó´«Ã½ Archive. And then the ´óÏó´«Ã½ put them in for me too.
My computer ‘started playing up’. It took five minutes to boot up and about the same again for the cursor to come under control. The computer was taken away and returned on 16th January 06.
In the time available until the Archive is to close on 31st January 06 all I have been able to do is type some ‘addenda’ and ask Wolverhampton Library to put them into the ´óÏó´«Ã½ Archive. The Librarian was sometimes faced with the page not being available because of demand.

(B) Here are two explanations:

(i) In ‘Neddo’ I refer to ‘a spring’. Many readers may not have met such a thing. I think there is one in Ryhill in Yorkshire where it is called ‘the Hermitage’? In recent times (2006) I heard such a thing referred to as ‘A Conduit’ meaning ‘A Protected Source of Water’.
At the spring on The Windmill Road had been constructed a basin - a cistern - of perhaps two buckets deep with several steps down to the lip of the cistern. A small stone building had been made around with an outward opening door kept closed by a hanging weight. The building was paved roundabout. There was a path leading up to The Windmill Road and another leading down to the hamlet of Pentre Halkyn.
The little building looked as I might expect ‘a hermitage’ to look. On reflection that little building had the air of a Holy Place. In Derbyshire even in the 20th Century such places have been annually decorated with flowers. What is Holiness!
Perhaps the spring is abandoned now - since Windmill Road had water taps put outside the houses.
Sic Transit Gloria Mundi.

(ii) In Addendum Three I mention Oulton School’s Badge. The general translation of the Greek was ‘Play the Man’; but we played Rugby and that phrase is an uneasy one. Again, Oulton was a mixed college for years. And finally, not every one in any school is heroic. Hence I feel ‘Be Courteous and be Brave if you can’ is nearer the spirit.
But, regardless of that, Mr Gibbs was very dignified.
Incidentally Mr Gibbs’ specialisms were History and Music. He published a history book.

(C) When I started this submission I would have said I had travelled little during the War. I never left Britain.
I must have travelled somewhat for I was left with the following ideas.
(i) When travelling one is likely to feel sick because of irregularity of sustenance, rest and so on. Drinks may make things worse and sweets (rationed) also. I decided the least upsetting drink was ‘Stout’ (3% alcohol). And the least upsetting sweet was barley sugar.
(ii) Chose a seat with its back to the engine. Sit back and sit up straight. Practice keeping the head up. It seems there is a better prospect to rest (sleep) in this disciplined position than if one slumps.
(iii) If one has been in ones clothes for a long time it may help to undress completely and stand naked for five minutes. Not in Trafalgar Square of course…a little decorum!
(iv) It might be wise to wear a prominent label showing ones destination and draw fellow travellers’ attention to it.

(D) I recall waiting at Rugby on a through platform for a train. A man in ‘costume’ told me the next train to my destination was in a nearby bay. I ignored him. He came again and repeated the information.
He was quite annoyed when he came the third time. By this time there were several of us. So we went to the bay.
It turned out the oddly dressed man was ‘The Station Master of that important station’ and his dress was an honourable uniform passed down as a tradition from the Victorian Age.
The coaches in the bay were of separate compartments with no corridor. On opening one door the compartment was seen to be white with frost. All the others were the same.
We travellers all bundled into one compartment and endeavoured to keep warm by stamping and slapping; and by massaging and cuddling.
They were the only frozen compartments I ever encountered although I met cold ones. I wonder how the Station Master thought…That we were lucky to have a coach at all!

(E) I must mention Dad, sometime Senior Air Raid Warden.
A minor duty Dad was involved with was patrolling the allotments against thieves.

We children were brought up in the atmosphere of ‘Children should be seen and not heard’ and the idea had even extended to conversation itself. There was inhibition against speaking to adults.
Fortunately there was no Television so we read and were not totally (only largely?) ignorant.
Dad’s feet had been broken in an industrial accident due to the lack of suitable guardrails or cages. He had to have his boots specially made. The firm gave him ‘a job for life’ in their office in lieu of cash compensation or other. I do not know what representation Dad had about the accident.
Dad was very loyal to the firm.
In 1914 Dad was rejected for military service and subsequently received ‘White Feathers’. He was not then in Flanders so neither were the givers.
There seemed to be a chasm between Dad and me and that did not help my ignorance. We rarely spoke.
Then Dad told me I would not pass ‘The School Certificate’. If that did nothing else it alerted me to The School Certificate, just in time.
I passed The School Certificate and went into the Sixth Form. I chose Commercial Sixth — thinking of Accountancy and such like I suppose. I had been there a week when Mr Gibbs the Headmaster beckoned me out of the class and escorted me to Lower Sixth.
Dad, without any discussion, had intervened.
I would have taken Physics at the University. But it was War and the option was ‘Physics with Radio’. Radio sounded trivial so I went for Engineering of which I knew nothing and some of my fellows seemed to get exited on hearing of ‘Bending Moments’.
It was not until I spent a short period at The Telecommunications Establishment at Malvern that I felt there was anything to Radio.
If Dad had not intervened I might have been draughted from Commercial Sixth into the RAF for which a visiting RAF Officer had already assessed me.

JOHN KNIBB

[This story was submitted to the People's War site by Wolverhampton Libraries on behalf of John Knibb and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions]

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