大象传媒

This story is by John DN Ibberson

I was born on June 26th 1934, which means that I attained school age in June 1939. Since, at that time, Sheffield schools closed for the summer holidays at about the third week in July, my parents thought that it would be a much better idea for me to begin my schooling at the beginning of the autumn term in September. This decision brought about our first meeting with the school board man ....... this individual was employed by the education committee and allocated to specific schools and whose function it was to chase-up all non-attendees and verify the reasons for that non-attendance. Apparently my date of birth and address had been notified to the school and the fact that I had not been enrolled therein produced this officer鈥檚 visit. According, next day I was taken to Hucklow Road primary school by my mother, and, at an interview with the head mistress, Miss Wragg, I was duly enrolled and my foot placed firmly on the education ladder. The next few weeks passed uneventfully in the babies class under the supervision of Miss Basset (I misheard the name and insisted on calling her Miss BRASSUP a fact which caused amusement to all and sundry). The Summer holidays came and went and school re-assembled at the start of September, and then the 3rd came along and I remember my parents standing listening to the 11 o鈥檆lock news bulletin when the prime minister Mr Chamberlain said that he had not received the necessary assurances from Herr Hitler and therefore this country was at war with Germany. The concern on my parents faces registered with me, as did the fact that everyone seemed to be gathering outdoors and discussing the situation ....... what all this was about, at the age of five years I really didn't understand, but I knew that something was wrong.
Almost the first reaction of the government of the day was to close all schools in case of air attack, the reasoning was, I think, that to gather together in large groups the future population of the country without any shelter from possible air attack would be extreme folly. There then commenced a program of building air raid shelters for all schools and later shelters for the general public including the provision of Anderson shelters which house owners dug into their own back gardens (Steel table shelters were available for those without gardens and designated with a large letter T painted on the door or gatepost to enable recognition in case of damage being sustained by the property). Hucklow Road school was well placed for these constructions since it stood upon a steeply sloping site and it was quite easy to dig into the banking on the high side of the site and virtually tunnel in. The school staff was provided with battery lanterns for use in the shelters and a stock of Fry鈥檚 Sandwich chocolate bars was laid-in in case of prolonged stays underground. These shelters were provided with escape hatches to the surface accessed by iron rungs set into the wall below then .... in later years we played happily on these, to us they were the steps up to the conning tower of a submarine etc. (Playing anywhere near them was, of course, forbidden!). Regular take shelter practice sessions were set up and regularly implemented. Public shelters were being constructed in the locality (you needed somewhere to go if the sirens went whilst you were at the cinema or at church etc.). A large brick-built one with reinforced concrete roof was constructed on land at the comer of Willington Road, the basement of the Co-op drapery shop (1 Stubbin Lane) was reinforced and an external flight of steps leading to it was constructed, and another under the fruit shop (2 doors above Boots) with another sandbagged external access hatch. Telephone kiosks were surrounded by sandbags to minimise injury from flying glass in case of attack ..... this made the interior of the kiosk so dark that you needed to take with you torch (usually fitted with a strip of luminous paper behind the glass to avoid the strident tones of a warden saying 鈥減ut that light out!鈥� All in all quite a lot of interesting project to grip the imagination of a youngster.
As I said earlier, schooling had come to a halt until my mother heard from someone or other that classes were being held in various houses in a somewhat haphazard manner .... investigation resulted in me being taken to one. It was the home of Mr. & Mrs. Tanser (and their daughter Mavis (one of my classmates) who lived on The Oval and I recall that it must have been just before Xmas, since having been led upstairs to join a few of my classmates in a spare bedroom where we sat around with Miss Bassett and made paper chains from strips of coloured paper and glue-paste. At lunchtime we all went home. It was not a lot of schooling, but it was a start. Later we moved to the home of Mr. & Mrs Duroe (& their daughter Corinne .. another classmate) there was more room here since this house in Hominglow Road (by the Jennel) had its own separate parlour in which we worked. On a half-day basis lessons became a bit more formal and carried on until Easter when we all returned to Hucklow Road school on a full time basis.
Gas masks were issued and were to be carried with you at all times and were lodged in a stout cardboard box which was hung around your neck on a stout cord. Regular exercises were organised where we all donned masks and attempted to see out through the misted-up window in its facepiece whilst trying to decode the muffled noises which emanated from inside other masks in the guise of speech. (How we would have managed if a real emergency arrived, I really don鈥檛 know!
Scabies became a problem in the locality and this prompted regular visits to school by two men from the public health dept one of whom arrived equipped with a bucket of what looked and felt like oily whitewash, and the other equipped with a large paintbrush with which he pasted our hands with a liberal dollop of whateveritwas. The instruction was to 鈥渞ub your hands together until its all gone鈥�, then lessons recommenced.
Teaching in those days had few of the teaching aids which are nowadays considered as absolutely essential. The teacher stood up in front of the class and with the aid of Chalk. Blackboard, voice and expertise, taught a class of 45 pupils and at the same time enforced discipline, and in return received respect. Corporal punishment was allowed, and some teachers used it to the full. One particular teacher taught with the cane .... I remember receiving it because a letter L did not touch the line above in my block print. We were taught by this lady for two years and very, very few pupils escaped the touch of her cane. By current standards, she would be charged with assault, but we all held her in some awe, we did what we were told and concentrated on our work ... she had our respect (she later was promoted to another Sheffield school as headmistress). We made up a rather poignant rhyme about her, which goes as follows:- (her name is deliberately omitted)
鈥�
Old Miss ..... She had a big stick and went to church on Sunday Where she prayed to god to give her strength to cane the kids on Monday!鈥�
School dinners arrived on the scene, set up primarily because many mothers were now employed full time in factories in place of the men who had been called up for the armed forces. I was made to stay for these dinners .... they Were awful! Prepared at Hatfield house Lane and transported to us via large metal insulated churns. Monday always seemed to be a kind of meat and carrot stew (I hated carrots and the teacher in charge stood over me and made me 鈥渆at it all up!鈥� Tuesday used to be meat, potatoes and either mashed carrot or turnip (I hated both carrot & turnip and these too were forced down my throat)... by the end of the first term I pleaded with my mother to let me come home for dinner and after much persuading she agreed ..... I breathed a very large sigh of relief!
Schooling continued punctuated by various national collections for example I remember 'WARSHIP WEEK' where money was collected and, I think used to buy articles of equipment for the cruiser SHEFFIELD also called the shiny sheff because of the multitude of stainless steel parts supplied by the city. Our teacher made a large cardboard cut-out of the silhouette of a warship with rigging wire from stem to stem and as we made contributions we bought little flags which were stuck on the rigging. By the end of the week, the rigging was covered with little flags and we all felt proud that we had done our bit for the war effort. Air Force week went along similar lines ... there must have been an army week but I don鈥檛 recall any detail of that one. At the end of the war in Europe we all received an illuminated address from his majesty King George 6th in which he thanked all the children of the country for their help and assistance in these trying times ... we all thought our letter from the king was the tops!
Not everything went well during those trying times. Our class had its share of sorrow for some of our classmates. The knock on the door at someone鈥檚 home and there stood the telegram boy with that dreaded telegram from the War Office saying 鈥淭he war Office regrets to have to inform you that your husband Private xyz has been killed in action鈥� etc. The child affected would be away from school for a few days and then life had to resume and it did so! There were collections for unused toys where we all came along with all our once treasured items which were then distributed amongst those unfortunate children who had been 'bombed out' and lost all their possessions. It is difficult to realise these days, but during the conflict toyshops were virtually EMPTY ... if you broke a toy you had to make do with something else unless someone amongst your friends or family could effect a repair, or just go without! In my own case I remember my father, an engineering patternmaker, making a totally wooden scooter for me ... tyred wheels were unavailable so he turned a pair of wooden ones. My approach was always heralded by a very loud continuous rumble of those wheels on the pavement .... but so what? I had got a scooter.
By class Junior 4 I had entered the senior school which was run by headmaster Mr Arnold Gambles a veteran of WW 1 in which conflict he lost BOTH legs (much like Douglas Bader) and struggled around on a pair of solid wooden ones aided by two rubber tipped walking sticks. I had then, and still have the greatest admiration for this gentleman who daily struggled to mount a flight a stairs from his office into the school proper. You could hear the double thump, thump of his approach from quite a distance. A most fair man who ran a tight ship and my everlasting memory of him is the grey pallor of his face resulting from the pain and effort with which he coped with everyday life, yet he still managed to drive (quite expertly) a Morris 8 car.
In J4 our teacher was the lovely Mrs Layboume, a widow lady who seemed to permanently carry a smile on her face, she was a friend to all and couldn't do enough for her pupils. Saturday rambles were arranged by Mrs Layboume in which we toured the Porter Valley from Endcliffe Park to the Roundhouse at Ringinglow, The Derwent Valley from Bamford to the Derwent reservoirs via Ladybower which was still under construction (we walked UNDER the Ashopton viaduct), Eyam from Grindleford via the sir William hill ( as she said England's smallest mountain) to examine the Plague Village and Mompesson's well.
Everything was done to further our interest in the local geography and history which filled our daily endeavours at school. I do recall on one of these excursions when passing the terrace of very nice houses adjacent to the entrance to Whirlow Park, Mrs Layboume said 鈥淲hen you're rich and famous, if you would like to do something for your old teacher, I would like one of these houses.鈥� Sadly, as far as I'm aware, none of us became rich or famous and the dear lady never got her wish.
During the Sheffield Blitz, the fire services had to watch buildings burn to the ground, because of damage to the water mains, their hoses were empty. A scheme was next set in motion to build static water tanks around the city to provide a ready source of supply for the fire services. On The Oval in front of Mr & Mrs Tanser鈥檚 house (mentioned earlier) was a planted green area, and this was dug out and a VERY large brick and concrete -sided tank constructed to hold several MILLION gallons of water. These works drew children from all around the area like a magnet and even at the end of hostilities the same crowd of children (now a few years older) assembled to watch the fire brigade empty this tank by pumping. As the water level fell an unbelievable assortment of junk arose from the waters ... old prams bedsteads, holed buckets ... accompanied by shouts of 鈥渉ey look at this! ... whatever is it?鈥� etc.
Evacuation was offered to place children in rural areas as a safety measure instead of leaving them in industrial cities which would very likely be bombed. I remember taking home a leaflet from school on this topic requesting a parent鈥檚 signature if they wished their offspring to be included. I have a vague recollection of a few faces disappearing from our class on this resettlement but I'm fairly sure that they returned to us after a few months.
By 1946 the war was over, everyone had made themselves hoarse by cheering, but the restrictions and shortages did not, in the short term, improve very much. I had by this time moved to the City Grammar School in Leopold Street. Power cuts were the norm, and in that building surrounded on three sides by the Grand Hotel, the Education Offices and the Technical College, when the power went off it was very, very dim and dark. Lessons were frequently conducted by a teacher sitting on the window sill and reading to us. In that winter of 1946 school finished at 3.30 p.m. for us because you simply couldn't see to work. Text books for which you had to sign in bore previous signatures back to 1936, frequently pages were missing (You just had to share with your neighbour until the next page) and as soon as you received a book you were commanded to Back it with brown paper. Andrews stationers shop in Holly Lane did a roaring trade in paper! We were given 5 coloured crayons which were to last us for FIVE YEARS (if you wore them down too quickly then you had to find a replacement!)
Finally on a slightly humorous note can I tell you of two eating establishments in the town centre which attracted our attention.
The NOTED PIE SHOP in Orchard Street was one of our favourites. In this establishment you could buy freshly made sandwiches for about three old pence. An inch thick slice of bread was cut, 鈥渨hat do you want on it potted meat or fish paste?鈥� was asked and after a scrape of magarine, a liberal covering of paste and another inch thick slice of bread was applied. All in all you got a three inch thick sandwich! Desparate Dan's in Cambridge Street (just below the dentist) is what we used to call the small cafe where take-away meals were for sale. The proprietor would stand in the window dispensing portions of meat and potato pie made in what looked like an enormous enamel washing-up bowl... we always checked to see if there was pair of horns and a tail sticking out as there would have been in our comic hero's realm.
The war did us all a lot of damage one way or another, but the restrictions encouraged folk to experiment and try ideas for themselves, for there were no supermarket shelves to try!

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