大象传媒

The Start
I was born at 7.40 am on Sunday, 24th December (Xmas Eve) 1933 in the large front bedroom of 158 Chanterlands Avenue. A 1930 end-of-terrace house, with bow windows and a very long back garden, immediately opposite Tennyson Avenue and midway between Westbourne Avenue and Park Avenue. My unmarried mother was Marion Cuthbert. Marion and I were looked after by one of her aunts, Annie Ethel Ingham, our housekeeper, cook and my nanny. Marion worked in the Ministry of Labour in Hull. So, all of this happened just after Hitler became Germany鈥檚 Chancellor; I understand people here were worried about him, but I was too young to know.
The first I heard about conflict must have been around the time I started Bricknell Avenue Primary school in September 1939. I remember mother and Auntie Annie listening to the radio with Churchill talking on it and they were all obviously worried. What a radio !! Quite large, run on a lead-acid accumulator, had to be tuned with a whisker.
Air Raids
About then other things happened in my life. At School, they gave us gasmasks in cardboard boxes, with a string so that you could hang it around your neck. They built brick shelters at School and in many neighbours鈥� gardens, but an Anderson shelter in our back garden.
Unfortunately, the local Council failed to realize that, Hull being so low-lying and flat, Anderson shelters were likely to flood. Ours had water in its bottom 2-3 feet, so we didn鈥檛 use it. I and a young Kennie Melton from No 156 used to play on it pretending it was a submarine or destroyer and we were in charge, climbing on top and sliding down on to the lawn. When there were air raids, Annie, mother and I would sit in the cupboard under the stairs, which was accessible through a full size door in the kitchen; it was used to store my mother鈥檚 bike and mine, which we moved out when we needed to shelter in it.
We used to have frequent air-raids, because the Luftwaffe started out aiming to bomb places like Liverpool, Manchester, Leeds, etc. On their return flight, they dropped any left-over bombs on Hull. They were keen on our docks and factories, including the factory beyond the end of Tennyson Avenue, so then they flew eastwards pretty well over our house. Happily, there weren鈥檛 that many bombs landing near us, though once there was one about 100 yards away. At that time, we were in the cupboard under the stairs.
As a young boy, I thought there were lots of advantages to having bombs and aircraft guns around鈥攕hrapnel. On the way to School in the morning, we all used to pick up shrapnel. On arrival in the playground, we used to barter it, aiming to collect the best-shaped pieces, and especially brass, because it didn鈥檛 rust. At home, I had a whole box for my shrapnel collection in my toy cupboard.
Beverley, etc
Sometime around 1940, another great aunt came to join us. Nina, Annie鈥檚 sister-in-law. She and her husband had gone to live in Jersey years鈥� before, and her husband died there. When it became clear that the Germans were likely to invade the Channel Islands, she managed to get to England. She was very poor, so my mother and Annie agreed that she could live with us. Since we only had three bedrooms (one very small) I had to move to a camp bed in my mother鈥檚 large room until 1946. Nina was a very nice, very tall, imposing lady.
About this time, I learnt that my mother was the finance officer for Hull鈥檚 Employment Exchange. Before long, though, she was promoted to Manageress in the Beverley Employment Exchange. She would either cycle the whole 8 miles, or cycle to Cottingham station and take the train. With her assistants, she was responsible for the recruitment of women, and particularly for encouraging and placing women as Land Girls on the farms. She also had some responsibility for some of the similar work in Market Weighton and Driffield.
While she could get to those places by train or bus, she soon managed to get enough money to buy a car, and, of course, she had a special work-related petrol allowance during the rationing. Her first car was a 1936 Morris 8, which I thought wonderful. Of course, no heating, and I seem to remember one had to operate the windscreen wiper by hand. In winter, we took hot water bottles and blankets to wrap ourselves up. But then, we didn鈥檛 go far, especially in winter. Beverley was our most frequent destination, since one of Annie鈥檚 sisters, Laura, and her husband, Rob lived there in the old Guild House, 19 Ladygate. Bridlington was another fairly frequent destination, especially for summer holidays, since my grandmother, Flo, and her second husband Cecil, had a large, four-storied Victorian house at 18 St John鈥檚 Avenue. He was very rich, Chairman of the local Conservative Association, and when my aunt, Joyce and her husband, Jim, had a daughter in 1943, Cecil went round Bridlington proudly saying he鈥檚 given Joyce two pounds (would have been quite good in those days)鈥攁ctually a 拢 1 note and a pound of jam, worth a few pennies !!
Even before my mother had a car, I used to go to Beverley a lot in school holidays鈥攂y bus or cycle. I loved Beverley鈥攕till do, though I now live 185 miles south鈥攖he Westwood, where my mother and I used to meet for a picnic lunch on fine days; we met near Westwood Road, and I used to whiz on my cycle up and down the 鈥榰ps-and-downs鈥�, opposite the Hospital, where people had previously dug out chalk. Laura and Rob鈥檚 cottage was pretty primitive鈥攏o hot water, only cold tap in the kitchen, no bathroom or toilet鈥攋ust a bucket in a closet across the yard, black-leaded cooker, with which Laura cooked marvellous meals and baked her own bread, only one electric bulb in the kitchen, gas lights in the parlour and study, candles upstairs. The yard was cobbled, opening out on to Ladygate with a huge double door, big enough for a horse and cart; it had stables and a hay loft, pig pen and chicken run鈥攊f we were to have chicken for dinner, Rob would go out, pick up one and wring its neck at breakfast time.
My mother used to take me to Market Weighton in her car during Easter and summer holidays when the weather was good. I鈥檇 stay by the level crossing, so I could see and record engines passing through, because I was a railway enthusiast. Annie Ethel would have given me a picnic lunch, most probably a chopped egg sandwich and cake, with tea in a Thermos flask.
For and Against Being a Child in Hull in the War
So far, then, being a child in Hull during the War was not bad for me. Of course, when we went into the City centre, on the 61 trolley bus, we saw bomb damage to buildings and many of them flattened, such as Hammonds Department Store. Personally, I didn鈥檛 see the human implications, because I was too young. Oddly, bomb damaged sites provided me with great opportunities鈥擨 loved walking over the sites and using them as shortcuts to get round street corners, eg from the bus stop across a bomb damage site to go to the public library. I suppose I had no sense of danger.
After the War, in 1949, I became friends with a girl four years鈥� older than me. Marjorie Porteous, living at 176 St George鈥檚 Road (now Marjorie Brooksbank, living in Addingham, near Ilkley). Because of St George鈥檚 Road location, nearer the centre and the docks, she had known more about bomb damage during the War and had known people who were casualties.
One thing I liked least in the War was blackout, which made it hard to be outdoors after dark, or have your windows fully open on a warm night, unless all lights were off. If you made a mistake over blackout an Air Raid Warden might spot it and shout at you. We also had to have black tape criss-crossed over our windows, so that, if they were broken in a bomb blast, the damage to you would be reduced. The thing I hated most was the bath water, where we were only allowed five inches deep warm water鈥攎y mother and great aunts were very strict about this.
I liked to see the barrage balloons, lovely and silvery, searchlights looking for enemy planes, and the planes themselves. I had toy soldiers, a jeep and a barrage balloon, wound up a string fastened to the ceiling in our living room, and aeroplanes.
Food
Many people found food rationing a problem, but I don鈥檛 remember it being too bad. In fact, Annie Ethel was such a marvellous cook and knew local shopkeepers so well that I think we might have had the odd thing that was a bit 鈥榮pecial鈥�. Stan and Jan Train, the local grocers, were lovely friends, as were the butcher, greengrocers, and Sonley鈥檚 the fishmongers.
We had a standardized regular weekly menu for our midday dinners. Sunday was a Yorkshire pudding and gravy starter course, a small roast with roast potatoes and vegetables, then followed by fruit pie and custard. Monday was cold leftovers, Tuesday was some small stew and dumplings, or cottage pie, shepherd鈥檚 pie. Wednesday was odd in our house, because our dinner was just pancakes, usually with butter, treacle and a little cream. (I still have pancakes on Wednesdays, but for evening dinner, firstly one with a fried egg, then one or two with butter, Canadian Maple syrup and cr猫me fraiche) such a meal is a speciality of Brittany, how it came to us I don鈥檛 know. Thursday tended to be game, Friday was fish, not with chips, but often poached in parsley sauce鈥攕till have that once a week. Saturdays we didn鈥檛 have a full dinner, just a snack or leftovers from Thursday鈥檚 game. For puddings, we would have a milk pudding at least once a week (rice, ground rice, semolina), sponge and custard, bread and butter pudding, etc. On Harvest Festival Sunday, we tried to have the Arnotts鈥� traditional dinner for that day鈥攔eal Brown Windsor soup, not from a tin or packet, in the War we never had those things, then venison pie with black cherries and a little imitation port, then apple and blackberry pie and custard. (Now my wife won鈥檛 have two pies, one after the other, but still does the venison pie, with real port.)
Of course, there was a lot of publicity and persuasion to get people to grow their own vegetables and fruit. 鈥淒ig for Victory鈥� was the name. Our garden grew lots of blackcurrant bushes, lettuce, carrots, spring onions, leeks, cauliflower, etc. We swapped blackcurrants for her home-grown apples with the neighbour in No 160. I became quite expert at picking produce from the garden. In season, blackcurrant and apple pie and custard were firm favourites of ours (still are).
Game on Thursday, I said, and that brings out an interesting story. As I said, my mother was responsible for recruiting women as Land Girls, so local farmers around Beverley were strong customers of hers. On Wednesdays, Beverley had a farmers鈥� market in the morning. After lunch, possibly in Nellie鈥檚 pub one farmer or more would come to see Marion. At the side of her office, between her desk and the door, was a simple small table. As they came in, one or more of them would put a small parcel wrapped in greaseproof paper on this table. Inside would be eggs (naughty, they were on rations), or rabbit, hare, pigeon, occasionally partridge, pheasant鈥攎ostly rabbit or hare. We loved rabbit in parsley sauce (I still do).
I knew about this because, in school holidays, my mother would take me into her office, and she taught me to type properly on their pre-war, hard, slow, physical typewriter. I still type fast and easy on these modern electronic keyboards.
Naughty games
From the start of the War, I used to play war games with the lad in No 156 (Kenny Melton). At the bottom of their garden was a small, but thick and strong, tree. We used to climb up it and pretend we were either a British fighter plane pursuing the enemy, or that we were bombing them.
Beyond the bottom of their garden was a large, fruit and vegetable growing business, with lots of greenhouses. They also owned a large greenhouse bordering the bottom of our garden and a fair stretch of the neighbouring tenfoot, behind Nos 160 and 162 at least. Pretty soon after the start of the War, the young men who ran this business were called up and the whole thing became abandoned. I and my friends started throwing stones through the windows of this greenhouse. I realised we might run out of windows before the end of the War and I asked my mother how long it would be. Obviously, bearing in mind the First War, she said four years or so. Since she鈥檇 already taught me basic arithmetic, I was able, with a bit of help from her, to work out that, if we broke one pane a week, they might last out the War. So, we gathered together every Saturday morning and had a rota鈥擩oe Bloggs this week, ANO next week, etc. Joe Bloggs had to nominate a particular pane, break it with a stone, or lose his place in the next round if he missed or broke the wrong pane. I think other interests took us over before long.
Much later in the War, American forces came to Hull. They parked jeeps and trucks, etc, on the grass middle of Bricknell Ave dual carriageway. Many of them didn鈥檛 seem to be locked, so we climbed in and played with the handbrakes and gear levers etc. There were a few US MPs around, but they rarely found us.
Follow-ons from the War for me
In September 1944, I went from Bricknell Ave Primary School to Hull Grammar School. The first year in Lower 3B was not very good; all-male teachers tended to be old, so, not called up, and many were really past it. However, in mid-1945, quite a number of superb teachers were released from the Army, and we had some join us. I jumped a year and joined Lower 4飦�. For the rest of my school career, until June 1951, I learned a great deal from four superb teachers鈥攁nd not just their formal subjects, either.
Tom Sumner taught physics, but also introduced me to English literature, lending me books by people like Para Handy, Damon Runyan, Stephen Leacock, Graham Greene, P G Wodehouse, Thomas Hardy, Somerset Maugham, Evelyn Waugh. Tom鈥檚 brother was an expert on organs and had written the book on them. Tom used to take me, on my bike, around East Riding churches to view the organs (I learnt to play the organ in St Alban鈥檚 Abbey 20 years鈥� later). But, most of all, he taught me how to start to think for myself, and the value of my own experience. One of my favourite quotes I learned from him: 鈥淓xperience is the best schoolmaster, Cootaboot, though his fees be high鈥�; it was a good twenty years before I realised the full truth of that. He was then Head of a well-renowned school overlooking The Oval. In the War, he鈥檇 been working on developing radar.
John Ransome taught us chemistry superbly, and I became a top chemical physicist for 20 years after University. We called Mr Ransome 鈥淎rthur鈥� for obvious reasons. He鈥檇 been helping to develop bombs, until one fell on his arm and made a total mess of it, so he was invalided out.
Eric Walker (we called him 鈥淛ohnny鈥�) taught wonderful maths, including geometry, trigonometry, vectors and calculus, unlike today鈥檚 schools. He was a good amateur singer who liked light opera and used to invite me to his home to accompany him and his wife, since I played piano. He also taught me some Russian; he鈥檇 been a liaison officer with the Red Army.
Alfred Jackson, the French master had been in France working with the R茅sistance, and spoke French so well that the Germans never realised he wasn鈥檛 a local. He鈥檇 been invalided out because he鈥檇 lost a foot in a landmine explosion. He taught me real French, as used by real people there, so when I went to live/work in Dijon for four months in the summer of 1953, it was invaluable. Perhaps more importantly, since the Art Master was dreadful, the French master introduced me to French Impressionists, who, with their successors, are still my favourite painters.
So, I enjoyed Hull in my schooldays 1939-1951, and I later realised how lucky I鈥檇 been. I particularly realised that in Dijon in 1953, when I developed an attachment to a Dutch girl of my age, who was there to study French in the University summer school. Trude Jonkmans was born and raised in Soestdijk. Her father had been in the Resistance and the Nazis had caught him. They forced Trude and her sister and mother into the street to watch as they killed her father. The family then had no money and had had to eat cats, dogs, rats, mice, etc. That made me realise how lucky my family had been in Hull. At 19, I was too ignorant and immature to really help Trude through her memories, and we lost touch a few years鈥� later.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.