大象传媒

During my boyhood I recall the many occasions when he laid shaking from malaria which reoccurred every so often, the result of his years of service in India, and yet a man who had given so much for his country and with all of those notable achievements he was not able to find employment.
The twenties and thirties were for many people was a time of severe poverty and hardship, our family were very poor and although for a while there was no money coming in from anywhere at all (when dad was not entitled to 鈥楧ole鈥�) many of our friends and neighbours were far more needy, in fact some of them almost destitute.
I clearly remember seeing children without footwear. That whole period was known as the 鈥楧epression鈥�, during that time there had been the 鈥楪eneral Strike鈥�. 鈥楾he Wall Street Crash鈥� in America in 1929 had its repercussions here at home too.
I remember very well seeing men sometimes in groups, sometimes alone, playing instruments in the street, among them there were men who had lost an arm or a leg, there were men who gasped for breath still suffering the effects of a gas attack; then there was the pitiful sight of men who lurched their way along with shaking limbs who we were told were 鈥榮hell-shocked鈥�.
One of the most degrading sights was that of the man, or from time to time many different men, who stood in our road out there in the middle with his cap at his feet trying to sing, hoping that a few kind people, understanding his plight would contribute a copper or so. What a loss of dignity!
Then there were the blind men, many of them, all rejected by the country who a few years earlier they had so proudly wore the King鈥檚 uniform for, and helped to secure our freedom.
Then there were those who we called the 鈥楪entlemen of the Road鈥� or 鈥楳ilestone Inspectors鈥� but more commonly known as 鈥楾ramps鈥�. We saw them daily as they made their way up the London Road, moving on to the next Workhouse en route. In our case they would have left the one in Wellingborough Road (St. Edmunds) and would be making their way to the one on the corner of Water Lane, Wootton, on the Newport Pagnell road just above where the Queen Eleanor pub now is.
Often they would leave the main road and come round our estate, we have had them knock on our door many times asking for just 鈥榓 twist of tea please missus鈥�, or 鈥榓 crust of bread鈥�. And even though people were short of food stuff themselves they seldom refused. In fact the inquirer often left with what for him might have been a luxury in the way of a piece of cake or some pastry. They would then go on their way again, moving on, hoping to find that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow in the form of permanent work.
Some other unemployed men banded together and took their grievances to Parliament, by marching to London, they were known as the 鈥楯arrow hunger marchers鈥� where there their treaties received no sympathy, their pleas fell on deaf ears.
In our home conditions did improve as each one of us boys reached the age of fourteen and left school, and began to receive a wage, thereby contributing to the family purse. I myself began part-time work at the age of twelve, delivering parcels of wool around the town for the 鈥楽cotch Wool and Hosiery Stores鈥� in Gold Street, working each evening with the exception of Thursday, which was the early closing day and on Saturday afternoons until five-thirty, for which I was paid seven shillings and sixpence. I was allowed to keep one shilling and sixpence, that was quite a large sum for a schoolboy鈥檚 pocket money.
Some of my friends attended night school but with my evening job it was not possible for me to do so. In any case there was not a great deal of incentive to study, or to try to obtain a higher placing at school, because we knew that it was expected of us once we had turned fourteen to go out and find employment of some sort.
As it was jobs were limited with just the boot and shoe factory or, as in my case, to become an errand boy, whether that meant working for a butcher, baker, greengrocer, or for any other tradesman. That was as far as the choice of work went for those of us without qualifications.
At least no pressure was ever set on us by our parents urging us to do better and to reach a higher standard at school; even our reports were only briefly examined by them, just so long as we could read and write, add and subtract, that seemed to satisfy. I believe that the teachers realised that they were training us only in the main so that the majority would be just capable of carrying out some inferior sort of work.
On leaving school I was first employed by Mr Stevens as an errand boy at the 鈥楽cotch Bakery鈥�, at the Wellingborough Road shop. There was another shop in Kingsley at the top of Byron Street and two in the town. The hours were very long, I think that I worked about a sixty-hour week for a mere three shillings more than I was paid in the part-time job.
There was no set time to leave off; while the shop was open there could still be orders to deliver, I gained a sort of promotion to van-boy to the roundsman, Fred, delivering bread and cakes from door to door in the Abington and Kingsley area. Then later I was moved into the bakehouse where along with an older boy, Albert, I worked on the ovens. This led to a health problem and on Dr Stone鈥檚 advice changed to an outside job.
At this time the newsreels at the cinemas were showing pictures of our 鈥楾eddy鈥� who was making the headlines. As Prince of Wales he was well loved by the ordinary people but was of late fast losing favour, he had become King on the death of his father, King George V, but had relinquished the throne and his brother George became King. 鈥楾eddy鈥� had abdicated on 10th December in order that he might marry an American divorcee, Mrs Wallis Simpson.
We were also shown pictures from the continent of Hitler opening the Eleventh Olympic Games in Germany, and the people鈥檚 car鈥� the Volkswagen was being launched.
While on a lighter note the film Modern Times starring Charlie Chaplin was the box office attraction at the time, and Margaret Mitchell鈥檚 epic novel Gone with the Wind was published.
I believe that there were around about a dozen cinemas in the town at that time, so we were well served as film-goers, which most people were before the days when almost every household owned a television set.
There was one cinema in Cotton, the 鈥楾ivoli鈥�, in Gold Street was the 鈥楳ajestic鈥�, on the Market Square the 鈥楨xchange鈥�, on Abington Square the 鈥楽avoy鈥�, in Newland the 鈥楾emperance鈥� (which we called the 鈥楩leapit鈥�), the 鈥楶icturedrome鈥� was in Kettering Road on the Racecourse opposite corner; the 鈥楶laza鈥� was in Wellingborough Road, there was the 鈥楥oliseum鈥� in Kingsthorpe Hollow, the 鈥楥inema De-Lux鈥� in Campbell Street, the 鈥楨ssoldo鈥� in Grove Road and the 鈥楻oxy鈥� at St James鈥檚 End. I also remember the latter being used as a roller-skating rink at one time, I do know though that it would be known to many men of the town as the hall where they bared all for their medical examinations, when they registered for the services. There were possibly other picture houses but those are the ones which I remember.
大象传媒ing and social lives followed their normal pattern, there was no van available for me so in the meantime I continued to pedal my way around. There was a difference in my social habits however which were to my later shame and regret, I had got myself involved with a group of lads in our gang older than myself who were heavy drinkers. They were all working and could afford to spend their time in the pubs and clubs of the town, boozing most nights and more so at the weekends, the group included my two old pals from Cotton, Walt and Sam, Jack from Park Street was the leader of the pack and had a great capacity for the amount of beer which he nightly put away.
We young drinkers could in no way keep up with them, Walt much less so because he would keel over in the early part of the evening, beers then were strong and malty not so many chemicals were used then, the five or six pints which I drank at one time were ample for my consumption, others put away considerably more than that, particularly at the weekend, during the week it was not quite so bad, drinking just the odd pint or so.
Our favourite pub at the time was the 鈥楽wan鈥�, it was situated somewhere near to what is now the rear entrance to the Derngate Theatre, there they had a three or four piece band, a crooner, vocalist, and I recall that one of his regular numbers was 鈥業t鈥檚 a Sin to tell a Lie鈥�. That large room was always crowded.
A memory comes to mind of seeing as I walked past those two breweries, Phipps, and the Northampton Brewery in Bridge Street, the man with a wheelbarrow shovelling warm hops in and wheeling it off inside, the smell of those hops lingers still.
When we came home at night from our drinking sessions in town it became a fairly regular habit to call at the fish shop in St. Leonard鈥檚 Road (owned by Gambles, I believe) and on one such an occasion we were told by them that local people had referred to our usual drunken state and had remarked that it was such a pity that those nice young lads should arrive home like that every night. That was apparently how we appeared to them, how they saw us, whether at the time it set us to think of ourselves in light of what we had heard I don鈥檛 recall. It didn鈥檛 go down too well at home either, fortunately though they didn鈥檛 see me at my worst, as they were all in bed when I arrived home. I spent very little time at home anyway, just there for a few hours鈥� sleep.
Mealtimes had, apart from workdays, always been strictly observed in our house and it was very much frowned on if any one of us did not appear at the meal table at the appropriate time, this was particularly so with regard to the Sunday dinner, which was in keeping with most other families when the traditional roast and Yorkshire pudding would be served and they would eat together at least on that occasion during the week, so that it became important that those strict times be adhered to.
I at this time was persistently late due to the fact that I lacked the guts to say to my fellow drinkers that I was off for my dinner when the time came. Instead I would stay along with them until we left together, I thought that otherwise it would mean losing face, with the result that I usually arrived home about two o鈥檆lock, over an hour later than the one o鈥檆lock which had been the set time at which dinner was served as far back as I could remember; the meal was by then all cleared away and I would be greeted with the remark that 鈥�...if you want your dinner it鈥檚 in the oven鈥�. I resented their criticism of me and I could not understand that with the arrogance of youth that I was unfair and ought to change my ways, especially was I at fault in not realising that mother would need to have meals over and done with, Sunday being her one day when she might have the opportunity to have a restful afternoon, on what was then known as a 鈥榙ay of rest鈥�.
That reminds me, the Sundays of my schooldays meant that we not permitted to play any games whatsoever on that day, of course there were always places where we kick a ball around without anyone knowing.
The heavy drinking stage ran its course and was just a passing phase on the way to growing up, some of the boys started courting, even Sam met a girl which eventually became a serious partnership, others were dating girls. It all rather broke the gang up and the result was that our drinking habits became more sensible, the remaining unattached lads still went to the dances and walked the 鈥楤unny Run鈥� on Sunday evenings, it was a meeting place for boys and girls and many lasting marriages were the outcome of these meetings. It was harmless enough but we were not allowed to loiter we were forced to keep moving by the rap of the policeman鈥檚 boot about the ankles. For most of us it amounted to no more than walking a girl home, and perhaps to make a date to see her again during the week, there were those who paired off as far as 鈥楥ow Meadow鈥� which some nearby residents thought was most aptly-named it was more reverently known as 鈥楤ecket鈥檚 Park鈥� of course.

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