大象传媒

When war was declared I had been looking forward to starting my second of three years at Vittoria Street Junior School of Arts and Crafts, (now the School of Jewellery) where I was attending a pre-apprenticeship course for Compositor鈥檚 Work (held in the School of Printing within Margaret Street College), and instruction in English, Mathematics and Drawing.

Approximately half of the school鈥檚 pupils stayed in Birmingham, joining pupils at Moseley Street, but I moved with the school to Tewkesbury. (My only brother, Harold, was evacuated to Llangrove, near Whitchurch.

The School was housed in the Tewkesbury Grammar School; the Head, Mr Umbers, and the Masters and pupils were billeted with the local people. Despite the upheaval our main concern was being bombed or gassed. It was some months before the attacks (thankfully, not gas) materialised: the first few months are described as the 鈥減honey war鈥�.

I stayed with a kind, relatively well-off couple 鈥� he a master-tailor with premises in town 鈥� and their two children. The daughter was about my own age, the son about two years younger. He was very excited about having company 鈥� we shared the same bed. Despite his parents鈥� protestations he conjured up all kinds of excuses to stay awake and talk. I remember one of them. Settling for sleep at last, he sat up exclaiming that he had forgotten to cut his nails. Another half-hour!

A week after my arrival a young refugee girl, a Jewess from Czechoslovakia, joined the household. The four of us (the children) had great fun, especially hair-wash night, over a large basin with water poured from a large bowl. Alas, two evacuees proved too much and I had to move on.

I would probably have stayed happily with the Mennell鈥檚 鈥� he sang in the choir at Tewkesbury Abbey 鈥� but early in 1940 Mr Mennell, then Mrs Mennell, went down with the flu. With a very young baby daughter concern was great. Mrs Mennell鈥檚 mother, living across the road, came daily to look after us, until she too became very poorly. I had to move on.

I remember Mr Jones, the English Master, and myself meeting the lady of my next abode in her spotless, comfortably furnished lounge. I was to share the bed of the School Captain already staying with her. Her only son was sadly later killed in a road accident.
The next day I was down with the flu. I do not remember much about the ensuing few days, until feeling somewhat improved but still very weak I got up for breakfast.

鈥淒o you want toast?鈥�
鈥淵es please.鈥�
鈥淲ell, there鈥檚 the bread, there鈥檚 the toasting fork!鈥�
I knew where the fire was; I was sitting in front of it.

I liked the Captain. I can still picture him sitting up in bed before he settled (and before I could settle!) blowing and cleaning his nose 鈥� but couldn鈥檛 understand how, even for the sake of the School, he could stand living there. Our only sight of the lounge was once when door slightly ajar, we glimpsed the dust sheets. However, my complaint to the School met with success: we moved on.
The move of our heavy printing
equipment and accessories from
Margaret Street took much longer.

We 鈥楶rinters鈥� partook of other crafts. In Woodwork, I designed and carved 鈥楩ish鈥� bookends; in Metalwork I designed and made a paper-knife 鈥� to give weight, the handle consisted of three pieces.
In gratitude to the people of Tewkesbury, Mr Thomas, in charge of our modelling department, designed and made a magnificent Silver Cross (right) which he presented to Tewkesbury Abbey Church. (I have again seen the Cross when your Mother and I visited an exhibition in Birmingham Art Gallery).

On April 17 and 18 in Tewkesbury Town Hall we put on an exhibition of our work and entertainment, for the townsfolk. In preparation, the Masters and pupils spent much time 鈥� mostly out-of-school hours 鈥� designing and making all requirements: stage, lighting, organ, puppets, clothes. Mr Jones wrote two plays: 鈥楧anse Macabre鈥�, a fantasy in a church cemetery; 鈥楾he Old Woman and the Physician鈥�, a farce in four scenes based on Aesop鈥檚 fable.

Unsuccessful with papier-mache we made the puppets鈥� heads of clay, and the handles of wood covered by the costumes. In the first play a long procession of ghosts passed through the grave-yard to the music of Saint-Saens. The procession consisted of four puppets. As each danced past the stage opening it was whisked round to the other end to appear again.
For the opening and closing of the entertainment we built an 鈥榦rgan鈥�, positioned at the front of the stage but hidden from view of the audience. As the music commenced, the organ, hand operated by pulley and cord, was slowly hoisted. A pupil, lying hidden on the floor with head towards the audience, slowly raised his arm holding the 鈥榦rganist鈥� puppet, which played as the organ ascended. All hard but enjoyable work, and a great success.

My stay with the Creeth鈥檚 was a happy one. Mr Creeth was a Master at the Tewkesbury Grammar School as was their lodger. Mrs Creeth taught me chess and encouragingly let me win! I well remember after one of our cricket matches being smugly delighted to hear that Mr Creeth had been a spectator 鈥� I scored 34 runs not out.

I also remember the two sex 鈥榠nstruction鈥� books that suddenly appeared on my bedroom bookshelves. Unfortunately, both men were called-up for military service. Mrs Creeth鈥檚 mother kept her company, I moved on!

I was sorry to leave, my stay had been full of interest. The Creeth鈥檚 introduced me to Ballet, taking me to Cheltenham to see the 鈥楴utcracker鈥�. Apart from thoroughly enjoying the performance I also well remember that during the interval we were entertained by performing dogs. Later, knowing that I had been to Cheltenham, the Creeth鈥檚 let me go again, unaccompanied, for an eye test. I had been seeing spots before my eyes. My eyes were ok 鈥� it was thought that perhaps my liver had been out of sorts. On the return journey, not far from Cheltenham, I had a puncture. Within minutes of walking, a van pulled up and I accepted a lift. The bicycle went into the van, I sat with the driver. A worrying ordeal. He talked nothing but sex, explaining where by the river at Worcester (his destination) I could meet up with men and women.

Occasionally our Arts Master was invited to the house and I remember well him bringing his wife shortly after their honeymoon 鈥� a beautiful young woman. I felt quite angry when during one serious discussion at the table she asked for more detail, only to be told by her husband 鈥淒on鈥檛 worry about it dear, you wouldn鈥檛 understand鈥�. While there (I think) I would go to the house where another lad was billeted with a more elderly couple. The four of us played 鈥楤ezique鈥�, a card game new to me. I remember that the Queen card was important. The couple also had a jig-saw. They bought wood, found interesting pictures, and after the pictures had been pasted down onto the wood and dried well, gave us lads the job of tracing the interlocking shapes. Then all we had to do was follow the lines with the saw! We must have cost them a fortune in blades.

During the latter part of my stay in Tewkesbury, with friends, I often cycled to Birmingham, for a weekend home. Silly really! Evacuated for safety, I went home to face the bombing. When the siren sounded, instead of retiring to the Anderson air-raid shelter, I accompanied my Father, an ARP Warden, on his rounds. As each bomb whistled down, the same procedure. Fall flat face down, fervently pray to the God you didn鈥檛 believe was there to help you, listen for the explosion, then pick yourself up again. Of course you knew that if you could hear the bomb it wasn鈥檛 going to hit you. Another bomb whistling through the air. Quickly, fall flat鈥�. We lived at 138 Starbank Road, Small Heath, next to the school which I attended as an infant and junior. On one night the other end of the school was hit; on another night a bomb landed in nearby Newbridge Road hitting the house of my friend Bob Biddle. The collapsing chimney killed his younger sister still asleep in bed. Occasionally, the bombs beat the alarm. Father helped to remove her body.

At the commencement of my third and final year, September 1940, I was appointed Captain of the School. When the School was loaned a piece of ground for growing vegetables to help rations I was in charge of planning. After much hard work one plot was ready to accept leeks. I remember now the old gentleman standing watching. He beckoned me and across to him I went, a lamb鈥� 鈥淵ou do know son that you have the rows going the wrong way!鈥�

My last move in Tewkesbury (after sadly leaving the Creeth鈥檚) was to stay with a Mr and Mrs Leach. They had met whilst in service, he as Butler, she as Cook, to the household. More good cooking. Three school lads already stayed with them but I was made very welcome under the Leach鈥檚 roof. She 5ft 10.5in, and he well over 6ft, would occasionally tease me with 鈥淒ucks鈥� disease鈥�. When the sirens sounded, Mrs Leach, if in town would cycle back immediately to fill the bath with water. While there, we had but one raid: incendiary bombs, which I think fell onto the 鈥楬am鈥�, a piece of grassland adjoining the River Severn.

One day I found a watch which I handed to Mr Leach. He at that time was an auxiliary in the Police Force. The watch, not claimed within the statutory three months, became mine. I was delighted even though it didn鈥檛 keep very good time.

Although the school year didn鈥檛 officially end until the summer I was allowed home in April to start my apprenticeship. Mr Jones, also Maths teacher, had to apologise as each pupil reached a certain standard 鈥� he had to concentrate on the slower lads, the ones, understandably, mostly excellent in their 鈥榓rt鈥� subject.

In looking back 55 years and more, I cannot guarantee that events are in strict chronological order 鈥� my 鈥榟ouses鈥� are, although I have no record of actual dates. The dates of some memories completely elude me. Was it the first or second winter when the 鈥榦ld鈥� River Severn iced up sufficiently to allow skating? I remember vividly the River Severn thaw. By the mill (now a restaurant) huge racing blocks of ice smashed the boats moored at the river鈥檚 edge. Winter flooding is the norm at Tewkesbury. Each winter, for a short distance on the main road, we were ferried in a rowing boat on our way to school. It was not uncommon to see ducks swimming in and out of the open doors of cottages sited on low ground near the river.

I remember the school walks in the countryside, and our own forages. Three or four of us would walk or cycle to local churches and with or without permission climb the spiralling stairs to view the countryside from the tower. We watched the farmer digging out his ferret trapped in a rabbit warren; we went 鈥榮crumping鈥� and learnt how quickly we could run鈥� as did our Masters into the local inn when they thought (wrongly) that the coast was clear. We were too young for drink but because we were away from home with time on our hands, we were allowed into the YMCA. Here, we mostly played table tennis and snooker.

Other questions arise in my mind. I know that on occasion my parents visited me but how often and when? An old photograph proves that one visit took place while at the Leach鈥檚, and when I was playing football. But now I was going to rejoin my parents, face the bombing permanently, and start my apprenticeship with a small firm situated within easy walking distance of the school. The kindness shown to me by the folk of Tewkesbury, and the benefit gained, will never be forgotten.

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Anastasia Travers a volunteer with WM CSV Actiondesk on behalf of J.F. Humphreys and has been added to the site with his permission. J.F.Humphreys fully understands the sites terms and conditions.

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