大象传媒

My name was Irene Bolton. I was born 82 years ago in 1921. I was named after a famous dancer of the time, Irene Castle. I was aptly named, as I have always loved dancing. My father had been away in WW1 and he married my mother upon his return. We lived with my grandmother and grandfather who owned the Knight Tripe Shop in Clayton-le-Moores, Lancashire. My dad was out of work. My mother was a winder in a cotton mill. At three years old I attended St. James School. I remember lying on the hearthrug rolling around in imaginary pain because I didn't want to go to school. I was an actress even then.

My mother began loosing her eyesight after she suffered a fall on ice. She developed a brain tumor and in those days doctors were unable to perform much brain surgery. Before long she was restricted to bed. and soon afterwards, she died. I can still feel the loss of that moment. I was only five years old.

After my mother's death, my father took me from relative to relative. After several unpleasant experiences my grandmother asked my father whether she could take me to live with her. My father agreed. My life with my grandparents was stable and happy. I enjoyed going for walks in the beautiful Ribble Valley with my grandfather and we took trips to Llandudno and the Isle of Man. I was luckier than many other children as the Great Depression was upon us. My grandfather had a job at Broadley's, a bookbinding company, and my grandmother had her little shop.

School became even more unbearable when I moved to Clayton-le-Moores Council School. My recollection of school is that the teachers were either cruel or indifferent and there was a lot of corporal punishment. During this period, my grandma sent me for piano lessons. I loved music and I needed no coaxing to practice. I was proud when I had the opportunity to play the piano at school. Overall, the school subjects at which I excelled were not valued and my whole school experience left me with bad memories and low self-esteem. I left school at fourteen years old as many of us did back then.

I got a job at Broadley's where my grandfather worked. I joined Sydney Street Methodist Church where I became the pianist and later the organist. I also joined the choir. I had quite a good voice. Life began to change for the better. The first boy I went out with turned out to be my future husband.

The War years were hard. I had a series of jobs related to the war. The first was at the OXO factory in Harwood. I wrapped the OXO cubes in paper. The hours were long and my friend and I took the bus to work. When the sirens went off, the bus had to pull over and turn off the lights until the all clear was sounded. I decided to change jobs. There was a washing machine plant, Taylor and Wilson's, close by that was turned into a munitions plant making small airplane parts. I worked twelve hours each day on a milling machine. There were six women and twenty men. The girls that succumbed to the advances of the foreman got treated well. I refused his innuendoes and he made life miserable for me.

In 1941, my fiance, Richard Procter, and I decided to get married. He got a week's leave. I had a white satin wedding gown and I carried chrysanthemums, there were two bridesmaids in blue. Our reception was in the Sunday School room. No iceing on the cake. It was white cardboard. We had sixty guests. My father came to give me away then left. Our honeymoon consisted of a couple of days in Blackpool.

In August 1942 my husband had survived Dunkirk and was stationed at a lovely old manor house in Malmesbury near Bristol. He wrote me a letter asking me to come for a visit. War workers were only allowed one week off and I'd already had mine. My friend had a plan. I was to tell them that my husband was in the hospital. It was partly true as he was in the Medical Corp. We had ten wonderful days together stolen selfishly from the war effort, but I didn't care. A kindly woman who heard that Richard had a new wife offered us a room. The house was called By-Ways. In the evenings we went to the village pub and danced to Tangerine, The White Cliffs of Dover, Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree and Moonlight Serenade.

By Christmas my husband was sent to North Africa along with the 8th Army under General Montgomery and I was pregnant. In May of 1943 our daughter was born. What a joy to be away from Taylor and Wilson's and the foreman and to take care of a baby instead.

I was worried because strangers easily upset my daughter and I didn't want her father to come home and his child wouldn鈥檛 go to him. I wrote a letter to my husband who was coming to the end of the North African campaign. I asked him to have his picture taken then every letter that came I would tell my daughter to bring daddy's letter to me and we will read it. I showed her all the kisses at the end of the letter and his picture on the mantle shelf. Every night before I put her to bed she would say goodnight to daddy and give him a kiss.

In 1945 when the dreadful war was over a telegram arrived saying Arriving home Sunday. What a wonderful day! My husband walked through the door at eleven o'clock and my daughter said, "Daddy" and ran into his arms.

This was my experience of World War II. Following the war, we were blessed with a son and our family was complete. A boy for you, a girl for me. We lived in Accrington, Lancashire for nine years then emigrated to Pennsylvania, USA. We only stayed a year as I didn't like it. I got a job folding nylon stockings and saved the fare to go back. We lived in Farnborough, Hampshire, but stayed there for about eighteen months when we decided to go back to America. This time we made it work.

My husband died in a car crash in 1969. It was devastating and difficult to carry on with a normal life. However, I was able to become independent. I learned to drive and up until then, I had never written a check or paid a bill. My husband always took care of those things.

In 1983, I married a Welshman, Richard Davies. He had come to the US to visit relatives and I met him whilst he was visiting his family member at the nursing home where I held the position as Activities Director. We enjoyed almost twenty years together. He died in February 2002. I miss him very much as he was a wonderful companion. I keep busy. I love to write. I am in a writing group and I also signed up for classes at the local women's college, Cedar Crest. I have been a lucky person. I often sit alone and review my life and realize what a colourful life I have had so far.

Irene Bolton Procter Davies