Ronald Bain, my father, wrote his life history for me and my brother. It began with his life as a child in London and then went onto to tell of his life in the war which ended up with him living in Yorkshire. He has asked me to post the extract about the war on this website.The pictures he drew have not copied onto the site.
1939 About the 3rd week in August we went on a late holiday to some relation鈥檚 cottage in Laindon where we had had previous holidays in the past. We had only been there a few days when all sorts of news started to come on over the radio. We had to pack up and do a quick flip back to London. Yes that's right the Second World War was about to start.
My father and mother explained to us as best they could what it had been like for them in the First World War 1914-18 when they were only children, the same as my brother and I, living in London with the old Zeppelins flying over. They said it would be far better for us if we were evacuated out to the country where we would be safe, and so Bill (4yrs 6mths) and I (9yrs 11mths) in Sept 1939 were evacuated to Bridgwater Somerset.
War was declared on Sept 3rd 1939, but even before that date there was all sorts of activities going on all around which gave one a small clue as to what was happening. Air-raid shelters were frantically being built. Anderson Shelters were constructed in most people's gardens.
Everyone was issued with gas masks and gas indicators were to be seen outside police stations and public buildings.
Anyway off go my brother and I with our gas masks and luggage of sorts and labels hanging round our necks along with loads of other children, plus a few adults to the railway station. I think it was Paddington Station. (as seen on Monopoly). We had said farewell to our parents with a promise to write home as soon as we could. No one had a clue as to where we were going and if anyone did they certainly didn't tell us. I seem to recall we were given some food somewhere along the way and finally after a very long day we arrived at this school in this town, still not knowing where we were. Names were called out and children would be meeting their new foster parents. Ours turned out to be a Mr and Mrs Thorne of 32 Bristol Rd. Bridgwater Somerset.
When we were all settled in possibly after a day or so we had to report back to the school and allocated different classes. The "evacuees" were kept separate from the local children and we also had our own teachers. We gradually all settled down to life an "evacuees" and were accepted by the locals. I wrote home to my mum and dad fairly regularly, about once a week.
Mr Thorne worked for the local shirt factory, he had been in the 1914-18 war and had lost the tip off one of his thumbs. Mrs Thorne (call me Aunty) kept house and she had long black hair, but I never saw it like that because she always had it tied up in a tight bun, they would be about 45 to 50 yrs old. There was a son called Kenneth who was 18 and worked for 'Boots' in the town as a chemist. There was also a lodger who came on the scene somewhere along the way, and he was called Jack and was about 22. That sort of sets the scene for the household. Bill and I slept in a double bed in a room of our own. This was one area where we had a problem because poor Bill, don't forget he's only 4 and a half, used to wet the bed, and every time this happened Bill was punished, no supper, certainly not anything to drink and other sort of mental anguish. It got to a state where Bill would wake me up in the middle of the night, and tell me that he'd wet the bed and we would be frantically shaking the sheet up and down in an attempt to dry it out. Xmas came and went and I'm not sure when but we were issued with identity cards (my no. was WOAL 167/5) and of course ration books. I can't remember really what the rations were, also at this time we started "school dinners".
Life continued on a pace; I was still in the cubs and I was a server at the church, I used to also have to take my turn at pumping air into the church organ. The reward for this was to be able to pick a pear from the vicarage grounds. We used to belong to the Odeon Junior Film Club and go to the pictures on Saturday mornings.
We formed a "gang" and to be a member one had to eat a cube of horseradish (about the size of an "oxo" cube). We used to dig it up and cut the cube from the roots. I know it sounds daft now doesn't it. There also used to be some old disused brick ponds, and we used to make rafts and try to sail them. (Very dangerous I realise now). We were always told to be in house by a certain time and this was sometimes very difficult for us. We would ask a casual passer-by (very few and far between). Could you tell us the time please Mr. 鈥淲hat!鈥 Big panic frantically trying to get all the muddy clay off our shoes finally wiping them over with wet grass so they looked nice and shiny and then running home for all we were worth. Of course when we got home 'aunty' would say where have you been, just look at your shoes. We would look down at them and of course by now our lovely wet shiny shoes had dried and they were slakey dried mud all over. No supper for you tonight my lads, and so off we were packed to bed.
Now I must tell you this, when we left London Mum told me that I was to look after my brother and make sure he was a good boy, he was told to do what his big brother told him, or else. Now having told you this you will understand this next bit I'm about to narrate. Here we were walking down the main street in Bridgwater and Bill did something wrong. I can't remember what it was now, but as a result I smacked him. Well he started to cry and even tried to hit me back. Suddenly this woman comes up who had seen what was going on and said to me "leave him alone you big bully. You're twice his size" where upon much to her amazement Bill turned to her and said. "He's my brother and he can hit me when I'm naughty so there." or something like that. The woman just didn't know what to say. That's what I call brotherly love. I'll never forget that.
Meanwhile back in London my dad started to have "epileptic fits", as an after effect of his accident as a stevedore in the docks. I didn't know about this at the time because they didn't want us to worry. They would occur about once a month but without any warning and the doctor said they could get worse or better. No one could say. He had to take phenobarbitone tablets to help him. I wouldn't like to put any dates to this period, but the bombing had now started in London, whether it was before or after Dunkirk. I don't know, but because of these troubles and my father's health the doctor thought it best if he was evacuated, so him and mum went of to place called Hemel Hempstead which is near Watford I believe.
Back at Bridgwater I had sat for my 11+ exam, but more about that later. We were now mixing at school with the local children and going to a different school. There was one lad I remember real well because, poor lad, he suffered from B.O. and he had it really bad. He used to have to sit on his own in the class and I often wonder how he got on in life.
鈥淎unty鈥 was a big knitter, she was forever knitting jumpers and the like and one day she taught me how to knit. I made myself a scarf out of all odd bits of wool and when I became more experienced I made myself a balaclava helmet for the winter.
Being in the country meant that things like "conkers" were ready available and also being Somerset there was plenty of cider apples to be had, but they tasted horrible. However there was one orchard which had some trees growing in one corner and these turned out to be an apple called "Sweet Morgan" so that's where we targeted our efforts. I've also had the chance to taste real "scrumpy" cider and it's quite potent.
One day Aunty accused me of pinching one of her sweets which she kept near her knitting. I've counted them she said and there's one missing you naughty boy. I denied it but it still didn't do any good. Fortunately for me the lodger, Jack, Overheard the argument and came in the room and confessed that it was him. "That's alright" says she, but there was no apology to me, after all I was just a little lad.
The River Parrot had a 'bore' tide. This was quite a sight to see. The times of the tide were written on the notice board on the bridge in the main street. People used to stand on the bridge and watch it. "What on earth was it" you say. Well one minute the flow of the water would be going along all nice and calm in one direction and the next minute this huge wave used to come along and completely change the direction of the flow. Apparently it used to catch quite a few animals by surprise and you often saw the dead sheep or two following in the wake of the "bore".
I reckon it would be about Easter of 1941 when my mum and Dad or maybe it was just Dad who came to see us on a special coach trip and for the first time we told him how unhappy we were and so what happened, he made some feeble excuses to Aunty about his health etc. and took Bill back with him to Hemel Hempstead with a promise that he would make arrangements for me to go to a special boarding school nearby where my parents were staying. Within a very short space of time, although it seemed like an age then, I was packed up and on my way to another adventure. Mind you before I'd even left, Mrs Thorne had got herself another lodger.
Pixie Hill. Boxmoor. Hemel Hempstead Herts.
Well let me first of all give you a bit of background. Pixie Hill was built just before the war. It was a sort of holiday camp school for boys and it's purpose was to give holidays for poor children of London who could not otherwise afford one. Unfortunately it was never used as such. Instead a whole school called "Tollgate" School Plaistow complete with teachers was evacuated there. My father had been very fortunate in finding me a place here. My luck was further in because my best pal from Leyes Rd who I hadn't seen for ages was also there and I ended up in the same dormitory as him. His name was Brian Sellers,he was about a year, maybe 18 mths older than me and he was the first boy I met when I moved to Leyes Rd. He left the area about 1938 when his mother divorced and left to live elsewhere. So it was great meeting up with him again and I soon settled in to my new life.
The school was completely self contained even having its own hospital. We never used to have any normal type holidays, because we couldn't go home or anywhere if we did. Instead the headmaster at assembly would say "It's a fine day so I don't want to see anyone in the classrooms". Sometimes we used to be allocated jobs to go and help the local farmers. It could be fruit picking, helping with the wheat harvest or even (worst job) potato picking. We never used to get paid for these tasks as individuals, but instead the farmers would make a donation to the school fund. Eventually the headmaster bought for us a gigantic electric train set. Each dormitory could borrow it and on a weekend it went into one of the classrooms for anyone to use it, but under supervision. Each dormitory (5) was named after each continent (I think) and could accommodate about 40 or so boys with accommodation at each end for a teacher and a store room. So at a rough guess there was about 200 to 250 lads at "Pixie Hill".
At first the layout of beds and lockers in the dormitory were quite conventional, but after we got our train-set everything changed.
When it was our turn for the train everything used to be laid out. There was usually something for everyone to do, signals, crossings, points, etc. We were even allowed to bring our own trains and have a go with them during the evening. I remember one of our teachers had a coal fired steam engine just like the real thing. The trouble was when it got going flying down the straight there was no stopping it until alas it came to a curve in the track and then it would go flying off. The teacher would have to keep "trimming its wick", so to speak, until it would stay on course. Great fun was had by all.
On other nights, which ever teacher was on duty, used to read us a story; one teacher I well remember, read the "William" books by Richmal Crompton. Do you know I thought that the author of "William" was a man. It was years later that I found out it was a woman.
A certain night of the week would be laundry night. During the day we would have our clean gear and then at night we used to have to have all our dirty gear parcelled up. The teachers also used to check us behind the ears etc. and we all had to have a shower that night no matter how many showers we'd had during the week. Here I ought to mention sheets. Our sheets weren't normal conventional ones, they were all one including the pillow case and you had to get into them via a hole at the top.This was also a good time to have towel fights and it didn't half hurt if you were unfortunate to get flicked by the end of someone's towel especially on the bare bottom.There also, in the course of time, used to be the odd fight over some row or other between two boys. If possible these fights would take place round the back of the dormitory, with someone keeping "cavey". On the rare occasions when a teacher did catch us, he would make us wear gloves and fight under proper conditions and at the end of 3 rounds shake hands and make up.
There was one time when I got involved in a fight; it happened like this:-
Perhaps it would be better if I digressed a bit first. Now we all used to have "tuck" boxes, you know in the good old "Billy Bunter" fashion and from time to time some lucky individual would receive some "tuck" from his parents:- Well one day, I received some cake from my mum, who don't forget lived not too far away from me. Well before they could all get locked away in my tuck box some rascal stole them, about a dozen there was. Unlucky for him I caught him scoffing them in true Billy Bunter style, so I challenged him, and off we went round the back of the dorm with one or two lads around to watch fair play. I won him although I suffered a bit myself. He said he was sorry for what he had done and gave me back the remaining cakes. This lad had a big brother who only heard half the story about me beating up his brother, and he was going to beat me up, but didn't do when he was told the full story.
We also had our way of dealing with 'bullies'. You see usually bullies are born cowards and what they hate most of all is to receive a bit of their own "medicine". So what would happen is two of the good lads who were good scrappers would set about the "bully" and usually that once was enough and he wouldn't bully anymore. Of course probably what he wanted was "counselling" but we didn't know about that in those days. You may think that this is all rather a primitive form of justice, but what you have to consider is that there was a war on, and if a child committed an offence, which would normally result in his expulsion, what do you do, expel him and send him off packing back to London and the bombs. Of course the teachers also gave out punishment with the cane, but all the time I was at Pixie Hill, I can't recall anyone getting expelled.
I ought to mention somewhere here about my 11+, you will remember I sat it whilst I was in Bridgwater, well I think the authorities finally caught up with me and offered me a place at a grammar school. There was one big problem. The "school" at present was evacuated to Torquay and that would be where I must go. In consultation with my parents it was finally agreed that I refuse. As near as I can work it out it would have been Sept 41 when this happened but I'm not certain.
Our headmaster was a great character, Mr Moon if I recall correctly, and he once boasted that he could get "a tune" out of any musical instrument. I remember at this time I had been trying and trying to play the banjo, hoping to become the next George Formby. Anyway the whole school took up the headmaster's challenge and all sorts of weird instruments began to appear on the scene over the next few weeks. And do you know he played every one of them. I well remember he played on this instrument that was some form of mandolin with about 12 strings on it and he plucked away at it quite merrily, and there was me struggling with my 4 stringed banjo.
At Xmas we put on our own panto, I can't remember what it was but instead of principal boys (really girls) we had principal girls (really boys). you see we had no girls at Pixie Hill.
As I mentioned before we were completely self contained at Pixie Hill. We even had the facility for mending our own shoes. We would put our name down on the rota and when our turn came up we would repair our own shoes, we needed the help of the teacher of course but we made a fair job of it.
We had our own school song but I only remember the first two lines. It went :-
鈥淭he boys of Pixie Hill are we.
We're hammers brave and true.鈥
Hammers by the way is the emblem of West Ham, just in case you didn't know. The emblem of Pixie Hill School in case you haven't guessed already was a pixie sitting on a toadstool on top of a hill. Get it.
In the winter when the snow came we would all make toboggans in the woodwork class and used to have great fun, when we were finished with them they were stored under the dormitories.
I was also a member of the Philatelist club, but one day my album went missing and when it eventually turned up again all my best stamps were missing, especially my American ones which I specialised in. After that incident I somewhat lost heart in stamp collecting.
Things had quietened down in London. The air-raids were less and less and we had won the "Battle of Britain". Hitler now turned his attentions to Russia, and so about May 1942 we all returned to London and became united again in Leyes Rd for the first time in 2 陆 yrs. I don't know what happened at Pixie Hill although I do know it kept going without me.
Life back at Leyes Rd.
We all settled in back at home I was now in the senior school called Shipman Rd School. Bill also attended this school but in the juniors. My old junior school, Regent Rd. had got itself bombed and part of it was now used by the "National Fire Service" N.F.S. I couldn't help but notice the vast extent of the bomb damage that old Hitler had done. Several houses down our street no longer existed and in fact there was one area which probably covered about 10 houses previously was now a big pile of rubble. This of course made an ideal play area for us lads, or at least that's what we thought.
Several of my old pals had returned to London plus one or two new ones so we were soon back to all our old 'jinx' and now with all this rubble and bombed -out shells of houses, there were lots of new games to be had. We were all soon making catapults and playing our own version of house to house fighting. The only hard and fast rule was to only use plaster in our catapults for ammunition and not stones or bricks.
My mum had taken on the role of bread winner whilst dad kept house and cooked. She worked as an engine cleaner for the L.N.E.R. (London and North Eastern Railway) at Stratford (No not Shakespeare's place). Dad was getting a little bit better regarding his 'fits'. They didn't occur so often, what is more important he now used to get a warning when one was coming on and so could lay down or prepare himself for it, where as before they just happened. He also used to attend the local "whist drives" which were held every week and often came home with the odd prize.
In the summer holidays of 1942 I went up to Newcastle and stayed with my uncle George and Aunt Ruby. Cousin Stuart would have been about 3 years old then, I'm not quite sure. I well remember an incident on the train as I was travelling on the way to Newcastle. There was this sailor, no doubt going home on some leave and he asked me if I had anything to eat and if not would I like a sandwich. "Oh yes please" says I and, low and behold, he produces a lovely crab sandwich. Now not only is crab my favourite but what was also delightful was that the sandwich was made from pure wheat bread freshly baked that morning aboard ship. You see we hadn't had any white bread since the war had started. It was a mixture of all sorts of grain and was a manky looking grey. It certainly hadn't been washed in 'Persil' if you get my drift.
Whilst I was staying in Newcastle my Aunt bought me my first pair of long trousers, so when I got back to London I was a smart young man and not a boy anymore. I don't think my mum was altogether pleased because she had looked forwards to buying my first pair herself. Anyway never mind.
I've already mentioned about rationing of food etc. well I ought to mention here now that clothes were also rationed. Everyone used to be issued with coupons and each item of clothing had a certain value in coupons. Furthermore clothes were produced to what was called a "utility" standard. For example no 'turn-ups' on trouser bottoms and also to a fixed width at the bottom. Women's skirts could only be to a certain length and have no more than say two pleats. What a system. It was all to save on material. The utility symbol which was on all our clothes was c41 I think.
There was this chap on Hitler's side who we called Lord Haw Haw. William Joyce was his real name. He was English but had turned traitor. He would broadcast on the radio with all sorts of "Propaganda" in an attempt to lower our morale, but all that happened was that we would laugh at him. We of course were guilty of similar acts & used to drop leaflets over the German cities telling them the "truth" (ha, ha). We would also say that during such & such a raid we shot down so many German aircraft. The numbers of course would be slightly exaggerated.
I was in the top class at school, not because of my age, but because of my ability. I'm not really boasting here because you see a lot of the boys who had stayed on in London had missed out on a lot of their education. Also bear in mind that 14 was the normal school leaving age. What I'm trying to say here is that I was the last one in the class to go into long trousers, & everyone called me "Shorty", not because of my height, but because I wore shorts.
During woodwork lessons we would make all sorts of items & for material we used old school desks from bomb damaged schools, even our own school was damaged, we couldn't use the top floor because the roof leaked. Anyhow back to woodwork, well I had this smashing piece of oak & of course it was well seasoned & so I decided to make a needle/sewing box for my mother with the teachers approval, of course. All the joints were dovetailed & the tray that fitted inside could fit all way round. That took some doing, I tell you. Eventually it was complete measuring about 10" x 8" x 6" deep, & my mother was real proud of it. She used it all her life & when she died we asked her best friend was there anything she would like of Mum's &, guess what, she chose the sewing box. The friend's name was Winnie Covell. I wonder if she still has it. I'm sure the antique road show would be interested in it. Ha Ha.
Most of my pals had now left school because they were older than me & also what happened when I was 13 in Oct '42 I was offered a scholarship to attend a building & architecture college which meant I would be at full time education until I was 16.
You've no idea of the problems a young man of 13 can have. You see I had a special bus pass which enabled me to travel half fare (i.e. 1d) where as when I was out with my friends I wanted to be grown up like them & pay full fare (2d). Now I was in a 'catch 22' situation with this, because if I tried to pay full fare my friends would tell the bus conductor that I was still at school & only needed half fare.& yes if I asked for half fare they told the reverse story.
It was all very funny really, there was I going to the pictures to see an 'A' cert film & getting in with no trouble at all, in fact sometimes little lads used to come up to me and say "take us in with you Mr". If you don't understand this. You see an 'A' cert film meant a child had to be accompanied by an adult. It was OK if it was 'U' cert. Of course I used to have to have a cigarette in my mouth to really look the part. Such are the advantages of having long trousers. Now-a-days every lad wears them from about the age of 5.
I've already said about my Dad going to whist drives & winning the odd prize. Well, it was my 13th birthday & I would have dearly liked a new bike, because my old bike was far too small & Bill was able to ride it now. No way could I get that bike because I knew we couldn't afford it. Well, as I said, what do you know Dad wins 1st prize at this whist drive & it was 拢10 & he went straight out and bought me this bike for 拢9-19s-0. How about that. It was all black (no chrome parts allowed in those days) & it had racing handle bars. Dad had certainly come up trumps.
Another little story now. Nothing to do with bikes. Opposite us at No. 43, I think, lived this family MacCartneys by name. There was no father. Mother worked at a jam factory near by. There were 2 daughters & 2 sons, one of them being my pal George. Well part of the "perks" for working at this jam factory was you got a free 2 lb jar of jam every week. Well this was super for mother because it helped to feed the growing family & yes of course jam was rationed, it was on points. Everyone in the family ate the jam, except mother of course, because she had a hand in the making of it & didn't fancy it. Ultimately the eldest daughter left school & started work with mother at the jam factory. Now of course there was 4 lb of jam available but less mouths to eat it because by now the eldest daughter didn't fancy it. Eventually the other daughter started work, yes, at the jam factory & at this point we came into the picture because the mother offered us the 2lb jar of jam each week. The jam in those days, no matter what it was, consisted of about 90% rhubarb. You know its amazing the memories that have come flooding back to me since I started this journal.
This new college that I'd started to attend had just been restarted about 6 months previously, I suppose some far sighted individual had decided that after the war there would be a big demand for buildings to replace those bombed in the war, so lets get cracking now. 鈥淕ood thinking 'Robin'鈥. With this scholarship I was awarded 拢15/year which was very useful, but which caused all sorts of problems later as will unfold in the telling. Remember me saying about "Pixie Hill", well when I gets started at the school I find that there are about 10 of the boys that I knew from 'Pixie Hill' as I said what a small world it is.
I got well into my swing at this school & enjoyed all the subjects including practical ones like plumbing, bricklaying, plastering, & woodwork, but as related to the building trade. We also did drawing, history of architecture, physics & chemistry, & of course maths. In maths we used to also deal with a subject called duo-decimals. This was strictly as used in the building world, & the idea was everything was to the unit of '12' instead of 10, as in normal decimals. I think somewhere it died a natural death because I haven't heard of it since. Then again we don't hear anything these days of logarithms do we. It's all done with the old calculator or computer these days,& of course the building industry has long since 'gone metric'.
When we had to do practical plastering we had to report to another school on an afternoon for a full session. Our names were called on the register & then we would set off to walk to this other school. Well we had found a loophole in the system here, you see on route to this other school was a cinema & if we saw that there was a real good film on then we would play truant from plastering & go to the pictures. That of course was very naughty but that wasn't the end of it because me & my pal would in fact slip into the cinema via the emergency exit, through into the toilets & then quite casually walk on in & take a seat. I was a big cinema-goer in those days. The price of seats usually were, 1/- 1/3 1/9 2/3& 2/9d One day I returned to have a look at this cinema that we used to go on those plastering days, only to find that it had been bombed.
Whilst I was still at this school I also was involved in another mischievous adventure at least that's what I would call it; our teacher (forget his name now) had to leave the classroom & so we all decided that it would be a good idea to move the school clock forward by 1\4 hr so we could all get off early, it was the last period of the afternoon you see, so I went & moved the big hand round 15 minutes. It was suddenly realised that this particular teacher had his own 'fob' watch. As it happened there it was on the top of desk so one of the lads went & moved the hands on his watch. The stupid clot altered it by 20 minutes & refused to alter it. Well my pal, Jimmy Jewitt (I think) changed the school clock by an extra 5 mins.
Needless to say we all left early that day, but when we was all back at school next day there was all hell let loose & the whole class would be put on detention until the culprit(s) were found, it was looked on as even worse because it involved the teachers personal property. Well Jimmy & myself, you could say gave ourselves up, we were clapped in irons & just given bread & water. No it wasn't as bad as that. We just got put on detention for a week. Because the headmaster thought that was it, he'd got the 2 culprits & that was that the other boy didn't come forward at all so that ended that escapade. However afterwards sometimes a teacher, as a tease, would say 鈥淏ain go & deliver such & such a message鈥, & then say 鈥減erhaps not because you might alter the clock.鈥 Strange, but years later I met that lad, who wouldn't own up, when I was doing my national service, & would you believe it, he was being selected as "potential officer material". Life makes you laugh don't it.
Things were still moving along, I was in the scouts now instead of the cubs & had me a scouts uniform. It was normal for a scouts' troop to select names of local animals for each patrol's name, but of course in the heart of London there are no local animals, so, thinking cap on, & we thought, ah yes London Zoo & so we ended up with patrol names like lion, tiger etc. We never did get to go camping, not even put a bell tent up, but we did just about everything else.
Now this is where you ask, "what did you do in the war dad?" Well round about now at about 13陆yrs old. I joined up, well hardly, I actually joined the army cadet force. Watch out Hitler. I reckon this must have been the turning point in the war.
We used to do arms drill with dummy wooden rifles, the Home Guard had the real ones, although we did once have a go on the rifle range with 'live' ammo. Our H.Q. was at the Tate & Lyle's Sugar Factory in Silvertown. (Does this sound like 'Dads army'). The main thing I remember was when we used to go to the works canteen for our tea break, we could use as much sugar as we liked, but the spoon (a great big tablespoon) was fastened to the counter by a chain.
Some of the workers used to give us lads some of the part refined sugar. These were chunks of solid crystals fastened round string & it was great to suck.
I used to play left back for the school football team, but the problem was that we played on a black cinder pitch, not a blade of grass in sight, & it was murder, you daren't give anyone a real good tackle because if you fell you got terribly grazed, but we survived somehow.
Cricket was played on the same field using a large cricket mat, 22 yds long, about 6ft wide & made of coco-nut matting. I never got to play for the team, instead I was the chief scorer, I think that's why I now have a dislike for cricket. "Boring".
I used to go roller skating at Forest Gate Skating Rink with a few of my pals but we never got into any of the fancy artistic stuff although I could do one or two tricks.
We also used to go swimming at the local baths & I remember one time when me & my pal started to investigate what was going on in the other pool area which was closed. Well we sneaked thro' this door & then a passage way & another door & there was the pool but it wasn't full of water, it was full of stretchers & on one of them was a body, at least I think it was, all wrapped up in a white sheet. It turned out to be an emergency morgue. We got out of there kind of sharpish I can tell you.
I also took up high jumping as a sport, the person who trained me was left handed & so my style was also left hand. By this I mean I used to approach the jump from the left side & do what was known as the scissors style of jump, left leg raised first, keeping body fairly upright & then followed immediately by the right leg. In those days you landed on a sand pit on the other side of the jump, not like now where you have a big soft sponge mat about 2 ft thick. Anyway I went in for various school events & used to come about 3rd with a jump of 3' 6" or there abouts as I remember. I developed my style so that I laid flatter than the usual style in fact almost parallel to the bar, unfortunately I couldn't land on my feet, just bonk on my butt. The sports teacher eventually told me to either change my style or "pack in" because he was afraid I might hurt my spine. If only we had had the big sponge bag to land on like nowadays.
My uncle Bob turned up one day out of the blue, we hadn't heard from him for quite a while. He was now a private in the army, well we were "amazed". Apparently he got discharged from the navy as a result of some skin complaint, & for some time he worked for some borough council, he also at one stage had a little tobacconist shop. Anyway the army decided they needed him to sort out Hitler & so he got his "calling up" papers. I also got some of his civilian clothes which just about fitted me. Various other uncles also joined up. Uncle George on my father's side, army, Uncle Fred RAF, cousin Alfie RAF.
I'm not quite sure when it was, but my gran got "bombed out" at Cotton St. & ended up living in a "prefab" in Bow somewhere. Fortunately no one was hurt. Needless to say there was also a 'pub' at the end of the street where they lived.
All sorts of things were done to help the war effort, digging for victory, spitfire week, national saving certificates, My Aunty Ruby bought me some of these 15\- each, 拢1.0.6d after 10 yrs. They, I say they, some ministry or other took away all the railings round the towns, just leaving those of historical value, also all your old aluminium pots & pans. They also took up a lot of the old tram lines but sometimes they had to leave them because it was too difficult to lift them and/or cause too much disturbance on the roads. Trams you see stopped running in about 1937 & were replaced by trolley buses.
All London transport buses, trains, underground trains etc. used to have a protective mesh on the windows with just a little peep hole in the middle to see where you were. Now there was a little caricature against this mesh showing a little man peeling up this mesh at the corner and a caption which said "I trust you'll pardon my correction but that mesh is there for your protection". Now under that people would write "Thank you for your information, but I can't see the ruddy station". You could say that this was the original "graffiti".
There used to be all sorts of propaganda posters "walls have ears". This was to do with spies, & fifth columnists listening to what was being said & then you would see a ship being sunk by a u-boat. Just because someone let slip some information without realising it. All town names & things like that, that would tell the enemy where they were, were all removed & of course there was the good old black-out. Near where we lived was an ack-ack station (anti aircraft guns) & loads of search lights. All very spectacular in its way but also very frightening for us children. Also there was this big field near us which had acres & acres of wire mesh spread all over it held up with posts so that it was about 3ft off the ground. I've often wondered what it was all about I think it was some form of early warning system.
There was also an area near us which had had a lot of bombing & so everyone was moved out (not many left anyway) & the army moved in to have mock battles & practice house to house fighting, getting ready no doubt for the forthcoming invasion, but of course we didn't know that then.
We also had battles with other gangs in the area. There was one gang which had built themselves a big den made from all the old air raid shelter corrugated metal. Well it was just like a big rabbit warren. We had battle with them & eventually they went into their den & thought they were safe, but, we bombarded them with half bricks which made such a horrible din as the bricks hit the metal shelters, that they ultimately surrendered to us. So that ended that battle with a victory for us.
We had long ago abandoned the notion of carrying our gas masks everywhere we went, but we were still being subjected to the odd air-raid. My mum used to say to me, stop everything you're doing & run home, really I should have gone to the nearest air-raid shelter, but not by Mum's rules. Well one day I was playing around with some friends, quite a few streets away from home, & the sirens go off. (Don't panic Mr Mainwaring.) I turns round to run home & bumped right full force into a lamp-post. Its the first & only time I ever saw stars. Anyway I gathered myself up & ran home. By the time I got there I was about on my last legs & when my mum saw me she wondered what was up. Of course I didn't notice what with all the dashing about, but there I was with this big lump on my forehead & that's what my mother was looking at. Don't run anymore like that she said.
After an air-raid it used to be the norm for us lads to go hunting round for bits of shrapnel in the streets. These bits would come from either various bombs or from the shells that were fired by the ack-ack guns. Once I found a whole incendiary bomb & another time just the fins.
Another collector items were services cap badges RAF, WRAC, ATS, but best of all were all the different army badges, there were dozens of different types & to be really "with it" "macho" you fixed them onto a leather belt round your waist for all to see.
Back to the matter of air-raids, each street used to have at least one air raid warden & various fire watchers & part of there essential equipment was a bucket of sand, bucket of water & the good old stirrup-pump. This was operated by putting one end of the hose into the bucket of water, standing with your feet on the two "stirrups" & pumping away like "Billy Ho" remembering of course to point the other hose at the fire. It usually involved a two man team.
"Colorado beetles" what on earth have they got to do with the war you might ask, "nothing" but outside every police station & at town halls etc. there used to be these notices which warned you to be on the look out for the "Colorado beetle" which apparently was a menace to our potato crops. (Actually I saw the self same notice at Manchester Airport the other day, so they still haven't caught the blighter). Well, to continue, one day there I was minding my own business when I spotted a "Colorado Beetle" what a find. Incidentally these creatures are about the size of a lady bird only they are yellow with black stripes on them. So I stuffs it into a matchbox & off I toddles to the police station. 鈥淗ello, hello, hello, what have we here sonny Jim鈥, says the policeman on duty. A "Colorado Beetle" say I. 鈥淲ell, Well lets have a look shall we鈥, says he. 鈥淲ell spotted lad, but sad to say the stripes on your beetle go the wrong way鈥. The stripes on my beetle went across the body, where as on the Colorado beetle they run from head to tail. All I can say is it must have turned round when it was on the conveyor belt having its stripes put on. I never did find out what sort of beetle it really was.
I think one of the worse tragedies of the war, from a civilian point of view, that I know of was the following:- A lot of children & some of their mothers were centred at this school awaiting to be evacuated, things didn't go quite as planned & they all had to spend the night at the school. Of course during the night there was an air-raid & the school was bombed. Many children died, I can't remember how many nor exactly where the school was. Ultimately I believe they had a special plaque made to commemorate this incident.
There was also another time later on when the "doodle-bugs" were around & one of them landed on a cinema in Balham one afternoon when it was full of people.
Don't ever let anyone kid you that war is exciting & full of adventure. Not when things like that happen it isnt!!! No Sir.
Brother Bill was still very much around but since our return to London he mixed more with children of his own age. My dad was very much better now from the point of his fits, & I can't remember any turns about this period. I was still keen on cycling & would cycle all over the place. I think Staines was the furthest I ever got to, which is on the River Thames West of London. I also used to like playing billiards with my pal Brian Sellers. It was a place at the rear of a caf茅. We used to go for a beans on toast & then afterwards go & play billiards. You used to have to put 6d in a meter & it lasted for a 陆 hr or maybe an hour I forget. We also used to play occasionally at a youth club but not very often. It was more table tennis than anything else there.
I recall when we went along to our usual caf茅 they were introducing something special, guess what it was whale meat. I tried this whale steak but despite them trying hard to conceal the flavour, it still tasted slightly fishy, but I guess you'll try anything when there's a war on. After all we had spam.
I guess it would now be about June 1943 I was 13陆going on 14 when there was the next big change in my life.
It would now be about 4 yrs since my dad had his accident & he was on workman's compensation at so much per week. How much I don't know. Well the lawyers of the company now decided to offer my dad a lump sum to settle out of court. After much deliberation my father settled with them & the figure I think was 拢1500 which I suppose was a lot of money then, but it would have to last us for a long time to come.
My father had a best friend of many years standing called Harry Marshall, his wife was called Daisy? & they had 3 daughters, the eldest called Shirley?. Their ages at this time compared to me at 13 & Bill 8 would be in the order of 10\11, 5\6 & the youngest 3 yrs old. Uncle Harry as we knew him was a lorry driver driving big tanker lorries up & down the country, but somewhere in his past he had had some experience in the catering world. Be that as it may, they went into partnership & bought this restaurant & guest house in Wandsworth, called "The Rendezvous". I'm not 100 % sure of the financial arrangements but I believe the idea was for Uncle Harry to continue working & to put some money into the business that way & so pay my dad his share. His wife & my mum worked in the restaurant & Dad did all the books & ordering etc. The previous owner, stayed on for an agreed period until we got going & also to give continuity to the place. He was a nice old Spaniard called Sebastian Bach. His speciality was a curry which I loved & he would also roast white coffee beans in the oven until they were lovely golden brown & produced a wonderful aroma about the place & needless to say the coffee tasted even better than the smell.
However I've jumped ahead a bit there. Whilst all the transactions were going on we were getting ourselves togged out, here & there. I recall my dad buying a new suit & one for me too & we bought the clothing coupons through the black market (naughty) & had this suit made for me by an old Jewish gentleman down Whitechapel Rd.
Well that ended the period of my life down Leyes Rd, I went back there at odd times to see my old pals, Brian Sellers my best friend later joined the navys, George McCartney, I met up with briefly a few years later.
So we moved, & of course with it being a restaurant we were moving to, it was farewell to rationing. "The Rendezvous Restaurant" 16 ? Belle Vue Rd. Wandsworth Common SW17. We all settled 'in' to our new way of life & I started at my new school which was the Brixton School of Building, but in fact et was an annex that the school had taken over at Clapham. This was in fact nearer to my home, although it turned out it was a girls' convent school until we took it over, you felt as if there were old ghosts of nuns past everywhere.
I quickly made new friends, one of them, I can't recall his name, was a member or the Westminster Cathedral Choir, but he was no angel. Back at the restaurant I used to help out when I could, and I received 1\- (5p) for every bucket of potatoes that I peeled, I did a bucketful every night when I could so that was 7\- for a week's work. In addition I also got a share of the tips, when I helped in the restaurant. The penalty I sometimes had to pay would be just as I would have prepared my own tea, say beans on toast, or something similar, a customer would come on the scene & of course they would ask for "beans on toast" & quick as a flash my tea would disappear out to the customer.
Sometimes if a bomb landed near by, we would dash round to the scene & take some tea for all the people working in the rubble because there would be dust everywhere & a "cup of char" (tea) was just what they needed. You see they couldn't make any because all power supplies would be cut-off.
Adjacent to us on Wandsworth Common was the famous prison. It was here that they used to hang people who had been found guilty of murder. At least it was one of the prisons where this happened. I think I remember a man being hung there. His name was Haig & he was famous or should I say infamous for the "acid bath" murders, another one was called Neville Heath. I hope my facts are correct, its sometimes difficult slotting them into the time factor. I've see all these evil men & many others, at least wax effigies of them at "Madame Tussauds" in the section known as "The Chamber of Horrors". I don't know if it still exists, perhaps now it is full of prime ministers (joke). "Madame Tussauds" by the way is situated in Baker St. which of course is famous for that fictional character "Sherlock Holmes".
Finally one last little memory was when I was playing "rounders" on the common with some other friends with this home made bat, the handle of which was nailed on to the main bat part. Well it was my turn to bat & after I'd hit the ball I threw the bat down & ran round the bases. When I'd finished running I noticed for the first time that I had cut my hand with a nail that was protruding on the bat handle. I couldn't blame anyone because it was me that had made the bat. I've still got that scar to prove it. So much for that little interlude.
There鈥檚 a part of London called West End as opposed to East End, & its here that all the entertainment is concentrated; theatres, restaurants, & cinemas. Shaftsbury Ave had about 6 theatres along its length. Restaurants of varying categories & price range were everywhere. A famous one was the "Lyons Corner House" & of course there was plenty of "busking" going on, & American soldiers all over the place. So that gives you a little picture of the "West End". I used to go up the "West End", as they say, most Saturdays to the pictures to see the latest films weeks before they would be released to my area of South West London. I think I'd better explain this to you, as you my not understand. You see, first of all a film would be put on at one of the leading cinemas in the "West End". After about a month of showing it would go on general release in the following order. One week showing at cinemas in the N.W. London Area, then a week later in the N.E. Area & finally in the area south of the Thames & then if you were lucky it would find it way to other cinemas in the provinces. Years later, I didn't know it then, I was to suffer because of this system, because when I moved "up north" I'd seen all the pictures that were showing. Anyway I digress, let's get back on track. When you went up the "West End" there were "yanks" everywhere. Yanks or GIs are American soldiers who of course by now had joined us in the fight against Germany. I used to enjoy smelling the fragrance coming from the huge cigars that some of them would smoke.
Things were sometimes a little difficult living at the "Rendezvous" because of 2 families living together, more often than not I was out of it all, but if for example one of the girls of the Marshall family did something wrong & got a smack from their mother, then my mother would smack Bill, jut to be sure everything was fair, but of course very often it wasn't fair at all. Anyway the climax of all this was that I threatened to run away. I think it was my way of drawing attention to the situation & after that things improved a little.
Hitler of course hadn't been idle & he was beginning to get desperate & so he launched his V1s on us. They were called doodle-bugs by us & they would "drone" overhead with a flame spouting out of the rear & then at a crucial point their engine would cut-out & the thing would nose dive into the ground with a big explosion. At first the air-raid warning would go as soon as they were about, but after a while it became so regular throughout the day that they didn't bother with "the siren". You just carried on as usual with your work or whatever & if you heard the "droning" noise pass overhead you knew you were safe, if the engine cut-out overhead then you ducked & hoped it didn't have your number on it. At first we didn't have much defence against the "doodle bug" but our lads in the RAF eventually got the knack of being able to fly along side them, whilst they were still over the channel, & just flip their wing tip & this would cause them to nose dive into the sea. Even so quite a lot of the devils got through to us in London.
I think it got to be about Easter of 1944 when we decided to go on a much needed holiday & so we took ourselves, Mum, Dad Bill & me that is, off to a little fishing/mining village near Whitehaven in Cumberland. Why we chose there for the holiday I don't know but we stayed at the village Inn. There isn't a lot I can recall about this holiday except one or two highlights. One, was when Dad hired a little fishing boat including the fisherman & all his fishing tackle & off we goes out to sea to catch our dinner or whatever. Mum of course didn't come. So there we were about to cast our lines to catch these great big fish, when Dad decided he felt sea-sick. I think it was because at this point the boat was stationary & the rocking & swaying of the boat must have set him off. So we ups anchor & makes for the shore. That ended that episode. The next was a bit embarrassing for yours truly. I'd asked the landlady's daughter if she would like to go out with me to the cinema. Bare in mind that I am now all of 14陆 & her response to me was that she didn't want to be accused of cradle-snatching. Well of all the cheek, that set my ego back a wee bit I can tell you.
The main event however was with Bill it was like this! My uncle George & Aunty Ruby from Newcastle (remember them) well they had some friends called Newton's who had a holiday home in Keswick. Now this holiday place was looked after by a lady called Mrs Mills. Mum & Dad, being aware of the doodle bugs in London which weren't getting any better & also because of a few strained relationships with the other family at the "Rendezvous", they got in touch with the Mills family & we went to visit them in Keswick. They had a son called Ian who was the same age as Bill & so the long & short of it is that Bill stayed with them & the rest of us returned to London without him. That was the beginning of a wonderful friendship for Bill & Ian but that's another story altogether & belongs to Bill.
So we're back at the "Rendezvous" minus Bill & the doodle bugs are all around us but we are still surviving & it's business as usual. There was one time when we all had to evacuate the premises due to an unexploded bomb or land mine which had landed on the common, it was quite a distance away from us but there were no buildings between us & the bomb & the experts said it would blow all our windows out at the very least. We all went to some nearby school, fortunately the bomb disposal men were soon on the job & put everything to rights & we were able to return home without having to spend the night in the school.
I was still attending school with everything going on fine & then one lunch time when we was all in the playground, a doodle bug comes along & just at the crucial moment its engine cut-out & down it started to come. We all laid face down in the playground & waited for the worst to happen. As it happened our school was situated at the top of a hill & if we had been on level ground I reckon that that doodle bug would have landed about 20 yards away, as it was its trajectory was such that it continued down the slope of the hill & landed at the bottom which was about a 100 odd yards further away from us. Brother that was a close shave. As a result of this our school was closed & they told us we were now having an early summer holidays & we would hear of further details through the post. So I started my summer holidays in April 1944.
Now every weekday we had a man who came in to our restaurant for lunch & he ran an estate agent's office just up the road. Well I got quite friendly with him & we had a lot in common. He had attended the Brixton School of Building & he was now a surveyor & that's just what I wanted to be. I couldn't believe it, when, after finding out that I was on "holiday" he offered me a job. It was super, I had to report to his office at 9 am each morning from there he would give me a list of some addresses & keys, I would then set off on my bike & visit these various houses, the owners not being there. The purpose of my visit was to see if the house had suffered any bomb damage. I used to list all the damage & then report back to the office & between us we would estimate the cost of the damage. This information would be sent to the absent owner so that they could submit claims for war damage. This sometimes used to be a bit horrendous for the poor owner when I would go to his house with keys in hand only to find that it had been completely destroyed. Gradually I got on top of all this work, but I enjoyed every minute of it. He also offered me a job when I left school but that wouldn't be for another 18 mths to 2yrs, & a lot of things happened between times.
My school contacted me just about now & were offering to send us on a two weeks working holiday for anyone who wanted to go to Wiltshire. We all had to report at the school, all those boys who wanted to go, that is, & off we goes on a coach to a place called Wooton Bassett in Wiltshire.
Before we departed for Wooton Bassett I asked my Mum if she would send me a parcel of food & all sorts of tuck so that it would arrive about the middle of our stay & then me & all my pals could have a midnight feast.
Where was I, yes, on the way to Wooton Bassett. We arrived, about 30 of us including a couple of teachers, at this farm & we all had to sleep in the roof of this big barn. We all made our own little personal places & we each had what we call a "paliass" filled with straw for us to sleep on & spent our firs night in the country away from the doodle bugs & everything.
Next day we were allocated different jobs on various local farms. the idea was we were to receive so much an hour (can't remember how much) & food etc would be deducted & at the end of 2 weeks we would hopefully receive the balance & end up with some money in our pockets. We also got some free time & visited a little town called Compton Bassett. This area of Wiltshire seems to be full of some Bassett or other.
In another of our free times about four of us went to have a go at horse riding. We went to this local stable & rented out these two horses. One was an old docile mare whom would let any one ride her. The other was a more frisky type & we could only ride her whilst someone else led her. There we were all four of us taking shares at riding these hunter horses, bear in mind that my total experience of this four-legged type had been riding on a donkey at the seaside.
We gradually started getting bolder in our riding & we actually had the old mare galloping or perhaps it was only a fast trot. All this by the way I ought to say was taking place in this big field. We were still going round leading the frisky mare only by now we were running with the lead. Well, the inevitable happened whilst I was riding her the lad who was holding the lead tripped & fell, resulting in him loosing his hold on the lead. As soon as the mare realised she was free she was away with it, with me of course holding on for grim death. She eventually stopped at the gate which led to her stables. Lucky for me she didn't try to jump it. What an afternoon that was.
Sure enough after the first week I received this big hamper with all sorts of goodies in it & so we had this super feast. However this was all somewhat overshadowed by a letter which arrived next day from my parents & the puzzling thing was it was from a place called "Howden" in Yorkshire. The gist of the letter was that my parents had now moved to this place called Howden & had bought a "transport caf茅". There was no explanation as to why & to this day I don't know. I can only assume that perhaps things weren't going too well with the partnership & that there may be had been some row or other. Harry Marshall as I've already said was a lorry driver & it was on one of his trips that he saw this place was for sale & so between them they bought it but I can't think that all this could have suddenly happened in the space of two weeks.
I was shattered, I can tell you & I laid in this barn that night wondering what on earth was going to happen to me. Anyway I stayed the remainder of the time & then we all went home back to London. I told the teacher what had happened, said farewell to my pals, never to see them again, spent about two more days at the Rendezvous & off I goes up to Yorkshire. That ends that part of my life!!!
Lee's Transport Cafe, Hull Road, Howden, E.Yorks.
Actually it was very important to call it "transport" caf茅 because we were able to claim extra rations for the lorry drivers.
Life was primitive at Howden compared to what I had in London.
Buses to Hull one every hour.
Buses to Goole one every 2 hours.}
Buses to Selby one every 2 hours.} alternate so every hour into Howden.
We had a telephone "Howden 270"
We had running water from the tap but no hot water.
No electricity only paraffin "Tilley" lamps.
Later we had a 24 volt system.
No flush toilet only an outside chemical one which was emptied once a week by the council "yuck".
There were 3 cinemas in Goole, 1 in Howden & 2 in Selby. At first there were no cinemas open on a Sunday unless I went into Hull.
Goole was about 4-5 miles away & was nick-named sleepy-hollow. Of course for a long time I'd already seen most of the pictures when I saw them in London but eventually I was seeing all the films that were on. I also took up dancing lessons in Howden & used to go dancing at the "Shire Hall" in Howden.
Anyway I arrived at Howden sometime in May 1944, Bill of course was still at Keswick. At first, for about two weeks my cousin Eddy & his mother, my aunt Ethel, were there helping my mum and dad settle in & so I was able to go around with him which helped me to settle. However I was still very restless & kept dashing off back down to London. I would get a lift with our lorry driver friends, stay in London for a day or so & then get a lift back. I would sometimes bring back money from the "Rendezvous" for my Mum and Dad, other times I would pop round & see my gran & grandad who were living in a prefab. You see the trouble was ,I couldn't get anyone to accept me at school. There was one College of Architecture & Arts in Hull, 22 miles away & another at Selby 11 miles & what is more in the "West" Riding. I lived in the "East" Riding & believe me it was like being in a different country. It's a wonder I didn't need a passport. Hull of course was a city & had its own rules. The biggest stumbling block was that with my scholarship was a grant of 拢15/year as I've already told you & it was supposed to be transferable to anywhere in the country, but no they wouldn't have it. My father said they could forget about the grant so long as I could start school. Well after much haggling and to & fro-ing I was finally accepted at Selby Technical College (Building) but without the grant & made my start at school. By now it was December & I had about 2 weeks at school when we "broke up" for Xmas Holidays. A holiday was the last thing I wanted. However although things weren't going to well for me, we were doing great on the "war front". We landed in Normandy on what was called 'D' Day in June 44 & was pushing back old Hitler's Army. He was still sending over doodle-bugs & we were rapidly advancing on his launching sites. Old Hitler though was crafty because by now he was sending over his V2 rockets. These were more deadly & travelled through the air faster than the speed of sound. We had no defence against them & he was sending them over London. One thing they used to say about them, & only the British could sat it at a time like this, & that was "if you heard a V2 you knew you was safe." I'll leave you to work that one out.
Another thing that happened & I couldn't believe it at the time. One of his rotten doodle-bugs came after me in Yorkshire. Hitler must have somehow found out that I'd moved & sent one over to warn me. Fortunately Yorkshire is a big place & he missed. I thought how could he get this far with his doodle-bugs when they only had a limited range. Later it was disclosed that he piggy-backed them so far on a 'Heinkel' bomber & used it to launch them. I think he had more failures than successes & so abandoned that idea.
On one of my trips down to London I found a poor dog who had no home, bombed out I suppose & he kept following me. He had no collar, nor any means of identification. After several attempts to find out what name he would respond to I finally called him "Jim" & he came to me. We became buddies & he gradually lost his timidness so at the end of my stay in London I took him back to Yorkshire with me. He was a lovely black dog, no particular breed but I think he must have had a bit of whippet or greyhound in him because he could run like no-body's business. (Have you heard that expression before).
Another nice thing that happened was one of the lorry drivers who was very friendly to my Mum & Dad asked if it was possible to bring his wife & little daughter to stay with us because she was very upset with the V2s, as no doubt a lot of people were. So he brought his family up to Yorkshire & in return his wife helped my Mum in the caf茅. Their names were Charles Covell, his wife Win & their daughter Pat. A great friendship developed & they are my friends to this day.
At school I met new friends, & of course they had great fun at my expense. Although I didn't mind, teasing me about my "Cockney" (London) accent. Even the teachers gave me problems. "What's your name" they would say as they were about to write it down. Bain says I. Spell it says the teacher. 'B', yes 'A' & he would write 'I'. No 'A' says I. Yes I've written that. No (stupid man think I) 'A' the first letter in the alphabet. Ah 'A' says he. Yes that's what I've been saying all along 'B' 'A' 'I' 'N'. At last he got it. He just doesn't understand the King's English. How do you get to school? (That was another difficult one.) BUS. Bus oh, you mean boos. It seemed they had trouble with my vowel sounds & I certainly had problems with them.
Often I would cycle to school which as I've said was 11 miles away. Other times I would catch the bus. Selby also had one last remaining old wooden toll bridge which was a menace to the development of Selby.
I had a friend called Roger Bramley & his parents had a small farm at a place near Heminborough which was half way between my home & his & so we often used to cycle together to the halfway mark. Sometimes on a weekend he would come to my house just for the one day usually a Saturday & other times I would take "Jim" with me. He would run along the side of me, but after a hectic day of playing on the farm I would carry him home across my shoulder holding him with one hand whilst I steered with the other. He would be too tired to jump down & would just be content on my shoulder. Sometimes Roger & I would go swimming either at Goole Baths or Selby Baths depending whose house we were at. other times we would go to the pictures. On one occasion I remember going to the pictures & riding home to his house, but I had no front light & it was getting dark so Roger said he would lend me one from his Dad's bike. Well what a surprise I got. This lamp must have come from the "ark". I'd never seen one like it. First you had to prime it by putting this stuff called ... & then poring water on it, only a little drop, then you waited until it started to give off a gas. You put a match to it & then shut up the lid. Well, after about 10 secs it gave off a real strong vivid white beam, like a search light it was & I set off home with this lamp on my bike. An extra bonus was it gave off some heat & so on a cold night like it was I was able to keep my hands warm.
On his farm he also had a horse called "Prince". It wasn't a hunter like I had ridden in Wiltshire but this one was a great big working horse who used to pull the plough or the farm gully wagon. We would try to climb on board him & ride him around but it was always difficult to climb on him. We would have to hold him near a gate & get on him via the gate. It was great fun & I'm sure the horse enjoyed it too, least-wise he never complained.
My Dad got a car, a 1935 Austin 10 & he got an issue of petrol coupons & so sometimes we used to go to Goole or Howden in it. Either to the pictures or to the local pub. In this case it was usually the Bowmen's Hotel. During this period there were quite a few RAF stations around Howden & it was the custom that after the squadron had flown so many sorties over Germany (I don't know the number maybe 20) they would throw a party to celebrate & it was nearly always held at the Bowmen's. Sometimes of course not all the chaps made it back to base, shot down or maybe end up being taken prisoner so they would drink to absent friends who didn't make it. Sad really, but life had to go on. There was also a land girl hostel just outside of Howden & it was sometimes a riot if everyone was in Howden at the same time.
There were also several Italian prisoners of war. POWs for short. Italy was by now out of the war & so they used to work on the farms. There were two at the farm near us where we got the milk 'Bentley's Farm' it was called.
The war was still on but we were winning on all "fronts" until in June 1945 Hitler's Germany surrendered unconditionally to the allied forces. This of course was a time for celebration, no more bombing, no more black-out, no more rationing, sorry forgot that last item, rationing was to be with us for a long time to come yet although we didn't know it then. Mum & Dad's first thought was to get Bill home, remember he is still at Keswick. So off we sets in our little Austin 10 Mum, Dad & yours truly. I don't know how long it took us to get to Mrs Mills in Keswick, I think perhaps we spent the night there, I can't remember. What I do know was that we loaded up the car with Bill's gear including his new 2-wheeler bike which we tied on the outside of the car. Perhaps I should mention here that this bike was a little too big for Bill & even with the seat at its lowest he could not reach the pedals, so Mr Mills had made wooden blocks fastened on the pedals to enable Bill to ride. Keswick I suppose is about 150 miles from Howden so off we goes heading back for home. We got as far as a place called Bowes when calamity struck. I don't know now whether it was an engine break-down or a puncture, more likely the latter because getting hold of a decent tyre was murder. Now it was important that we got back to Howden because the caf茅 had to be open by 7.30 am next morning but there would be no one there to open up. Our hero stepped forward, yes I offered to take Bill's bike & ride it home to Howden. My mother didn't realise how far it was away because she said afterwards that she never would have allowed it. We put the seat higher so that the bike would suit me, but unfortunately there was nothing we could do with these wooded blocks on the pedals. Off I sets then with something like 90 miles ahead of me. It was daylight when I set off but I couldn't tell you the time. I just kept pedalling away & I recall passing round York at about midnight. I wasn't lonely though because everyone was celebrating VE & there were street parties everywhere. Unbeknown to me at that time, somewhere in York your grandma was celebrating with her Mum & Dad, but I digress because I haven't even met your Mum yet.
A policeman stopped me because I had no lights but he let me go when I told him what I was about. It took me about an hour to get round York & I still had about 25 miles to go. I eventually made it home about 4 o/c in the morning, had a rest and opened up for 7.30am.
Meanwhile at Bowes Mum, Dad & Bill were trying to arrange means of getting home. I think they got a bus so far & finally managed to get a lift with a lorry or something & they got home about lunchtime. The car was eventually brought back home & all ended well.
I ought to mention a bit more about tyres. You see petrol was rationed & only certain people could have them. Most people's cars were laid up during the war. Well to get tyres you had to have even higher priorities & they were very difficult to get hold of & would cost a small fortune when you eventually found one to fit your car. Having got one it wouldn't last very many miles before it was down to its canvas.
Well for now the war in Europe was over but we still had to beat Japan in the far East. Everything of course was still rationed but everyone was more light hearted & families were at last reunited. Some however had lost dear ones & for them it was sad times. It was also now that a lot of inhumane things that the Germans had done came to light. Places like "Belsam" (concentration camps) were discovered & a lot of German leaders were brought to trial at "Neurenburg".
By now some big decisions were made & it was decided by the allies especially the U.S.A. (President Truman) that the best way to finish the war with Japan in the quickest way & with minimal loss of life for all our forces was to drop the "atom bomb" on the Japanese cities "Hiroshima & Okinoro" ?? This was duly done & brought the Japanese far-east war to a sudden end & so on June ? 1945 V.J. day was declared.
Win & Charles, with their daughter Pat, had already returned to London after V.E. day & so without any further to do we all set off in the car (our little Austin 10, 1935) to London for the celebrations. What celebrations there were. There were people everywhere. No one slept for ages. Trafalgar Square, The Mall, leading to Buckingham Palace, the King & Queen stood on their balcony waving. You might have seen some of the pictures shown on the television telling you all about this historical moment. Well I was somewhere in those crowds, laughing, dancing, singing, cheering & generally having a good old time. Thank goodness the war was at long last over & life could get back to normal. We all returned home back to Howden & I carried on at school. I, by now, had reached the grand old age of 15陆.
My Uncle Bob came home on leave to see us & slowly but surely people got "demobbed" from the forces, which just left a reduced force to look after things in occupied Germany etc.
It was while my Uncle Bob was on leave & I was at school, that my dog "Jim" got killed. My Uncle had been playing with him at the time & so felt very guilty. It wasn't his fault, but that's how it is & so when I got home from school I was told about it & how it happened & I was very sad, but life has to go on.
When I was 16 I got a 250cc "matchless" motorbike. It was a1926 model so it was older than I was, but I had great fun with it. Although I couldn't wait till I was old enough (18) to drive a car.
Xmas 1945 was wonderful, it being the first peace time Xmas since Xmas of 1938. Lots of families were united for the first time for many a year. We of the Bain clan were no exception & we all went off to London to spend Xmas with Gran. She of course along with Grandad, Uncle George & Uncle Henry now lived in a little prefab, but that didn't stop us from all getting together, Uncles, Aunts, Cousins & Uncle Tom Cobly & having a good old knees up. We took some great big chickens with us, because Mum had been feeding them up special for Xmas. One of them I recall weighing in at 9lbs.
Things of course were still in short supply & rationing was still with us. From America we were supplied with some luncheon meat in tins called "Spam". There was many a joke about Spam & even a song. Other items of interest were National Dried Milk, Powdered Egg, & all sorts of novel recipes for making Xmas pudding etc.
I visited some of my old haunts & it wasn't the same & gradually I began to realise that Yorkshire was now my home & I no longer felt the pull of London, in fact I used to feel a bit claustrophobic in the narrow streets.
Well, were now into a brand new year 1946 & come Easter I had finished school, but despite writing loads of letters & having a few interviews, I couldn't get a job anywhere. It seems there were still a lot of ex-servicemen coming back to work & they were assured of at least 12 months work at their old jobs. So everytime I wrote for a job it was always the same question put to me "are you an ex-serviceman". If you're not we are sorry we cannot offer you a position.
Things carried on like this until May when I finally got a job at Blackburn Aircraft Ltd. Brough. Nothing to do with architecture or surveying, but as an apprentice draughtsman in the aircraft industry. I was now 16陆.
Recommended story
Story with photo