Savings stamps and bank money boxes

In Birmingham there was a Municipal Bank, our local branch being on the corner of Station Road and Lyttleton Road in Stechford. It smelt like a bank, with a high counter and grills behind which stood formidable people.
When I started school we were asked for money for all sorts of things, pennies for the lepers, money for the poor, pennies for Africa, all sorts of things. We were also allowed to save money to put in the BMB as it was called and savings stamps were available one day a week. We used to bring in our 3d and 6d and in return we would get a stamp to put on our card, which the teacher kept safe for us. When the card was full it was worth one whole pound (or we could have a mixture of stamps to the value of £1) and we would be given this card to take home so that our parents could take us to the Bank to pay the money in. The stamps had small pictures of Princess Anne and Prince Charles, Princess Anne being worth 6d and Prince Charles worth 1s. I very rarely managed a shilling; once I had saved up 6d then the stamp was put on my card.
My teacher just would not let me save up too long (12d (pennies) in a 1s (shilling)), nowadays I understand that just for 30 children to have 6d each was a lot of money to have lying around so that is probably why she changed our money into stamps so often!
Anyway with my first full card, off I went with Mam to the bank, it was terrifying – think Mary Poppins!! This well built lady looked over the counter at me as Mam explained why we were there. She passed a form under the grill and we took it over to the small desk on the wall, I could just about reach so Mam had to help. We filled it in and took it back to the lady who said I would have to fill in another one as she had not seen me sign it!! Back we went again and then brought the form back to her so I could sign it in front of her. Mam had to lift me up to sign this and in my childish writing I signed my name – Christine Holland. Sometime later when I was about 10 and went to withdraw some of this money, I was not allowed to get any because my signature had changed!!! Back Mam had to come again to countersign and all for a couple of pounds!!!
Sometimes - usually in Lent – we were given a sheet that had panels on it into which we could slot pennies. This form was filled in during the course of Lent and the money was sent to ‘the lepers’. We used to have stories about how it was for these people in those days and all the grisly details about the disease – every year, I mean once was enough!! – but I suppose each teacher had her own take on it. So another sheet but more interesting to fill in. It was very satisfying to see the rows of pennies filling up the sheet although I only ever managed to fill one in my whole time at Corpus Christi. As I grew older the bank gave me a green money box which could only be emptied by one of the clerks, it was a very boring money box and I really wanted something pretty but there you go …….. this dull, olive green oval metal box with a slot on the top and a small hole to one side appeared on the shelf. It was ugly but it held my savings and the worst of it was that I would have to go back to that ‘lady’ who obviously thought children didn’t belong in a bank. I rolled my £10 note and put it in that box – ha-ha that’d fox her!!! The funny thing is that the bank is now a children’s’ nursery ………..
When we moved to Hall Green the money box came with us and I started to use the Municipal Bank at the top of Highfield Road – I think it is an Estate Agents now – the staff were a wee bit more tolerant but otherwise it was just the same as the Stechford branch, austere, awesome and smelly!! As soon as I left Our Lady of Lourdes – who had the same savings system!!! – I changed to the Post Office next door to the bank. Their money box looked like a small book and we could choose the colour so I had a blue one. Once again the money box was taken to the Post Office to be opened and then entered into the Savings Bank book but the staff were really friendly and always made me feel that I had achieved something, which in those days I really had!! I still have a couple of the boxes but our local PO cannot find the key – I will have to try a few of the older POs, maybe someone will recognise them!!

Having sandwiches in Dad’s hut …….. 2

One dank and miserable day, we had been indoors most of the day, Dad going in and out seeing ‘to things’ and I had been doing my usual ‘things’ and it had been very quiet and almost boring (I had my books). The day became foggy as the evening drew on so, when I went round with Dad to lock up, I really had to watch where I was going. So holding on to Dad’s hand and watching the ground I trundled round with him. The mist got gradually thicker and it was quite frightening. We locked the top gate and started to walk alongside the hedge down towards Manor Road Gate. Suddenly I saw something on the ground and picked it up – it was folded up and was a £10 pound note!!! My Dad scowled at me (as he often did!!) and told me not to be foolish but I put it in my pocket so that when we got back to his hut I could prove it was not just a sweet wrapper. So we continued the routine of locking up, but when we returned to the hut I left the paper in my pocket and then we set off home. Once we reached the house there was no holding me as I ran up the entry, into the kitchen and told Mam all about what had happened, she was astonished as Dad, didn’t believe it either. I pulled the paper out of my pocket and there it was – a £10 pound note!!! It was like finding a £50 note in today’s money. I had to put it straight into my money box, a special one that had to be opened at the bank and the money paid into my bank account. I was thrilled to think I had all that money in my bank but I can’t for the life of me remember what I spent it on!!

Having sandwiches in Dad’s hut

This was sharing to the utmost!!! It was always such a private moment between Dad and me; but then he always shared his food with me, especially the bones off his chops, and the tripe out of his Tripe and Onions. It was through this sharing of bones that I learnt how to strip them ….. if I moved away from him then there would be no more from that meal!!!!
Mam always used to moan but Dad ignored her and I know now that she didn’t mind really, she was just being a mom. I was the last child born after the war finished so when I reached the interesting stage – 2years old – Dad had left the army and was trying to find work, along with hundreds of other ex-service people. Dad must have spent a lot of time at home but it was before I was old enough to really appreciate this.
My earliest memory as I have said previously was when I was three and I broke my leg. My next memories are of school so I wasn’t aware that Mam and Dad’s relationship was any different to when my brother and sister were small – they were just there!!! Dad did not have a lot to do with my siblings as children because, although before the war Mam was in married quarters usually on the base, unfortunately the war was on and he was away during the best times to get to know them.
Dad was the centre of my universe, I always felt that I had a special relationship with him but was not aware that I was ‘spoilt’. During the school holidays I spent a lot of time with him, me and Frieda – although she was not privy to a lot of what went on as she would stay in the street playing with the other children, using her own home as a base. I opened up the park with him on the days that Mam worked and closed it again at night, if it was before my bedtime or around that time. Mam would make sandwiches for us both for breakfast, mostly jam. Dad would pick up a loaf of bread and something for us to have for lunch from the shop for lunch and maybe tea. Sometimes Dad opened the top of the oven and toasted the bread, my job being to spread the marg and jam. We couldn’t always do this as the fire was not hot enough, some days it always seemed to just smoke which filled the hut very quickly. Dad always sent me into the other room and told me to shut the door and stay there till he told me to come out. I didn’t mind as I had my book and I could look out of the window. The window looked onto the Manor Road gate so I could watch the people going to and fro and also those in their gardens. On Toasty days we saved the sandwiches for tea! They were always slightly mashed and bent, with the jam running into the bread – unless you have taken jam sandwiches on a picnic - you have no idea of the taste. For lunch we would have sausage or bacon sandwiches or such like, always followed by a piece of Mam’s apple pie. Mam would make a bacon and egg pie which we would have for lunch, this was delicious although I was not always keen on the soggy bits!!! Alternatively she could make us some soup or stew and Dad would warm this up on the stove and we would have it with bread. Dad’s table was a small fold up one, may have been a card table I am not sure as there was nearly always a plastic cloth over it. I don’t recall where he kept the cutlery and plates etc or the bowl for washing, I think that the only cupboard as I remember was a single wardrobe like one in the other room. He kept his paperwork, small tools and things in there. I had a hook on the back of the door at my height for me to hang my coat and bag (always brought the bag with my books, colouring and writing stuff, sewing, sometimes a jigsaw). The days were long, quite boring at times, although in the summer I could escape out into the park, but always where Dad could see me. Having to stay close to the hut, I found that I could collect leaves and flowers and ‘explore’ round the changing rooms hut. I even had a vase for my picked flowers although the garden that I made just outside the hut never came to anything!! Dad superior, Mr Douggan, came on a Friday at some time to give him his wage packet and I always, always had to be out of the way when he came. I met him once or twice when I was ill, probably tonsillitis from which I suffered a lot. The Superintendent was another ex army officer and Dad would make him a cup of tea and they would sit and chat. I had to be invisible on these visits, I didn’t know then why but now I realise that Dad could have lost his job if it was known that he was looking after me while he was at work.

Manor Road Recreation Ground........Playing games

Sometimes for reasons best known to himself, Dad would not allow me to play down the bottom end so then decisions had to be made, whether the others wanted to play down there without me or up top with me. Invariably, if Sarah M was with them, then they would play down the bottom and I would play by myself up top. This didn’t always bother me because I was on my own a lot, many of the children hung about the bakery and the railway and in the street so, me being in the park, I was on my own!!
Dad’s hut and the changing rooms were built into a dip in the land at the top of the hill. A flat area had been dug out to contain these two buildings with three little narrow steps cut into the side so that the rest of the top park (which was basically football and/or cricket pitches) could be accessed. This ‘drop’ was only about 3ft and could be jumped quite easily so us children could access anywhere on this area as there was an (we called it a gulley) access area all round these buildings. Quite a neat area to play in, with plenty of hiding places although it was sooo exposed.

Dad’s hut
Two changing rooms / toilets


SHOULD BE A MAP - DARN IT!!!!! I'LL DO IT ONE DAY!!!! :-)



So long as we kept the noise down Dad didn’t mind us playing here and I think he quite enjoyed watching us although, if he came out to go ‘on patrol’, he would never let on that he knew where any of us were hiding!! We usually played out non-cowboy films here as the grass was quite short, so we had to use the buildings as ‘protection’. It was great fun but very limited, there is only so much you can do in such a small area and only so many times you can run round buildings!!
When I was on my own I tended to play in the area behind the changing rooms; the grass was short, as this small piece of land was lumpy, so there were various games that could be played by oneself. Sometimes when on the opening walk with Dad I would collect leaves and flowers, then sew small garments for the fairies which I would leave out in appropriate places i.e. under the shelter of the hut or in a dip in the ground. Other times I would run up or down the dips, lie on my back just watching the clouds overhead and listening to the skylarks. I would imagine I went to sleep during these times as it was very relaxing to just lie there, watching and listening. There were several patches of weeds growing there and around the bases of the huts so sometimes I would pick bunches of flowers for Dad’s hut. Quite often when Dad went out ‘on patrol’ and I was left alone in there, I would pretend it was my house and clean it up and sweep it out – loving every minute of it.
Dad used to go out ‘on patrol’ every couple of hours or so, walking round the full perimeter of the park, checking gates, chatting to people walking the dog, watching out for ‘trouble’ i.e. flashers, suspicious looking characters and courting couples.
Now there is another subject – Courting couples!
Dad was well known locally for being quite strict with goings on in his park. If he saw any couples strolling across the bottom half of the park, he would keep and eye on them as they moved, or stopped – as the case may be. As soon as they were seen to be lying down in the long grass, my Dad was out of that hut and down to them whereupon he would be heard to say “Oi! If you’re stopping here then one lies down and one sits up!” it was quite a joke in the area but there was also respect as they always complied. I think that Dad needed to know that they were ok and while one head was visible he could rest easy.
Dad kept watch over the park and if he thought someone was up to ‘no good’ like a single man hovering near the children, older teenagers throwing stones or looking as though they were bullying younger ones, he was out of that hut and moving very fast!! Gradually it became well known in the area that the park was a very safe place for people and children to be. Dad cared about that park, so much so that he regularly mowed and marked out the pitches for the football and cricket teams, marking all the lines with a white wash of lime.

Manor Road Park .... again ...

As I have said on a previous post, after we had been to the pictures on a Saturday afternoon, we quite often went over the park to playout our ideas of the films that we had watched. Now you must understand that, with my Dad as Parkie, I was sometimes limited in where I could play but if he came down to stop us playing in a certain place then we moved to where he said we could play. This was not always what the others wanted so I would have to leave them and go back to the hut with him. But on a good day …….. if we had seen a cowboy film that day then we would attempt to play down the bottom end, in among the long grass. Invariably we would split into two groups, cowboys and Indians!!! I was always in the Indians group but much as I didn’t mind crawling through the long grass, I hated coming upon the manholes. I can remember being caught once upon a time and being told that I would be thrown down the manhole. I must have had a fit!!!! It never happened again – so I suppose I had better explain what it was about the manholes.
Once I enquired what the manhole was as I stood staring down into it, and the adult with me (possibly my sister as we often walked back from Mass through the park) informed me that was where nasty men put their children after they had kidnapped them!!! If I listened carefully I would be able to hear them crying but that I mustn’t go too close or he would grab me and pull me down. I had this vision of all these poor children down there crying and sobbing and wanting their mams so they were places to avoid. Sometimes, when I was really brave and alone but knew my Dad could see me, I would tiptoe to the edge of these covers and look down. They appeared to be full of grass and some had flowers growing in them – but some just went down and down, and there were ‘funny’ noises coming from them. These I made a note of and avoided at all costs! I have always had a fear of walking on them since then, even over the 'doors' to the cellars that used to be along the pavements. I couldn't have told anyone about it, it seemed such a small thing but still gives me the creeps now.
It is only in my adult life, possibly my forties that I realised they were the access covers to the sewers and the ‘noise’ was the running water way down below as people flushed their loos and emptied their sinks.

More games ..........

We often played out in the street when I was young because it was a side road and the entrance to the Bakery became an exit so nothing left during the day. Also the railway siding was always interesting, with trains and workmen. And then there was the Park! So my playground was anywhere and everywhere but my parents never knew where I was half the time …. only the general direction.
Games in the street consisted mainly of ball games, skipping and hopscotch. I loved hopscotch but not when Sarah Macklewham played!! There were two types of layout for Hopscotch,
1 (I did have the two layouts here but can't find how to upload, perhaps another day!)















The first layout meant that you threw the slate into square one, hop scotched up to it, picked it up and hop scotched back. You kept repeating this so long as you managed to get your slate into the square, if you missed the square then you lost your go and it was the next person’s turn. After you had completed all the numbers, you could then play again but this time any square you landed on you could claim as your own by drawing a line across the corner with your initials in. No-one else could tread in that square and had to hop over it.

(another diagram here!)

I loved to reach the top of the first layout, although it took me some time to get there as I wasn’t very good at aiming the slate so when I did complete it was a real win for me, and to get my initials in a square – a rare happening!!! How I loved that game!
Sarah would always play the second type and I hated it, basically because I didn’t have much sense of balance or how to kick the darn slate!!! Whenever I fell over or kicked the slate out of the square you could guarantee that Sarah was yelling the loudest ‘out’ and sometimes I am sure she would yell just to make me fall over. You started off the same way throwing your slate into square one but then you had to kick it round the hopscotch back to the start. I hated this one mainly because I could never, never kick the slate back out of the hopscotch, it would keep going into adjacent squares to the one I wanted!!! Nightmare time and as I said I am sure Sarah picked this one so she could make more fun of me. Sometimes the game would be finished by all of them and I was still struggling to get from number four!!
Occasionally the road was re-gritted and this meant that the gutters had runny hot tar in them and also round the drains. We would find lollypop sticks or twigs and sit on the kerb stones and collect the tar on the sticks and then ‘write’ along the kerb stones. Our mothers hated us doing this and when we got into the house we would be sent outside again to strip off our outer clothing. Then the butter would be rubbed over all the tar patches on our skin, and how they were rubbed!!! We would be left with red patches but all the tar would be gone. After this we had to get back in the house to wash all these patches to remove the butter and then get dressed in some clean clothes. I never knew how my mother removed the tar from our clothes, but looking at what I have written and having had my own children, I know now that it is a nightmare time for mothers – I can remember the first time one of mine came in after playing with the tar – horror of horrors!! But then I remembered the butter and made the same mistakes as my mother, and countless others through time, concentrating on removal of tar one forgets that there is a child underneath!!
When I moved to Hall Green, most of the children were older than me and were boys, so the hopscotch became a rarity and instead we played ‘Hot Rice’! ugh!! Although us girls joined in we soon left the game and formed a little group a short distance away and sometimes, only sometimes, played hopscotch.

More tales from Manor Road Park - Sandpits

At the bottom of the hill in the park were two sandpits, we used to have to run down to these or come in along the bottom of the hill from Manor Road bottom gate. Coming in from Manor Road bottom gate, a hill had to be climbed in order to get to my Dad’s hut. This hill was based on sand and the path up the hill consisted of rain gulleys in this first part, producing very uneven ground through the sand. Further along the hill there were two more places where the rain had washed away the vegetation, but this time the sand at the bottom of these hills had been turned into sandpits for the children to play in. There were two of these gulleys/paths so there were two sandpits, one larger than the other. ‘Me and my friends’ hated it when children from other ‘gangs’ came to play in these pits, they were ours and if there was trouble then the cry rang out ‘she’ll tell her Dad, he’s the parkie!’ so we always won the right to play. One day we built this superb castle, really large, took up the whole sandpit with a moat round it as well, fetching water in buckets from Dad’s tap (outside I might add). It took most of the day and, as my Dad was parkie and I could be there all day, I was security!! Well, we played until it was time to close the park, they went home and I stayed with the castle until Dad left and we walked home. Next morning I was up ready to go back to the castle, so there I was with Dad opening up but me going across to the sandpit. Some of the gang drifted in during the day and we continued to decorate, searching out all sorts of décor from our surroundings. I stayed till close of park again that day, leaving someone to watch while I went and had lunch with Dad – the jam sandwiches! Next day I opened up with Dad and rushed over to the Castle but ….. somehow ….. someone ….. or something …… had trampled our wonderful creation, not totally destroyed it but caused a lot of heartbreak. I ran to find my Dad, where ever he was, and told him about what I had found, I was distraught – crying and sobbing. He came down straight after he had finished opening up the park and was as amazed as me. He did not see how anyone could have entered the park during the night so put it down to animals, either foxes or a badger. Being such a large park, animals had the run of the place at night and I know that there were several badger sets around the bank under the allotments. So that was that ……… when the others came they half heartedly tried to rebuild but the magic had gone out of it. They drifted off after a while and a couple of us stayed to restore it but eventually we had to admit defeat so ……… we kicked it all about and levelled it out, no-one would ever know it was there. I only wish that there had been more cameras in use in those days so I could’ve taken a photo as I have never seen another sandcastle like that one, turrets and moat and all, even the man on Weymouth beach could not make one like that!!!

Tales from Manor Road Recreation Ground.

My Dad was the Park Keeper of the place, and his hut was on top of the hill with a good view of most of the park. It was a two roomed hut, one had his fire, chair and table and the other room was for equipment and coal for his fire. It was very basic living quarters but it was his and I was very proud of the fact that it therefore belonged to me, only Frieda was ever allowed inside for any length of time, everyone else stood on the step and peered in. I was very proud of my Dad, in his uniform he still cut quite a dash and he must have been in his late forties / early fifties then. During school holidays I stayed with him while Mam went to work, I opened the park with him and I closed the park with him, that job must have been wonderful for my Mam as both of us were ‘out of the way’ during those long summer days ........ did I ever say that the sun was always shining!!
My Dad talked to everyone and anybody, usually telling them about his army days but they were good stories at first, after about 10 tellings they began to get a bit boring!!!! He was friends with several of the people whose gardens adjoined the park, chatting to them over the fence.
One lady lived in a very large house, the ‘road’ (it was only tarmac from the main road up to her gate then it was just a ‘bridlepath’ as it was called) led into the park at the top of the hill, and opposite her gate was the entrance to the allotments which ran almost the whole length of that side of the park to another road. Her land was massive and was bordered by hawthorn etc hedging, which grew wild and thick. Part of her land met the park and formed a boundary along the park on top of the hill. Her house could sometimes be seen through the hedging but usually only in the wintertime, it was very old and very rambling, falling down in places. Us children knew it as the 'witch’s house' and used to try to work out whether she was still alive or not.
One day my Dad decided to take me to meet with her and I held onto his hand very tightly!!! We opened the gate and walked up this long overgrown driveway (path) to the front door, the porch was falling down, the step was tiled and all the paintwork was brown. Eventually the door opened and I nearly wet myself!
This very old, wizened, little lady in quite bright but old clothes down to the ground stood there. She beamed when she saw it was my Dad, her crinkled face had a mouth that contained about two teeth, and stood to one side to invite him in, ooohh! I hadn’t expected to go in!!! We walked down this long dark tiled hallway full of old things and very dusty into a lovely sunlit room, still full of very old things including photographs, but it looked really homely and was obviously where she spent most of her time. The French windows were open and there were cats everywhere, all shapes, colours and sizes – magic land! Dad introduced me to Miss Davey and then went off to make the tea while she asked me all the usual questions – "how old are you? What school did I go to? Did I like to read books?" You know what it’s like. Then Dad came back with the tray all laid very nicely with china cups and a larger cup for him. Dad placed the tray on the side table by Miss Davey and she proceeded to pour the tea and pass it out to us, then offered us biscuits from a china plate. I felt like royalty. Soon I got bored so Miss Davey asked if I would do a small job for her; she had a rather large ginger tom cat with one eye who was a naughty boy because he hadn’t come home for his lunch – would I go and find him and then let her know where he was. I had to be careful because he didn’t like children so I mustn’t touch him, in fact several cats were like this so while I was looking for him I had to be very careful. Off I went through the French windows and lo and behold! Cats everywhere! Even more kinds and sizes! Some were little kittens! Anyway off I trouped, oh! What joy! All this exploring to do in the ‘witch’ garden and with her permission!! Further round from the French windows was this very old conservatory, falling down and overgrown like the rest of the place. There were fruit trees in an old orchard, a shed full of cobwebs, lots of fruit bushes and all sorts of flowers with the proverbial nettles and blackberries. I looked for a black cat and steered clear of that one, some I stroked, some ran away, some just growled at me but I couldn’t find the large ginger tom with one eye.
Ages later I heard Dad calling and had to find my way back to the house, I told Miss Davey I couldn’t find the cat but she said that was alright, if I liked (if I liked!?!??) I could back another day and try to find him. So quite often Dad and I would go visit Miss Davey, him talking her to death and me looking for cats! My friends didn’t believe me until one day Dad, in front of them, said he was going to see Miss Davey and did I want to come. They all followed at a distance and saw me go in by the gate and walk up to the house, them hanging around the gate watching till I was out of sight!!! Status for a while!! They would not believe that she was just an elderly, very kind, single lady. She was a witch!!!
Years later I found out that Dad used to go to the shop at the end of the road to fetch his cigarettes and would call in to see if she wanted anything. She usually had a list – how did she know he was calling?!! – and so that’s how Dad came to have a cup of tea with ‘the witch’ who turned out to be a very, very, nice lady. I suppose she had been out in her garden one day and Dad, being Dad, started talking to her and they became good friends. She probably never saw many, if any, people so appreciated Dad’s company. I have often wondered what happened to her, her house and land. My playground became Swimming Baths and the rest is a big housing estate now, her house and land, all the park and the allotments have all gone. Progress!

The Queen's Coronation

I don’t remember much about the Royal Family until the Coronation, which was the first time I knew about the ‘news’ but didn’t take much notice of it anyway. The arrangements for the street party must have been going on for some time before I knew anything about it. It was when my mother told me I was going into a fancy dress party as Britannia!! Mam made my helmet & dress and Dad made the twirly bits for my helmet and made my shield. My helmet was silver, shield had to be red, white & blue on silver background and my dress was white. I remember that there was much spray painting as you couldn’t get silver paint as such. My helmet took a lot of fitting as well because Mam only had a ladies’ head block and when the felt was sprayed silver it became very stiff. My brother went as a baby, just a white towel round his nether region, a sun hat and a bottle filled with cold tea hanging round his neck!!! I don’t remember my sister going but then she probably dressed up as a lady so that she didn’t look silly. Everyone contributed to the meal which was eaten by the children from tables laid out in the middle of the road down by our house. The parade from what I can remember took place in the first half of the road before the tea, my brother won a prize – I think it was first but would not say for definite. He probably won for his cheek as he was a real performer and played up to most things!! After the tea and ‘us kids’ had gone to bed then the elders had their ‘party’, I was asleep but the noise of the laughter and singing woke me a couple of times but not enough for me to get out of bed. And that was the Coronation for me! Not much different to any other day!!!

Tales from Atlas Pictures

Atlas Picture house down Flaxley Road, Stechford was a magical place for me. There was a children’s programme every Saturday afternoon, to which I was allowed to go. So that was my Saturday taken up, spending my 1s (shilling – old money) pocketmoney. I don’t know how old I was when I started going, don’t know how long I went there but ……….. this is how I remember my Saturdays.
12.45 we had lunch, usually Sausage and Mash with cabbage then, and only when I had cleared my plate, would I get my shilling. Then outside we would all meet up and wander down Station Road hill to the shops, they are not there now and the factory is a retail park. In the sweet shop we jostled to choose and buy our sweets a whole 3d (three pennies) could be spent here and then we all walked round the corner to the picture house (now a Bingo Hall I believe). We usually had to queue up as the doors didn’t open until 13.30 and then we paid our sixpence (6d) and went inside although the show didn’t start until 14.00hrs. the show always started with some form of promotional film – documentary – and then we had the main features which were usually some sort of Cowboy & Indian followed by another B film (Flash Gordon was my favourite) in between which we had our ice cream which cost my last 3d then we had another short film about Road Safety which meant that we often left the cinema singing the song – Look Left Look Right and if it’s all clear – Cross the Road. Great fun, even the policeman who crossed us over used to laugh at us. Then we had the walk back up the hill, usually discussing the film and, if it was fine, arranging to meet up in the park (lots more stories there!) When I got home I was ready for my tea but, as the football results came on at 17.00hrs, I usually had to sit quiet as my dad marked off the football results on his pools coupon. That was always an interesting experience as I sometimes tried to predict the scores by the way that the commentator read them out, his voice going up for the winning team and down for the losers.
If it was fine I would then go out after tea and play in the park with my friends, usually meeting up to re-enact what we had seen on screen that afternoon.

Corpus Christi .....02

Monday morning was great fun as we lined up to go into Church and then afterwards we lined up again to cross the road. By the time we were settled down it must have been nearly playtime!!! We had the same routine in reverse on a Friday as we always had Benediction. If it was raining we were not allowed out to play and the majority of the teachers stayed in the classroom with us and kept us amused. I can remember in Mrs Crenin’s class we were allowed to play with the toys and Mrs Kelly always sat us down and, like Mrs Grogan, would read to us or allow us to read books of our own choice. Mrs Sullivan was a different kettle of fish - she gave us comics to read, allsorts of comics, Beano, Dandy, Girl, Eagle; how the names run off the tongue!!! I was never allowed to read comics at home as it was considered not proper reading so I really relished these times. I was allowed to stay in her classroom when I broke my leg and had to stay behind during Mass on Mondays, so once again the box of comics came out for me, pure Heaven!! The very last class in school had a male teacher, Mr Donkersley, whose class was held in the Hall so there was much moving of chairs and classrooms. All PE lessons taken in the hall meant we had to move our desks and chairs to the side and then take all our belongings to the relevant classroom, much fun had by all!! I remember that we had composition on a Tuesday afternoon and, when I broke my leg, that was the time I had to go to the ‘Accie’ (Accident Hospital) for check ups. It was a whole afternoon event as we went by ambulance which, even nowadays, still does a roundabout route collecting patients. Anyhow I didn’t mind missing Composition lesson as I really was no good at writing stories, as you can tell I am no better now, only being able to relate what has happened!! Mr Donkersley had a love hate relationship with us all and could be funny, angry, and sarcastic all in the same lesson. He took a singular amusement from tormenting some of the boys, one in particular I remember. He was a tall gangly lad with blond hair, the centre of which – about an inch or so - stood up just enough for Mr Donkersley to call him Parrot Murphy – nearly all the kids were called Murphy, Connor, Malley and other good Irish names!! Mr Donkersley took PE and also coached the football team, so needless to say my dad and he were good friends as the football team’s home ground was the park. There used to be a school league with other Junior Schools and it was a good afternoon out during the week – no lessons for Mr Donkersley’s class, we had to go and support the team.
When I left Stechford there were several friends that I missed, Antoinette Beech was my best friend or so I thought. She moved on to St Paul’s Grammar School and we lost touch but that is another story! Then there was the Twins – Norman and Terry – Norman was the elder and took his responsibilities seriously while Terry was the younger and enjoyed life. They were non identical twins so weren’t a problem for anyone, seemed like they were brothers who were close in age. I liked Terry and we got on amazingly. Bernard Naylor was another boy in my class and that is about all I can remember – silly isn’t it when you think that you spent six years with 30ish children and that’s it!!

Mr. Walshe continued to guide the destiny of the school, until he retired on 30th September 1959. There is an entry in the school diary for that date, as follows:-

I leave today after 25 years here to go into retirement. I think I may write herein that much good work has been done. I have had a splendid staff, notably Miss N. Keegan (still a Miss and I bet still strict!) who has been here with me for the past 25 years. Mrs. P. O'Sullivan who was here for 19 years and Miss A. Crennan still here after 14 years. I am deeply in debt to these splendid teachers.
A very friendly relationship has always existed, and though I willingly vacate my position as Headmaster, I feel very sad to leave such excellent colleagues. May God bless them and reward them.
Vale 30.9.59
Laurence Francis Walshe.

Tales from Corpus Christi

My first day at school was quite traumatic for me. For some reason I started after the other children so, when I arrived at Corpus Christi School, Mam and I were shown into the Headmaster’s study. Mr Walsh and Mam chatted for a while, and then we were taken through the school to my classroom. Mrs O’Connor was a well built lady and found me a place somewhere in the classroom and so my life at school began. She was a very strict teacher and I was very afraid when in her class, I was the sort of child that was always in trouble, mainly for talking! We moved up the next year to Mrs Crenin’s class, who was a perfect lady, sweet and gentle. The next classroom was at the back of the hall and was closed off by folding doors, I was soooo looking forward to going into this classroom but after two weeks I was moved up a class into Mrs Kelly’s class. I adored Miss Kelly, so much so that I didn’t want to leave her class. Another factor in not wanting to leave Mrs Kelly’s class was that I would move into Miss Tanner’s class. I did not like Miss Tanner and I was sure that she would not like me, she was a very strict teacher who shouted a lot and gave out punishments – well, that was the talk in the playground. Her class was on the stage, again with folding doors to divide it from the hall but this room came with a bad reputation, no-one wanted to be in her class.
So the new school year started and I with it. I sat at the back with a girl called Kathy, bit of a bully so I tried to avoid her in the playground and dinner hall but now I had to sit next to her!! Once classes started and we were all settled, she would pinch me so that when I called out ‘ouch!’ I got into trouble, she would pull my book when I was writing so that my pen went across the page, all sorts of things like that. I vividly remember one day when I had a scab on my knee, only a small one I hasten to add, and she told me to pick it, eventually I did and then had to use my handkerchief to stop the bleeding. She said to eat the scab or she would tell Miss Tanner I had picked the scab and made it bleed, so after much threatening I did this. She immediately put up her hand and told Miss Tanner I had eaten it!!! Boy! oh boy! was she not only disgusted but so mad ….. I was terrified ….. I thought she was going to hit me. Instead I was sent to sit outside Mr Walsh’s office and eventually he sent me back to class and nothing more was said. The Summer holidays couldn’t come quick enough for me.
Then next class was Mrs Grogan who was also considered a tyrant by all the playground but we got on quite well. I worked hard and she was ok, I thought she was a good teacher who was also very fair but didn’t like boys! Once or twice I had the ruler across my knuckles but that again was for talking and so I considered it fair. Her classes were interesting, I remember she read the story of Dr Dolittle although I must admit I can only remember there being a Pushme Pullyou and a bridge built by the monkeys!! I loved story time, couldn’t write ‘em but loved reading and listening to them. All too soon it was summer time again and then I went into Mrs O’Sullivan’s.
This was held in a classroom across the road from the school, so it was quite a jaunt in the mornings as we had to cross the road from the playground into the classroom.

My Grandad …………. 5

Grandad always took his first cup of tea with a spoonful of whiskey in it, very special whiskey; it was in a small bottle and had a couple of Cayenne Pods in it. He used to let me put these pods into the bottle when he started a new on, he swore that this is what kept him alive and active for so long. We thought that maybe the fact that he was a postman, walking everywhere and riding a bike that allowed him to live to such a grand old age (97yrs). Grandad moved downstairs into a single bed in the front room when I was about 14, he was very poorly and couldn’t manage the stairs anymore. I don’t remember seeing him much those days, probably too interested in my school work and going out to meet the boys (known as my Rendezvous years). But I remember him coming through one day and telling Mam that she would have to come with him because his room was full of budgerigars! He had kept a canary for years and when we moved in Mam had a budgie but other than this ……… Mam went in and then came back and when I asked about the ‘budgies’ she laughed and said it was just his way. There were other occasions like this and eventually Dad slept downstairs in his room with him. One Easter Monday morning, when I came downstairs I found Mrs Rhodes from next door there and very solemn parents.
Grandad had died during the night.
I was very upset ...... not my Grandad ..... he was forever. Apparently my Dad had woken up and found Grandad awake so Dad made him a cup of tea and sat with him, helping him to sip his tea and suddenly Grandad looked up at the door and said ‘I’m coming (…….) I’m coming’ then lay back and died. Dad went and woke Mam and she & Mrs Rhodes washed him down and dressed him (they always 'laid out the body' in those days). It was his brother’s name that he called so we thought that maybe his brother came to ‘fetch him’. Any how the funeral happened, I was not allowed to attend so I waited with Mrs Rhodes for them to come home and we all sat around having some sandwiches, cake and tea and then …… the reminiscing began. Soon everyone was laughing as we all remembered that wonderful man Jack French! Grandad had left Mam the house and this was agreed by all her brothers as she had looked after him so well. I don’t’ know what else there was, I was too young to know about those things and I was amazed that Mam had to go and get a mortgage for £100 so that the house did actually become hers. Mam lived there until after Dad died but eventually the upkeep became too much and so she moved into Robin Hood Lane with me.

My Grandad........ ok ......more

Grandad would play all the old songs, I mean they are ancient now but they were WWI and WWII songs, more I than II! I loved to sing along and, for some reason known only to him, his favourites were ‘Oh! My Darling Clementine’ and 'Keep Right on to the End of the Road' (as we sang them so often - especially Clementine - I learnt all the words, so it became one of my favourites too). I would help to get the accordion out of the pantry as, being a small house – two up two down – storage space was not a considered a necessity. I wonder what happened to the accordion…………… well, now I’ll never know, it might possibly have been given to one of my uncles or cousins. (I have a family tree all printed out, maybe I’ll put that on here one of the days). Grandad also had a crystal set, he also had a radio that was large and was atop a shelf by his chair, an ‘Old Moore's Almanac’ hanging on a nail by the side of the chimney breast where he sat. Why, do you ask, am I rambling on about these? Well, it’s all part of Grandad. He used to have the radio on but when I came round, I was allowed to listen to the crystal set, especially at ‘Listen with Mother’ and ‘Children’s Hour’ times. I suppose this is why I like listening to the radio even today. The crystal set was set up high on the wall and had headphones to go with it, one day I will find out what exactly it was but for now the most I can say about it was that it was a radio transmitter. At a quarter to two I was allowed to listen in to ‘Listen with Mother’ and then it was put away until five o’clock when once again the headphones came down and I was allowed to listen in. At my young age, this became a magical thing, this disembodied voice talking to ME and the adults just weren’t there. I loved the stories, kiddie ones at lunchtime but allsorts at teatime, losing myself in them as they were told – a bit like Jackanory but no visuals. The radio held nothing really after that experience, when Frieda came with us I had to share or listen on the radio but it wasn’t the same. The ‘Old Moore’s Almanac’ was a predictive magazine, A5 and it told horoscopes and world events, and when to plant vegetables and could be quite exciting to read, especially what was going to happen. Then in the front room was the piano and so long as I was not too noisy I could play on that to my heart’s content, eventually reading a bit of music and with Mam’s help learning to play it. It was only basic, not the way my Mam played, and she did try to show me, but I enjoyed myself, which is the main thing. So there was Grandad in his house and there was us visiting during the week after he had stopped cycling over to Stechford. Then the day came when I was told that we had to pack our things as we were going to live at Grandad’s house!!! This must’ve took a lot of organising, we were a family of five, although Tony was now in the Royal Artillery, we still had all his belongings at our house and there was Ena and me, we had stacks of stuff and of course Mam & Dad but that is another story. For now …. We moved in with Grandad, he had the back bedroom, Mam & Dad slept in the front bedroom and Ena and I slept on the bed settee in the front room. The front room became out of bounds after I went to bed so really there were four people living in one room, Tony had to sleep on the settee when he came home for the Ena's wedding.

My Grandad ...... even more

When I was really small we didn’t do this so I spent the day in his house, I don’t remember ever playing out with the local children.
His garden was a magical place to play in anyway – lots of places to hide and play ‘pretending’ games, by myself of course!! His back room had French widows and steps down onto a small paved area, with a greenhouse full of Geraniums to the left and a lean to (Garage) on the right side. Straight ahead were three steps which led down into the garden and the cinder path. This path was edged by bricks and was made out of the cinders from the coal fire in Grandad’s house. Every day new ashes were laid onto this path, filling in dips and levelling it out as it ran round a small island two thirds of the way down and then on down to the bottom of the garden. At the bottom of the garden there was a small brook, it was the border between Birmingham City and the County Borough of Solihull. It was dry mostly (only running after the rain) and sometimes I would cross it to play with the little girl who visited her grandparents opposite. Also at the bottom of the path was a telegraph pole around which grew Loganberries which were delicious, like raspberries but golden white, much larger and sweeter. I was always told not to eat them but …………. I was a child, right down at the bottom of the garden ………!
Grandad loved his geraniums but I hated them, they smelt and the place was full of spiders!!! If you can imagine a small green house about 3ft wide and 6ft long with a pointy roof about 6ft at highest with very large pots placed all round the edges. As these pots were never moved, the geraniums were exceedingly large, growing into every corner of the place, the only time anyone went in there – to my knowledge – was to open the window at the top or to water the plants. I couldn’t reach the window so I was often asked to water them, oh! the smell, how I hated it but ............ I now realise that a lot of the things I did was in fact to keep me out of the way so that Mam could get on with the cleaning and to leave them in peace to chat.
Mam and Dad thought the world of Grandad, Dad calling him Pops. He was very caring with both my grandparents, treating them with respect and love. After Dad died Mam told me that he never knew his father and his mother very cruel and beat her children often. My grandparents were really the first parents that my Dad knew so that explained why he cared. I know that he was loved very much and respected by my Grandad, well he must’ve been for them to let him take their one and only daughter to the other side of the world! Grandad played the accordion and I always sat at his feet for this as I held his music sheets.

My Grandad........more

Grandad continued to live in Hall Green and we visited often, which days I do not know now – maybe I only went with Mam during the school holidays. We would spend the whole day there, or so it seemed at the time. We had to catch two buses, the 11 and the 29A (or no 4 (5) as it is now) and I used to love when we got off the number 11 as I would stand on the railings and watch the river with the ducks. The house next door to the river had large stone pillars either side of the gateway and atop of these there were two stone owls with green glass eyes. They used to fascinate me, even intimidate me a little. When I worked at Druckers I spoke to the present owner asking if he still had the owls and explained about them, but he knew nothing .... shame. I now realise that Mam came to Grandad’s to clean and cook him a meal, there wasn’t anything like ‘meals on wheels’ in those days, we were dependant on family and neighbours. Grandad’s neighbours were very good and had known our family almost from when he first took residence there, most moving in after him. He was also very popular, always cheerful and an accomplished musician – the accordion being his favourite instrument. Mam played the piano, I loved to watch her and listen as she played, the piano stood in the front room and I was always allowed to play on it whenever we went to Grandad’s. Grandad was known as a postman and spent a good deal of his working life delivering mail to houses in the Moseley area, they were big houses and very posh so he did well for tips, especially at Christmas – this is all hearsay from my Mother. He was born in Nottingham and his father’s name was Timothy – this I have managed to trace via the web. Timothy died when Grandad was quite young and his mother married again, to Mr Booth (owner of the walking stick [although it looks more like an opera stick!]). Grandad did work on the Manchester Ship Canal at some point, helping dig it out perhaps. When he married my grandmother, so the story goes, he was given a wedding present of a writing box made from an offcut of one of the beams used to support the walls of the canal. I have the box but not any of the glass bottles or pens etc. I don’t know how he met my Grandmother, she lived in Sparkhill, maybe he had become a postman by then.

When I knew him, he was an old man, an active member of the Darby and Joan club which met on a Wednesday afternoon at Hall Green Baptist Church. He used to go away on holiday with them, mostly to Barry Island as I remember, and had some fun times there. As he became older and couldn’t walk, Mam and I used to push him there in his wheelchair – a big cumbersome thing. We would push the wheelchair up along Blythsford Road, cutting through Sandgate Road into Baldwin’s Lane. We then went along to Robin Hood Island and down the Stratford Road to the Baptist Church, quite a way but then again the sun always shone when I was young! When we arrived I was always made a fuss of and the WVS (Women’s Voluntary Service) ladies always found lots of ‘jobs’ for me to do, serving tea, carrying trays, laying tables for lunch, and of course the dreaded washing up – which was never a chore when it was in somebody else’s kitchen. After the meal and the tables had been put away there was nearly always some form of entertainment ending up with a good old sing along. We then had the return journey home usually with a couple of other ladies for much of the time, everyone chattering away.

My Grandad..............

He was short and rotund, always wore a waistcoat over his shirt and laced up boots. He used a silver topped cane, apparently it was his stepfathers, that’s why there is a different name on it and yes! I still have it. Grandad was known as Jack French although his full name was John Richard French and was much loved by everyone he met. He was a postman and owned property on the Isle of Wight at one time. He bought the house in Blythsford Road from new and used to come up to Birmingham to watch it being built ............. yes! I have the deeds for it as well. I am just a hoarder by nature!

Anyhow he used to ride a bike over to Stechford to see us when his wife was alive as she lived in our front room. I don’t know when Nan came, she was just there and I never connected Grandad with her as she was just ‘Nan’ – I never knew her as a person, just someone who lived in the front room, confined to bed and whom the 'District Nurse' used to visit in order to dress Nan’s bedsores. She used tins that contained sticky gauze circles about 2” in diameter; I found a tin many years after she died – in the gas meter cupboard of all places.
Nan appeared one day as we were having our tea; she had white hair in a bun and was dressed in a full length pink nightie. She wandered through to the kitchen pretending to wash her hands and smiling a toothless smile at us. She never made the kitchen as Dad jumped up and guided her back to the front room. I don’t remember her dying or anything to do with the funeral – I have all the bills!! But suddenly we had a beautiful bed settee in the front room, browny green moquette. The back lifted up and the bed was pulled out towards you, ready made just needed straightening, this became my bed in Hall Green.

........... Frieda

She taught me to smoke. She came over on the Friday and stayed until Sunday afternoon, sleeping in my bed with me as Ena had married and left home. She taught me about music, I remember that she introduced me by singing a song by Connie Francis and was astounded that I didn’t know it. She was in advance of her years worldly wise, I was so naive. Anyhow we used to go for walks as one did in those days and one time as we walked into Shirley, she asked me if I would light her cigarette as she couldn’t, she could smoke them but not light them. So I lit them, and she smoked them!!
You have to understand that there were lots of walks and places to go to when we were young. When we lived in Stechford it was nothing for us both to go off after lunch on Sundays, walking to Yardley old Church or to Glebe Farm Park. The only problem we had really was the flashers in the parks, always older, (funny looking men I always thought ) they would call out to you and/or try and sit close to you and then flash. I only saw one actual flash because as soon as I recognised what was happening, I was off ….. far away and if it was in Manor Road Rec then I was straight to my Dad and told him.
There was never much traffic about, mainly push bikes, a few cars and motorbikes. When Freda stayed at mine we would walk into Shirley, through the gullies, across the field and there we were. Where the Powergen Building is on the corner of Haslucks Green Road and Stratford Road was a big field which was a public right of way, there being a stile at each end of it. We often walked along Blythsford road and into The Crescent, through the gulley to Stanton Road, crossed over and into the gulley on the other side which led to the field. Safe and sound we were really, only people we saw were either walking their dogs or other young people like ourselves. On the other side of Haslucks Green Road was another gulley which I believe is still there, although much widened and with streetlamps. This led into Shirley Park itself. It was as we were in The Crescent gulley that I tried to light my first cigarette, by the time we were halfway along the next gulley Freda was smoking it!!! Eventually I started smoking myself as she shared her ciggies with me.

Freda

Freda arrived in our house when I was about seven, she was starting school so my Mam would look after her before and after school and during school holidays. She was a smashing girl, lived with her Mam, Dad and Nan in a house 3 doors away from us. Nana Thompson was old and fixed in her ways, Mrs Thompson was young and very attractive, they both frightened me with their strictness. I was allowed to go round on a Friday night to watch ‘Dragnet’ as they had a TV. There were only two families (apart from the Jenkins at Number 1) who had a TV, the Thompson’s and the Hall’s at the end of the road. Dad used to go to the Halls to watch the boxing but I don’t recall ever having anything to do with them at all, except to say hello when she was out at the front gate. People in those days would often stand at their front gate just waiting … what for I never knew, maybe just to talk to someone. Anyway, Mrs Thompson was really strict and I remember Freda getting the stick just for breaking wind while we were watching tv one night.  Elfrede was Austrian, had met Doug just after the war and had come home with him, living in his mother’s front room. Freda often talked of a Nana Keiner in Austria and an auntie but I didn’t really understand much about it, she was my best friend and a younger sister to me as she lived in my house more than her own. We went to the same school as they were also Catholic. She arrived at my house at 07.30 and sometimes didn’t leave until 1830 at night, my Mother never seemed to mind and I know that I certainly didn’t. Looking back on this time I can understand why, as my own grew up I realised that two children are easier to manage than one, except when they are fighting and boy! did we fight! I have so many memories of my time with this girl, she was the only friend I missed when we moved. She used to come visit us and then they moved to Lea Hall into a flat, I visited them.

Lyndon Road contd............

Next door across the entry to us lived another family with teenagers and youngsters. When I was very young they were called Maclewham or something like. He was old and his wife was quite strict and always frightened me. They had a boy with bright ginger hair called Sammy after his Dad and a daughter my age called Sarah. Didn’t like her she was a bully!! Frightened me she did, she would corner me in the entry and not let me get past, we didn’t use our front door so in the end I would have to walk back down the entry and wait outside of the house until she had gone. She used to take sides with my friend Frieda so I was the odd one out. I lived in fear of that girl. Her Father died and then her mother married again, became Mrs Kearns – which I could pronounce! – and they had a little boy Phillip, he was lovely and even Mrs Kearns became nice and pleasant. In retrospect it must have been a struggle with an elderly sick husband and two young children to look after so I suppose that could account for her attitude while Mr Macklewham was alive. Sam Macklewham’s death didn’t change Sarah’s attitude though and I was very relieved when we left Stechford to go to live in Hall Green. Many years later, when I was about fourteen I heard that Sarah had died from a brain tumour. This had a big effect on me as we were only fourteen and I had not thought that people could die at that age. I may not of liked her, even at times hated her, but would not have wished her death.

The other side of the Macklewhams lived a family called Jenkins, they were a nice family and I think the child nearest my age was a girl called Pauline. We were friends but not close although I am given to understand by my mother that I moved in there when she was in hospital in Dudley Road. They were a normal family, my mother’s best friend I think as she used to go round a lot and Mrs Jenkins used to come round to ours. Me? I played with everyone’s children, the Powers who lived on the other corner, the Carmens who lived opposite and many more that I can't remember.

More thoughts on Lyndon Road .....

At the top of our garden was the garden of another house, now this was a different story. I think that this family was one up from gypsies, I don’t know why but even at a young age I knew that this family was ‘different’. Mrs Oldcroft was short, fat and scruffy and there were lots of kids of all ages. I was friends with one of the youngest, Tosha, she had a proper name but everyone called her Tosha. One day stands out in my memory with regard to Tosha, we must have been about 5 or 6 and I went round one day to call for her. One of her teenage brothers was coming out of the front door as I walked out the path and he said ‘Tosh is just having her tea, you can go in and wait if you like’. So I went in the house and through to the back room and had the shock of my life ….. there was Tosha having her tea, sitting across her Mom’s lap and latched onto the left breast!! I was amazed; I had never seen anything like it! So I sat down and waited till she had finished her ‘tea’ while all around me life carried on, teenagers arguing, little toddlers running round with noses running or nappies hanging half off and all of them in various states of dress, as though nothing different was happening. Maybe it wasn’t for them but it sure was for me! When we came outside I asked her what it tasted like and she said ‘milk of course!’ and then didn’t want to talk about it anymore and I soon forgot about it. I told my Mam and she said that was one of the reasons why she didn’t want me to have anything to do with them, they didn’t do things correctly – what ever that meant.

Initial thoughts on Lyndon Road

As I travelled home on the bus last night and looked out of the window, as I came along Dolphin Lane I thought back to when I was a child and was growing up in Lyndon Road, Stechford. Even at that young age I had privileges not given to some of the other children round about. The people who lived in the first house in our road, a large semi-detached house were called Mr and Mrs Jenkins. There were lots of rooms in this house, the kitchen right at the back with a small dining room off. Through this room was the stairs and two more rooms, the back lounge and the front lounge. The back lounge had French windows so when we played outside we could see a bit of this room and Mrs Jenkins could keep an eye on us. They had a daughter also named Christine and an older boy. I cannot remember his name but he was a teenager and was always in and out of the house. I was allowed to play with Christine on the odd occasion, although only in the back garden. Mrs Jenkins was very house-proud and I was never allowed past the kitchen but once Christine took me into the back lounge where they had a television. Her brother had ‘popped out’ so we were left to our own devices and so we went exploring, only into the back room and the back lounge. I never visited any other part of the house!!!
I was the only child allowed to play at ‘The Jenkins’s’ as it was known whereas none of the other children in the road were allowed. Christine Jenkins was a singular girl, having no other friends that I was aware of, and she was always in charge ‘cos it was her garden. I quite enjoyed playing with her, I used to take my doll and we would play picnic, teddies teaparty etc. One day when I went round to see if she could play, she had the tent up and we played quite nicely for a while and then she decided we would play doctors and nurses. This was ok by me and of course she was the doctor and I was the patient, after all she had the stethoscope!!! It was when she wanted to look up my knickers that I decided I didn’t want to play anymore and quickly ran home. I never told my mother why I came home so quickly and I certainly never went back there again, although my mother said many times that Mrs Jenkins had been asking if I could go play.

Christmas

Christmas has come & gone and with it so many memories! I shall try to remember various ones as I go through this blog but 2008 was definitely one of the good ones!
We spent Christmas Day at home with Catt and the giant cracker, made by Peter and full of goodies for Catt and me.
On Boxing day we went to Nadine's house and had another great day. After exchanging pressies, the teens went into the front room, Shane and Peter went to the Pub and us girls played on the Wii. Nade made us a lovely spread and when the men came home we all sat chatting (Peter went to sleep!!). Altogether a great Christmas.

Photocopying Papers

I have today been photocopying all the papers I found after my Mother died. They have brought so many memories to the forefront. These papers have included not only cards sent to my Mother by my Father while he was abroad, but also the last card he sent before his death. He always wrote a few lines in the cards that he sent and the last lines in this anniversary card read "to think on without regret, & there's lot left us, us two, yet." How wrong he was, 9months later he had died. Mam always said that he knew he was dying and left a tape recording for us, I am looking for a spare reel at the moment as we have filled all our reels on the tape recorder (it's a very old reel to reel one).

As much as my Father 'played around' and disappeared for months on end, I truly believe that she was his real love. I know that there was no other man for Mam and she loved him to the end of her life. Once she told me that after he retired it was just like being on honeymoon all over again. This makes me smile now as I think of it - they were married in England and then sailed to Singapore (six week honeymoon!). She told me that as the boat left Southampton, the band was playing 'Red Sails in the Sunset' and this was so appropriate as she sailed west down the Solent and into sunset. Mam's new life took a lot of getting used to really, she had not only the Army life but also the life style. I must admit that, after going to Africa, I can understand a little bit of this, one is treated almost like a God and servants are eager to serve you. She loved the life, especially the heat and the tropical planting. I think she found a freedom that she never had at home - she was the youngest child with three older brothers. She was devastated when she lost her first child - Keith Edward - and then when she had a miscarraige, she began to feel 'lost'. The nurse at the hospital, when she arrived as she had to travel by ferry to the mainland, asked what she had done this time and my mother was appalled that anyone could think she didn't want this baby! My father was home every night and they attend many parties and social functions. When Ena was born she had an amah to help her but found it difficult to leave her beautiful baby and only left her when she had no other choice - again the Regimental parties etc. Even after they moved to Gibraltor, she was still enamoured of the Army life. When Peter and I went to Gib (as my father called it) it felt unreal to think that I was walking where both my parents and sister had walked pushing Tony in a pram and then years later Tony had walked when he was stationed there. So I continue photocopying the certificates; births, weddings & funerals........

Babies

Little memory popped into my head yesterday -

Not longer after we brought Catherine home from hospital, I was changing her nappy - she couldn't have been more than 5 days old - and Edward was watching. He stood quietly watching for some time and then he said to me "you'll have to take her back". Why's that I asked. "They haven't made her properly, she doesn't have a winkie". So I had to give a simple explanation as to the difference between boys and girls - not bad observation for someone who was about to become two years of age!!

My Brother (part 2)

We managed to find out that Tony had gone to a Catholic Church, who made enquiries and then sent him to Our Lady of the Wayside Church and Father O'Mahoney redirected him to Ena's. So she took him in and he stayed until everything was sorted and he had his discharge papers come through (he had gone AWOL so had to face the consequances). He found out that Pat had returned to her home in Bootle and was staying at her mother's with all the children. he stood as Godfather to Myra and it was just great having him around. Ena and Ron may not have agreed, although he was Ena's brother even she could not stomach the smell of his feet! Eventually Pat's mother wrote to him asking that he come and collect the children as they were being so neglected. How or when this happened I do not remember but I do know that it took Mom and Ena several weeks to get the girls clean from the head lice etc. (Tony could only get the girls, Pat would not let him bring Anthony with him). So Ena found schools for the girls and they all lived in her house, Veronica has many a tale about this time! Tony found a job as a Supermarket Manager at the Maypole and so he moved into a house over that way. Eventually he progressed to another supermarket and we lost contact with him yet again. Although I asked Ena for his address when Dad died, she maintained that she did not have it, (Ena knew that Dad had said he didn't want Tony there).
After Mom had her fall and was taken into hospital, Ena contacted Tony and they visited Mom every day at the hospital. When I arrived afterwards I was shocked to see my brother, he was totally white haired and wheezed like a good one!!! He sounded just like my father and when I closed my eyes the only thing missing was the Geordie accent. It hurt!
After the funeral he left and I never saw him again. He died in Telford, where I believe two of his girls still live (Patricia and Dawn).

My Brother (part 1)

My brother Tony (Anthony David) was 9 years older than me and was born while my parents were living in Gibraltar. I can remember that he was in a musical show held at my junior school (Corpus Christi), I think it was based on the 'Ralph Reader Gang Show' and he was in the chorus singing 'All the nice boys love a sailor'. That I can remember but when ........... that I do not know!!
I remember losing the key to the front door one day after school, I had to wear it round my neck 'cos he couldn't be trusted to look after it. I had dropped it down the drain in the kerb (don't ask me why ......... I was only little!!). Several friends tried to help me get it back but we all failed and then round the corner came my big brother. He lifted off the drain cover and put his arm down into that murky water and retrieved the key, what a hero!!! We all applauded and his street cred went up!
When I left Mrs Creanen's class and went into the first Junior class - with such an awful teacher - I came home crying and cried and cried. My mother told me to try to cheer up as it was Tony's birthday and his friends would be coming round and I didn't want them to see me crying. So I dried my eyes and went downstairs to Tony's 16th Birthday party and sat down. Several hours later it was decided that no-one was coming to his party - his birthday was 23rd July.
At some point about this time there happened an horrific scene - to my small mind. I heard shouting and came upstairs, my mother was on the landing shouting at my father who was in Tony's room. As I looked through the open door into the room, my father brought a chair down onto my brother's back and then my mother brought me down stairs. Years later I found out that my brother stole, not only from my mother's purse but anything he could lay his hands on (in retrospect - I think all children pass through a stealing stage which must be handled with love). This time he had taken his stamp collection - worth quite a bit of money - and he had 'sold' it to one of his school friends and it was the final straw for my father.
There is another memory of him see 'Queen's Coronation'
As soon as he was old enough, my brother joined the Royal Artillery and only appeared now and then. After we moved to Hall Green, he was only home occasionally, I can remember the pride I felt as he stood to attention, in his 'dress uniform', when the National Anthem was played at the cinema. He came home for my sister's wedding, and sometimes afterwards - another proud moment when he accompanied me to church, once again in his dress uniform. He was posted to Gibraltar (one time bringing me a pair of pink silk pyjamas and slippers in a beautiful pink silk case). Then he was posted back to England, and we saw very little of him - he was my hero.
I was about 14 when he came home with a wife and child. It was a shock to 'the grown ups', my parents had bad feelings about her but she was Tony's wife ........... Pat stayed at ours with baby Jackie, who was about 12months old, after Tony went to Germany .......... she wasn't a nice person - but saying that, she was young, in a strange town with unknown people. She wanted the single life and resented the baby at times. Happenings that I cannot write here, but I think that we were all relieved when she eventually went to join Tony in Germany. They had three more children, Patricia, Dawn and Anthony Jr. We received letters and a couple of photos over the years, but they never came home to us.
In 1968 Tony came back into our lives, dishevelled, distraught and sitting on Ena's doorstep. He had come home from work to find Pat in bed with his best friend! He could remember very little after that until Ena came home and found him on her doorstep.