This is just a short summary about events leading up to our meeting, and in spite of various accidents and illnesses in later years, living happily ever after.

I remember when we were young every year we had a holiday at Hastings, which many families could not afford in those days. My father who was a shoemaker, in the true sense of the word, used to take the long August bank holiday weekend off and we would stay the rest of the week, travelling by train which always seemed exciting. My father was a hard working and kind man, and used to entertain us with funny rhymes, and I remember him singing ‘My wife’s a cook, All day long she studies the recipes in the cookery book; and while she’s a’carving the kids are a’starving, For my wife’s a cook’. He sometimes recited the ‘Pied Piper’ which I liked to listen to. My paternal grandparents were kind and gentle and I remember my grandfather reading many Brer Rabbit stories to me when I was small.

My childhood wasn’t very happy, perhaps because I was the eldest of three girls. I well remember when I was about ten years old a very unpleasant headmaster at my council school (the other two were quite different) who caned me for not being able to answer a mathematical problem, and then held an inkwell under my face to catch the tears; the hurt and humiliation were unjustified as I was always good at and had top marks for arithmetic.

Like Cecil I had a kind cousin, who was a school-teacher, and often had me for weekends at her Mother’s home in Langton near Tunbridge Wells. Her elder sister was a book-keeper and I always wanted to be one without knowing much about it, and when I was fourteen I attended the Technical College in Tunbridge Wells to learn book-keeping, shorthand and typing etc. When I left I worked in Tunbridge Wells and then Wadhurst in a Corn Merchants which I liked. The wages were very low in those days; I remember a pleasant man who looked after the corn stores etc. and who had four children, and his wages were thirty shillings (£1.50) a week; the lorrymen had a little more. No child allowance in those days either.

A friend of mine who worked in the drapery department of the shop where Cecil worked brought me a poem from him one day, which I still have and a message asking me to meet him. We both enjoyed the lovely Sussex countryside, and then think I asked him to tea to meet my family. We used to go to a club sometimes and play tennis all in the grounds belonging to a lady, Miss Boyd, who had opened parts of her home for the use of crippled children from London to have a long holiday in the country and for T.B. patients to spend the summer living as near as possible in outdoor conditions by providing huts. An aunt of mine stayed there as she had T.B. and every Sunday we were invited to tea with them all in the open air; I remember the jelly and bread and butter and still like it! Cecil and I heard the Duke of Windsor's famous abdication speech at one of Miss Boyd’s social evenings and it all seemed very tragic.

Some time after this Cecil returned to Huntingdon. Then one Sunday morning in 1939 I was helping as a Red Cross nurse at Flimwell Institution, with bed making, feeding and looking after patients, when the Prime Minister’s dramatic speech was broadcast to the nation so most people were glued to the wireless. Mr Chamberlain said that we were at war with Germany, but hardly had he finished when the siren went. Of course we thought they were dropping bombs already and we nurses were told to get as many patients as possible on to the ground floor. It was a false alarm, and nothing seemed to happen after that for a few months.

Firewatching was organised everywhere and I took my turn outside the town hall, there were always two of us but I had such difficulty in keeping awake.

My father joined the Home Guard and they were just like the programme ‘Dad’s Army’ on T.V. and their head-quarters were in a public house run by the Sergeant, and his name was O’Malley. I’m sure my Dad enjoyed some of it, especially the comradeship.

In October, 1939, we were married in Wadhurst Church. We had a nice little reception at my home by my Mother and her friends, and then we went to live in Huntingdon in Cecil’s maternal grandmother’s house next to his parents.

The next year, 1940, I returned to Wadhurst because Cecil’s grandmother was very ill, she had blisters all over her face and body. I was expecting a baby and Cecil would be called up that year. It was a beautiful summer, but the sky often seemed to be darkened by formations of German bombers droning over the Kent and Sussex countryside to London where they intended to release their bombs. I remember visiting an aunt who lived in a pretty little bungalow and we used to sit on her lawn watching them and listening to their ominous roar. They soon had to change their tactics as our fighter planes were shooting too many down. About that time Cecil had a short leave and we watched them from our garden; the sky seemed full of parachutes, planes coming down in flames or rolling over out of control. It all seemed to happen in a flash amid the rattle of machine-gun fire and the whining and zooming of planes. That was the year of Dunkirk.

I went into a maternity home in Tunbridge Wells but the baby was stillborn which was sad. I returned to the office job and then decided to go to a hospital as a Red Cross nurse wherever they might he needed and was sent to Margate.

I soon settled down at the hospital and made friends with two of the nurses and we used to go out together when our off duty times coincided. We often heard anti-aircraft guns firing and sometimes bombs dropping but not so consistent or as many as in ‘bomb alley’, between the south Coast and London. One nasty incident occurred when a gunsight was bombed one night and the casualties were brought in, some of whom died they seemed so young. I found most of the patients very pleasant and enjoyed helping to look after them. We had soldiers brought in with such things as tonsillitis and civilians with a variety of illnesses and the results of accidents. One poor young sailor was brought in dying from V.D., he had such a haunting white face. The side wards were reserved for one or two officers and it was amazing how often a few of the nurses found excuses to visit them!

The war dragged on and after the doodle bugs or flying bombs, came the rockets until finally their bases were located and destroyed and the Allies were advancing on all fronts. At the end of the war in Europe Cecil came on leave and we had a lovely holiday; we travelled to North Devon by train and stayed in Lynmouth. a picturesque village by the River Lyne. From there we could walk for miles following the rocky river bed where the water tumbled and splashed, to Watersmeet. We walked to Lynton, on high ground above Lynmouth, and to Ilfracombe along a cliff path by the sea.

We also had some happy reunions with my sisters, who were both in the W.R.N.S., and their husbands, Archie in the Canadian Black Watch and David in the Navy. My Mother entertained us all as she had done others during those frugal times. She was very ingenious and made meals with the tiny rations of meat, butter, sugar, cheese etc. supplemented by the clever use of potatoes and vegetables, fruits like apples, blackberries, plums, pears and elderberries which she dried and preserved herself. (Dried elderberries were used instead of currents in cakes). She was also a well loved personality in the village and popular with all her relations. Her father lived to be over eighty and at that age wrote excellent letters in perfect script which Mollie has. His wife had thirteen children and died much earlier.

I well remember the election in 1945/6 which was held at my old school. Voters had to walk up a number at steps, leading to the playground and front entrance, at the top of which stood a lady waving papers and saying in a loud voice to everyone entering ‘Vote Conservative, no Labour voters wanted here’, but she was unable to prevent the Labour Party from winning the election.

When Cecil was demobilised he returned to Huntingdon and his old job at the Co-operative. Tim was born in Wadhurst and I had a taxi to travel to Huntingdon when he was a few weeks old. We lived in Cecil’s paternal grandmother’s house as she had died, and it had been cleaned and decorated for us. We managed there even though we had to share a small backyard with two other houses and the three lavatories were side by side. Philip was born there and we stayed about six years. Philip was a tough healthy little boy but Tim was very delicate; the clinic people said he was bandy and would need an operation on his knees, and he had to wear bed splints on his legs which I had to put on every night. Also he had bad eyesight and had to wear glasses. He went to a nursery school and seemed happy there; but when it came to Philip going he decided he would rather not and so I used to take him for walks with his tricycle or play ball on the common in the afternoons before we met Tim. I went to see our very nice doctor and told him about Tim’s legs, he examined them and told me not to have anything done. Tim went on to win races and he was good at all kinds of sport, but all that caused a lot of worry and anxiety and is the reason I must have neglected Philip.

When the boys were about six and three we moved to one of a pair of semi-detached houses which Cecil and his brother Dennis had built in Great Northern Street. It was a treat to live in a convenient and comfortable house with plenty of room for the children to play especially the garden and they could bring their friends home. June was born there on the first of that month and Cecil said he liked the name and we all agreed it was nice. When she attended school I worked as a ‘dinner lady’ and enjoyed looking after the children especially infants. I thought I would like to teach that age group so I studied and took some ‘0’ levels and later was accepted at Bedford College, but after a year or so I realised it was too much and I didn’t have enough stamina to look after the family as well with all the studying etc. Then my Mother, now a widow of eighty years old, came to live opposite; she had to uproot herself from her friends and everything she knew, but she was happy here and had some good times. At weekends she enjoyed country drives, sometimes to visit a relative of Cecil’s for tea and other times her favourite treat of tea and cream cakes at one of the little cafes at Houghton or Godmanchester. She also made several good friends including Cecil’s Mother when she was left a widow and they spent some time together most days.

I felt the college experience had been a great help with the Adult Literacy Scheme which I joined, and I had about six young men and one young woman (who had two little children and couldn’t read or write a word) at different times over several years. I also joined the English as a Second Language Scheme and helped several young Pakistanis, some of whom became friends, and they all appreciated the help.

I had a little job in the afternoons typing the racing results for an evening paper and used to take the dog, Betsy, for a walk at lunchtime. This day in March the common was wet and muddy and I slipped down the bank on to the concrete path. I was unable to walk but luckily someone came along from the school at the end of the common and phoned from there for an ambulance. They had to carry me on a stretcher across to the road and took me to Addenbrookes Hospital in Cambridge. There I had an x-ray which showed I had broken my hip. The surgeon made a marvellous job by inserting three pins even though it had crumbled, because apart from the first few months when I had much pain and had to keep my right foot off the ground, it has not given me too much trouble providing I am careful.

While all this was happening my Mother was ill in bed, but I had a good and kind neighbour, Mrs. Redman, who helped Cecil look after her, and so we managed. When I was able to walk with a stick I could go on as normal, and had the pleasure of looking after my grandchildren, Nicholas and Lucy, sometimes; Nick and I played cricket with an old bat which at one time belonged to the famous Mr. Lillywhite, it was a bit heavy but served its purpose, at other times we all played a variety of games or read. We also used to walk across the common to the open air swimming pool which Nicholas enjoyed while I took Lucy to the nearby paddling pool.

After my Mother died, she was aged 93, we, with Philip, visited Jean and Archie in Long Island. It was a wonderful holiday. They drove us to some beautiful country and coastline, Montauk with its vast areas of blue sky and sea and miles of sand. I loved the Malls and glamourous shops and the boat trip round Manhattan Island. They took us to some of New York’s famous sights and Cecil took a photo from the Empire State Building in which can be seen the Statue of Liberty in the river. While we were there we took a coach trip to Canada and crossing the border was quite an experience. We drove past acres of woodlands where we saw the famous fall colours of the leaves, more striking and panoramic than in this country. We drove to Quebec where we visited a picturesque Roman Catholic Church on a hill, inside the ornamentation was the most exquisite and beautiful I have ever seen. Montreal seemed to me a city of glass and steel; we stayed there one night on the eighth floor of a hotel so we had an excellent view from the bedroom window. One evening stands out when we were taken to a restaurant which had a German band in the centre with room for people to dance round. The musicians looked very attractive in their leather shorts and fancy hats. At first the music seemed too raucous and loud but it grew on us and we were soon enjoying it and thought it fantastic.

Cecil’s bad accident happened in March, 1984, and it was all a bit of a nightmare as he had to spend nine weeks in hospital. After a couple of years he improved well enough to drive again and we had some very pleasant outings to Grafham and the surrounding countryside, also we enjoyed our journeys to and from Lowestoft where we lived in a bungalow for about two years. We moved back to Huntingdon as Francis died leaving no-one here to keep a check on their Mother who was in Ringshill Nursing Home where she died at the good age of 92.

Some people no doubt have both a happy childhood and a happy old age, but I would choose the latter if I had the choice, not only because we have no control over our early years but the greatest gift to possess must be peace of mind and that would seem to be difficult if one was unhappy.

 

END

...................................PICTURES >>>